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Chapter 17
Jodie
I heard his words as he strode into the room, but they were so outrageous, so unexpected, after what I’d just requested on camera, that I had to replay them in my head.
Right now, you’re my captive and time does not exist.
I focused on him again and stiffened – the leather straps, the spider gag, and the cane in his hand. He looked so formidable.
My thoughts were…seriously, my first thoughts were laced with fear.
What had I done? I shifted on my knees.
Clearly, to him, I’d done wrong.
He squatted beside me. His trousers were tight across his thighs, his hands rested there with the cane and that nasty spider gag. I hated it and couldn’t help eyeing it, as if it were some venomous creature.
“This is how it will be. Obeisance when I enter a room.” He pulled my head forward until I overbalanced and slapped my hands to the floor. “Down. Forehead on the floor. Hands way out in front with your arms outstretched. Don’t speak.”
I knew what an obeisance was. A slave did it for their Master.
His commanding growl had me obeying and lying in a sort of flat bow with my knees tucked under me. Worrying about the documentary could wait. I’d reacted as always. I’d warmed down below. Traitorous clit. It must be an ingrained response from wanking to all those fantasy books. Precisely this scenario would have had me flipping the ebook pages one-handed.
Not speaking had become easy. So it startled me when he set the spider gag in my mouth and buckled it on. Using the same hand-in-hair grip he dragged my head up. Instinctively, whining at the pain, I put my hands up.
“Hands at your back!” he snapped.
Chastised, I put them there, lacing my fingers together to give me pause in case I forgot.
“From now on, for whatever length of time I choose, you are my pet. No words. No getting on furniture. No getting up on your feet. Not unless I say you can.”
He didn’t ask for an answer but I grunted once, blinking watery-eyed, because of the sting from the pull on my hair.
“First lesson. You are available when I say. Don’t move anything.” One-handed he unzipped, took out his erect cock and put it to my mouth, then slowly thrust inside past the metal of the gag. He tasted of the sea and I felt grains of sand rub on my lips. As he fucked my mouth, I wondered, strangely, if he’d been swimming while I’d been stuck in this room. Then, after a few thrusts, he pushed my forehead to the floor again and went behind me. Within seconds his cock was sliding into me there.
Oh God. Used. Taken. Something about the casual assumption of my body being his, my mouth or any other part of me, resonated inside my soul.
Those first few seconds of entry, especially when I could do little to stop him, it scattered me, all I could feel was him in there, his flesh opening up mine as he pushed inward.
“You can brace your hands on the floor,” he ground out, having paused at the bottom of the stroke, imbedded in me all the way.
I groaned and wriggled a little, but did as he said, flopping my arms out and curling my fingers against the floor as if I could grab onto it. This time he plowed me for longer than he had my mouth, but before he came, he pulled out and zipped up. I was head to the floor with my butt in the air and screaming inside for him to continue. You could have handed me to a football team and I would have welcomed them. I was that turned on. He rode rough shod over me. He callously, with no regard for my opinion, had decided what should be done with my body. I was hot as hell. Incandescent maybe.
Guess I liked being objectified.
“Up. Off the floor.” He smacked me damn hard, once, on my rear.
I let out a soft moan before shuffling to my knees and looking at him wistfully. Whatever plans he had, so far I liked them. I remembered that I trusted him. So, therefore, he knew the time left for our documentary, but wasn’t telling me. Okay, I could roll with that.
Though his next actions perplexed me. Leaving me where I was in the middle of the room, he went and turned off the camera. Then he came to me and taped my hands up so my fingers were together like mittens.
“Every day I’ll do that until special mittens arrive. You no longer have hands to use. Pets don’t need them.” He bent and kissed me hard enough to hurt my lips, then he went down on his knees and bit and sucked my ass hard enough to make me try to get away. I couldn’t, of course. Laughing, he held me down and finished what he meant to. Now I had a new circular bruise. I glared. Drool from the gag dribbled to the floor.
“Marked. Good.” He poked the bruise once and casually fingered me between my legs. “I might get you tattooed somehow in the future. Something that makes you mine.”
Shit, shit, shit. Not in my book. No way.
“Don’t glare at your Master.”
