Bound by You (Secret Wishes) (3 page)

Jesus, it was like being fucked for the very first time. Pleasure mixed with pain as his meaty cock speared me, forcing the heat-slicked walls of my vagina to accept him. It burned, but it felt so damn good.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Oooh.” I sobbed, I writhed, I begged for more.

I was yowling like a cat in heat as his cock shuttled in and out of my ultra-tight pussy. His fingers bit into my hips as he held me, swinging me back and forth, withdrawing, then driving deep again. He never said a word, just kept pumping, grunting as he slammed into me with no satisfaction in mind but his own.

But that didn’t matter. My body had a mind of its own. The familiar heat of impending orgasm began to build. My pussy clenched as the carnal torment of that big dick continued to pound me, and our voices mingled in agonizing rapture. The plug in my ass rocked with every thrust, sending jolts of piercing ecstasy straight to my grasping cunt.

“Don’t you come,” he growled. “Don’t you do it, princess.”

What? Was he nuts? I was going to come and hard, and there was nothing either of us could do about it. I was too far gone.

“Hold it back. Count down from twenty and you can come.”

Count down?

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen—”  

It was sheer torture, but the power and pace of his thrusts had me ready to go up like the space shuttle. I forced myself to count, screaming out the numbers, even as he held his own release, continuing to drive that steely cock into my cunt.

“Ooone!” I screamed, and he buried himself deep. His cock leaped, filling me with semen as he ground against my clit. I screamed again, bucking against him as I came so hard I thought the top of my head was going to come off.

“Good girl.”

His whispered voice soothed me as he eased out of me and left me hanging there. He would wash me now, as he had before.

My legs didn’t want to hold me when he let me down, so he picked me up and put me down on a soft bed.

“Rest for a few minutes, then I’m gonna take that sweet ass of yours.”

I curled up on the bed, resting my head on a soft down pillow. And that’s when I smelled it. Damnit, I recognized the scent! But I couldn’t remember where. At Macy’s? It was definitely a man’s scent. From someone I dated? Perhaps a walk-by spritzing at the mall? It couldn’t be Jess because he always smelled fresh and clean, like soap and evergreen needles. This scent was similar but with more musk.

My concentration was so focused on trying to identify the mysterious cologne that I didn’t feel the mattress dip, and I yelped when he grasped my ankles and spread my legs apart.

“You know, you really do have a beautiful body, princess.”

He sat between my legs and ran his hands over me, caressing my breasts, leaning down for a brief suckle. His fingers traced the contours of my body, and I shuddered at the slight tickle caused by this gentle handling.

“Nice, trim waist, curvy hips.”

He stroked my inner thighs, then drew the outline of a heart around my pussy.

“Mmm, but your pussy . . . I love this pussy. It starts out this shell pink, and when you get aroused it starts to swell—just like my cock—and the color darkens to a deep rose pink.”

He touched the entrance to my vagina, dipped inside, then touched that finger to my clit.

“So sensitive for such a tiny thing. Now, bend your knees, feet flat on the mattress.”

My breath caught in my throat with his order, and he chuckled. It hadn’t taken him long to learn what I liked.

“You might wanna grab on to the headboard, princess, because this one’s gonna take a lot out of you.”

He kissed my inner thigh, licking gently. Gooseflesh rose on my skin as I anticipated his next move. It was to brush his lips against my slit, rubbing with the softest of touches until I was bucking up to meet him. That amazing tongue parted my pussy lips, running up and down, teasing, tasting, dipping into me, tongue-fucking me until I thought I might go mad from the wanting . . . more, I wanted more. He lifted his mouth from me.

“Mmm, what a sweet pussy. It’s talking to me. You wanna know what it’s saying? It’s saying,
Eat me. Lick my clit, suck it
. I want you to say that to me, princess.” He lowered his mouth back to my cunt, and his tongue flicked at my clit.

I moaned. “Please . . . e-eat my pussy. Lick my clit, suck it . . . sir.”

His chuckle vibrated against my clit, and he gave me what I wanted, sucking it between those soft, perfect lips. With each pull of his lips, the pressure increased, driving me up and up until I was soaring once more. My breath puffed from me in short gasps.

“Ah . . . ah . . . ah. Please, may I come, sir?”

“Sorry, pet, but you’ll have to wait,” he said, and stopped.

No, no, no, I shrieked in my head.

I felt his fingers probe my ass. He grasped the base of the plug and pulled if from my ass. The sensation brought a shudder of pleasure, but it was short-lived. Surely, he wasn’t going to leave me like this.

The mattress dipped when he climbed off. He lifted me up, one thick arm between my legs, the other behind my shoulders.

“That’s quite the juicy little cunt, princess, but I want that ass.”

He shifted me in his arms and laid me facedown on another piece of bondage furniture. I was kneeling on two separate kneepads with nylon straps tightened over my calves. The leather cuffs he removed in favor of individual padded cuffs. There was another over my back and a final one over my hips, effectively restricting torso movement. I was completely cinched down, unable to move, unable to shift away from the huge cock he would soon introduce into my ass . . . but I tried anyway and got a stinging smack on my butt for my trouble.

“That is one world-class ass, I’ll give you that.” His hand soothed the sting of his blow. “I can understand why you’re hesitant. My cock is a little bigger than average. I suppose we could stop now, and I could let you go . . . but I’m a greedy bastard, and I’ve been dreaming about shoving my cock up your ass since the first time I saw you.”

It was sheer torture. He was walking around the table, touching me here, lightly pinching there, sliding a finger into my cunt to make sure I was still wet.

Finally, he eased his hip against mine, idly stroking my ass. “You’ve had a good time today, haven’t you, pet? Lots of orgasms, a tiny spanking or two, a nice big cock in your pussy.”

He leaned down, spreading my ass cheeks. “Another pretty, pink little hole, and it’s all for me.”

He licked across one taut cheek, stroking my pussy from vagina to anus. His index finger penetrated my ass, and I moaned. This man definitely knew what he was doing. He continued to lick, his index finger fucking gently while his other fingers cunningly aroused my cunt.

“Ah, your clit has decided to come out and play.” He caressed it, gently circling that sensitive nub. “I’m gonna make you so hot for it, you’ll be begging me to take your ass.”

* * *

It was true, every word. This . . . criminal . . . had rocked my world. He’d taken me to heights I’d only ever imagined. I’d climbed the sexual equivalent of Mount Everest in the few hours he’d held me captive. And as shameful as it was to admit, once I got over the fear that he was actually going to hurt me, I’d loved every minute of it.

I was a slut.

The worst human being to walk the face of the earth.

The mother of all whores.

I would have to tell Jess. Be completely honest with him about what had happened here today because I don’t think I could ever go back to vanilla sex after experiencing all the things I’ve written about in my fantasy journal. He would break up with me, of course, and I wouldn’t blame him. Who wanted a slut for a girlfriend? A sharp smack to my backside snapped me out of my mental recriminations, and once again, there was a clenching deep inside me.

“That’s better.” He soothed the sting with his tongue. “You’re my good little slut, aren’t you, princess?”

“Yes, sir.”

Two fingers were in me, curling, stroking, and I was panting, mewling, so close to coming again that I think I’d die if he stopped. So, of course he did.

“No, no, no!”

I wailed it to him this time, consequences be damned. I waited for the palm of his hand on my ass, or the tentacles of his flogger, but nothing came. Especially me. He was silent, whatever he was doing. There was the tearing of a condom packet, then the oil dribbled between my cheeks.

He was behind me now, hands on my butt, spreading my cheeks. His thumbs stroked the swollen folds of my pussy. It was building again, not as strong as before, but I still felt hot and needy, and the head of his cock pressed against the delicate star of my anus.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

I expected a full-on thrust, but once again he was gentle, easing into me. The instinct of my body was to try to expel him, so I pushed out, and he eased in farther.

“Gaah, jeeze, it hurts!”

That dark, soft laugh was back. “Of course it does, pet. Keep pushing, I’m only halfway in there.”

Oh God. It felt like there was a branding iron up my ass. I pushed harder, and he was all the way in, at last.

“Now, you’re gonna like this,” he whispered close to my ear.

He straightened and pulled back. The strangled half moan was mine. I had no words to describe this feeling. It was unlike any other. It was a dark, unnatural kind of pleasure, or so I’d been told. Good girls weren’t supposed to like having a dick up their asses, but as he withdrew and eased back in, each stroke getting stronger, I knew I wasn’t a good girl. Not anymore. I liked having a dick up my ass, especially this one.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes, more.”

He was brutal, absolutely merciless, never letting up, never tiring. As full as I felt, it seemed impossible that he would be able to continue gliding out, ramming deep, stretching and burning my battered ass as I panted and gasped. Begged.

“Yes—yes! Please fuck me. Please make me come. I need to come!”

He rammed his cock deep, grinding his hips against my butt, and reached around to invade my pussy. Two fingers went deep, and I screamed.

“Oh, yeah, you’re gonna come, princess.” He found my clit, swollen to nearly bursting, and tormented the hard pearl until I was howling once again.

“Now,” he growled. “Now you come.”

He withdrew and lunged back, reaming me hard and fast. I would hurt tomorrow, but I was beyond caring now. My orgasm was building again; I could feel my empty vagina clench and release, clench and release. My breath sawed in and out of my lungs with a rasp.

“Do you wanna see who’s fucking you, princess?” he said between clenched teeth. He lunged deep, groaning.

“Yes . . . oooh . . . God, I’m coming.”

He could have threatened me with dismemberment and I couldn’t have held back. He thrust twice more as I shuddered and quaked and he bellowed out his own release, his cock twitching deep within the tight confines of my ass. He leaned over and unbuckled the mask, tossing it on the floor.

Blinking against the brightness of the light, I focused on the mirror in front of the submission bench. The man behind me was tall and extremely fit. His honey-colored hair stood in stark contrast to my inky black as he nuzzled my cheek.

“Jess?”

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His hazel eyes sparkled as he gave me a wolfish smile with no vanilla sweetness about it whatsoever. How could I ever have thought he was too tame for my taste?

“That’s fantasy number one taken care of. Which one do you wanna do next?”

I grinned. “Whichever one you prefer, sir.”

“I love you, Julianne.”

“I love you, Jess.”

As our eyes met in the mirror’s reflection, I knew I’d found my fantasy ending.

About the Author

India was born in Melbourne, Florida, when it was still a tiny little town, and was pretty much raised at the beach. From there her father moved the family to Summerville, South Carolina. He chose South Carolina because Northrup Aviation wanted to transfer him to California, where he figured his three daughters would wind up getting into trouble. As luck would have it, India grew up to be a hippie anyway. At age sixteen she sneaked out of her bedroom window to go to Woodstock. She’d like to say she made it, but she got caught before she ever got out of South Carolina.

India has been married twice—unsuccessfully both times—but the second marriage netted her a beautiful daughter, whom she characterizes as the best human being alive. She’s happily single with no plans of changing her marital status.

India has a B.A. in Forensic Psychology and has been employed in social work for a number of years, working in addiction, community mental health, corrections, and most recently child welfare. She has been a storyteller all her life, a talent she shared with her tween friends in junior high school, regaling them with tales of “dreams” she had about Davy Jones of The Monkees.

India never thought much about publication until she became friends with her pal Sheri Livingston, who administered a Yahoo group for writers. By that time, she’d written her first full novel, a historical western that is a nightmare of point-of-view errors and inconsistencies. That book remains in a tightly sealed box in her file cabinet and will never see the light of day. As she likes to tell her sister, who helped edit the manuscript, “that thing should be dragged out back and shot.”

India enjoys hearing from her readers and can be contacted at [email protected].

Contents

Cover

Books by India Masters

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

About the Author