Sweet Captivity

“Go ahead and punish me, then,” I challenged. “You can spank me all you want, but I’ll never beg you to violate me.”

One corner of his lips ticked up with perverse amusement. “I do enjoy a challenge,” he purred, his pupils dilating. I felt his cock stiffen against my belly. He leaned down, his lips skimming across my cheek before tickling the shell of my ear. “You enjoyed your spanking, so it’s hardly a punishment,” he said, the whispered words threading through my mind, reaching deep inside and revealing the truth that I didn’t want to acknowledge. “But that’s not what I have planned for you. You owe me an orgasm. Your first. I want it. I’m going to make you come hard, so your body has no doubt that I’m your Master. I can give you pleasure. I can give you pain. Obedience is taught through discipline: punishment and reward. It’s time you learned exactly what that means.”

I trembled, my heart hammering in my chest. I hadn’t realized that I’d stopped struggling. He was too strong, too powerful. And his crass words overwhelmed me more effectively than any physical show of force.

His erection pressed against me, thick and hard. “Do you feel what you do to me, sirenita?” he asked, his voice rough with lust. “You are so beautiful when you’re like this; your little body shuddering in my arms. Are you frightened? Or aroused?” His teeth nipped at my ear, and I sucked in a sharp breath. “Or both?” His hand slid down the length of my spine, caressed the curve of my bare bottom, and dipped between my thighs. He hummed his approval when I whimpered. “Both,” he concluded with dark satisfaction as he found the slickness on my labia.

He pressed a tender kiss against my neck, just below my ear. My nerve endings crackled with awareness, and my skin pebbled.

“Stay,” he murmured before finally releasing me.

I remained frozen where he’d left me, my body tingling with fear and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. I watched him with wide eyes as he crossed to the chest of drawers and retrieved a few items. This time, he slipped them into his pocket before I could make out what he’d selected.

When he approached me once again, he held a length of black cloth wrapped around his fist. I took a step back, wariness making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“I like watching your lovely eyes when I’m playing with you, but this will make you more aware of what I’m making you feel,” he told me.

“What?” I asked faintly, but I didn’t have long to wonder what he meant.

He lifted the cloth to my face and pressed it over my eyes. I closed them automatically, and I felt him knot the material firmly at the back of my head. Panic spiked as soon as the darkness closed around me, and I lifted my hands to rip the blindfold away.

He caught my wrists immediately, guiding them back down to my sides.

“Settle, cosita,” he cooed. “This isn’t going to hurt.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted on a shaky whisper, the words leaving me without thought.

A low, rumbling sound rolled over my skin. “If I were a good man, I’d tell you not to be frightened. But I’m not a good man.” He pulled one of my hands forward, pressing my palm against his bulging erection. “I like having you at my mercy, Samantha. I like when you tremble and whimper for me.”

“Please,” I whined, trying to tug my hand away from his hard length.

He held me fast. “Just like that,” he said with rough approval. “But soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you, not to release you.”

He finally, mercifully guided my hand away from his terrifying arousal. He released my wrists and gripped my waist, lifting my body as though I weighed nothing. The dark world spun around me as he moved my body and positioned it where he wanted. My back settled onto the soft mattress, and I instantly tried to roll away, disoriented and frightened. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, and I was very aware of the heat of his hands on my flesh. His masculine scent infused the air I desperately breathed, until I thought I would drown in it.

His steady grip kept me pinned to the bed. He grasped my wrists again, tugging them above my head. Cool metal snapped in place around them, a sensation that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me; we’d trained with handcuffs at the FBI academy. As soon as his grip left my wrists, I tried to pull my arms down to cover my exposed body. They jerked against the unyielding metal, and his hands returned to my forearms, pressing them down into the mattress.

“Don’t struggle,” he ordered. “You’ll only bruise yourself. I’m interested to see how easily your pretty skin marks up, but not like this.”

His words made my fear spike, and I twisted beneath him. His palm settled over my throat, his long fingers wrapping around my neck.

“Cosita,” he said, warning imbuing the word. “I gave you an order. Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But you want to,” I whispered tremulously, going utterly still. “You want to break me.”

His hand remained at my throat, but his other stroked my hair. “I won’t break you. But I am going to tame you.”

“I don’t want to be tamed. I want to go home.” Tears sank into the black cloth that covered my eyes.

“You’re scared,” he said softly, still petting me while holding my neck in a gentle grip. “That’s natural. But it will pass. You have to trust me, Samantha.”

“Trust you?” I asked on a maddened laugh. It was impossible, insane.

“You will trust me. You will give me everything. Trust that I will take care of you. I will give you pain, but you don’t yet understand the pleasure I can offer. Now, be a good girl and don’t pull against the cuffs.”

“Fuck you,” I hissed, my terror morphing into rage. It was too intense to bear, so my mind redirected the fear into anger.

“Mind your language,” he rebuked. His hand tightened around my throat. I could still breathe, but he pressed down just hard enough to restrict the blood flow to my brain. I’d trained in how to choke a man out, so I knew what was happening to me. If he squeezed too hard, I’d slip into unconsciousness. Maybe even die.