Sweet Captivity

Not the way Andrés made me nervous. Nervous wasn’t an intense enough word to express the enormity of what he made me feel. It was why I couldn’t look away once he captured me in his dark gaze. I never maintained eye contact with anyone like I did with him. He didn’t give me a choice in the matter.

He considered me for a long, tense moment, his jaw tight. “Would it make you more comfortable if I told you I didn’t get these scars in a fight?”

I blinked at him. “What?” That didn’t make any sense. “Then how—?”

“That’s enough questions,” he cut me off. “I am a violent man, but I won’t harm you. I’ll never let anyone harm you. You’re mine, which means you’ll be protected. It also means you’ll accept my touch and my cock. Look at me.” When he said it this time, I knew he wasn’t ordering me to look him in the eye. “All of me,” he prompted when I hesitated. “Now, cosita.” The last was dark with warning, and my eyes flicked down his body before I could contemplate further defiance.

Once my gaze landed on his cock, I couldn’t look away. I might not have been with a man in real life, but I watched porn. And, despite his scarred body, Andrés could have starred in some of the most depraved videos I’d seen. He was huge, long and thick. His cockhead was purple with arousal, and a feminine part of me marveled that this reaction was for me.

“Touch me,” he bit out, his control slipping. I gasped when his cock bobbed, straining toward me.

I reached out and tentatively brushed my fingertips along his shaft. His skin was soft and smooth, but he was hard beneath my touch. He hissed in a sharp breath, and I felt him pulse under my fingers. I stared in fascination. I was doing this to him, affecting him the way he’d affected me. A strange sense of heady power teased at the corners of my mind, and I struggled to resist the perverted satisfaction. I shouldn’t enjoy my captor’s lustful reaction to me.

But it was undeniable that my body instinctively reacted to him, so the knowledge that the balance of power wasn’t entirely stacked against me gave me some courage. I wrapped my hand around his length and stroked him from base to head.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice more ragged than I’d ever heard it. He was at the edge of his control. I wanted to push him over that edge, to break him the way he’d broken me.

He reached between us with his soap-slicked hand and applied a liberal amount. When I slid my fist back, it glided across his flesh, and he groaned.

“Do you know how hot it is watching you touch me?” he ground out. “Knowing I’m the first man you’ve touched. The only man you will ever touch. Your first and only, my sweet virgin.” A bead of moisture formed on his cockhead, quickly washed away by the cascading warm water.

Emboldened by his words, I used my free hand to cup his balls, gently exploring their shape and weight.

He rasped out something in Spanish that I suspected was a very dirty word. A sly smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I struggled to smother it. He was coming apart beneath my touch, losing control. The heady sense of power that I’d been resisting finally settled over me, and I handled his shaft with greater confidence.

“Naughty gatita,” he said hoarsely. His hand fisted in my wet hair, tugging hard enough to make my scalp light up with awareness. “Very naughty.” He cursed again, and his grip on my coppery strands increased to the edge of pain. It only served to spur me on.

“Make me come, sirenita,” he ordered in an obvious effort to take back control with a command.

But the way he pumped his hips toward me to increase my pace let me know who truly held the power in this moment. He came apart on a harsh shout, his hot seed lashing out to coat my stomach, the heat of it lingering on my flesh even as the water washed it away.

His body pressed against mine, backing me up to the tiled wall as he braced his hands against either side of me. He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard.

“That’s enough,” he said with a shudder.

I finally moved my hand away, satisfied at the sight of his undoing.

A sharp grin suddenly lit his features. “Time for your reward, gatita.”

“What?” I asked, disconcerted by his jovial mood. I’d expected his anger at being broken under my inexperienced hands, maybe even shame.

“Good girls get positive reinforcement.” He tenderly stroked my cheek. “Remember, my pet?” He leaned in so his hot breath played across my neck as he whispered in my ear. “Your Master is training you to please him. You did very well. You’ve earned a reward.”

“No,” I said, shaken. How had this turned against me? I’d been riding high, triumphant. He twisted my victory into yet another defeat.

“You don’t get to refuse, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.”

“Aren’t you? You wanted to act like a naughty gatita. You will be tamed, Samantha.”

“I won’t.”

“Your little pussy wouldn’t get so wet for me if you didn’t want this. You wouldn’t have come so hard while you were bound and at my mercy.”

“That’s so fucked up. You’re—”

His hand clamped over my mouth, his long fingers pressing into my cheek almost to the point of pain.