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Chapter 5
Jodie
I wasn’t sure why I’d done that, opened my mouth. It hadn’t been in my plan, or in anyone’s plan as far as I could tell. When he put his finger inside my mouth, though I didn’t move, couldn’t move with my hair held, a frisson ran through me, radiating out from my lower stomach. No one had ever done that to me before. Like, just, taken over something so private as the inside of my mouth…touched my tongue as if it was theirs. And it was sexy as hell.
I knelt there while he adjusted the buckle at the back, and attempted to figure out my thoughts.
Despite his anger and accusations, I knew Klaus. He’d never do anything bad. I would trust him to the ends of the earth. But if by some miscalculation he overstepped, I could call this off and he’d do as I asked. So I’d play along. Though for a few seconds, a minute or two, it hadn’t seemed to be “play”.
I would have loved for this not to be play. God, the thrill that rocked me at the thought he might mean this…but no, I wasn’t convinced.
He was right about me wanting him in my bed, or me, in his, would be better, but money was what had started this ball rolling. I mustn’t lose sight of that. Going along with this rule-less world Klaus had devised was necessary. Besides, it wasn’t fucking, as he called it, I truly wanted. Even in the capture fantasies that I read, it all came down to romance in the end. Tortured, angst-ridden love sometimes, which the hero and heroine had to crawl across broken glass to reach, but love nonetheless. The sex was just the icing on the top.
Once upon a time, I’d thought my hero was Klaus.
“That’s good,” he said to me after the gag was buckled tighter. I blinked at him, at the piercing intensity in his eyes, and wondered what I looked like. So strange, having my mouth open, feeling the air drying my tongue.
I remembered what he’d said about this gag – if he wanted, he could fuck my mouth. This gag hadn’t been in my fantasies. His groin was at mouth level and, clearly, from the shape of his pants, he had an erection. Would he? I wanted him to. I wanted him to make me. Quietly, I squeezed my thighs together.
“Come.” He beckoned, indicating the open door. On the way past the cardboard box from which he’d taken the gags, he stopped and fingered the edge of the lid. Then he fished around inside and pulled out what looked like a black collar.
I tried to say, you don’t need that, but it came out a gurgle. With metal in my mouth speech was difficult. My intended words were what I thought I should say. I should protest like any good normal woman would. But in truth the collar was as enticing as the gag. They fascinated me. Kinky equipment always had. I was perversely pleased he’d bought these things, and wanted to use them on me.
“Keep going.”
All the way up the stairs, with the timber tapping underfoot from my steps, and thumping from his bigger feet and heavier weight, I wondered if he’d use the collar. Of course, when I got to the kitchen, there was the pile of dishes. Ugh. My revulsion kicked in. Sexual domination, sure. Dishes, housework, even cooking for a man, all these for some weird reason repulsed me.
I waited, breathing slowly, surveying the yucky dishes and cutlery, aware of saliva pooling in my mouth and the bright sunshine beyond the wide window, and the line of the sea’s horizon beyond that. I couldn’t swallow properly anymore. I itched to take the damn thing off and to swear at him a little. Kinky was good. Doing dishes, no, not good. I put my hand up to the buckle, testing him.
“Do you really want to try me so early, Jodie?” He pointed his chin at the dirty plates. The collar swung lifeless, powerless, from his hand. “Go.”
Fuck this. Didn’t he know how to be kinky? What was he going to do? Beat me if I didn’t comply? Sure he would. Not.
I wanted to be his bed servant not his cleaning lady. A trickle of saliva escaped my mouth and ran to my chin. While glaring into his eyes, I grabbed the buckle.
The kitchen wasn’t huge, and he was at one end and I was at the other near the sink. In one menacing step, he arrived an arm’s length away. That was it – my anger flipped into, I don’t know, some sort of euphoric excitement.
“You don’t want to do that, Jodie.”
My God, the determination I saw in him – this thin-lipped, narrow-eyed man advancing on little me. This was Klaus. He’d never hurt a fly, well a human, unless by accident.
But, he’d put a gag in my mouth, hadn’t he. What were his new rules? Did they include fighting back, saying no?
The buckle was wrapped in my hair and I used both hands to fiddle with it as I backed a step. He wouldn’t do anything, would he?
A strange feeling came over me – a suicidal courage that made me wonder if my eyes had lit up. I wanted to push him. I wanted to see what he would do. Was Klaus man, or mouse? Between my legs moistened.
Tricky bastard. He advanced, did some judo move, and grabbed one of my hands. When I let go of the buckle to fend him off, he stuck a leg between mine and tripped me. He took me down to the ground in a smooth pivot that relied half on strength, half on gravity. I knew some judo. I’d practiced with him, years ago. I could even remember the name of one or two moves. Ippon seoi nage. That one had stuck in my memory. Not helpful.
I garbled curses through the gag as I wrestled. I wasn’t giving in. Fuck him. In seconds though, he’d fastened me to the floor with an arm at my back. I drooled on the floor and choked more swear words.
“Bad, Jodie. Bad.” While keeping me concrete-still, he’d leaned in and said that an inch from my ear.
I shuddered at those intimate words, my muscles sagging as if some magic drug had stripped me of my determination to win. But his grip loosened and I revived. When I was halfway off the floor, with my hands pushing me up, he grabbed me again and held me tight. I could barely breathe.
“Let go,” I choked out. Through the gag, the words came out like Swedish said underwater.
But he let me go. Breathing hard, I pushed away again, and yet again, when I propped up on hands and knees, he put me in an armlock and forced me over his lap. Held me.
