Wanting him.
At the spasm of her inner walls, she shut her eyes, licked her lips – remembering his taste and how his cock felt. She choked out a sound and squirmed her ass to the side. The underside of breasts lay against the sink’s cold steel. Her nipples were pebble hard.
He paced again, slapped her ass once, stepped away. “I should jerk off on you. You deserve it.” His hard fingers stroked down her spine and she squeaked.
“Please?” That was begging.
“You need me?”
She gulped. “Yes.”
“No.”
The chaos of desire had her, was tugging at her, making her need, making her want. The cramping of her pussy was close to painful.
And that one slap had woken small prickles of heat that only fed her lusts.
“Not coming yet. Neither of us. Hell, no.” Wolfgang removed his shirt but retrieved and pulled on his pants.
After undoing the chain from the faucet, he tugged it and walked off. Again, she followed, naked, and with her lower parts feeling oddly squishy, wet.
He brought her to a bedroom, a room she recognized mainly from pictures on TV because the luxury was alien. The cleanness of these times when light was at their beckoning, windows were perfected glass, floors were not dirty, and walls were painted in fresh, bright hues.
Her mother’s house had been, she admitted, a darkened hovel compared to likely any home within a thousand, thousand miles of this one. And yet humans seemed as flawed as ever and all they did was throw garbage in the sea and war on each other. The TV had showed that too.
They had also found new fetishes.
How rich was Wolfgang?
The right-hand wall, which she’d not at first noticed, was hung with whips and black leather masks, black-and-red harnesses, and other things she was certain were not meant for horses.
She tilted her head, somewhat overcome. And those other penis-like objects lined up on a shelf?
Dildos. Of course. Some even had veins. But they were the colors of the rainbow as well as the commoner color in here for such things – black.
“Lie down and stay there while I fill your holes with multi-cock.” The amused tone gave way his intent – abusing her with something here. He pushed her shoulder while pulling on the chain leash, and she lay belly down on this bed with the crisp, shiny gray sheets that sat in the middle of the room.
Anything sexual would do her at the moment, and she knew he would eventually stick the real thing in her. She tempted him too much.
She shifted so her knees were on the floor and wriggled her bottom, still hoping.
Once he’d collected something from the wall, he dropped to the bed beside her then hauled her over his lap. She had to balance over him, hands on the floor and her toes on the other side of him, dug into the rug.
“First, I have to do this.” He smacked his hand onto her butt, twice, then began to spank her harder, regularly, almost in time to the cadence of his words.
“I’m doing research on you.” Slam. “And you try to mess with me?” Smack.
A startled squeak escaped her.
She had to admit it was an interesting way to punctuate his speech.
He had her yelping, squeaking, and even squealing, though every blow seemed calculated to hurt but not injure and when he stopped the hum of the burn sneaked between her legs. It radiated in an amazing way. His cock was hard too, for she felt it under her. She let go of his leg that she’d grabbed to steady herself.
She twisted her neck so she could look up at him.
“Stay,” he repeated. “You’ll want to hang on again for this.”
As if to make it mandatory, he took one hand behind her back and pinned it there.
Another smack rained down. This one was fire – a broad, plank-hard slam from some object.
“You need to listen next time? Yes? This is a paddle. Should I stop?” But he added three more smacks with the paddle while she wriggled and tried to escape. “Stop moving or this continues.”
Panting, she glared at him, sideways, and he wasn’t letting her go.
“Will you obey, miss mermaid? No biting. No tempting me. No seducing unless I okay it?”
Or else more paddling? Little did he realize the aftereffects had her inner engine running even hotter. The pain had converted within, turned to a simmering heated mix that made her ache for more of him.
He couldn’t tame a siren.
But she loved the play. The way he’d dragged her hand to her back. The narrow-eyed study of her that said he knew more than he said. Between them, there seemed an unspoken contract.
He knew she could still kill him. They both had their weapons.
She nodded, agreeing, submitting to this.
When he brought his hand low and offered it to her mouth, she licked the back, his knuckles, sucked on the tip of one finger, then drew the knuckle into her mouth and nibbled while they exchanged more looks. Seductive ones, of course.
His chuckle was low. He tasted of man, which – along with everything that had happened – made her let out a throaty sigh. There was pleading in that sound. How long would he make her wait?
“One more, for the blowjob on my fingers.” Then he drew back his paddle, high, and gave her one last stinging smack that felt as if it should rattle her teeth.
A moment of stillness, before the paddle clattered to the floor and he plunged fingers into her cunt and kept them there. She arched as much as was allowed by her position and by her hand being stuck behind her.
