What She's Looking For (19 page)

Drake leaned close, his hands again
crushing her vulnerable buttocks in their harsh grip. “When that time comes,
Ashley, you’re going to ask me to fuck your ass.” He squeezed harder, hurting
her. “Answer me.”

“Yes — Drake.” She tried to swallow
away the lump in her throat.

“Good.” Then he stepped behind her
again.

She jerked up involuntarily as wet
fingers stroked her bottom hole, rubbing copious amounts of lubrication around
the opening, two fingers slicked her entire cleft, pausing to spread her cheeks
even further apart, another hand pulling down on her shoulder, making her feel
as if she might split apart in truth.

“Here, need a little more.” Drake
whistled softly, and Ashley hid her face against her arms once more. There she
hung, her privates on blatant display for anyone to see, and he was seemingly
treating this as if this was just a pleasant way to pass some time, a lark.

A hard, thick finger pressed to her
bottom hole — and stayed there. “Now, I need you to try to loosen it, Ashley.
Relax and open up.”

“Drake, what are you—”

“No talking, girl!” Parker’s voice
was soft, but the tone was deadly serious. A harsh smack landed on one of her
thighs and she cried out at the sting. “Unless you want even more, you’ll keep
that mouth shut.”

Every muscle in her body wanted to
tense, and she wished she could pull her ass up, straighten legs that were just
beginning to tingle.

“Just relax, and push against me,
Ashley.” A hand stroked circles over her trembling ass. “I’ll be gentle, but we
aren’t stopping until you let me in. Be a good girl, now.”

“Listen to him, slut.”

She inhaled a sharp breath at the
word, breathless, confused arousal flooding through her. There was too much to
examine there, so she concentrated on Drake’s insistent finger, pressing
remorselessly against her most private of places.

“Take a deep breath. Another.”
Drake pressed the tip just inside the cringing circlet. “That’s it, push out
now. Relax and push out.”

It burned, but the crazed maelstrom
of sensation in her cleft was nowhere near all pain.

“Have you been taken here before,
Ashley?”

She tried to look back at Parker,
unsure of what she should do or say. He met her eyes, his gaze sharp,
expectant. She averted her eyes, nodding her head.

“Good, then you know what to do,”
Drake said “I want you to bear down on me. You know what I mean. Bear down, and
take it like a good girl.”

He pressed harder, and she keened
at the harsh sting, but obeyed, knowing it would ultimately make it easier. His
finger instantly slipped in, making her catch her breath at the contradictory
sensations, the strange mixture of discomfort and dark pleasure, as the nerve
endings responded to the stimulation.

“That’s my good girl, Ashley.”
Drake’s big hand reached up, stroking the side of her neck tenderly. “Just a
little more now. Stay relaxed.”

She groaned as he thrust the
remainder of his thick finger deep into her bottom, the knuckles hard against
the inner slopes of her buttocks.

Ashley stayed very still, trying to
adjust to the alien sensation, to the pleasure she felt it was wrong to feel,
but couldn’t be denied.

Then he began to thrust within her.
At first it was slow, shallow strokes, letting her bottom hole acclimate to the
invasion, then as the breath burst from her lungs at each down stroke, he
thrust in with more authority, heedless of the strangled, scared whimpering
each strong thrust elicited from her. Fingers reached between her thighs, his
finger still pistoning within her bottom, and eased between the slickened,
bereft lips of her cunt. A calloused finger tip found the burning clit, making
her arch up in her bonds.

“She likes this, Parker. Jesus, she
likes this.”

The wet sounds of the lips of her
sex spreading around his circling fingers mortified her, but the feeling of
having her ass impaled by that thick digit was all she could concentrate on.
And that was just his finger!

“I don’t think she’s very
experienced back there, Drake.” Parker’s lips whispered against her ear. “Lucky
you, girl.”

“Her pussy is dripping, and her
clit is so fucking hard.” Drake’s lips pressed to the nape of her neck once
more. “I want to feel you squeeze me when you come, Ashley. Can you do that?”

Nodding her head, she bit her lower
lip. Her hips had already started writhing, jerking up and down with the deep
thrusts, the feelings that finger stirred within her unlike any of the handful
of hurried gropings she’d undergone at Terry’s hands.

She wasn’t sure if she really liked
it, or if his clever manipulation of her clit was simply pleasuring her through
the confused storm of sensations.

Why do you lie to yourself?

“She’s close, Parker.” Drake pushed
even further within her, staying his hand, keeping it breathlessly deep within
her ass. “Definitely will need to be stretched though. I want her to feel it,
but she’s practically cutting my finger off.”

“Relax, Ashley,” Parker said, his
even tone belying what it was — an order. “Let him feel you. You’re going to be
getting this a lot, so you’d better get used to it. That ass is ours now.”

Fingers swirled over her clit then,
the thrusting of the finger in her ass resuming once more, shaking her
suspended body. Her breath came out in short pants as she spiraled higher and
higher, her sex tingling, burning, her clit so swollen it felt twice its normal
size under the relentless ministering of those knowing fingers.

“Come now, Ashley. Surrender to it.”
Drake kissed her between the shoulder blades. “There’s nothing you can do about
it. You’re ours now. Let go. Come for me!”

With a tweak of her clit and a
hard, punishing thrust deep within her bottom, Ashley went over, her body
spasming in her bonds, her keening wail through clenched teeth echoing within
the shower enclosure. For a moment, all awareness fled her, the sensation too much
to register, her perception of pleasure and pain, sight and sound, overloaded.

Then she sagged in her bonds,
blowing out great gusts of breath, beads of sweat meandering down her heaving
back.

“You were so good, Ashley. So good.”
Drake’s lips pressed kisses to her ear, the thrumming pulse at her neck, his
teeth nipping the skin. She cried out as he eased his finger from her bottom,
the sensation less painful than it was surprising. She tried to ignore the
shaming feeling of
loss
as her bottom hole clenched against empty space.

The firm grip of hands turned her
back to face the two men, her entire body shaking. She gazed up into Parker’s
eyes, their gray depths now warm, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Sir, my
legs. Starting to get numb.”

His hands shot up to the harness,
freeing her legs in moments, the leather strap falling away allowing her to
stand once more.

“I’ve left them up too long, girl.”
Parker stooped, stroking her feet and calves, the pins and needles sensation
making her wince.

Drake’s hand whispered over
Ashley’s hair, and he leaned in to kiss the crown of her head. “Be good,
Ashley. I’ll be close.”

Her gaze searched that handsome,
impassive face. “Where … why?”

Drake’s lips quirked. “Time for
alone time with your Sir.”

A protest was on her lips, but the
shake of his head silenced her.

His presence, while it should have
mortified her … didn’t. For the first time, she realized that something else
was really happening here. Her needs encompassed more than what Parker would
give her, needs she’d not really considered before during her long ordeal with
Terry. It was then that Ashley knew the truth of it.

She needed both of them.

Drake’s big hand stroked one of her
breasts, a finger slowly circling her aching hard nipple, and despite herself,
she arched into his touch. “There’ll be time for us. Lots of time, Ashley.” He
glanced at Parker, who still kneaded her feet his hands. “There’s much more you
need to learn though. More to show you.”

She knew she was pressing her luck
with Parker, but she took the chance while he concerned himself with ensuring
circulation was good in her feet, then releasing her arms, checking her hands
as well. “More to show me about what?”

Drake stepped back with one last
brush of his fingertips against her chin. “About yourself.”

Then he was gone, the door to the
shower enclosure clanging shut behind him. Parker freed her arms from the
rubber cuffs, his hand tipping her chin up. “Undress me.”

She exulted in the ability to
finally,
finally
be able to touch him again. Her hands shaking, she
snatched at the zipper of his jeans. His hand clasped her wrist, pulling her up
short. “No. Not like that. You’re going to learn the proper way to undress a
man.”

Her eyes met his, searching for the
meaning in those gray depths, for what he needed from her.

“Get down on your knees. You’ll
only stand when you have to — otherwise, you’ll kneel at my feet.”

Sinking to the tile, she found
herself eye level with his crotch, the fabric of his jeans already bulging.

“First, how do you expect to pull
my jeans off when you haven’t even removed my boots? Those are first — always.”

Though she would normally have
snarked something biting, this was different; a new calmness had settled over
her at his words. Should she have been offended? Of course — if she were to actively
deny who she really was.

But facts were facts, and though it
might pain that small, and increasingly powerless part of her still wedded to what
she’d grown up believing, the fact was that being given orders by Parker, and
obeying
those orders turned her on. Conformity to those old beliefs didn’t make her
pussy wet, but obeying Parker’s orders certainly did.

Nothing about those old beliefs
spoke to her anymore. It didn’t resonate with that girl that was still inside
her, that sensual, gentle being that enjoyed being told what to do, that
reveled in
pleasing.
Perhaps her boundaries were expanding? Her outlook
on life evolving? To Ashley what it all really meant now was that she had the
choice
to be who she really was.

Even if that choice meant giving
away her freedom to her Sir.

“Pull them off and tuck the laces
inside, then take off the socks. Do it exactly as I say.”

She couldn’t believe how heavy the
black boots actually were, marveling that he was able to even walk around in
the things. Absurdly, she found herself relieved to find he had on clean socks.
Too many men — in her experience — seemed to find that a minor, unimportant
detail.

“Kiss them.”

Ashley shook her head, then looked
up at the face looking down upon her from far above. “What?”

Dark clouds crossed that fiery
gaze, a shiver passing down her spine. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

She shook her head, dropping her
gaze, the heat at her cheeks once more. It was entirely possible her cheeks
might take on a permanent rosy hue, so often had she been blushing of late.

“Kiss them, Ashley. This is
non-negotiable.”

Was she really capable of doing
this? In her fantasies the male took her, even against her will, but this … was
something else entirely. Why was this so hard? Just kissing.

His fucking feet? Like some
harem girl?

That thought actually helped, in a
way. The idea of service to him — it worked. She was trying to be at peace with
submission, with surrendering, and when she remembered that, this just fit.

Pressing her lips to the top of
each long foot, she realized it wasn’t all that bad, despite how her cheeks
continued to flame. It actually felt almost … loving. She tried not to
contemplate it too much; examination of the whole situation was ill-advised,
she knew, so going with it, just accepting, would have to work.

For now.

“It will get easier, girl. You’re
doing very well so far.” His fingers glided through her hair, stroking electric
lines over her scalp. “Now take off my shirt, fold it neatly, and set it on the
counter.”

Uncertain, she met his eyes, then
seeing nothing untoward there, rose to her feet, just long enough to unbutton
the shirt. She spread it open, feeling the need to be especially gentle as she
pulled each sleeve from his muscled arms. As she removed the shirt fully, she
licked her lips, her mouth growing dry. A beautiful male body did that to her.

He was not as massive as Drake, but
there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, his physique all corded, lean muscle. The
broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, the abdomen sectioned with clearly
defined abdominals. She silently thanked the gods that he didn’t shave the dark
hair from his chest, nor the trail of it that led down under the waistband of
his jeans. She longed to run her fingers through that hair, to kiss the tight
brown nipples, lay her cheek against the hard muscles of his flat belly. But
she knew, somehow felt, that to touch him this way was forbidden — and that
prohibition just turned her on more, made the urge to feel his flesh under her
hands that much stronger.

Chapter Sixteen

“N
ow the jeans, Ashley. Go slowly. I’ll
let you use those hands for now, but you’re going to learn how to do it with
your teeth. Eventually.”

Ashley closed her eyes, swallowing,
feeling as if her heart might pound its way out of her chest.

Her shaking fingers worked open the
buttons of his fly, and her mouth dried at the heavy cock outlined by his
underwear. She reached around, smoothing her palms over the hard, compact
buttocks, the power of those muscles like electricity under her hands.

“What are you doing?” His growl
froze her in place, her hands on that gorgeous ass. Her eyes met his, those
gray eyes flashing, cold back in their depths. “You don’t touch me unless I
give you permission. Finish it.”

The jeans bunched at his feet, and
his big hand squeezed her shoulder as she helped pull his feet from the
body-warmed clothing.

“Fold them neatly, then lay them by
the shirt. You will do this exactly as I say. Fail, and you’ll regret it.”

She obeyed, the feeling of menial
service at once degrading and yet almost a relief. Specific instructions to
obey were actually better at this point; she felt so far out to sea that
anything concrete, easy to understand, was helpful.

When she returned to find him
leaning against the shower wall in nothing but boxer briefs, she actually put
her hand to her mouth, sure drool was about to spill out. Such a beautiful man.

He pointed to the floor. “On your
knees, at my feet.” His jaw clenched. “This is where you’ll be unless I tell
you otherwise.”

Kneeling once more, in a position
that was becoming frighteningly familiar, she looked up at him. “Parker, pl—”

His big hand pressed to her lips. “Unless
you’re giving up, I don’t want to hear it.” His head tilted. “Are you?”

For the hundredth time today, the
word was at her lips. So close.

She shook her head, her eyes
stinging.

No, don’t do it. Show him you
can do this.

His piercing gaze pinned her to the
tile, studying her the way a scientist might his helpless test subject. His
specimen for an experiment. Finally, he crossed his arms over that magnificent
chest. “Do you need a gag?”

Even as her blush flooded up her
neck, the roots of her hair almost tingling with it, she knew what it was. What
she needed.

No choice, no more.

She nodded, inhaling a shaky breath,
dropping her gaze to his feet.

His hand caressed the heat of her
cheeks, almost making her jump.

“Stay on your knees.” His toe
nudged her knee. “Spread them, and put your palms on your thighs.”

The grip of her fingers on her own
flesh felt almost like it was that of another person, the strength desperate,
the digits digging into her thighs almost painfully.

Parker left her alone, the door
swinging shut behind her.

It was these moments that she’d
rapidly come to dread, to want to avoid at all costs.

Alone.

In just a matter of weeks, she’d
apparently lost all ability to enjoy her own company. To be alone, and be okay
with it.

But that wasn’t completely true.
There was more to it than that, if she was honest with herself. Him.

Them.

Wondering what they did when she
wasn’t around, what they thought. Did they think of her at all? Would Parker
fight the urge to pick up the phone just to hear her voice?

She’d driven by the house more than
once during the middle of the day, an excuse already made up in case she actually
saw
them.

Stalker much?

A part of her would be elated if
Parker did that with her, drove by her own workplace. Just to see if she was
there, just to be near her. She wondered if she was ready for men in white
coats to escort her to the booby hatch.

“Back straight, girl.”

His voice snapped her back to
reality, and she obeyed, not even thinking about it, her breasts shaking as she
pushed her shoulders back.

A hand smoothed over the locks of
hair at her forehead. “Good, good. I want you to start doing these things on
your own though. If I have to remind you all the time, we’re going to have to
start using some … reinforcement.”

Her nipples hardened at the word.
An image flashed in her mind of him holding her fast with a fistful of her long
hair, forcing her to look down as his big palm slapped the vulnerable globes of
her breasts back and forth, her tears dripping down onto the reddened slopes.

He stood before her again, and she
inhaled his scent, his body close enough that she wanted to reach and touch him.
Just one kiss of her fingers on his skin.

A connection.

“But this should help you, girl.”
The inky straps of the gag dripped from his fist like asps, the ball of the gag
a black sphere of menace in his palm. “Open your mouth.”

Staring at the gag, she froze, her
muscles locked in a paroxysm of fear. Hadn’t she asked? Agreed to this? Her
desperate gaze met his, looking for something.

Would he really do this to her?

The glint in his eyes told her all.
“You’re thinking again, girl. You need to stop. Let go. This is happening.
You’re mine, and I want this for you. Accept it — and open that mouth.”

Trembling, she obeyed, feeling as
if the hinge of her jaw might actually groan, so tense was her entire body.

“Wider. Don’t make me force you.”
His smile made her blood run cold, but her pussy moisten. “You won’t like it —
but I definitely will.”

The rubber of the gag pressed cold
and bitter against her tongue, forcing it down and back. The taste wasn’t
awful, but it was … off. She scrunched her face, looking up at him as he pushed
the rubber fully between her teeth. The ovoid shape pressed too far back, the
bulk of it just teasing her gag reflex.

“Just visualize relaxing your
throat and your tongue. The urge to gag will subside.”

It worked, though the hard gag was
a remorseless presence in the back of her mouth, threatening.

“You’ll get used to it — or you
won’t. Doesn’t matter to me, either way. The gag isn’t supposed to be
fun
.”
His smile made her actually move her tongue against the rubber, and for one
surreal moment she was actually thankful for the enforced silencing of her
speech. The words on her tongue would have only gotten her in more trouble.

The straps cinched tighter, the
stiff leather biting into the corners of her mouth, making her whine softly.

“Hurting?” His fingers tested the
tightness of the straps, tracing the corner of her mouth.

She nodded, hoping her eyes
conveyed the forlorn look she was going for.

He frowned. “Hurting a lot?”

Did she tell the truth or what
would likely get the hated gag from between her teeth? In her heart, she knew
they weren’t the same answer. It was so much harder, to choose. To actively
cooperate in relieving herself of her freedoms, or even those things that made
her a person such as speech. Having it forced upon her was almost … easier.

Shaking her head, a desperate last
hope bloomed within her at the pensive look in Parker’s haunting gray eyes. “Good,
not too much then. A little pain won’t kill you.” Then his smile beamed, the
white, perfect teeth all beautiful malevolence. “It’s tough, isn’t it?
Discovering what it really means to obey? You’re learning it now, aren’t you
Ashley?”

The corners of her eyes stung, and
she looked away, chewing the hard rubber, trying to assuage the unabating
tension in her spread jaws.

His fingers eased over the gag,
pushing on it gently, then testing the straps. A lock of her hair was caught
under the leather of a strap at the back of her head, the sting minor, but
continuous. Searching his face, she thought better of protesting it, suspecting
he might enjoy her discomfort.

And she wasn’t sure how she’d react
to that.

You mean other than with a wet
pussy? You’re not fooling anyone.

Parker crouched in front of her,
his gaze searching her face. Long fingers clasped her chin. “Normally, you
won’t be gagged for this — I like that warm mouth free for other things. But I
think for right now anyway, you need it. It’s merciful, really.” He smiled at
her again. “That sharp tongue of yours would’ve gotten your big bottom in more
trouble than it’s already in.”

He patted her cheek, then rose. “Now,
the rest of it, girl.”

Her teeth clamped on the rubber
stoppering her mouth, and she eased fingers over his waist, enjoying the
tactile feel of his warm flesh under her hands. He was hard, and though she
wanted to rip his underwear down, she knew he wanted this done slowly, even
reverently.

Easing the underwear down, she felt
her eyes go wide at seeing his hard cock, finally. So close. The gag frustrated
her in more than one way, because she ached to feel the throbbing heat of him
on her tongue, to taste the salty tang of his precome.

Her gaze flitted up to his, and she
hoped her eyes could convey her deep need, her desire. One of his dark eyebrows
lifted, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Time enough for that later. You
aren’t here to do what you want. You’re here to take care of me.” His hand
grasped her cheeks, squeezing. “And that’s just what you’re going to do,
Ashley.”

Nodding, she dropped her gaze back
to the heavy cock straining under the waistband of his underwear. She pulled it
the rest of the way down, his erection springing up to sway within inches of
her lips. Lips that had no hope of tasting his flesh anytime soon. It was
almost too cruel to bear.

“You know what to do. Fold them and
lay them over the jeans.”

She barely managed to pull her gaze
from the magnificent cock waiting for her, but she knew the quicker she obeyed,
the quicker she might actually get to touch it. Finally feel him against her
skin, taking her, joining with her in that closeness that only making love
provided.

Soon!

“Turn on the water, and make sure
it’s nice and hot. Then kneel to the side and wait for instructions.”

Trying to shake the image of how
ridiculous she must look, kneeling on the tile, naked, gagged, proved more
difficult than following his orders. Her predicament became much more tolerable
as she watched the water sluice down the angles of his body, the muscles
gleaming under the warm light, steam lending a visual softness to him that made
her want to trace every inch of that virile body with her tongue.

“Over here. Kneel at my feet until
I have use for you.” He pointed down as if she were an animal, being trained to
follow its owner’s commands.

Is that so far removed from what
you’re becoming here, Ashley?

That thought had a more complicated
answer than she even knew how to address, the layers to it so contradictory and
mysterious, she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully understand it.

But she knew one thing: she liked
this. She liked serving him, staring at that hard body, waiting with keyed-up
nerves and trembling body for that next order, that next chance to lay her
hands on him.

Parker may have thought of her as
his. A possession. But it was at that moment that she realized there was some
reciprocity there. It wasn’t just a one way transaction.

He was
hers
too. Her Sir.

“Get under the water. I want to see
that body wet.” His eyes sparkled in the moist, heated air, and he moved back a
step, allowing her room.

Gasping, she let the hot water pour
over her, the temperature quite a bit hotter than she found comfortable,
forcing a whine from behind her gag.

“If it’s too hot, you know what to
do.” The words were laced with much more weight than his offhand delivery might
have indicated. “Otherwise, get completely wet. The hair, too.”

Though at first it felt like it was
only a degree or two from scalding her, she did acclimate to it quickly and
soon she was soaked. She looked up at him as the spray pounded down on her
scalp, the sensation at once harsh and exquisite.

“The tits.” His erection, water
dripping from the swollen head, jerked at his words. “Present your tits.”

Kneeling up straighter, she cupped
them in her hands, huddling them together, the water collecting in the deep
cleavage and cascading down the rounded slopes. Absurdly, even under the
relentless assault of the hot water, she could feel the blush rising.

“You’ll outgrow that modesty, girl.”
His hand smoothed over the hair plastered to her skull. “That blush is cute
though, I have to admit.”

Not having the courage to meet his eyes,
knowing instinctively the mirth she’d see dancing within those liquid depths,
she dropped her gaze to his cock, which pointed at her as if a weapon.
Something hard tapped against her skull and she peered up.

He held a bottle of soap. “Use this
and wash me — but you’re not to use your hands.”

She thought this was coming, but
she wasn’t entirely sure how the hell she was going to do it. Her questioning
gaze met his. “You’ll use those clever hands of yours for the rest of my body,
but they won’t wash my cock today. Want to guess what
will
?”

Ashley gulped, the warm shower
water seeping onto her tongue from the corners of her gagged mouth.

“You’re holding them, girl. Now get
to work. You’ve got five minutes.” The bottle of body wash bounced onto the
pillow of her breasts, and she dropped them to catch it.

He merely watched her as she looked
at the bottle, then back up to him.

Jesus, he’s not making anything
easy is he?

But she knew as she worked suds up
the broad planes of his chest that that was what she wanted. Never easy, with
him.

Easy wasn’t what Ashley was looking
for.

The hard length of his erection
brushed her thighs, her belly as she worked, and ignoring it was impossible,
especially when she wanted to fall upon it like a starving wolf on fresh meat.
She tried to rub against it any chance she got, but his warning growl each time
kept her (mostly) in line.