Page 54 of Magnum, Volume 1

And then I was back upstairs in the dungeon, submitting to the cincher, the shoes, and the damned plug all over again.

We sat on the screened-in porch once it was dark outside, with both the ceiling fan and another huge floor model blowing on us. The bats were active, the katydids noisy, and something occasionally splashed in the lake.

He’d given me permission to speak, but I really wished he hadn’t. It’s less stressful, sitting like this when he’s silenced me. When any conversation is his responsibility and I only have to answer direct questions.

Part of me wanted to bring the breakfast conversation up again — to talk about what comes after, when I’m no longer in danger, but he’d been right about us needing to talk about it outside of high-protocol.

It would be easier to just let him dictate that, too, but I couldn’t do that. I have a career I love, and that means I have to take charge of negotiations once I’m no longer trapped here. My inner submissive had loved just being ordered around without the option to set boundaries, and I adored him for creating a safe space where that could happen. He hadn’t made outrageous rules or demands, and that’d given me the gift of seemingly-outright submission. I hadn’t had to back him off a single time, and it made the magical illusion of him just taking me, demanding and expecting absolute power exchange… fuck, it felt damned real.

And any negotiations at all would fuck that up.

But it couldn’t be helped.

Didn’t have to happen now, though, so I remained silent until I caught the silhouette of an owl flying in from the water to a tree not terribly far from the house.

“He’s watching us, Sir. I can feel it, even if I can’t see him.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s a good thing we aren’t field mice.”

I loved these evenings, relaxed in his arms. Sometimes he’d play with my tits until the nipples ached and throbbed, or circle my clit with just enough pressure to keep me straining, never enough to let me fall. Other nights he’d drive his fingers into me and edge me until I was shaking and wordless, then pull them free and leave me empty.

Most nights, though, he simply held me.

The waist cincher dug into my ribs with every breath, a constant, unyielding reminder of exactly how thoroughly I belonged to him. The plug’s shaft was mercifully narrow, and my weight wasn’t on the shoes. Still, every shift of my hips made the base press against my raw hole — an unrelenting ache I couldn’t ignore. The damned thing was uncomfortable as fuck, and yet comforting in the way only absolute ownership can be.

When he decided it was time to go inside, I didn’t know if he was going to fuck me or not. I hated not being able to rely on the schedule. Not knowing exactly what was about to happen.

He didn’t make me wait long before he was between my legs, my knees spread wide, and the blunt head of his cock was driving into me. My mouth opened on a sound that never made it out. The stretch was brutal right off the bat, my pussy still so fucking raw. And then the plug shifted hard inside my ass, the sudden movement jarring every nerve ending that had grown used to it spreading me wide open. Both overstretched holes blazed with agony, the pressure from one making the other feel twice as tight.

His monster cock felt enormous. Thicker. Deeper. Like he was carving space that hadn’t existed a moment earlier.

“Look. At. Me.”

The command cracked across the room, his voice both demanding and irritated. My eyes flew open to meet his gaze.

His dark gaze locked onto mine and held while his cock stayed buried so damned deep inside me, it was as if he owned every part of me, and it felt like he could see straight through every defense I still pretended to have.

“There you are,” he muttered, and rolled his hips, grinding the base of the plug against the densest cluster of nerves in my ass. The dual invasion made my vision white out for a second while I worried his dick might split me open, and I fought for air while he pounded into me.

My mouth opened in a silent scream, my gaze still on his face, watching him observe me while he fucked me. It felt as if he was cataloguing every flinch, every flutter, every tiny sound I couldn’t quite swallow. He fucked me like he was taking inventory of what belonged to him, and it was intimate, way too profound, but I didn’t dare close my eyes and make it stop. Fuck, it was like he was invading both my body and my psyche at the same time, and it was too much. I looked down in an effort to stop having to look at him, but he fucking growled at me, so I looked back up.

He picked up speed, hammering harder into me with every shove, and I shook my head back and forth. “Please slow down, or… fuck, it hurts, Sir! Not so hard. Please!”

Never had he ever slowed or let up when I begged, but I couldn’t help myself.

And the bastard actually sped up, I’m pretty sure, but then he reached down and pressed his palm over my clit, and just like that, I desperately needed to come.

But I was beyond shocked when he ordered, “Come.”

My body heard the command before my brain processed it, and an out-of-the-blue orgasm tore through me like a lightning storm. I cried out, clenching around both him and the steel, and he fucked me at his leisure while he watched me shake and tremble and come undone.

Then he started fucking me in earnest.

He didn’t give me time to come down. He set a hard, steady rhythm that forced the plug to shift with every thrust, turning the relentless dual sensation into a gauntlet.

My pussy was completely raw and swollen, and the friction built fast.

But he didn’t order me to come again, or even give me permission. He kept me right on the edge, pulling back every time I got close, changing the angle, slowing down just enough to deny me. The teasing went on until I was panting and begging, tears streaming while my hips lifted to meet him, and I begged and pleaded with both my body and my words.