Getting Naked: A Romance of Bondage and Discipline Page 7

  "At least you're not as tedious as some of these models. You've a little spark, haven't you?"

  Let me down, she thought, I'll show you spark.

  His incredible eyes shone like flames, cool, deep emerald flames. For several, agonizing moments, he simply looked at her, devouring her chained and helpless form. “This turns you on doesn't it?” He asked.

  She nodded, slowly but deeply. At last, he was using those beautiful eyes to see the truth.

  "Me, too,” he confessed.

  Morgan felt a chill down her spine, fingers of plucking anticipation. Was he going to stop fighting ... at last? Dare she hope there wouldn't be any pictures emerging at all from this session?

  "I want to use something else,” he decided, his voice a low rasp.

  Morgan swooned as he took a collar from the rack on the wall, thick leather with metal studs. A metal leash was attached to a round ring sewn into the front.

  He was coming to put it on her. “Kitty's don't usually like collars, but you seem tame enough."

  She snapped her teeth, playing as if to bite him, more than happy to continue the game. He reached behind her neck, that slightly roguish smile still on his face. In a stroke of athletic brilliance, she tiptoed backwards, forcing him to stretch.

  "Oh no you don't,” he said, deciding to take a different approach.

  Nick went behind her to put the collar on from the rear. Silly boy. Did he really think that would save his cock? Morgan turned her head strategically as he put his hands around her neck from the new position. Just as he moved to pull the leather collar taut, she backed against him, nuzzling his cheek.

  This time she had him. Wedging the crack of her ass in his crotch, she gave no quarter, giving his throbbing tool just the sort of attention required to move it from his camp into hers.

  Her side being the let's have sex, hard and fast and now camp.

  "Blast it, woman!” His hand came from nowhere, smoothly and efficiently, landing with a form-fitting suction cup smack.

  Damn. He'd spanked her. He'd actually gone ahead and ... done it. And she'd enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it, to the tune of a stinging, warm red ass that felt like his hand was still on her.

  He was as shocked as she was, though for different reasons. “What the hell has gotten into me? I ought to have my head examined. I'm sorry, miss, I'll let you down at once. If you wish to file a complaint with the banquet committee..."

  No ... she didn't want to file a fucking complaint, except maybe against him for not fucking her.

  "I don't know what's gotten into me,” he was saying. “I'm just not myself..."

  She'd had enough of his nonsense. He was in front of her again and this time when he leaned in, she kissed him, grabbing his lips, making her own suction contact. He let out a moan of surprise as she pressed her advantage, working her devious little tongue between her teeth. He gave her full entrance, his own larger tongue just waking up for the challenge. Nick was the sleeping lion and she wanted him roaring, taking full advantage of her little kitty cat self.

  His hands slid to her waist, holding her, the way a man holds a woman.

  Yes, Nick, that's it ... remember.

  He molded himself to her, responding in pure male fashion. She was opening floodgates and she knew it. He took her mouth now, literally took it. The kiss made her flood between her legs. One little touch, one little brush of air between her legs and she'd come. For him. Not for herself or anyone else, but for Nick Tremaine.

  "I don't know what game you're playing at,” he released her at last. “But it won't fly. Who do you work for? Wally? One of the newspapers looking for a good scandal?"

  She shook her head, unflinching beneath his eyes. Like she could have lied if she wanted under his interrogation methods.

  Nick muttered under his breath. “I believe you,” he chided himself. “Why do I believe you?"

  Her eyes moistened. Because it's me, Nick, that's why.

  "Even so,” he shook his head, still working things out internally, “your behavior is inappropriate. Look at you, young lady. You are chained and naked. Tempt the wrong man in this business and you'll be raped or worse."

  Morgan went for broke, lifting her right leg. She managed to rub her knee at ground zero, right over his crotch. He leaped back, having been taken entirely by surprise.

  "Son of a bitch!” The expression on his face was precious. Desire, exasperation, and a feeling of deep, deep possessiveness she'd never seen on a human face before. “Now you're in for it."

  "You like games,” he circled behind her. “Fine. Try this on for size. Punishment, young lady. In the form of a nice, bright red ass."

  Yes, Nick, oh, you don't know how much I need it, she thought.

  "We'll try ten and see if that doesn't teach you a lesson."

  Morgan moaned as he smacked her ass a second time. It wasn't a particularly hard blow, nowhere near what the man was capable of, but the symbolism was strong. She was chained up and under discipline, taking a spanking from a strong, sexy man as punishment for teasing him with her naughty little body.

  Might not be every woman's cup of tea, but it sure as hell worked for her. To the tune of rapid breathing, rising and falling breasts and a soft steady moaning. Each blow was like a rain of sex pleasure, a soft singe over every part of her skin. It was all wicked and delicious, the way her naked cheeks stuck out for him, begging for it, even as they quivered and recoiled with each spank. The way his manly hand branded her, making her his marked woman over and over again. She felt like the little harem slave before her pasha, or the panting, red cheeked model posing before the cool eyed photographer, always one step ahead, but never leaving her alone to suffer for even a second.

  Nick picked up on her reaction, too obvious for even him to miss. “No wonder you were egging me on. You wanted me to do this ... you wanted me to make it rough. Jeezus, are you sure you don't work for Wally?"

  She shook her head vehemently, though he'd said it tongue in cheek. He shouldn't say it even as a joke. She was here for him. It was all about him, not that horrible Wally or anyone else.

  "Sweetheart, if you only knew what I'd been going through lately.” He stopped spanking her.

  Damn, it no, she thrust herself out trying to find his hand anything.

  "I have been going out of my mind. A woman, one woman is in there, in my head. I can't eat or sleep. I have to let her go and I can't."

  Oh, god, she thought, he's talking about me, he has to be talking about me. In that case, don't let go at all...

  "She needs something better. Someone better. She's not like me, not like us. She's pure. She will make a difference in this world. She's going to be a doctor. Doing foreign relief work. It's unbelievable. I looked it up online. Stuff would curl your toes. Yea, she's the real deal."

  Her heart melted. He'd looked up information? About her career? Carmen had to be right, then. This was no Neanderthal. This was a true gentleman. So why was he hiding himself with the likes of Wally Evers?

  "So pretty, too. Just like you."

  She felt his hand run down her back, smooth and desirous. Oh, god, did she have to beg him for it?

  "I don't know who you are or what your story is,” he said softly. “But you're hurting, too, aren't you?"

  She nodded yes. So he had the ability to perceive emotion after all.

  With either hand at the sides of her head he brushed the hair behind her ears with such tenderness it made her ache. Was it possible to be jealous over how kindly one's lover treated one's self?

  "Have you lost someone, too?"

  Morgan shivered, vulnerable. No longer nude, but naked. Naked as she'd never been in her life.

  "I'd like to take you,” he said softly. “In bondage. Nod if you'll agree to this."

  It was like a dream. She felt her own head bobbing. Who was she, this woman in the cat's mask, bold enough to plead with her body, saucy enough to seduce a man handsome as any actor? And who was he, this sudden hero, able to p
ick up on the pulse of her heart, to pluck the strings of her soul and to dare to put them both in tune with the razor thin ecstasy of the universe ... all under the direction of his own manly desire?

  This was not the Nick Tremaine too sullen or silent to say his feelings, not the Nick too stubborn to keep the ship of their relationship from running aground again and again.

  Had she said relationship? Is that what this was. Sure, as long as you didn't put too much emphasis on the tiny little detail that the woman he was at moment preparing to love so intensely and honestly was, in his own mind, not her, but a total stranger.

  What a mess we mortals weave, she thought sardonically.

  "Who holds your tongue,” he wondered aloud, running both hands down her back, causing virtual mini-orgasms in each cell he passed over. “Did the committee tell you to keep it? Or is there some deeper sadness to which you owe your voice? We all talk differently alone, when we think no one is listening, or will repeat. So maybe that's why I can say things to you."

  "You have an incredible body. Shall I tell you about this red ass, too? It takes a nice spanking. And it will take more if you're not ready for me..."

  She'd been ready the moment she laid eyes on him tonight. Handsome, dashing, and so clearly disturbed and worried. And now she knew about what, too. He was dealing, or not dealing with the same feelings she was. Well, maybe this next fuck would make things clearer. Or else plunge them into the next abyss.

  "All my adult life I have lived for the female form. Handling it, taming it, glorifying it. I never wanted to do dirty pictures. There's no such thing anyway. A picture is clean, like a fuck is clean. Like I'm going to fuck you, my little chained kitten."

  She gasped as he inserted a finger from behind. Her pussy sucked him like a vacuum. It was too much, too fast. She lifted herself on tiptoes for breathing room.

  The act of rebellion earned her another spank. “Down,” he ordered crisply.

  She fell on the heels of her feet, properly chastised. Oh ... fuck, he had her filled, with two fingers now a third on her clitoris. She was helpless, totally fucking owned.

  "No more teasing,” he said. “From here on in, you are all about giving it up ... for me."

  Nick pushed his cock against her. He'd unzipped. She tried to stifle her cry, to keep it non-verbal.

  "Feel that? That's what you've been after, isn't it? No turning back now. You'll be taking me inside you, you'll be submitting ... god, I hope you're not married, for your husband's sake,” he sighed. “He'd never keep you for his own against all the competition."

  Yes, he would, she caught herself thinking for a fleeting, dangerous instant. If that man were you.

  "Come,” he commanded. “Come on my fingers."

  Morgan tugged at the chains on her wrists. She was pushing herself back and down, then up and forward, creating the friction. He was making her work for this one, making her show him with her naked, sweaty body, what a little she beast she really was.

  "Nnnn...” she gritted her teeth, letting him know it was on the way, that he'd indeed found just the right way to penetrate her so as to allow her to make it over the top. All she could think of was him being inside her, the way she really wanted him, that pulsing cock between her thighs, welcomed home.

  Would his cock recognize her, if his eyes and hands hadn't?

  It might, but it would likely keep her secret, not wanting to cheat itself of the coming reward at the banquet later on. A priceless gift in the form of her juicy, thankful lips wrapped around the tip of that shaft, sliding the meat down, down, down.

  Morgan went taut against the wrist shackles. Her entire body was backing into him, pivoted on the tips of his magic fingers. Fuck ... how could a man do that? How could he direct that kind of power into her? How could he hold her like that, swinging her on a star? Unfurling her to the winds of the cosmos, with her skeleton safely tied to his kite strings?

  "Yes, that's it, my dark kitten ... my temptress ... give me what I need,” he sighed fiercely.

  What he needed? Was he crazy? She was the one needing it. She was the one who'd die without this orgasm he was bringing to her, the one he'd one he'd wrought from her own deepest being, making it as vital to her ongoing existence as oxygen.

  "Yes,” he kept coaching. “Yes."

  She followed his words, his breathing, like they were having sex together. And yet she knew he needed to be apart from this one, to control it. This was the big one. A woman with a lifetime's passion built up.

  Thank god, she kept telling herself, thank god for making him strong enough to do this.

  The power continued to pivot at the points of his masturbating fingers till at last the reversal came. The explosion of heat, looping back on itself, from her superheated, punished ass all the way up her back and her lips and the lobes of her ears and every other part of her he'd touched.

  At the critical moment, everything went silent. Time itself stood still. His free hand splayed itself along her spine and she plunged backward, into the waiting waters, the energy waters of pure light and bliss.

  He was catching her. The man was holding her aloft and she'd trusted him. With her very essence.

  "Yesssss!” She wasn't sure if she was crying aloud or only within the confines of the interior world he'd helped create. With his quirky passions and mercurial hands on nature.

  He, Nick Tremaine.

  The only name in the universe of this orgasm, every nerve ending, every passageway in mind and body filled with the fluid of eternity, volatile like nitro glycerin, but ultimately quenching. Life giving.

  Nick ... Nick ... Nick...

  She was limp, beyond limp as the climax finally finished its bittersweet rage. She hadn't had this orgasm; it had had her.

  So much to tell him, so many questions to ask. But not yet, not now. First, there was this night to go through, and whatever might follow to preclude their union. The one she now lived for and breathed for.

  "You are incredible,” he marveled. “I've never seen a woman do that. Do you realize what you have? The potential? I've ... dreamed of such things. I've looked and worked for it and never found it."

  Nick was looking at, stroking his cock, seemingly afraid to touch her any longer, like the experience had been religious, rendering her a sacred object. Well the only sacred thing to her was that shaft in his hand, rock hard flesh, but strong as iron. She knew what that cock was like. And it was only whetting her appetite for more. She could never ever get tired of him that way.

  His full balls, ready as ever. The veins, showing just how much life was there between his legs. And the rock hard stomach and chest, more than ready to deliver a full and furious injection.

  "My photography ... when I first started,” he was explaining, “was designed to find what you have. To prove it existed. Like Shangri-La. El Dorado. You're the reality behind the Venus De Milo, the shaking thunder under the feet of the dancing goddess Kali, the light of the Mona Lisa's smile. If I could get you in a studio, a real studio, for an hour even..."

  He had her in a studio now, but what he needed to do was to stop talking.

  "Fuck me,” she hissed, keeping her voice low enough and hopefully disguised.

  His eyes widened at the sight of her delta. She was spreading her legs, spacing her feet apart as wide as her current position would allow. Let him keep philosophizing now, with a honeyed, dripping pussy inches in front of that cock. She could feel the fluids oozing. Inside she still tingled, the aftershocks rippling her. He was going to like it in there this time out. A lot.

  "Oh, god, I'm going to give it to you so fucking hard,” he vowed.

  She grinned, giving him a wink. That's right, big boy, bring that cock over here and fuck me back to the Stone Age with it.

  This non-verbal communication stuff was cool. She liked talking with her eyes and her lips. Soon she would say something pretty strong with her pussy. Namely that he belonged there and they'd better do some serious exploration as to how the rest of
their lives were supposed to be fitting together.

  "I've always wanted to do this,” he confessed, scooping her thighs. “It's funny, as much as I work bondage fantasies for others, I always kept my sex pretty straight."

  He slid her down over his shaft in a single expert motion. She sighed against his chest. Skin to skin. Oh, yes, oh, mother fucking yes. Greedily, she locked her ankles behind him, pressing his muscular ass. He wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

  "You look so good this way.” He grabbed her breasts, the two fully exposed mounds molding instantly to his grip. He had her now; he really had her. He could and was doing as he wished. And she in turn was as open, as vulnerable as a woman could be. “And you feel so good, too."

  She squeezed him, internally, as good an answer as any. Another form of wink—if you will.

  "Your ass is still hot from your spanking.” He massaged the cheeks, the look on his face indicating he didn't exactly hate the fact.

  Belly to belly; she kissed him. Pure affection, pure lust. And gratitude, too. For what he was doing and who he was letting her be.

  "I haven't felt like this since I was a teenager,” he said. “You're unbelievable. Tell me you're not married?"

  Her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head negatively, hanging on his answer.

  "Good. I'd hate to think I was stealing anything this good. Whoever does get you, though, he'd better be ready to handle paradise."

  Her heart sank. That was meant as a compliment, but under the circumstances it made her want to cry.

  "Oh, yea, that's it..."

  No time to dwell on her pain at the moment, though. Nick was getting ready to come. His handsome face was etched with the complicated emotions of his desire locking horns with his conscience and whatever other forms of guilt appeared to plague him.

  "Come.... “She cried, risking voice recognition yet again. “Please..."

  Morgan undulated her body, moving as best she could for him, wanting to feel the maximum pleasure as he used her. For this man she would happily allow herself to be the vessel. He was worthy, and more than this, she wanted him to have her, as the vibrant sex object he so clearly needed.