Chapter 5: Obtain Everything (BTS)
Stumbling into my house, I grip the table by the entrance to steady myself. Whirling around, I hold up my hand to deter my shadow from approaching. "Don't...don't get any closer," I warn, inching around the table.
After locking the door, Lucas saunters over to me. "I warned you this would happen," he states, leaning aggressively against the door. "I've been patient. I've waited. But today, you pushed my limits."
I stumble toward the table, glaring at him. "How? What have I done? I never even invited you in, and I don't know you!" My breaths become erratic, my nerves streaming down my spine as I take in the menace in his eyes.
His lips curl into a smirk, then he crosses his arms, his muscles tense beneath the plain white shirt. "You know who I am," he asserts, narrowing his eyes at my apparent ignorance.
I glance around, trying to recall where we've met. The familiar fliers at Benson's club come to mind, but his presence now spurs something deeper within me. "I don't know..." I mutter.
"Fine," Lucas replies. "I'll remind you." He takes a step forward, his eyes gleaming like the ocean as they pierce into mine. "You're mine now. And I've been waiting patiently for this moment."
Involuntarily, my pussy contracts, my nipples hardening under the heavy eyeing of his gaze. My voice is reduced to a breathless whisper. "Punishment?"
His lips curl into a devious grin, his hands clutching the countertop behind him. "Yes, that's right. You - deserve - this." His steps bring him closer, his voice laced with excitement.
Trepidation settles in as I conjure up the memory of seeing his face, though I'm certain it's merely a coincidence. "Remember?" I ask cautiously.
His gaze darkens. "Of course, Riley. It's been a very long time since then, don't you agree?" He strides another step forward, and with every move I make, his pace matches, sending my fear spiraling.
I howl, furious at the audacity of his approach. "I'll hurt you! I'll bite you!"
He chuckles darkly. "Punishment isn't about hurting you," he says smoothly.
My heart pounds, adrenaline flooding my body. "What is it about?"
His eyes light up at my inquiry. "I'm going to punish you for your sins, Riley. But it's not going to be cruel. It's going to be pleasurable." He reaches down for my hands, gripping them tightly.
His grip solidifies, making it difficult for me to rebel against him. "Please." I beg helplessly, remembering when he had arranged the sharp objects on the kitchen counters. "Please don't."
He steps back, many emotions flashing across his face. "What would you have me do instead, baby?"
Sweat drips down my forehead, my knees quivering with fear and anticipation. "I... I don't care."
His lips twitch into a small smile. "So you're not giving in?"
I continue to cry, realizing my feistiness is making the situation worse. "Please."
"There, there." Noticing my plight, Lucas lowers his voice to a softer tone. "I'm not going to do anything you haven't asked me to do, Riley." His thumb brushes across my cheek, gently wiping away my tears. "It's always been in your hands."
With his free hand, he reaches behind him and obstructs my view of his movements. My inquisitive eyes scour the room, searching for potential weapons. "Where the hell is my gun?"
Lucas turns and confronts me. "You think the punishment would be any easier with a weapon?"
The fire in his eyes makes my legs quiver. I pulse a frown. "No."
"I knew you would say that." He plants a kiss on my forehead as I turn back to my panicked search for my rifle. His hand wraps around my ankle, dragging me across the bed and landing with a thud.
I howl in pain, swearing and struggling as I kick my shadow. "Please! Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!"
A menacing laugh fills the room. "The more you resist, the more you'll hurt."
My eyes well up with tears as Lucas carries me away from the bed, and down the stairs. My back slams against the wood, leaving a deep bruise on my backbone. He drags me by my ankle through the kitchen, making it impossible to escape. "Please! Don't!"
"I know," he grins, taking a seat beside me. "It's been a very long time since I've had a punishment worthy of my needs."
His hand rubs gently across my back, the warmth comforting me ever so slightly. "I'm not going to hurt you, Riley. This is something we've indulged in before - it's simply about the dominance."
I sob, feeling the truth in his words. He spins me and lifts my chin, tilting it to meet his gaze. "You'll trust me one day, right?"
I nod, hoping my fear won't swallow me whole.
I pull at my belt using my hips to try and break the towel holder. It won't budge. I'd had my kitchen fitted a week after moving in, everything was brand new and annoyingly strong. "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else!"
His hand remains on my back as he circles around to stand behind me. I tighten my legs, trying to ignore the wetness between my legs, and really regret my outfit of the evening. He smiles. "No, darling. There's no one else I'd want but you."
Footsteps recede from the kitchen and down the hall. I turn my head, hoping to see where my captor is going. "Don't leave me like this!" I plead, envisioning my tombstone with the inscription, "Died from sexual desire tied to a kitchen counter...silly me."
The guy is off-kilter, I'd figured that out from the start. But this is a new kind of crazy...so why am I so bloody wet? Yes, I've spoken to strange men online, let them tell me all the foul, kinky, mind-blowing things they desire to do to me - I get it. Is Lucas Morrows someone who tracked me down online? No. Impossible. I was cautious. I'm always careful.
Footsteps reemerge from the hall, and I inhale, going completely still...Hoping he's a relic, one that only reacts to motion. He enters the kitchen and I groan, feeling limp when he slaps my ass as he walks by.
"We're going to recall, darling," he says, placing a flat item on the counter in front of me. I immediately recognize the sleek black laptop, and my stomach knots when he opens it and uses my fingerprint to unlock it. I cringe as the desktop image pops up, a cartoon of a man having sex with a tearful woman, the speech bubble at the top saying, "She told me to make her cry, and I love to pleasure my woman."
Brilliant. Now this freak is going to think I'm into that stuff. "I'm an erotic romance writer...that's the only reason I have that image, I don't relate to or support it." I hope he can't hear the deceit in my voice. The way he raises his eyebrow suggests I haven't convinced him.
"Then why do you have it As your desktop?" he asks, widening his grin. "Doesn't matter, anyway." He clicks on an icon at the bottom of the screen, bringing up the internet, and I groan once more, closing my eyes and praying for a quick death. The first thing that appears is my last-viewed, a porno site with row after row of videos featuring hardcore public spankings. Fuck me.
"It's for research," I whisper.
"You know how they say, you can't spell research without the letters S-E-X?" he asks with a wide grin. "But your search history isn't what I wanted to share." He types in the name of a chat website...one I use pretty much every day.
"Damn," I whisper. I'd figured he was wrong.
"It seems my lamb is a popular target among the beasts on this website," Lucas says, his eyes gleaming with an almost unharmonious combination of anger and arousal, the kind of mix I usually run towards but now is different.
"I'm not--" I gasp when Lucas raises his hand and brings it down hard on my ass. He stares at me, waiting for another denial. I open my mouth, and once again my words are interrupted when his palm smacks my ass, making me moan. "Never mind," I murmur.
He smirks. "Excellent." Scrolling through the messages, he stops at one from three weeks ago, the profile picture is of a muscled chest decorated with scars across the pecs and abs.
"I recall," I say quietly. He contacted me after seeing one of my photos. I remember looking through his photos, being captivated by his rugged appearance, the scars only making him more attractive.
"So, Riley, what do you recall about that particular encounter?" he asks, the sadness in his eyes disappearing slightly as he looks at the screen and me. [SelectedQuotes]
[Synonyms] tug: pull; belt: fastening; leverage: push; snaps: breaks; kitchen fitted: installed; sparkly new: shiny; annoyingly sturdy: irritatingly strong; sturdy: strong; hand remains: hand stays; circles around: moves around; ignores: ignores; regretting: regretful; fashion choice: clothes choice; wickedness: wetness; captor: abductor; grip: hand; stupid: dumb; an image: a picture; dead silence: deathly still; praying: hoping; denial: disagreement; mental image: mental picture; tombstone: gravestone; died from: passed from; carnal desires: sensual desires; killed me: disgusted me; nuts: crazy; another level: a new degree; If not: Impossible; careful: cautious; tracked down: found; my pictures: my photos; your photos: my pictures; admiring: appreciating; rough and rugged: rough and tough; disavow: deny; profile picture: picture; Of: with; target: target; predators: predators; nudity: nakedness; chatsite: chat website; login page: web page; locking system: fingerprint id; Good girl: Good girl; Linux: Linux; message icon: message button; currently lit red: currently lit red; Denial: disagreement; separate: different; yearning for: longing for; chat: messaging;
We had conversations about what turns us on...our not-so-vanilla preferences, as well as our kinks. We seemed to jibe, and I was stunned to find he preferred full-figured women. I shared my obsession with getting spanked, indoors, outdoors, on knees or tied up...it doesn't matter, I just need the contact, that deep impact. "I recall what you vowed to do if we ever crossed paths," I finally say.
"Yep," he acknowledges. "And what was the first thing I vowed to do when I discovered you?"
I gulp, my breath audible as I attempt to adjust my position on the marble. He'd warned me if he ever found me, if he ever caught me, he'd never let me go. The concept was strangely exhilarating, the belief of a man desiring me so intensely, his fantasy was to keep me imprisoned, readily available for his use. "You said you would restrain me," I say.
"Correct," he affirms. "And what was the specific method you mentioned?"
I didn't need to rummage my memory for the solution, it was overwhelming my mind. "In the kitchen, bent over the counter," I whisper, closing my eyes.
His palm traverses my back, then down to my butt, his fingers toying with the hem of my dress, the material barely concealing me. "I'm a man of his word, dear lamb, and I'll have what I was promised," he says.
I inhale sharply as he tilts up my garment, totally unveiling the skimpy thong barely hiding my pussy and ass. I squirm against my bound hands, trying yet again to escape, to cover myself, to get away. The strap keeps me securely anchored over the counter, my feet remaining dangling over the ground.
A growl of predatory satisfaction emanates from his chest as he bends down and spreads my cheeks to view my orifices. The tears threaten to escape. "Please," I plead, but at this juncture, I'm not quite certain what I want. This was something I'd constructed in my mind, a fantasy Lucas and I had devised.
"I recognize what you desire, dear lamb," he says. With two fingers, he glides under my thong and shifts the material to one side, examining my intimate areas. "So scrumptious," he says with a sigh. "Your pussy contradicts your mouth, Riley."
Traitorous slut. My pussy is always the first to succumb. I bite my bottom lip as Lucas slips one finger into my pulsating cunt, curling the tip slightly and inspiring me to whimper. Another finger joins the first as he sticks out his tongue and slides it around my anus. "Fuck!" I yell out, writhe around, mortified by the ingress. His fingers pull out, the force resulting in a suction sound.
He strides to a kitchen drawer. "Do you recall, I'd asked what playthings you possessed that I could use on your body?" he inquires while still facing the drawer.
I reluctantly shake my head. I don't own many toys..."No."
"You claimed your kitchen housed various things we could use for our escapades." He removes his hand from the drawer and grabs a wooden rolling pin. "You suggested we could dabble with each of your openings." In the next cabinet, he plucks out a wide, plastic utensil (spatula). "You suggested different things could spank you with...preferably until you cry." He smiles at that last part. "You're quite imaginative, darling."
He's indeed correct. My reckless self had suggested such things. "It was merely a fantasy!" I exclaim, my futile effort to wrench the strap causing him to laugh.
"I adore witnessing you like this," he mutters, increasingly aroused. Taking the rolling pin and spatula, he positions them beside me on the counter. Choosing another drawer, he uncovers several cooking utensils. "You promised to nurture me...to guard me."
He stops, facing me again. "Riley, I'm always there for those in my care. Don't confuse this for something solely born of malice."
I hesitate, then he brings a chair and opens my laptop for the second time. "Then maybe you need a refresher." Browning through our messages, he reads them sequentially, and I feel as if I'm peering into my upcoming future, rather than the past. Yet, in a way, he's accurate. The more I hear my words come from his lips, the more I recognize my needs and cravings, my horrendous fantasies...the more my pussy tightens and the arousal drips down my thighs.
He promised to take care of me, Riley, but he also warned me that he'd challenge me, discipline me, and make me realize that the real thing was way better than anything I ever dreamed of. Standing up, he dries my tears even though they've already dried. He returns to his task at hand (bposing as a dominating character).
"I'm not prepared yet, Lucas," I cry out, my voice trembling with unnamed emotions.
"You'll never be ready, baby lamb. That's why I'm here - to guide you through it and prove to you our compatibility." He lightly taps his finger on his chin as he eyes his tools laid out before him, then grins. Grabbing the pestle, he approaches me from behind and rests a hand on my ass, spreading it for better access. "Let's find out just how tight your backdoor is."
This is purely an imaginative piece. No people depicted here are real, living or deceased. The story is purely an inventive work.
Read also:
- Uninhabited Abode, Satisfied Appetite
- Closest Pal Turns Into Skilled Expert
- Stories From Celeste: The Seductress
- Airbnb Shines at Display
Source: www.nice-escort.de
