completely naked, my dress lying in tatters on his floor. Wringing my hands, I went over my options for my next move. Did he want me to leave the room and find him? Or was I supposed to wait here? Not knowing what else to do, I sank to my knees and waited.
Eventually, he pushed open the door. I let out a breath of relief at the sight of him. My knees ached to a point that was unbearable.
“How long have you been waiting on your knees?”
“A while, Master.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You know how to behave when you want to.”
“Can I get up now, Master?”
He held out a hand. “Yes. You have chores to get to.” He pulled the nipple clamps from his pocket. “Present your breasts.”
I almost begged for mercy, but in the end I stood up straight, clasped my hands behind my back, and suffered in silence as he clamped my nipples. The passionate, lustful, out-of-control Gage from the night before was long gone, overpowered by a man who apparently guarded his emotions above all else.
He kept me busy with chores for hours. After dinner, he returned me to the basement, where he abused my bottom some more for his perverse pleasure. Like the previous weekend, he took me anally. Wrists and ankles locked into place on the spanking bench—a term I’d learned through my research—I was powerless to stop him as he probed my tight hole.
“Stop,” I sobbed. Every last shred of composure I’d held on to vanished as he slowly inched his way in.
“It’ll get easier each time we do it. Relax your muscles.” It burned like hell for the first few minutes, but then Gage buried his fingers in the place he’d staked as his, and a different kind of fire erupted. “Relax,” he repeated, “eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it.” He pushed all the way in with a hoarse groan. My body opened for him, and as he rubbed me to pleasure, my cries took on the sound of ecstasy. His body owned me, demanded my surrender, and with a smack to my crimson bottom, he commanded my orgasm. Completion crashed over me, like a tsunami that couldn’t be stopped. He held his own orgasm at bay for a long time, forcing me to release twice more before he withdrew from my ass.
“Sweet dreams, Kayla,” he whispered after he’d unfastened the restraints. The door to the basement clicked shut. I remained on the bench for a while, replaying what had just happened in my head. Not only had he made me enjoy it, but he’d brought me to orgasm three times. The realization stunned me, yet on some level I realized it shouldn’t have. Gage had slowly knocked down my defenses, gaining compliance, and if my heart didn’t yield to his intrusion, my body sure as hell did.
Again and again, whether I liked it or not.
I fell into bed and questioned my very being. What was wrong with me? What kind of person enjoyed being forced like this? How could I enjoy anything in life—least of all something so sinfully twisted—while my daughter fought for her life in the hospital? Tears trickled onto my pillow as sleep pulled at the edge of consciousness. My last thought before I fell asleep was how I’d need to find a good therapist after Gage was finished making me his plaything.
10. B E T R A Y I N G T H E D E M O N
The biggest surprise on Sunday was how quickly the day flew by. Gage kept me busy with additional chores, three more rounds of sex, and even the absurdity of a board game. You haven’t played Scrabble until you’ve done it naked with a sadist who makes up his own rules. The only words allowed in Gage’s rulebook were those of a sexual nature, and his prize for winning was a blow job.
Now I stood in the foyer, but unlike last Sunday, I didn’t hold fast to any grand illusions of freedom. Gage’s dominance would follow me out the door. He molded his body to mine from behind, one hand palming my breast as the other fell on my thigh. The hem of my dress inched up with his fingers. We’d just returned from
Eventually, he pushed open the door. I let out a breath of relief at the sight of him. My knees ached to a point that was unbearable.
“How long have you been waiting on your knees?”
“A while, Master.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You know how to behave when you want to.”
“Can I get up now, Master?”
He held out a hand. “Yes. You have chores to get to.” He pulled the nipple clamps from his pocket. “Present your breasts.”
I almost begged for mercy, but in the end I stood up straight, clasped my hands behind my back, and suffered in silence as he clamped my nipples. The passionate, lustful, out-of-control Gage from the night before was long gone, overpowered by a man who apparently guarded his emotions above all else.
He kept me busy with chores for hours. After dinner, he returned me to the basement, where he abused my bottom some more for his perverse pleasure. Like the previous weekend, he took me anally. Wrists and ankles locked into place on the spanking bench—a term I’d learned through my research—I was powerless to stop him as he probed my tight hole.
“Stop,” I sobbed. Every last shred of composure I’d held on to vanished as he slowly inched his way in.
“It’ll get easier each time we do it. Relax your muscles.” It burned like hell for the first few minutes, but then Gage buried his fingers in the place he’d staked as his, and a different kind of fire erupted. “Relax,” he repeated, “eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it.” He pushed all the way in with a hoarse groan. My body opened for him, and as he rubbed me to pleasure, my cries took on the sound of ecstasy. His body owned me, demanded my surrender, and with a smack to my crimson bottom, he commanded my orgasm. Completion crashed over me, like a tsunami that couldn’t be stopped. He held his own orgasm at bay for a long time, forcing me to release twice more before he withdrew from my ass.
“Sweet dreams, Kayla,” he whispered after he’d unfastened the restraints. The door to the basement clicked shut. I remained on the bench for a while, replaying what had just happened in my head. Not only had he made me enjoy it, but he’d brought me to orgasm three times. The realization stunned me, yet on some level I realized it shouldn’t have. Gage had slowly knocked down my defenses, gaining compliance, and if my heart didn’t yield to his intrusion, my body sure as hell did.
Again and again, whether I liked it or not.
I fell into bed and questioned my very being. What was wrong with me? What kind of person enjoyed being forced like this? How could I enjoy anything in life—least of all something so sinfully twisted—while my daughter fought for her life in the hospital? Tears trickled onto my pillow as sleep pulled at the edge of consciousness. My last thought before I fell asleep was how I’d need to find a good therapist after Gage was finished making me his plaything.
10. B E T R A Y I N G T H E D E M O N
The biggest surprise on Sunday was how quickly the day flew by. Gage kept me busy with additional chores, three more rounds of sex, and even the absurdity of a board game. You haven’t played Scrabble until you’ve done it naked with a sadist who makes up his own rules. The only words allowed in Gage’s rulebook were those of a sexual nature, and his prize for winning was a blow job.
Now I stood in the foyer, but unlike last Sunday, I didn’t hold fast to any grand illusions of freedom. Gage’s dominance would follow me out the door. He molded his body to mine from behind, one hand palming my breast as the other fell on my thigh. The hem of my dress inched up with his fingers. We’d just returned from
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