Page 20 of Sweet Captivity

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Just as panic began to sap my mind, he released the pressure. Blood rushed back to my head, and a strange high I’d never experienced soared through me. I let out a long sigh, and my entire body relaxed as a pleasant buzz quieted my mind. All my fear, my conflicting emotions, melted away, and I floated for a few ecstatic seconds.

“That’s better,” he praised, his fingertips skimming along the line of my vulnerable artery at my neck. My skin felt electric beneath his touch, alive. A low moan left my chest, and I arched my head back, further exposing my throat to him in mindless invitation for more.

“Stay just like that,” he commanded. His touch left my throat, his heat receding as the mattress shifted beneath me. I was aware of his hands on my ankles, one after the other. He spread my legs wide, and supple leather cuffs wrapped around my ankles to lock them in place. I didn’t tug against the restraints this time. I lay perfectly still and relaxed, relishing the quiet in my mind. This was much preferable to unrelenting terror.

Then he touched my sex, and instinctive fear surged back. My entire body jerked, but the restraints he’d used to secure me kept my body stretched out for him.

He gently shushed me, continuing to lightly caress me despite my struggles. “This part will be over soon,” he said, his voice almost tender. There was something slick on his fingers, a thicker substance than my own arousal. He carefully coated my labia, his fingers dipping between them before circling around my clit. I gasped and shuddered as he teased around the tightly-packed little bundle of nerves, pleasure lighting up my system despite m

y mounting fear. The longer his touch lingered directly on my sex, the more intense my terror grew. My entire body was shaking by the time he finally withdrew his hand, leaving a strange heat behind, as though he’d branded my sensitive flesh with his touch.

It wasn’t an unpleasant heat. In fact, it tingled rather than burning. I squirmed and tried to press my legs together to stop the sensation. The cuffs held my ankles fast, and I was left quivering and helpless to stop what was happening to my body.

“What are you doing to me?” I asked on a throaty whisper.

His fingers trailed beneath my breasts, spiraling upward and inward until they reached my peaked nipples. The same slick substance coated the tight buds.

“This is arousal cream,” he told me. “Not that you need it to feel pleasure. You’ve already soaked my hand when I’ve spanked you. This is to help you get past the fear. Soon, you’ll be desperate for me to touch your pretty pussy. You’ll beg for me to grant you release. Need will outweigh fear. Then we can move forward with your training.”

“I don’t want to be trained,” I protested on a whine. The same tingling had set in around my nipples, making me squirm as my body instinctively sought stimulation.

He chuckled. “Most wild things don’t. And you are a wild thing, aren’t you? You’re innocent, untouched. But your body hungers to feel pleasure. Once we get past your fears, I suspect you’ll be a very greedy girl. You’ll crave my touch. You’ve already responded so well to your spankings. You’ll learn to respond to positive reinforcement, as well.”

“You make it sound like I’m an animal,” I forced out, trying to ignore the heat that flared between my legs. “I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, his hands skimming down my sides, tracing the slight flare of my hips. “You’re a woman. But you’re mine. That means you’re whatever I want you to be. My plaything, my pet. Your sole purpose is to please me, to serve me. I’m your Master now, and it’s time you understood what that means.”

“But I—”

“Shhh.” He blew a stream of cool air over my nipples as he shushed me, and my protest ended on a soft cry as the tight peaks lit up with sensation. My back arched, offering my breasts up to him. His approving rumble vibrated against my skin as he pressed his lips against the soft swells, leaving feather-light kisses in a random, scorching pattern across my flesh. A strange, strangled sound left my chest, and rational thought evaporated.

“Has any man ever touched your breasts?” he asked before flicking his hot tongue against my tight, aching nipples.

A rough shout tore from my throat, and I thrust myself toward the delicious heat of his mouth. But my cruel restraints held me in place, and he moved away to blow another torturously cold stream of air over them. I whined and writhed, acting like the wild thing he claimed I was.

“Answer me,” he prompted. “Be honest, and I’ll kiss your pretty pink nipples.”

“No,” I said, the confession leaving me in a rapid-fire stream. “Not really. Not like this. I went to a convention once. I dressed up like The Dark Phoenix. From X-Men. Cosplay, you know? So this guy was Wolverine. I met him at an after-party. He kissed me and copped a feel. But it was over my costume. So I guess that doesn’t really count. Does it? I used to think so. But I—” My lust-addled speech ended on a sharp cry when his lips touched my nipple, his tongue swirling around it before flicking the peak.

Keening, animal sounds left me in a steady stream as he continued to stimulate my breasts, alternating between plucking at my nipples with his fingers and kissing the sting away with his soft lips. My head thrashed against the pillow, and I began to lift my hips up in wanton invitation. My core pulsed to the point of aching, my clit throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

His palm rested on my belly, below my navel and tantalizingly close to my heated sex. His fingers traced little circular patterns just above my clit, teasing.

“And your pretty little pussy,” he prompted. “Has any man ever touched you here?”

“No,” I whimpered, my mind too far gone to worry over confessing my most embarrassing secrets.

“Poor little virgin,” he murmured. “You need to be touched, don’t you?”

“I… I want…” I bit my lip, barely holding back.

“Tell your Master what you want,” he cajoled. “Tell me how you like to be touched. Do you put your fingers inside your tight pussy? Or do you rub your little clit?”

“I don’t. I can’t. It’s…”

Dirty. Wrong.

Dirty little girl.


Tags: Julia Sykes Erotic