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Authors: Cindy Jacks

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BOOK: Wilder's Fantasies
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Playthings properly stowed, he returned to the bed, his wide, sculpted silhouette accented in dim light. Fiona huddled against the warmth of his skin beneath the sheets.

“Did I serve you well?” she asked, gripped with insecurity that he had seen the darkness inside of her and found it lacking.

“You did beautifully tonight,
preciosa
.” He wrapped his body around her and stroked her hair. “But you have much to learn. It is I who serves you in this thing of ours—not the other way around. And when you’re ready, you can tell me what fantasy you’d like to explore next.”

Electricity crackled in the pit of Fiona’s stomach; she snuggled closer to him, enveloping herself in his embrace. Ideas she had never dared to indulge swirled around her mind. With Marcelo’s guidance, she imagined a whole new world of passion, her desires no longer burdened by inhibitions.

Fantasy Two

Strangelove

 

The ropes Marcelo wound into a neat coil differed from the restraints he had used the first time he bound Fiona. Soft, worsted cotton instead of leather. Adrenaline coursed through her as she thought of their first encounter. Almost a month had passed since then.

At first she thought she might never return to Chelo’s bed, and in the weeks that passed he had given her room to figure out what she wanted. She soon discovered that the fire he had started could not be extinguished. Flashes of memories came to her at the most inconvenient moments: during meetings at work, in the middle of dinner with her parents, even in church, for God’s sake.

Every time she dared to think of him, of what they had done, her skin turned crimson and grew hot to the touch. Her cunt tightened to the point of aching, her pulse echoing between her thighs. She burned with a heat she had never before experienced. No prior lover even came close. There was no denying it. They had forged a singular bond of trust, of desire and of
requirement
. Simply put, she needed him—and only him—to play out her wildest fantasies.

An urgent kiss snapped her attention back to the man before her. He shimmied her blouse over her head and unzipped her tweed skirt, then let it fall to the floor. Goose bumps dotted Fiona’s bare skin, though the room was not at all chilly. Her nipples tightened to the point of pain, brushing against the silk of her bra. But soon enough he had stripped her of that and the matching black panties.

Forbidden to move, she struggled to control her breathing as he walked around her. One finger traced her jaw and her neck then slid down her torso, barely grazing her mound before it swiped over one hip to tickle the cleft of her ass. Her cunt spasmed with need, but she knew it would be a while before he would allow her release.

The first knot he made looped the rope around her waist. He ran the cord up her stomach, just beneath her tits, and made another complex knot. Continuing up her body, the binding bisected her breasts and arched over each shoulder. After he joined the ties that circled around her ribcage, he wound the ends together, down her back, and secured them with a square knot to the rope around her waist. Marcelo stood back to admire his handiwork. A mountaineer’s clip fastened in back completed the harness.

Fiona inspected her reflection. The smooth rope pressed into her skin differently than the leather had. It made a decorative pattern, turning her into a live work of macramé. Thus far, the cord proved more comfortable. She imagined the way he could take charge of her by changing his grip.

Marcelo skimmed hands along her shoulders, down her belly, and then stroked her aching mound. She shivered―an involuntary response, but one that she knew would he would choose to punish her for. Grabbing her by the hair, he bent her forward and smacked her ass several times.

“I said be still,” he said, his voice deep and firm, but never louder than a normal speaking tone.

“I’m sorry.” Tears prickled her eyes, stinging heat radiating from what she knew must be red handprints on her buttocks. How she longed to turn and inspect them in the mirror, but she didn’t dare.

He hooked a finger in the bindings that ran between her breasts and pulled her to the floor. Her knees smacked against the hard wood. She yelped, her cunt throbbing in time with her pounding heart.

With a pair of wrist cuffs made of metal covered in velvet, he secured her forearms. A similar set clamped onto her ankles, but he didn’t fasten them together. He picked up a bar about two feet wide with clips on either end, spread her legs, and attached the rod between her ankles. Now she understood the purpose of the contraption. It would keep her splayed open, pussy and asshole bared for his pleasure.

Tipping her forward, he gave her a light kiss then eased her all the way down. Bent before him in a pose of worship, elbows and knees crouched against the floor, she awaited his next move. A glance at the mirrored wall showed that she looked as glorious as she felt. Her hair spilled across the floor in shining ribbons of gold. Rounded buttocks created a heart-shaped swell behind her. Fiona smiled—she wanted to look gorgeous for her master, and the hunger in his gaze showed he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. His dark eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Ah, ah, ah, no peeking,” he said and pushed her head down, tying a black silk blindfold over her eyes.

She sensed his movements around the room. Little clues helped her track him around the room― The sound of a cabinet opening, the brush of his linen pants as he passed her, his muffled footfalls, the scent of leather. Hushed preparations kept her guessing as to what he had in store.

Then, she heard the clap of a paddle against his hand or perhaps his thigh. Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself for the impending strike…but none came. Instead, something tickled her thighs, and soft strands slid over her back. She shivered. The strokes licked across her face and down each arm.

“What are you touching me with?” she asked. But no answer came.

He took a tight hold of the harness around her abdomen and drew the supple material between her legs. He repeated the stroke, teasing her clit. As much as she struggled to control her reaction, she quaked beneath the torment of his touch. Raw desire claimed her, she could feel her own juices wetting her thighs, her cunt aching to be invaded.

She thrust her pelvis upward. Then nothing. Perhaps as a form of punishment, he withdrew his attentions. Fiona waited. Not a sound, not a step. What did he have up his sleeve? And still the silence stretched on.

Fiona wanted to call to him, but a loud whoosh broke the stillness.

Crack!

A hard blow crashed against her backside. She sucked in a breath of surprise. Warmth spread over her stinging rear. As much as the pain incensed her, it also excited her.
Crack!
Another hit came before she had recovered from the first. Fiona moaned.

“Do you want me to stop,
preciosa
?” he asked and ran a hand over her heated ass.

“Yes.”

“Then you know what you have to say.”

The safe word,
strangelove
. And then she understood. He was going to test her limits and try to push her beyond. In defiance, she held her tongue.

Excitement darted through her. His willingness to realize her every request, in her mind, showed a sort of tenderness in the twisted world of their creation.
La cosa nuestra
, he called it,
this thing of ours
. No other phrase existed to categorize what they had together. A relationship? Not in the traditional sense. A grand love affair? Definitely not. But they had become kindred spirits in the dark world they created.

Another strike with the paddle, then another and another. She cried out and tensed, ready for the next hit, but Marcelo released her. He soothed her throbbing skin with a chilled lotion. The fluid leaked between her legs, and a hard, cool shaft pressed against her wet slit. He pushed it inside her and whisked away the blindfold.

Mirrors positioned around the room her allowed her to see herself at all angles. The strands of a flogger hung between her legs, the handle buried within her. The sight quickened her pulse, set her insides on fire. Her pussy throbbed, aching for the pounding he would eventually give it. The anticipation tightened her already painfully hard nipples.

Marcelo stripped off his pants, his cock stiff and arrow straight. He lifted her head and put the tip against her lips. Without hesitation, she ran her tongue over it, then along the underside. It twitched in response as if eager to enter her mouth, but he simply smeared a bit of pre-cum on her lips and then approached the bench where he had laid out all his toys.

Gripping her harness again, he gave her a good smack with a leather-covered board. It left a welt in the shape of a heart on her rear. Her inner walls gripped the flogger. She moaned, but not in discomfort. The sting of the spanking gave over to the pleasure jolting through her. She tensed her cunt against the flogger handle again to experience the sensation a second time.

“Oh, you like that?” he asked, but she didn’t answer.

As he continued to spank her, she struggled to manage the sensations flooding her core. Part of her wanted to tell him stop, she wanted relief from the hurt. But she also loved the pain; it took her to a place where she could lose all control. A sheen of perspiration covered her skin as she struggled to bear the increasing power of his strikes. One final thunderous clap, and he let loose of her bindings. Again, he rubbed salve on her welts.

Casting the paddle aside, he fell to his knees behind her. His massage of her buttocks led to strokes at the cleft in her backside. Pushing an oiled finger into her asshole, he eased it past the muscles tensing against invasion. Fiona gasped. He knew she had never been entered this way before. It was something they had discussed but hadn’t yet explored.

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked.

She sighed, relishing the sensation of being stretched and filled in a new way. “No. I feel good.”

At first, he did nothing but caress her and plant kisses along her back. Little by little, Marcelo began to move the finger inside her. Her asshole clenched and her cunt gripped the flogger. Entire body buzzing, she watched him finger-fuck her ass. The tendrils of the flogger brushed against her thighs. A delicious shiver preceded goose bumps pebbling her arms.

His actions became bolder. He loosened her puckered hole by curling and twisting the finger, then slipped another inside her. She whimpered, the sweet bite of pain spreading heat from her asshole to aching mound. Panting and moaning, she struggled to remain still. She longed to sit back and drive his fingers and the flogger as deep into her body as possible.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and she wanted to object, but knew better lest he break out the paddle again. A few drops of liquid dripped between her buttocks. Clutching onto her hips, he slipped the head of his cock into her ass.

Fiona panted and fought against the sensation that she had been cleaved in two. His shaft slipped deeper, his abdomen pressed against her buttocks. A cry escaped her, and she writhed against her restraints. He retreated then delved in to her again. Pain and pleasure overwhelmed her until she was unsure where one sensation stopped and the other began.

Writhing, she was desperate to free herself and yet she needed him to force her to take more. Sweat streamed down her torso, her breath grew ragged. She needed to come, but she couldn’t bear the stinging ache much longer. Faster and harder, he pounded into her ass until agony won out over her enjoyment.

Her lips quivered and her voice cracked, but she forced herself to utter the word. A whisper at first, then a demand, “Strangelove.
Strangelove
.”

Immediately, he stopped and withdrew, pulling the flogger from her as well. He freed her ankles and came around front to take the cuffs from her arms. His hands cupped her face, and he helped her to sit back on her haunches. “Are you okay,
preciosa
?”

Anger set her jaw, and tears flooded her eyes, not because he had hurt her, but because he had found her breaking point. Before she thought better of it, she slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side; a handprint glowed red on his cheek. He shook with mocking laughter. Furious at his reaction, she shoved him backward and climbed on top of him. Clutching at his cock, she tried to guide him into her sodden folds, but clearly he found this behavior less amusing.

Marcelo caught her by the throat, flipping her onto her back. “If you want to play rough, we can play rough. You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

Tears still stung her eyes as he mounted her and shoved open her legs. Heart pounding, cunt raw and aching for release, she continued to struggle against him though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she needed him to overwhelm her, overpower her.

Fingers still clenched around her throat, he buried his cock inside her and then pinned her wrists over her head with his other hand. She uttered a strangled cry, meeting his gaze. His eyes glowed, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, his jaw slack. He looked like a man possessed. Inner walls gripping his shaft, she ceased all resistance, her body now his to do with as he pleased.

Harder and faster than he had fucked her ass, he hammered into her cunt. The slick smack of their bodies colliding echoed around the room, the musk of sex heavy in the air. Ecstasy flooded her core, each thrust taking her higher. This was how he mastered her, he ruled all of her senses, seeped into her pores and her veins, she had no choice but to submit. Legs trembling, she spread wider to take him deeper.

Releasing his grip on her neck, he wrapped one of her legs around his hips and slowed his savage pace. Clit pressed against his pelvis, she rubbed against his muscular abdomen. Closing her eyes, she focused on the agonizing tension tugging at her soaking wet cunt. She moaned and panted, desperate to come.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured and she did as told.

The fire in is gaze had mellowed to smoldering embers. A whisper of a smile played across his lips. Rocking against her, he ground his pubis against her clit as he whispered in his native Spanish. Fiona caught only a few words:
dulce
,
bella
,
mojado
. Sweet, beautiful…wet.

BOOK: Wilder's Fantasies
12.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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