He hauled me over to his briefcase and somehow managed to open it and extract some rope while I flailed and clawed at his face.
“Let me tie you up,” he said. “Be a good girl.”
I was not a good girl. I was a wild, fighting girl, and I was thrown across the bed so hard it knocked the breath out of me. Before I could regroup, he was on top of me, straddling my ribs. He corralled my arms and looped the rope around my wrists five or six times, leaving a tail. Then he leaned over me, his crotch pressed to my face. I moved my head, searching for air, but all I got was gabardine and balls. His hard shaft pressed against my cheek, over the bruise Simon had put there two days ago.
I didn’t want to think about that now.
“I can’t breathe,” I yelled with what little air I had left.
He moved back, leaned down and grabbed my chin. “Maybe I don’t want you to breathe.”
“Jesus. No matter how nice you are to me, it always ends like this.”
He frowned. “You have no idea how it’s going to end.”
While he was suffocating me with his cock and balls, he’d tied me to some tether point in the headboard. I yanked hard. Nope. Nothing. When I kicked my legs he held them down.
“Be still. You’ll stay where I want you to stay. You should know that by now.”
More rope, more brutal force to capture my legs and bind them together. He wound rope from my knees to my ankles and fixed the end somewhere under the footboard. I was bound tight, barely able to turn or stretch. So much for him trying to be less scary.
He undid his zipper and took my face in one of his hands, and shoved his cock into my mouth, or more accurately, my throat. I choked and tried to sit up, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I groaned and sucked him. The bondage took away my choice to comply.
“That’s fucking hot, when you groan like that,” he said.
He played with me for ten minutes at least, pounding into my throat, rubbing his balls on my face, demanding that I lick or kiss or nibble or suck. He pinched my nipples with excruciating force whenever I did it “wrong.” No matter how much I writhed and tried to get away, I was stuck, a prisoner to his will. When he finally shot his load in my throat, I was relieved, not turned on. Well, I was a little bit turned on.
“That was nice,” he sighed, sitting on my chest.
“Your vision of nice and my vision of nice are so different,” I whispered. “Also, you’re crushing me. Please get off me.”
“Shut up.” He drew a finger across my drool-covered lips. “Jesus, you’re a mess. So sloppy and wonderful.”
“Your vision of wonderful and my vision of wonderful—”
He clapped a hand over my mouth. “One more word, and you’ll be gagged for the rest of this session. And that won’t suit my purposes at all.”
Oh God, I hoped that didn’t mean his purposes included more blowjobs. Or chokejobs, as I’d come to think of them. He got up and went to the bathroom while I waited, still tied to the bed. I wondered if W ever had gentle, caring sex. I wondered if he’d ever tried it, just once.
He came back and cleaned me up in a relatively gentle manner, kissing me and wiping all the drool from my chin, neck, and ears. I stared at him, because I wasn’t supposed to talk, but I wished he would talk to me. I wished he would connect to me somehow, with something beyond his cock.
He finished wiping me off and tipped a water bottle into my mouth. I spit some of the water out to keep from drowning, and he went back for the towel, blustering about what a mess I was. As he sopped up the dribble, he took the opportunity to hurt my nipples some more. The truth was, he loved reducing me to the level of a drooling, helpless victim.
And we were only about twenty minutes into this scene.
He stood and went to his briefcase, and dug out his phone. While he scrolled through messages, he unbuttoned his shirt and scratched his chest. My God, so freaking sexy. His cock spilled carelessly from his fly, all his beautiful masculinity flaunted in profile. Sadly, I couldn’t do a thing about it. Just take off the pants, I thought. Take it all off. Let me look.
He stroked his half-hard cock, ignoring me completely. There was something about the careless, confident way he stood there that fired my desire. I was drooling harder now than I’d drooled during the blowjob. I shifted on the bed, pressed my legs together the slightest bit. Of course he noticed.