"Mon Dieu, you are dripping for me," he said. "Your hot empty cunt will suck me right in. Can you wait? Or will you lose all control and climax the moment I thrust inside?"
"Sir," she gasped at the feel of his heated flesh and the images his words portrayed. "I…I think I might come the instant you push inside of me."
"Very well, mon cher. You have done well, and me, I have tormented you enough. Try to hold it, just a little, to make it last if you can. But if you cannot, you have my permission to climax - but only once I am fully inside, you understand? I want to feel you come."
"Yes! Oh God, yes. Thank you, Sir," she said. Her entire body shook involuntarily with the exertion of holding completely motionless. As she trembled she imagined his eyes upon her, completely aware of that tremor. Redoubling her efforts made no difference. The man missed nothing, so surely he knew? He must be aware that she was trying to obey him.
There was a long moment of charged silence, where her breathing and pounding heart sounded loud in her ears.
"Elizabeth," Sir said, in a silky, knowing murmur, "You have my permission to move, but again, only once I am deep inside you. Until then, you will continue to remain completely still or there will be consequences."
Thank you Lord! He knows. Of course he knows. I am trying so hard to do exactly as he says. "Yes Sir," she said in a rasping whisper. Behind her dark blindfold her eyes were shut as she concentrated, striving not to move, not to come.
One of Sir's hands wound roughly around her hair, pulling it tight. "Mon cher, prepare yourself for I shall not be gentle," he warned and Elizabeth's entire body quivered in a thunderous internal cannonade of excitement, fear and overwhelming desire.
Then his mouth plunged into hers in a devouring, tongue thrusting kiss. His other hand grabbed her right nipple and twisted hard. With that he pushed his cock inside her, filling and stretching her needy channel wide. Elizabeth brutally curbed her desperate need to come, yet she let her body react as it willed. Sir had given her permission once he thrust inside and he was in her to the hilt right now.
OMG! So good! Giving in to the urge to move was almost a release of its own.
Elizabeth's entire body trembled with exultation and joy and bliss. Moaning, arching and writhing, she moved as much as possible within the boundaries of her cuffed arms and legs.
Fast and deep, Sir's powerful thrusts impaled her with the force of a sledgehammer, the coarse hair on his pubic bone grazed her distended, hypersensitive clit, and her entire body jerked with each savage thrust. His firm male flesh rubbed against her needy skin, his chest hair scraping her aching, tender nipples. Sir gripped her breast and hair, pulling them both hard, using them as leverage to increase the tempo and impact of each thrust. As he rammed himself into her with bruising strength, his balls slapped hard against her spread buttocks. She was sweating and panting and her heart thundered loudly, wild and unrestrained as a tropical storm. The sensations were too much for Elizabeth, far too overpowering to register them all.
As Sir rhythmically slammed into her, again and again, picking up speed, Elizabeth arched and screamed out loud. Mercilessly he continued to pound her, shifting slightly and hitting a particular spot deep inside. Her whole body stiffened and her pussy went tight. It felt as is she had been hit with a hard blast of sensual bliss. All the ecstasy to be had in the entire world was right THERE.
Elizabeth's pussy spasmed and began to pulse and milk his cock with explosive force. Her scream turned into a wail as she came apart, experiencing one of the most powerful orgasms of her life. Elizabeth felt it all. Each convulsion was like a pulsing seizure, a tiny climax of its own: contraction, contraction, contraction – they went on and on. She couldn’t recall ever having such a fierce physical response during sex - it was like the muscles in her pussy were on steroids. Talk about multiple orgasm. My God. Sir's cock must be being squeezed like a python with each contraction. Did it feel as good for him as it did for her?
With a few more fast, short strokes, Sir gave a loud groan of pleasure. His fingers convulsed, pulling her hair so hard that she felt it right down to her tightly curled toes. Squeezing her breast and nipple, his hips strained violently forward, bucking as if he had been electrocuted, and slamming deeply into her one last time. As she felt his taut body relax he muttered softly in a tone of awe, "Mon dieu cette petite femme obstinée est une bonne baise."
Elizabeth whimpered with pleasure at his shudder, and was amazed to feel hot tears escaping through her blindfold and coursing down her cheeks - a physical display of her overwhelming emotions. Sir's warm breath swirled against her. She had no idea what he had said, but she reveled in his release and the feel of the weight of him, heavy and relaxed upon her. Sir had done as he promised. He had fucked her. Slowly, with languid pleasure, she smiled. My God had he ever fucked her, giving her amazing orgasms and filling her with the "gift" of his cum. And somehow she had kept up with him and had not climaxed too soon. She felt fairly confident that it was her forceful contractions that had brought him to such rapid completion.
The potent erotic smell of sex and lust and expensive cologne surrounded her, thick as London fog. Sir lay upon her twitching body, the sound of his heartbeat a slow, heavy thud in her ears. God he felt amazing, the weight of him, his slow, deep breaths, his obvious state of almost unconscious bliss. Meanwhile she continued to experience a cascading wave of tremors, contractions and aftershocks. It was so good to lie there beneath him, utterly satisfied, completely spent. She felt unable to even lift a finger.
10. Sir's Plans
After some time, Sir nuzzled her neck, nibbled and kissed it, then raised himself off of her. He untied the cuff of one leg, and then both arms. She felt too languid to do anything except to obey him, to submit to whatever he wanted to do next. He sat her up, and she offered no objection as she felt a cool metal handcuff on one wrist, then on the other wrist, as both were cuffed behind her back. The final leg was untied, and he helped her pull her legs together. They trembled as he pulled her sitting up, to the side of the bed. He kissed her cheek, and touched her tears, wiping the salty drops away with one warm finger.
"You are a very good girl, mon cher," he said in a caressing velvet voice. He moved away, and she heard him open the refrigerator, and return. "This is orange juice only, you do not need the champagne." He chuckled. "Although after such amazing sex perhaps we should be toasting with champagne."
Elizabeth drank all of the liquid. "May I speak?" she asked, still resonating with a blissful sense of well-being. All her cares, for the moment, were gone.
"Mon cher, you have pleased me. For now you may speak as you wish, until I tell you that you must once more remain silent."
She cleared her throat. "Well, I wanted to say, thank you, for…your gift."
His deep, genuine laugh delighted her. Her thanks had pleased and surprised him and that had been her intention. Part of it was a lawyer's talent, to manipulate, to keep a connection, and to stay in his good graces. But mostly, she had been overwhelmed. Sir had told her that he planned to deny her orgasm, intended to come on her tits, leaving her in the most heightened state of unsatisfied arousal she had ever known. He had said that to receive his cum in her pussy was a gift. Well. That had certainly been true. She didn't know how she would feel about it after she was released from this sensual prison, but right now she felt as if she had been given something priceless.
A hand cupped her cheek. "We shared the gift, mon cher."
She found herself smiling. "Can you tell me what you said in French?" she asked. "When you, um, bestowed your generous tribute within me?"
Again he laughed out loud and once more she reveled in the sound. "I said, Mon dieu cette petite femme obstinée est une bonne baise." It means, My God this small stubborn woman is such a good fuck."
Elizabeth laughed this time, and for some reason she found she couldn't stop. For a moment she worried that it was some sort of hysteria, but she dismissed this idea. Arms cuffed behind her back, nak
ed, with semen from her kidnapper dripping from her pussy – she somehow saw everything with a different perspective and simply had to laugh and keep laughing until tears once more pooled in her eyes.
Sir sat down beside her, his warm thigh against hers, one hand possessively holding her cuffed wrists against the bed, but he was laughing, too.
Her laughter turned to intermittent giggles and as she began to settle, his hand left her wrists, and his arm curled around her waist. Together they sat companionably in silence for some minutes. Sir said nothing, he seemed to be waiting for her to speak, to explain, and so she did.
"I really am stubborn," she said.
"Yes," he acknowledged.
When it was clear that she had nothing further to say he stood up. "And so, we continue as there is much yet to do. Now you must not speak once more, as this is my law. You will stand up." With his hand under her elbow for support she rose to her feet, surprised to find she could stand. "Come, I will take you to the bathroom." They walked only a few steps away, into another room and Sir sat her down on the toilet.
"I wait here until you are finished," he informed her.
Elizabeth nodded, still in a blissful daze. Why not pee in front of this man? But she could never wipe herself with her hands cuffed behind her back. She sighed. At this point, what difference did it make? Besides, she had no choice. After she urinated he asked, "You are finished?"
"Yes, Sir."
She heard the sound of running water. "Spread your legs for me, Elizabeth," he said and she did so without thinking. A warm wet washcloth stroked between her legs, wiping her with smooth proficiency from front to back. He moved away then and she heard the sound of him turning taps and then water running, most probably into a bath. Mindful that she was not supposed to talk, she waited to see what happened next. Her body was still in a dreamy state.
Sir had fucked her almost into a mindless, blissful unconsciousness. Only once before she recalled having as mind blowing sex as she had today. Only one time previously, with her husband Mark. That would take some thinking about.
He took her elbow again, and raised her to her feet. "Mon cher, I will tell you what I have planned next. I will feed you by my own hands soon, and you will eat what I give you. I told you I will take care of you, no? I own you completely for six days, and in all things I shall cherish, control and protect what is mine. But right now we shall have a bath together, where I will shave your pussy. Perhaps I will have you on your knees then, and make you suck me to completion. Or I might choose to bend you over the tub and take you in the ass."
Elizabeth stiffened. The ass! No! I have never allowed anyone to touch me there. She had heard stories, and it frightened and disgusted her and she had also heard that it hurt. She blurted out, "But I've never…"
His hand tightened on her arm. Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Please excuse me, Sir. Er… may I speak?"
There was a long silence, then he said with a stern hint of disapproval, "You may speak."
It was his voice that frightened her. She had displeased him, and she felt guilty and anxious about it. "Forgive me, Sir. I spoke without thinking. You know what I was going to say now anyway."
The familiar warm knuckles of his hand ran down her face in a soothing manner, and her anxiety lessened. "You are new to this Elizabeth. I will punish you later for your infraction, and it will hurt very much, but it will also make you hot and then you will beg me to allow you another orgasm. Of this I assure." He stepped into her then, putting his naked flesh against hers, with his arms around her he gave her gentle kiss on the forehead. Already she could feel his cock, hard against her hip and stomach. Good Lord. The man was inexhaustible.
"Mon cher, I am glad you are an anal virgin. It will please me to break you in, and make you an anal slut, for you will like my cock in your ass. I will teach you everything Elizabeth, just as I plan to teach your husband. And in six days, when I am finished, you will both thank me."
Teach her husband? Poor Mark. Was he having similar lessons? Really? This sex God was bi? Again, she was too frightened of the answer, so she didn't ask. She had enough to cope with. Six more days, She thought. Who will I be at the end of it all? Still myself? Or someone else all together?
Sir took Elizabeth's unresisting arm and directed her into the tub.
Book 2: Elizabeth’s Anal Submission
1. The Story so Far
Blindfolded and naked, with her hands cuffed behind her back, Elizabeth stood in the bathroom listening to the sound of running water.
A tub was being filled, water rushing out of the taps at high speed. The sound echoed, indicating that this bathroom was very large, and no doubt opulent. Her captor, who she had been compelled to call "Sir," was firmly holding her left arm. Sir, with his deep masculine voice and sexy French accent, was clearly a confident and educated man. Everything about him screamed wealth, too. Like his nutmeg, cedar and Brazilian Rosewood scented cologne – one of the most expensive of its kind.
Elizabeth, who had spent her life around rich, intelligent people, knew the signs even with her eyes shut - or in this instance - blindfolded.
Sir played in the big leagues. But at what, was anyone's guess.
Steadying her with one hand on her arm and the other on her lower back, grazing the top of her buttocks, her captor capably guided her toward the bath. There, Sir had blithely informed her, he planned to remove her pubic hair.
"I will shave your pussy to see and feel it more clearly," he had said. "It should not hide its beauty behind hair."
Elizabeth felt her skin flush. That man, she thought with the shock of building arousal. How is it that I have become so shameless? In a few short hours he made me beg. Her captor had such a warm, clever tongue and strong, firm hands. I begged him to fuck me. What was I thinking? Except that under similar circumstances she could easily imagine begging him again.
Those hands. At one point her captor had scared her to death by strangling the blood and air right out of her. Of course that was after she had aggravated him by biting him, grinding his flesh between her teeth, refusing to release his fingers – which she supposed was provocation enough. Being strangled had been her first lesson, and it was a convincing one. Don't piss off her captor: after all, the man could kill her. After that Elizabeth resolved to simply do whatever he asked, unless some opportunity of escape presented itself.
Tomorrow - at least she thought it was tomorrow - was her anniversary. One year ago she and Mark had been married. They had taken ten days vacation, flying to Las Vegas to celebrate. The last thing she remembered was changing her clothes, and then she and Mark had gone off to dinner together. After that was a blank – until she woke up here.
In the last twenty-four hours Elizabeth had been drugged, kidnapped, blindfolded, and tied up naked, spread-eagled on a bed. She had suffered agonizing and mesmerizing sexual torment and eventual release by her captor, while tied to that bed. Even the momentary recollection of those events caused her pussy to tighten and her clit to pulse. Mindless with lust, Elizabeth had been willingly seduced.
The entire episode had blown her mind. How did it happen? How could she have become sexually craven so quickly? Except that her French captor was a Sex God. Deep and hard, Elizabeth had sucked Sir's cock like a vacuum, wanting to please him. Right at the outset Sir had informed her that he would never commit rape. In his confident, arrogant manner he told her that he would not fuck her unless she asked for it. He had also threatened to deny her sexual release until she begged. And Elizabeth had begged for both. She swallowed with a dry throat as she recalled how she had pleaded in a desperate, frantic manner.
Elizabeth vividly recalled her words to him: "Sir, I want it so bad," she had said in an earnest pleading tone. "Fuck me anywhere, take me anyway you want. Come on my face, my breasts or down my throat. I swear I will do anything. I promise to be good. You have all the power, all the control. I am begging you! I am yours. Your slut - your whore - your sexual slave. Take me any way you wan
t me. I swear I have never wanted anything so much in my life as I want you to fuck me right now."
She felt her face redden again, but this time with embarrassment. I am soooo bad, she thought. But Sir (bless him) had given in to her beseeching pleas and fucked her. Hard. And consequently she had experienced the most mind-blowing multiple orgasms of her life.
When Elizabeth had been drugged and kidnapped, her husband, Mark, had also been taken. According to her captor, her husband was receiving similar sexual education. Sir had promised to "teach" them equally telling her, "When I am finished, you will both thank me." He had sworn to set them free after six days.
Six days! She still couldn't imagine that. And this was only day one. No one would look for them during that time, for she and Mark were on vacation, celebrating their one year anniversary. Some vacation. Some anniversary!
Poor Mark. She hoped her husband was alright. Mark certainly didn't have any interest in men. Where her seduction and abject sexual submission to her captor had been frightening, yet erotic and exciting, she couldn't imagine Mark enjoying any sexual experience under a man's hands.
Elizabeth had never felt so helpless. Always blindfolded, she had yet to see the face of the man who was currently directing and supervising her every action. She assumed that if she did see him he would have to kill her or something, so she made no attempt to take off the blindfold. Not that she could have in any case. The man had not once left her alone.
"Come, mon cher," her captor said, and then, "Un moment."
He stopped her, positioning her where he wished and began to braid her hair. He continued to touch her, his hands making warm contact against her skin, lightly smoothing over her shoulder, her neck, her back and the curve of her buttocks. They were possessive little caresses, as he physically moved and controlled her. Finally he put her shoulder length braid up on top of her head with what she presumed was a hairclip.