Prologue:
Thank god he's finally home. I feel like I've been waiting a lifetime for him to come. I hear the front door close and his heavy footsteps coming towards my room as he moves down the hallway. I practically moan, waiting to see him slip through the door. Then the footsteps stop. The movement in my direction stops. I whimper in frustration. The chains around my wrists above my head jingle as I writhe, my body in desperate need of the attention only he can give it. But, I know better than to talk or beg. At least not until he tells me to. So I just sit there. Waiting. My body buzzing in anticipation, desperate for his hands and mouth and cock. I need him so badly already and I've spent a handful of days in his captivity.
My ears are on high alert, waiting for the slightest sound to ring out and tell me I might get some relief soon. I hear his deep voice float down the hall. He's talking to someone on the phone I think. Since I don't hear another voice, that's my best guess at the moment. His voice sends shivers skittering up my spine, an electric energy I've come to associate with only him, prickles over my flesh. Goosebumps scatter across every exposed inch, which is most of it. Another involuntary moan works its way up my throat as the wave of desire rocks through me..
He must be able to sense my sanity slipping because I soon hear him end the call and start moving down the hall toward my room again. My muscles tighten with anxious energy as his footsteps get closer and closer to the door. My breathing stops as the knob turns and the door creaks open. I can't see him through my blind fold, but I don't need to see him. I can already picture his dark brown hair brushed back, away from his handsome chiseled face, his strong jaw set in a tight clench as he looks over my nearly naked form, his white t-shirt straining over the broad muscles in his back and shoulders as he moves across the room. I follow him with my head using my hearing to track his progress around the over the floor.
"Hello, little Dove. Your looking particularly edible tonight." his accented voice carries a lilt of aristocratic arrogance, but makes my heart pound faster regardless. He moves closer to me, until I can feel his warmth start to seep into my skin and melt my bones. He's still more than a foot away, but I can feel his presence like a like a heavy weight. Though, it's not a burden, that weight. Not a burden at all. No. It's a relief. His presence comforts me like the fabric of a thick. Warm blanket covering me, protecting me from the cold night air. His presence soothes me in a way I never could have imagined would be possible. Who would have ever thought this would be my life. I almost laugh at the absurdity. A couple of weeks ago, I was just a normal twenty-three year old college student, working my way towards a degree in English Literature and now look at me. Chained up in some madman's bedroom.
"Have you missed me, little Dove?" The tip of his finger strokes across my cheekbone and shiver in response.
I nod my head emphatically, even though my brain tells me to shut the hell up, not to give him anything more than I must.
He grunts his approval, adding a second finger and dragging them both softly over my bottom lip before pulling it down slightly. I open my mouth to take his finger inside, but he pulls away too quickly, making me whimper.
He chuckles. "Don't worry, little one. I'll let you down in a moment so you can show me just how happy you are to see me." he says as he backs away, taking his delicious heat with him.
He walks into the connected bathroom and turns the water at the sink on, letting it run for what feels like an hour as I sit, waiting for him to return. In reality, It's most likely only a few minutes. My wrists are aching from the chains, shoulders screaming from being hoisted above my head for so many hours. But neither of these feelings is as demanding as the constant dull throb between my legs.
He's trained me well.
Finally, the floor boards creak, announcing his return. What I assume to be the keys, jingle in his hands. He reaches over me and suddenly my wrists are freed. They fall to my sides and I bring a hand to each wrist, one at a time, rubbing away the sting that lingers on the skin there. He moves away from me and I can hear him settle himself on the couch opposite me.
"Stand up, little one," he says, his voice, silky and smooth, sliding over my skin like rich dark chocolate.
I do as he asks, rising to unsteady feet. My arms cross in front of my body, over my breasts. Even after everything that's happened over the last couple of weeks, I'm still self conscious, still wonder if he finds me lacking.
"Now, why don't you take off those clothes and show me what I've been waiting all day to see."
Clothes might be a bit of an overstatement for what little material currently covers my body. I fidget, shifting from one leg to the other, scratching at the skin of my left arm nervously. I look down at my feet, even though the blindfold keeps me from actually seeing them.
"Dove. I didn't want to have to punish you tonight." He sighs as if I exhaust him. "I'm not going to ask again."
My hands hesitantly move to the tiny lace panties, pushing them down over my hips and thighs, they fall the rest of the way to the floor before I step out of them. Then I move to removing the lacy black bra, my nerves causing my hands to shake as I undo the front clasp. The cool air brushes over my nipples as the bra falls away from my breasts. I shrug out of the material and let that drop away as well. Covering myself with my arms once again.
He groans. It's a sexy, thrilling, confusing sound. I should hate it. I should hate him. Apparently my body doesn't know that, though. "Hands at your sides, Dove," he says with a new gravel coloring his tone.
I bite my lip as I lower my hands, clenching and unclenching my fists. My body is on the razor edge, every sense wired to each tiny move he makes, even though there are very few.
"Take off the blindfold," he murmurs.
I reach up and remove the black cloth covering my eyes. I draw in a quick breath, seeing him sitting in front of me, looking better than a GQ model with a plate of Triple Chocolate cake in his lap. God, I know I should want to kill him for what he's done to me, strangle him with my bare hands until he can no longer suck in a breath. Then I'd be free. I could go back to my normal life. Back to my family and school and normal job and loving boyfriend. But an extreme sadness follows quickly on the heels of that thought. The thought of leaving him should fill me with joy.
It doesn't.
That in and of itself terrifies me.I know my body craves his, I know my pussy drools for him, but I had no intention of my heart getting involved. I never even thought it was possible. I never protected it the way I needed to.
His face is exquisite, the sharp angles and strong cuts. His nose is straight but looks like its been broken a few times, adding a little imperfection but somehow making it all the more perfect. "Come," he commands.
I move forward on shaky legs, like a fawn, new to the world and unsure of its future. I move slowly until I reach him. He doesn't make a move towards me, just continues to command my actions. He reaches over and grabs a thin pillow, placing it between his feet on the floor.
"Kneel on the pillow."
I do as he says, knees making contact with the plush material and I find myself wanting to thank him for his thoughtfulness. It's crazy. I have accepted that I have officially gone crazy.
He reaches down, grabbing my chin in a gentle grip and pulling my gaze from the floor to meet his fiery blue stare. He's hungry. Hungry in a way that makes me shake with need and drip with anticipation.
"You are so beautiful, little Dove," he murmurs, stroking one hand down the side of my face. I close my eyes and lean into the touch, like a dog starved for affection. His other hand comes up from my chin to brush through my long blonde hair, stroking it with gentleness and a sort of reverence I hadn't felt from him before. "The most exquisite of my possessions. I'm not sure how I ever got so lucky." My body ignites and glows from the inside out at his praise. It's utterly ridiculous how much I wanted those few little words. How incredible happy and fulfilled they've made me. His hand runs over the back of my head, hooking behind the nape of my neck. "Now, show me how much you've missed me today."
I expect him to pull me down, open his jeans to free his cock and shove into my mouth, but he doesn't. He simply removes his hands and leans against the back of the sofa. Even going as far as to put his hands behind his head. I lean forward into him, scooting my body closer in between his knees. I bring my hands up to rest on his strong thighs, rubbing the fabric covered muscles, pushing my unsure fingers closer to the button on his jeans.
I know I shouldn't want to do this. I shouldn't want to give him anything when he has already taken so much... but I can't help it. I need his pleasure as surely as I need my own. My body craves his fulfillment, seeks his release as it would its own. There's no question in my mind of whether or not I am going to give it to him, It's a foregone conclusion. And the crazy thing is, I don't just have to... I want to.
I look up into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I'm worried even he can hear it. My fingers brush up his thighs to the opening of his jeans. I make quick work of the buckle on his belt and the button on his pants, even with my shaky movements. I pull down the zipper. The noise seems to have an immediate effect on my pussy, making it clench and drip. I can feel my need for him dripping down my thighs.
I ease his pants down and he assists by lifting his hips, making it easier for me to pull the material down to rest just below his ass. He's wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, which I don't immediately remove. I lean forward and rub my cheek slowly over his quickly hardening cock. Nuzzling his hardness, as if with affection. It makes my mouth water. I bring my hand up and cup his cock over the fabric. It jumps for attention as my hand passes over it, squeezing lightly at different intervals. After a few moments of this, I dip my hand inside, pulling out his hard length and taking a moment just to stare at it.
I know people say penises aren't beautiful, but they haven't seen his. His cock is large, at least eight inches, thick and strong. It makes my insides clench with the desire to have it everywhere.
"May I please suck your cock, Sir," I ask in a meek voice. Still focusing on his hard shaft, pulsing in my palm. The head looks purple and almost angry, I want to soothe away the pain with my lips and tongue.
He groans loudly, "You may, Dove. I need your mouth on me." He stares at me like he wants to eat me up. Like he's a lion, the head of the pride, and I'm the lone gazelle who's strayed from the safety of the group.
"I don't know if I can fit the whole thing."
He chuckles. "I'm sure you can. It'll just take some practice."
