She should have known better, but she'd figured it out too late. That was all Carissa could think as she lay on her back with her wrists tied to the bed, completely naked. Anders Varrceau was his name. He was one of those tall, sexy men who could use a French accent to devastating effect. He had one of those rugged faces, a five o'clock shadow enhancing the effect, and gray-blue eyes that seemed to promise things both dark and delicious. If only she'd realized just how dark...
She was three weeks into her six-week trip through Europe. The 22-year-old had had it all planned out, this reward to herself for graduating college. And then she'd met Anders in Berlin. After the nightclub he'd taken her back to his house. He'd romanced her. They'd spent a steamy night together...and in the morning she had found herself naked and cuffed to his bed with a note left on her bare chest. Remembering the words, they still struck her as creepy, demented, and yet sweet at the same time:
"Mein Schatz, my treasure, I count myself the luckiest man in the world to have met you. I love you and will never let you go, because that is what a real man does when he has found something precious: he never lets that thing go. Not ever. I'm sorry, Carissa. I know it's not reasonable to expect this of you. I know you have friends and family who will miss you very much. You will become a missing person, and perhaps those others who have loved you will learn to cope with their grief. I am too selfish. I have you in my veins. You're the drug I cannot go without, and so I will have you...no matter what. Forever. Please forgive me."
Carissa let the memory of Anders' note fall away as she heard the key turn in the lock at the front door. Her body awoke with anticipation. She could hear the light step of her 'boyfriend'-turned-captor coming up the stairs, down the hallway, until the master bedroom doorway swung wide open. There he was, the hunkiest eye candy in his impeccable, dark blazer and crisp, white button-down shirt. He stepped into the bedroom as nonchalantly as any husband returning home from work. It wasn't even lunchtime and today he'd come home early.
He looked at her as he closed the door behind him. She looked like a captured goddess. She was this gorgeous, slender young woman with long, dark-brown hair and medium-sized breasts. If he detected the pleading, haunted expression on her face, he didn't show it.
"Hello, beautiful. How was your morning?" he said with a dark yet teasing sense of humor. He put down the groceries he'd bought on the way home and loosened his tie, pulling it out from the collar before he folded it and placed it carefully in the proper drawer. He turned to her and leaned onto the mattress.
Carissa glared at him. "You know how my day was, you bastard. You keep me tied up whenever you're not here." Anders' face had a mask of contrition as he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She let him. She'd realized by now that constant resistance was just pointless. You had to pick your battles. She didn't have the energy to fight him on every little thing, not anymore.
"My darling girl is feisty. Mmm. You know me well, know what turns me on," Anders murmured. He trailed a hand up and down Carissa's inner thighs. She stiffened at his touch. The beautiful young woman closed her eyes as he bent over and gently lapped at each of her nipples, until they pebbled just so. She hated the sensations he awoke in her sometimes. It was so wrong. It made her ashamed beyond belief. And yet... She was his captive, true, but that didn't mean she wasn't conflicted. There was a part of Carissa that still loved Anders, despite what he'd done.
"Let's see if I can wipe that scowl off your face, my beautiful girl," Anders continued. He knelt at the foot of the bed and began to nudge his tongue between her cunt lips. His tongue flicked up and down her pearled nub. Then he dove inside her, tasting her. Coaxing her. He patiently stroked her sex with his tongue. His hands explored elsewhere. His fingers massaged her skin and created trails of heat. She hated it...almost. She squeezed her eyes shut until his fingers gently pinched her nipples. The two stabs of sensation made her open her eyes and look down. He was feasting on her sex now. Her pussy throbbed with the beginnings of an ache she couldn't quench. She hated that too. Almost.
"Mmm. Such a good girl. You become wet for me. That makes me feel blessed. It's like a gift you give me. I cherish it," he whispered. Now he inserted a finger into her sex, then two. He pumped them gently in and out, in and out, as he knelt down again and slid his tongue lovingly against her joy nub. She let out a sigh. Her fists clenched as her cunt muscles clenched up with need. No. She had to stop him. She couldn't let him do this, not again.
"It's all right, darling. Let me take you over the edge. I love you, baby. Let me show you how much." Those words, which might have been sweet if she'd been in any other place, if Anders had been any other man - right now they were tainted. Yet part of her heart pulsed with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She marveled at the care of his touch. He was patient with her, and dedicated. He lapped at her sex tenderly, finger-fucking her with firm yet careful strokes. The scent of her fluids became stronger as the wetness gathered onto his fingers, coating them with the proof of her arousal.
Carissa looked down as he gently nipped at her clitoris. She groaned as she felt his fingers slide deep inside, stroking the inner walls of her cunt.
"Please," she sighed. "Stop."
Instead, he kept licking, stroking, more fervent than before. His tongue battered furiously at her clit. His fingers lanced deep inside her wet and soon-to-be eager warmth. He kept pumping those fingers, like two miniature cocks, as his teeth tenderly captured her clit and squeezed it without biting - his attack as disciplined as it was devastating.
Abruptly, she realized that she was bucking her hips, thrusting her crotch towards his face. She had unwillingly given him yet another sign of her surrender. 'No, what are you doing, Cari? No...' She tried to summon up a fresh burst of self-loathing, but she was too mentally drained to even care. Her delicate face scrunched up with pent-up desire as she felt heat permeate her body, especially the spot between her legs. She began to quake, holding off the impending convulsions which would send her to oblivion. Her nipples hardened almost painfully now, and her cream trickled onto Anders' tongue. The man took the sign as encouragement, redoubling his efforts. He plunged his fingers all the way inside her and nipped at her clitoris hard as she felt herself lose control.
"Anders!" she groaned. Her hips thrashed. He grasped her by the waist and held on, licking, sucking and swallowing her fluids as her pussy tried valiantly to flood the sheets. Carissa's hands clenched up and pulled uselessly against the ropes that bound her. It took maybe minutes, but to Carissa it felt like so much longer. She felt her cunt's spasms as her fluids continued to pour between Anders' lips. Finally, she came back to earth. Her heaving breasts slowly stilled, and she looked down as Anders pulled back, licking his chops. His face glistened with her cunt cream, and his eyes stared intently at her with a devotion that sent chills down her spine.
"My beautiful, sweet Carissa. Your nectar is the taste of heaven. I will never grow tired of it."
'I wish you would, you bastard!' Carissa almost spat that at him, but she couldn't. She had to behave. The clever, hopeful, scheming part of her still saw escape as an option. Over the course of the last few weeks, she'd tried several times, and each time he'd caught her, she'd lost what few 'privileges' she still had. She'd been reduced to...being tied up naked whenever he went out. It was humiliating. It was so many things she could hardly even acknowledge, even to herself.
"Are you going to rape me again?" she said. Her tone accused him, and for a moment he looked hurt.
"Does the pleasure I give you mean nothing? If it is so unwanted, why did you open your legs wider for me, Carissa? Why did you welcome me? Why was your body hungry for my touch?"
Technically, she could have stopped him from performing his cunnilingus. Her wrists were tied, but her ankles weren't. She could have closed her legs. She could have kicked him. Why hadn't she? She told herself that all she'd done was give in to the inevitable. She'd just been playing along. It didn't mean anything. Not really.
