A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (29 page)

"Out, wench," Cain orders Lucy with a playful smirk.

"Have fun," she whispers then hurries out the door.  He approaches me purposefully as I stand by the armoire, and with my excitement and adulation for this man coursing through me, I feel exposed inside and out as I face him in this scant black leather while he is still fully clothed, wearing the suit he wore to work today, sans tie.

"I've never seen you more beautiful, Evan," he says before he whispers in my ear not to forget the safewords, and though I expect him to kiss me now like he normally would, instead he takes my hand in his, holding it high as he begins to lead me.  Game on.

Cain guides me to the bondage table and lifts me onto it, positioning me to sit with my back toward the head of the table, knees drawn up to my chest, my arms around them.  He tells me to put my head down, but just as I am lowering it, he puts two fingers under my chin and lifts.

"I don't remember buying this," he says, eyeing the choker.

"Lucy gave it to me," I say.

"Lucy gave it to me, Sir," he reminds me.

Fine.

"Lucy gave it to me,
Sir
," I say, gritting my teeth.

"It's stunning," he says, then he gently lowers my head, bidding me wait and keep my eyes to myself.  I try, but I can't stop trying to peek at him as he walks around the room collecting things from the wall of whips and the armoires behind me.  I can't tell which one until I hear the metal clips jingling and realize that he's been in the armoire for cuffs and tethers.  He brings everything back to the table, hanging it on the various hooks that line the wooden edges.

"I said no peeking," he reminds me sternly, giving me a quick smack on the leg before slipping a blindfold over my eyes.  I broke the rule, so I suppose now we are no longer on the honor system because with the fur lining, I can't see even the slightest glow from the dimmed chandelier above me.  I have a flash of anxiety.  If he turns the lights up, he could see my scars, and though they're faint and would only differ in color if I were to get a tan, to me they may as well be thick red stripes all over my body.  I try to push the thought away.  I trust Cain, and I want this so much.

Blind, I listen intently, trying to figure out what he's doing, but there is only a long, torturous silence.  When soft music finally begins to play, Portishead's
Only You
recorded live at Roseland, I hear Cain with me again, disturbing the things that hang from the hooks, the tinkling of the clasps and the excitement of the unknown drenching the elastic strip of this g-string.  Then I feel him behind me, standing at the head of the table.  He puts his hands under my arms, pulling me to sit upright, flush against his now naked chest, and as he runs his hands up my thighs from my knees, I tremble.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he whispers as he takes my hair down.  It falls over my shoulders as I hear the clip hit the concrete somewhere in the distance.

"I want you up on your knees now, Evan," he says.  Though a command, it's subtle, like he's easing me into this, and as I comply, and I hear his footfalls, circling me like a predator with captive prey.  I don't understand why he's doing it, but when he unexpectedly reaches out and pulls the ribbon on one of my sleeves, undoing the bow, not knowing exactly where he is or what he'll do is a powerful turn on.  The supple leather falls open to hang at the side of the corset, and though I sense him stopping on the other side and expect that he'll do the same, he only lingers for a moment, the anticipation unbearable.  When he stops in front me, I crinkle my nose and use my cheeks, trying to push the blindfold up for a peek, but it's no use.

"Do you think it's wise to continue to break the rules, Evan?" Cain asks sternly, fixing my blindfold.

"I just wanted to see you."

"I just wanted to see you, Sir," he reminds me.  I say it as I am bid, my voice full of defiance, then Cain is suddenly behind me, pushing me over onto all fours.  His hand comes down hard on my ass cheek, which is still a little tender from earlier.

"That was for trying to move the blindfold, and that is for your attitude."  He stings me again in the same spot, and though I cry out, it sounds much worse than it actually feels. I suppose he's counting on me to have the sense to use the safewords because he does not even pause to contemplate the sound.

"I want you to crawl forward toward the end of the table," he commands as I sense him walking past me in the same direction.  "Trust me.  I won't let you fall."

I move cautiously until I reach the end and feel him against the top of my head.  He positions me sitting on my knees and cuffs my wrists, attaching the cuffs together behind my back, then he pushes me forward.  With my ass in the air, my bound wrists force me to rest my face sideways on the table to maintain the position.  It's awkward, uncomfortable, and difficult to balance, but the possibilities thrill me as I wonder what he plans to do to me like this.

I hope he fucks me.

"So you want to see me?" Cain asks.

"Yes, Sir," I answer, forcing myself to play the game.  It pains me more to call him Sir than it did to be paddled, but Cain rewards my cooperation by pushing my blindfold up slightly.  From the odd position of my head, I can only see his cock straining against the zipper of black leather pants with an embossed, Celtic cross disappearing into the front pocket.  He must have changed when it got so quiet earlier.

"Unzip them," he orders, the button undone and the zipper pull in my face. I give him a defiant scowl as I comply, carefully balancing as I lift my head enough to take the zipper in my teeth.  I pull it down, finding it mercifully easy to manipulate, wishing I had my hands free to yank his pants off and feel him in my mouth, but Cain doesn't give me a chance to do anything.

He replaces my blindfold and walks to stand behind me, then I hear the sound of scissors opening and closing.  He climbs onto the table with me, pulls on the elastic of my g-string, cuts it away, and drives his cock into me.  I've never been so wet, and though my arms ache as he pulls me by the clips connecting my cuffs, I feel powerless yet strangely liberated, his cock a perfect, smooth work of art sculpted for the sole purpose of fucking me, making me cry out his name, screaming as agony collides with ecstasy.

"I love to feel you come, Evan.  I love how you get so wet, how your legs vibrate, how your pussy pulses like a heartbeat around my cock," he whispers, pulling me upright through the aftershocks, his hands on my hipbones, giving me a violent thrust, and holding himself deep inside me for a few seconds before driving into me again.

He slips off the table, disconnecting my cuffs and allowing me to lie down on my stomach, my head at the end of the table.  Then I feel his cock brushing lightly against my lips.

"I want you to suck my cock, Evan," he commands.  "Slowly."  I reach out blindly and grab it, taking it into my mouth as I hold him firmly with one hand at the base, the other teasing below, and though I start with every intention of following his command to take it slow, I soon lose sight of it, wanting to get as close to him as possible, to meld with him, to consume him.  I can't get enough, and when I feel him start to pull away from me, I grab him by the hips, holding him in place.  He moans as I dig my fingernails into his flesh, pulling him into me as if he's fucking my mouth until his cock reaches its limit, the flesh dangerously taut... He stops me, grabbing my wrists roughly as he moves beyond my reach.

"I said slowly," he hisses, and I feel an unexpected sting on my ass cheek, making me gasp.  I don't know what he used on me, but it was too small an area for it to be his hand and too precise for something like that cat-o-nine-tails.

"Do you like that?" Cain asks.

"Yes," I breathe, arching my back and raising my ass as I anticipate the next strike.  It's harder this time, and thought it hurts, I still want more.

"Are you ready to take my commands seriously or do you need more correcting?" he asks, and when I hesitate, he smacks my ass again.  I moan at the exquisite sharpness of the pain.

"Are you ready?" Cain repeats, his tone harsh and precise.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" he demands impatiently.

"Yes...Master Cain." I don't know why I said it.  It just came out, and for a long, anxious moment I wait for him to react, the fear that he might reject being called Master more unbearable than the sting of any whip.

"Master Cain," he says, finally. "I like the sound of that."  I'm relieved and so uncharacteristically turned on by the abject surrender of calling him Master, when I feel his cock against my lips again, I can think of nothing more satisfying that making him come.

"Slowly," he reminds me sternly, running the back of his hand softly down my cheek.  I grab it and place it on my head, urging him to hold it there and set the pace himself.  He's understandably cautious because this act crosses a line, but tonight, I'm selfless. I pull him into me, and when he twists his fingers into my hair and controls me, it brings him so close so quickly, he has to slowly withdraw inch by inch to keep from coming.

"That was perfect, Evan," he says, brushing my hair behind my ear.

"I love your cock in my mouth, Master Cain," I say boldly.

"Do you like your taste on my cock?" he asks.

"Yes."

"I want to taste you," he says in a low growl, rolling me onto my back and pulling me down the table until my ass is almost hanging off.  He cuffs my ankles and clips them to hooks on the tables side, my knees bent, my feet at the end corners.  Feeling too exposed, I lock my knees together in an attempt at modesty.

"Evan," he says, gently pushing my legs apart.  "You are the most perfect thing in this world, and I never want you to be shy with me." His words, though gracious, don't help.  What makes the difference is that he lifts my blindfold so I can see that the light is so dim we're practically in darkness. He's the one who's perfect.

"Just relax," he urges me.

"Yes, Master Cain," I say as he replaces my blindfold.

"God, I love hearing you say that," he whispers.  It gives me a strange sense of bliss that he has embraced my title, a title that is mine alone, and from the first soft brush of his tongue to his hands on my thighs, every touch is amplified by my helplessness as his mouth worships me, teasing me, torturing me by focusing his attentions everywhere but my clit.  When at last his tongue finds with the tiny cluster of nerves, it's like a drug hitting my veins.  My entire body shudders as he traces light circles, and though he's barely making contact, pleasure washes over me in waves so constant that I don't even realize that I am about to come until it's happening, suddenly thrust into a state of madness as a devastating orgasm tears through my body, corrupting my thoughts.

I give screaming voice to the ecstasy, arching my back, thrusting myself into his mouth as he grabs me by the hips, pulling me hard against his face, his tongue unstoppable, and when I think I am at the absolute end of what my body can handle, he pushes beyond my limits, forcing me to give more, to take more, to feel more.  It almost hurts, but he drives me onward until the ache fades, giving way to something else...something that feels like...like...
oh, my God!
  I'm coming again!

"Oh, fuck...Cain...fuck, fuck, fuck..." The words come out like a tortured whine as my bent legs tremble wildly, the muscles overwrought and exhausted.  Cain supports me, steadying me as he guides me through it, and when I finally come back down, he instinctively knows that I need his cock inside me immediately.

"You want fucked?" he asks.

"Oh, God, yes!"  I gush, and he laughs at my enthusiasm as he releases my ankle cuffs and helps me off the table, spinning me around to bend over it.  Then he's inside me, suddenly fucking me fast, his cock and I of one mind as he slams into me with a brutal intensity that makes me come so fast, it leaves my head clouded and defiled, useless to think of anything but my most primal desires.  I want more, and so does Cain, whispering in my ear as I lie my head on the table, telling me that he is nowhere near finished with me.  He pulls me upright by my shoulders, supporting me until I find my balance.

"Trust me to guide you," he says as he takes my hand and leads me away from the table.  He turns me around when we reach our destination, and I feel the cold of the concrete behind me.  He pulls the ribbon to undo the sleeve he left intact earlier, and as the leather falls open, I hear a chain rattle.  Cain lifts my hands over my head, clips my wrist cuffs to the chain, and pulls it until I am forced onto my toes.  Methodically, he starts to undo the corset's laces, unwrapping his gift just as Lucy has predicted, and when it falls to the floor, I'm left wearing nothing but the choker she gave me.