Truly helpless, p.38
Truly Helpless, p.38Part #10 of Nature of Desire series by Joey W. Hill
He complied, wincing but enjoying her pleased look at his discomfort. The straps had left marks behind, and she seemed to like those as well. Bending, he captured her breasts in his hands and began to suckle the right nipple. At the same time he angled his hips and pressed against her opening, feeling the give of the moist tissues, readying themselves for his entry.
Fucking heaven. He slid into her, slow, savoring every inch of her slick channel, the squeeze of her muscles on him, the quiver of her body. He angled himself so the stroke of his cock inside would hit the right nerve groups, his pelvis rubbing her clit while he pumped inside of her. But if all it took was the right combination of physical factors, women wouldn't be such a mystery and pleasure.
The removal of the harness had only increased his girth and she moaned with pleasure at the fit. He captured her mouth again, finger tips curving around her neck and descending to stroke the outer swell of her breast, her side, ignoring the more obvious targets like her nipples or cunt.
"I love the way you smell. I love how you walk, the way you wear your clothes. The way you breathe and laugh. I don't have to look at you with my eyes. I close them and know that you're everything in my world...fucking everything."
He'd intended to stay with the practiced things that pleased a woman, things that told her that the man inside her wasn't just fucking her; he was her lover, aware of her at every level. And it wasn't a line; he meant all of it. But he hadn't meant to go so deep. The words were just there, leaving his lips, said and unable to be unsaid, because they were simple truth.
She put her hands on his face, framed it, bringing him down so every point of their bodies were flush against one another, including their mouths as she held hers against his.
"Go over with me," she whispered. "Sweet boy. Don't let me go alone."
She wrapped her arms around his back and he rolled them so she was sitting on him, his feet braced on the floor as he sat upright on the bed and brought her down on him with sure strokes. He could give her his strength. He might give her anything, because she left him no choice.
For the first time in his life, he truly belonged to a Mistress. In a few minutes, after the climax came, that would terrify him, and he would do something stupid to push her away. So he wanted to make this the best damn climax she'd ever had. Within five minutes, that is.
The time reminder gave him a desperate spurt of humor amid the arousal. He put his mouth on her breast, suckling, as she gripped his hair. He kneaded her ass, working her on him. Her pussy clutched his cock, those first ripples of orgasm about to take her. Obeying her command, he let go with her, pressing his parted lips hard against nipple and breast, his forehead against her chest, face held against her bosom by her clutching hands as he took her where he'd promised.
And she delivered him there right with her. God, he wasn't sure there were words for how it felt, his seed spurting inside her cunt, nothing between them. As if the gates of heaven had truly opened, like they said in the songs.
While they were both riding the aftermath, his arms tightened around her. A dozen things started to come to his lips, all of them wrong, all of them spurred by that demon in his soul that told him he couldn't have this, that he was just some toy she was playing with, that he was getting too deep and needed to push her away before he did her real harm...or got himself hurt beyond repair.
"No." She put her hand on his mouth as his lips parted to say the devil knew what. Despite the aftermath of the climax still gripping her, enough that her face looked soft, her lips still parted and eyes a little dazed, there was a sharpness behind that.
She eased off him, and he automatically helped her, steadying her as she made it to her feet, standing between his. "Don't speak and stay there."
She moved to her suitcase, blissfully naked. Their combined release marked her thighs in glistening tracks, making him lick his lips and need hit him hard anew. He was glad she didn't say he couldn't look at her. Not until she returned. "Close your eyes."
He did and she put a blindfold on him. "Put your hands behind your back."
When he complied, she attached a pair of thick cuffs to his wrists and locked them together. The hold pressed the ID bracelet into his flesh, a welcome imprint. "One more thing," she said.
The finger in the hinge of the jaw, anticipating his resistance, but this time he opened up to allow the ball gag to be seated. She buckled it so tightly around his head it cut into the sides of his mouth.
His cock, even spent, reacted to the restraints, to her taking full control. He could feel the spurt of pleasure deep in his gut, in the ripple through all his muscles.
"Good," she murmured. "For the next little bit, you'll simply be. You don't get to make stupid, snarky comments, or lash out at me. I've taken care of that. You can let it go. Come with me."
She put her hand on the cuffs, propelling him to his feet, and guided him to the bathroom. The shower started, her hand staying on him as she probably checked the temperature with the other.
"After I put on your blindfold, I was going to text Dale and ask if we could be an hour late," she said. "He'd already texted me that he needed to switch our appointment to late afternoon. So win-win. Step inside the shower."
She steadied him as the spray hit him, and then maneuvered him so the water jetted over his body, wetting down every side and angle. "Be still now."
She washed him, handling his genitals with practical efficiency and then scrubbing him head to toe as thoroughly as he could do himself. More so. The angry cycle of words, the things that tormented him, had no outlet, so all he could do was focus on her hands, and react to how it felt, being cared for and given no choice to speak or act except in response to her commands.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Her voice had a sensual tag to it and she slapped his cock, starting to rise. "Get your mind on the right things, and you can't control that beast. That's your only job, Marius. Pleasing me, following my commands. That thing inside of you? It answers to me as much as you do, so you let it know that if it fucks with me, I will put it down hard."
She brushed wet lips over his, stretched by the gag. "If it fucks with my boy, I will destroy it utterly. I can see the dark side of the mirror. It won't ever be able to hide from me."
She put her hand on his chest and pushed him into the corner, angling a jet so it hit his shoulder and side, keeping him warm. "Down."
She guided him to sit on his ass, bent legs spread so she could tease his testicles with one questing foot. "You sit there and behave while your Mistress cleans herself. And no, you don't get the privilege of watching. You sit where I tell you and wait on me to want something from you. Other than sitting there."
He really wanted to watch her. If she'd cuffed him in front, he might have tried to lift his hands and sneak a peek from under the blindfold. But she'd anticipated even his smallest misbehavior. He listened to the splash of water, smelled soap and shampoo. She hummed, talked about things she wanted to see and do with him while here. Talked about previous experiences she'd had in the city. All as if having a cuffed, gagged guy sitting in the corner of her shower was the norm.
It felt that way to him. As he listened to her, imagining what she was doing, other things receded. He wished he could have done some kind of post-sex cuddling thing with her, but he would have messed that up, wouldn't he? She'd done this to him instead, which initially left him with resentment, then shame, then...quiet. She stroked his wet hair, used his bent knee as a prop when she shaved each of her legs. Then she teased him, straddling his body and pressing her cunt up to his gagged mouth, rubbing herself against it as she leaned against the tile wall.
"I could make myself come again just doing that," she said. "Looking at my sub sitting and waiting on me, pretty mouth all gagged and hands bound, his knees spread out so I can see the package and ass that's all mine... I might just chain you up in my house when we get home and never let you out."
He wondered if he wouldn't prefer that himself.
She wore jeans and a lacy bra, a combination that he decided was his absolute favorite look for her so far. When she unlatched his cuffs, she tugged lightly on the ID bracelet. He reached for her, but she slipped away. "Finish getting dressed. If we're going to play with dogs, probably a T-shirt would be best. I need to handle about a half an hour of email before we head to Dale's. You can occupy yourself however you wish."
Her gaze flicked down. "But keep your hands off what's mine. That's not a permitted distraction." Her gaze glinted, anticipating his wicked thought. "Even if it's intended to distract your Mistress."
"Eddie's Junkyard and Temporary Home for Good Dogs and Imperious Cats." Marius read the sign on the gate. The "and Imperious Cats" looked like it had been added, since it was in bright red while the rest of the lettering was yellow. It was also painted in more feminine, less blocky script.
The words were embellished with a whimsical cartoon of a car on one side and a dog and cat on the other. Beyond the sign, he saw several acres of junk cars. A two-story building near the gate looked like a combination office and residence. Another long, low building housed the dog kennels, evident by the row of about twenty chain link runs with dog-sized doors providing access to the building's interior. He saw some of the dogs lying in the runs on hammock-style bed frames.
A smaller building nearby had some tall, fully enclosed cages appended to it, but no animals in them right now. Just carpeted towers he recognized as the type of thing people bought for their cats. So that was the building where the cats were. His muscles knotted up, his breath clogging in his throat in a way that irritated him. He snapped his gaze away from that building. He didn't have to go in there. He was here for a dog. To look at dogs.
This was stupid. People with dogs had stable lives, regular schedules. Green yards with picket fences. They didn't have basement apartments with tiny, narrow windows so scuffed the sunlight that managed to get through was weak, diluted. What did he know about keeping a dog, anyway? He'd never had a pet. Though they probably taught you how to do it, right?
One day working with a road crew, he'd taken his lunch break sitting on the curb of a strip mall parking lot. He'd seen an animal rescue group outside of a pet store, having some kind of adoption day. A family was being introduced to their new dog, the volunteer handing them a plastic bag full of food samples and pamphlets.
Around the same time, another volunteer had been taking a dog for a quick walk and squat, and she'd come near Marius. When Marius met the medium-sized brown and black dog's eyes, something got caught up inside his stomach like a bird in a net, the sandwich halfway to his lips.
The dog hadn't made a sound, but he'd heard it anyway, an echo from his past. A dog whining, crying...a universal plea for help.
The dog cowered back from him, lips curling in a half snarl before he retreated behind the volunteer and tugged against the leash, trying to get away from Marius. The girl's startled glance had fallen upon Marius's face. Whatever she saw there had a friendly reassurance dying on her lips. She'd managed a short nod without meeting Marius's eyes before she and the dog hurried away.
"We shouldn't be here," Marius said. "This was a bad idea."
"We're here now. Let's give it a go." Regina unbuckled the seat belt of the courtesy car the hosting company of the presentation had provided her. "Come with me. If nothing else, I want to say hi to Dale and give him a donation."
But he stayed in the car as she got out. When she paused in front of the grill, he lifted his gaze. Her jeans fit her well enough to destroy a saint's peace of mind. Her purple T-shirt had New Orleans printed across her high, generous breasts, surrounded by swirls of washed-out colors that gave it a vintage look.
It was the first time he'd seen her in sneakers instead of her boots or heels. She'd tied back the ropes of her hair in a loose tail, except for a couple she'd curled in corkscrews to frame her face.
He'd had her under him less than a couple hours ago, straining, gasping, moaning. Then she'd ridden him to a finish. After that, he'd been sure he'd screw things up, because the need to protect and distance himself had been overwhelming. She'd anticipated it, defused it, dealt with it. The gag and restraints had restored control of his thoughts and emotions again. But now she'd brought him here and shit was resurfacing. Could he trust her with what he was feeling?
He hadn't had that conscious thought before, and now he considered it, a new idea. She'd said he needed a friend as much or more than he needed a lover. Did she realize he was new to the idea of having a woman be either of those?
Putting her hands on her hips, she gave him a mock severe look. "Don't make me come pull your ass out of that car, young man."
His lips tugged and he put his hand on the door to get out. As he did, she came around and leaned on the front panel, tipping her head back and closing her eyes in response to the bright sunshine. "Feel that? What a gorgeous afternoon. There's even a bit of a breeze to cut the humidity. C'mon. It's a nice day for a walk."
When he closed the car door, she linked her hand through his elbow, as if he was escorting her. As if he was a man, and not someone who wanted to run as far away from this place as fast as he could.
He'd been quiet on the way over, and she hadn't seemed bothered by that. He was uncomfortably reminded of the quiet boy he'd once been. One who hadn't had a lot to say, but who watched everything and listened.
Then, it had been because of fear, the fear of being noticed. Now, it was because he liked listening to her. So he focused on that.
"Dale is a retired Navy SEAL. He's married to Athena, who is gracious Southern belle all the way. They're Dom and sub. He used to live out here before they were married, but he stays at her place now. Her estate." She dimpled at him. "She is mega loaded, so I like to tease him about being a kept man, which rubs his Dom fur the wrong way. He's pretty old school. Anyhow, I know male Doms poke at your testosterone reservoir, but don't fuck with him. He knows how to cut you up into pieces and make your body disappear. I like you assembled and present."
"I'm in favor of that myself," he said, and she grinned.
"I figured. Here he comes."
Retired or not, Dale looked like a SEAL. His capable, relaxed demeanor was a thin layer over a solid core of watchful preparedness. He had dark, close-cropped hair and eyes of a mixed blue-green color that reminded Marius of the sea. He was missing half a leg, his cargo pants pinned up securely on that side as he maneuvered smoothly toward them on a pair of crutches. The pants and his T-shirt highlighted a powerful body, despite the disability.
He had a ready smile for Regina that said he was fond of Marius's Mistress. The feeling was mutual, Regina taking his hand and brushing a kiss on his stubbled cheek.
"Did you get too bossy and Athena hid your leg so she could outrun you?"
Dale chuckled, an easy sound, though his gaze had already moved to Marius to do a quick, penetrating assessment, uncomfortably familiar. It was the way shrewder cops measured a guy, weighing his strengths and weaknesses and gauging both accurately, based on nothing more than experience and their reliance on their gut.
"I got an upgrade to the prosthesis this past week and the fit wasn't exactly right, so it gave the stump a couple blisters. It's healing up while they adjust the cuff."
"So is it a bionic leg?" Regina asked, eyes twinkling. "You'll be able to kick twenty guys' butts just by turning up the volume?"
"I can do that already, with only one leg." Dale winked at her snort. "How'd the presentation go?"
"Pretty good. Some promising t
"Dale, this is Marius, the man I told you about. He's thinking about adopting a dog." Regina shifted her attention to Marius. "Dale usually goes over a lot of background info with potential adopters before introducing them to the dogs, but I've asked him to approach things a little differently. He's going to let a couple of them out to interact with you first."
Dale nodded to Marius. "That sound good to you, son?"
Marius wondered what he and Regina had discussed about him beforehand. Dale didn't strike him as the type of guy who altered his protocol unless given a compelling reason to do so.
He should be offended or wary, but more dogs had emerged in the outdoor runs, watching the small knot of people. A couple barked. He could feel the familiar tension start in his gut, but he forced himself to sound casual.
"Tempest and Shotgun are real friendly," Dale said. "The most socialized of my current group."
"Animals don't always take to me. I mean...they might see me as a threat. They usually do." This really was a mistake. He looked toward Regina, hoping the panic didn't show on his face and in his voice. "Maybe I should just go sit in the car while you guys visit. Do this another day. Or maybe not at all."
"Son." Dale shifted closer to him. Marius took a step back.
"I'm not your son," he snapped.
Dale stopped. Marius didn't look toward Regina. He was going to disappoint her, damn it. He shouldn't have suggested this, agreed to this.
"Fair enough," Dale said amiably. "But before you chalk it up as a bad deal, let's try something different. A little more manageable. All right?"
A firmness had entered his tone that was a shade different from a Dom giving orders. Maybe it was the tone Dale used when explaining things to men under his command. Regardless, it took Marius's reaction down a couple notches.
Truly Helpless by Joey W. Hill / Romance & Love / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes