Adrianna's Undies (9 page)

So he stopped fighting it and let the hot pleasure gather thick, thicker, making his dick feel even bigger, as if it were expanding inside her mouth.

“Keep sucking that cock, slave,” he took perverse pleasure in telling her. “Keep sucking that cock and I’ll come in your pretty mouth.”

Adrianna had never minded that, he remembered, and apparently she didn’t mind it now, either, since, if anything, she sucked him even more enthusiastically.

“That’s right, baby, good, so damn good. Do it. Suck it. Yeah. Yeah.”

He replaced his words with short, rhythmic moans. Close, so fucking close. Leaning his head back, he fucked her mouth deeper. Then felt his body let go, release—and he pumped, pumped, ejaculating into her throat, everything warm and wet and sweet there. Looking down at her, saw her sucking, swallowing, sucking, swallowing—until finally, finally, the hot pulses passed and he went still.

He held her face in his hands. Her eyes watered, from the intensity of it, he guessed, but she still looked wild, passionate. “That was so fucking good, baby,” he told her, his body going weak. “Now lie down on the bed and wait for me there.”

Then he collapsed onto the sofa behind him, spent.

* * * * *

Adrianna watched him from the bed. She lay on her side, her bound arms behind her. He sat on the sofa, eyes shut, cock out, clothing askew, and still looked hot as ever. She wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep as men so often did after orgasm or if he was just resting.

Oddly, whatever the answer, she found she didn’t mind waiting. Yes, she had a toy in her ass that had elevated her into a steady state of arousal again, but it wasn’t overwhelming yet, just hotly pleasant, building, waiting for more to go with it.

The simple truth was, somewhere along the way she’d simply started enjoying this. She couldn’t quite
believe
it, but she was. She loved to suck cock, after all, and she loved to swallow. Being tied? Well, she hadn’t engaged in that much, by choice, but…the way she saw it, a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

And she could see how much it had excited Tristan to truss her arms this way, to put her on her knees. And somehow that had made it bearable.

No,
more
than bearable.

Somehow…somehow…that had made it even
good
.

She should be livid inside by now. She should be fighting to get free of her bonds. For the first time, she wondered vaguely if she
could
if she tried. But the truth was, she didn’t particularly want to. If it made Tristan happy to have her this way, she would stay this way.

Watching him, she remembered how good it had felt to make him come, how good it had felt to make him happy, how good it had felt to…be what he wanted her to be.

How strange. She wanted exactly what she
hadn’t
wanted when this had started. She wanted to please him.

And she sort of wanted to hate herself for that right now—it went against every fiber of her being, everything she stood for as a woman. But she just felt too good to care very much about all the various forms of right and wrong that could be examined here. She felt too good to do anything but let this keep happening and see where it led.

Across the room, Tristan opened his eyes. They landed on Adrianna, and to her surprise, she automatically lowered hers, just slightly. Her stomach tensed at the realization—that she’d done that instinctively this time, without planning it—but again, she decided to simply not over think this, to simply let it be.

Without being too bold with her gaze, she watched as he stood and took off first his shirt then the t-shirt underneath. Mmm, his body had definitely grown from a boy’s into a man’s. She’d known that upon first seeing him in her office, but without clothes, it was different. His shoulders were broader, his chest and arms more muscular. He was lean without being too thin, and the dark hair on his chest made her want to run her fingers through it.

After that, he shed his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, leaving him completely and beautifully naked. She wanted to say,
Nice ass, Locke
, yet held it in. But damn, his ass
was
nice, the kind a girl wanted to grab on to.

Of course, what hung in front was nicer. Even flaccid, his dick was impressive, and she suspected she’d get to see it start growing again soon.

“How’s my dirty little slave?” he asked, glancing in her direction.

“I’m very good, master,” she said, still surprised by the little shiver the word sent down her spine, and now also her bound arms.

He cocked a naughty, playful grin. “Damn straight you are. I forgot how good you sucked cock, Adrianna.”

She found herself smiling softly. “I hope I made you remember.”

“You made me come, didn’t you?”

“Very vigorously, it seemed.”

“Did it taste good?” he asked, his voice going a bit darker.

She smiled more boldly. “Yummy,” she said. Then decided to venture even deeper into their game. “I hope I pleased you, master.” Perhaps it was reckless, to let him know exactly where she was now emotionally, but she’d simply followed the urge to say it.

“Very much, slave girl.”

When Tristan headed back to the bureau from which all sexual accessories seemed to spring, Adrianna held her breath waiting to see just what he’d extract from it next. And when she saw in his hand a long, looped length of rope—not ribbon or cords but actual rope—her entire body tingled with excitement and her asshole contracted around the toy he’d stuck there.

Yes, during her prior bondage play over the years, she’d occasionally allowed herself to be bound with the same gentle sort of ties that held her arms behind her back right now—but never, never had she been in a game involving rope. It should have repulsed her—as everything about the way she was feeling right now should be repulsing her. But it seemed so much rougher, so much less playful—and God help her, she suddenly wanted to go there, to that rougher place. With Tristan.

So she lay quiet, compliant as he calmly untied her arms and slipped the black ribbon free. “Stretch your arms,” he told her, and when she did, she realized they’d started getting stiff—but also that she didn’t necessarily
want
them to be free just yet. For reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, she’d rather enjoyed straining against the silk when she breathed, moved.

“Now lie on your back and hold your arms over your head, slave.”

Adrianna complied, liking the way the move lifted her ample tits and made her feel the stiff corset move against the soft flesh beneath her nipples.

She found she liked it even more when Tristan circled a length of white rope around her wrists, tight, several times. She pursed her lips, undecided if she wanted him to see her pleasure or not, since it was one thing to be submissive for him and another to get turned-on by rope.

But turned-on she was, and it only got better as he tied it tighter and tighter, finally knotting it and attaching the remaining length to the large wooden headboard above her.

She was surprised but didn’t comment, of course, when Tristan began to remove her boots, which possessed a certain binding quality and rubbed seductively against her thighs when she moved. Perhaps he read the question in her eyes, though, since he said, “I want you to feel the rope against your skin—and too much of you is covered with the boots on.”

Okay, that was a good point—she wanted to feel the rope too.

It surprised her even more, though, when he went back to the Bureau of All Things Sexual and pulled out a pair of black patent leather strappy fuck-me stripper heels and began putting them on her. “I like kinky shoes,” he said with a devilish grin.

“So do I,” she promised, and she did, but she still lay there amazed that he’d gone to the trouble of planning it out this completely—to bring kinky boots for going out and kinky shoes for the official bondage portion of the evening. That
was
pretty kinky—and she was starting to think that maybe, as sexually active grown-ups, she and Tristan might have a bit more in common than she’d wanted to realize up to now.

Once the sexy shoes were on—he’d clearly remembered she wore a size eight—he took up more of his tantalizing white rope and literally and completely trussed her. By the time he’d run out of line, Adrianna was tied from every angle, the rope stretching tight across every limb. Her knees were pulled close to her chest, her legs crossed at the ankles; her thighs were bound together as were her ankles, and rope circled around the front of her knees all the way around her back. Her arms remained tied above her head, and rope ran over her shoulders and down the sides of her exposed breasts, crisscrossing beneath them overtop the leather corset. Some of the rope, she was aware, did nothing to actually restrain her, but was simply there to make her
feel
tied, to make her feel the rub of the rope
everywhere
. Her only disappointment was that Tristan had managed to tie her up without ever really
touching
her, so the sensation from the rope was all she had.

“God damn,” he breathed when he was finally done and studying her again like some erotic work of art. He sounded like a man truly, honestly trying to educate her when he said, “Do you understand, Adrianna, how beautiful you look to me like this?”

Oddly, suddenly, she did. “Yes. I…I wish I could see.”

When he walked away, out of the room this time, she wondered if she’d pissed him off, if that had been too bold a statement—it was hard getting used to being so submissive even if she
had
quit totally hating the idea. But when he returned, he held a mirror in his hand, probably from a dressing table elsewhere in the suite.

Standing back from her, he moved the mirror up and down her body to show her. And witnessing herself that way was…startling. And arousing as hell. Her pussy surged and the fissure of her ass constricted around the toy at the sight.

“Do you see?” he asked. “Do you see how fucking gorgeous you are this way?”

Biting her lip, she nodded. Although, as usual, that’s when her normal thoughts returned—her logic, her sense of independence and feminism—and she wanted to hate herself for seeing beauty in the sight of her own limbs bound, but she didn’t. There was something undeniably erotic in it. Something undeniably erotic in…having her power taken from her.

Oh God. She wanted to cry out.
That doesn’t make sense! What the fuck is wrong with me to feel that way?

Only then she remembered something—how sometimes high-powered men sought sexual solace by becoming submissive, by wanting a dominatrix to discipline them. She’d found herself playing games with just such a man or two before, purely for the fun of sex with supremacy. The men had possessed so much power in other parts of their lives that when it came to sex, they wanted the power taken
away
. So was that what was happening to
her
? Had she become so powerful as the head of her own corporation that now, with Tristan, tonight, she wanted to leave it all to
him
?

God, she thought maybe it was true. Because as he’d lulled and coaxed her into submission, she’d truly begun to feel comfortable there. And she was comfortable
now
, tied from head to toe, at his mercy. “Whatever you want to do to me now—I want you to,” she heard herself say.

And his expression went warm.

“You are such a good girl, Adrianna,” he replied, his voice soft, sincere, and somehow
that
, the stark sincerity in his voice that told her this was now more than just a game, turned her on—deeply. Something in her very womb moved, wanted, hungered. Her pussy wept.
Do things to me, Tristan. Please. Do things to me.
She ached to have him inside her, ached for him to fuck her like this.

Once more went her old lover back to the bureau and this time he returned with a small silver vibrator. Well, she amended, most people would probably consider it average-sized, but when she compared it to what she’d had in her mouth not long ago, it was definitely small.

Okay, so he wasn’t going to fuck her. At least not with his big, beautiful cock. At least not right now. But that was okay—he’d get to that. She needed his cock in her cunt like she needed to breathe, but she was learning to be his perfect little submissive, so she could wait—she
had
to wait.

Coming back to the bed, he slapped the vibrator lightly into his other hand. “Is this the kind of vibrator you like to be fucked with?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

She hated to disappoint him, but even in her newly submissive state, she didn’t think she should lie. “Usually bigger,” she said softly.

Then listened as a low laugh escaped him.

“You see,” she offered, “when I was young, I got spoiled. My first lover was quite well-hung and I’ve had an affinity for large cocks ever since.” She was talking about
him
, naturally.

He looked arrogantly pleased. “So you’re saying I ruined you for all other men?”

She shrugged, smiled daringly, and again hoped the truth wouldn’t make her master angry. “No—just the ones with little dicks.”

He smiled, genuinely, and something in the moment—despite the ropes and sex toys—reminded her of their youth together.

“Well,” he said, “we’ll see if I can’t make you feel good with this anyway.”

She said nothing more, just drew in her breath and believed. It didn’t take much effort because almost any stimulation added to the friction from the ropes and ass toy would be welcome at the moment.

When Tristan twisted the control knob at the end of the vibrator, a familiar, pleasant buzzing sound filled the room. Even just that made her pussy flare with excitement.
Yes. Please. Touch me. Fuck me.

Bending over her, Tristan touched the tip of the humming tool to her beaded nipple, making her gasp even as her cunt contracted with pleasure.
More—please more
.

He ran the flat, rounded side of the silver bullet-like toy over top of her breast, all around the turgid, sensitive peak, then down into the valley in between. The two mounds were pushed together more than usual due to the rope running tight down the outer sides, so as he slid the vibrator between her tits, the sensation expanded through both breasts and downward. She still wanted it to be bigger, but it was at least
something
that felt good. She heard her breathing grow louder, rhythmic. She liked just looking down, seeing the silver toy there, seeing Tristan’s hand moving it.
Fuck me, baby—please
.