Kinky Girls Do ~ Bundle One (2 page)

Returning the kiss with all the pent up passion in
her tiny frame, Yvette wrapped her arms around his neck and let him
carry her to the bedroom.

Every time he came home for leave, the homecoming was
always bittersweet. None more so that this one. Now, he was
stationed stateside again—his tour overseas at an end. He might
have to be gone for a few weeks at a time for training, but it
would be nothing like going six plus months without him.

"Damn, baby, I missed you," he growled against her
neck while kissing the slender muscle. As they reached the bedroom,
he gently laid her on the bed and moved back to trail his gaze over
her. "Have you missed me?"

Yvette smiled, her pulse already racing in response
to her answer. Playing their game, she leaned back on her elbows
and purred, "I guess I have. Although with work and all, I really
didn't notice the time flying by."

After his first six week stint for training, they had
started playing this game that it didn't matter. It tore Brett up
thinking about her alone, missing him, aching for him while he was
gone. But his sense of duty demanded he stay with the military and
serve his country in its time of need, despite his own views on
where it took him.

"Mmm, good. We kept busy, too, playing poker at night
and getting in lots of sun tanning during the day."

Yvette's heart clenched at his words, but she
struggled to not let it show. Every day had been torture,
struggling to not turn on the TV and sit fixated, waiting for news
of the area of the world he was stationed in.

Reminding herself of her earlier promise, she sat up
and slowly pulled off the lace gown, revealing the dainty pink bra
and panty set to his hungry gaze. "I have to admit, though, I've
been very bad."

Brett arched an eyebrow at the change to their
routine, but bless him, he played along. "Oh?"

"Mmm, yeah." She arched her back, pushing her breasts
against the lace bra covering them, her nipples hard and aching for
his lips. "I ran through three eight-packs of batteries while you
were gone. My poor pussy got so sore from the workout, but I
couldn't stop."

Brett knelt on the bed, his large frame hovering over
her as he leaned down.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she hissed, her body on fire with need.
Deciding to take the plunge, she took a deep breath and taunted
him. "I think I need to be tied up tonight, so I can't touch it
while you have your way with me."

A blaze formed in his brown eyes. Without warning, he
pounced. Grabbing his belt, he whipped it out of its loops and
loomed over her, pushing her flat onto her back.

"You have been a bad girl, Yvette. I don't mind you
playing a bit, but that's my pussy you've abused."

Yvette shivered in sensual anticipation as he wrapped
the leather around her wrists and pulled it through the buckle,
then pulled her arms above her head. As he started to wrap the
leather around the bedpost and tie it into a complicated knot, she
involuntarily jerked. She could feel a trace of panic rising within
her. She didn't know if she was ready for this, but as his gaze met
hers, so full of love and desire, she fought against the fear. The
panic wasn't enough to take her breath away. Not yet anyways.

As he moved back and stripped off his clothing,
baring the magnificent body that was half-genetics and
half-military training, she felt her pussy clench. She licked her
lips as she watched the play of muscles as he moved over her. His
hands, rough with calluses, caressed her legs as he pulled them
apart and up, draping them over his shoulders.

Pressing soft kisses against her panty-clad crotch,
he crooned softly, "Poor little pussy. She didn't take good care of
you, did she? It's okay baby, daddy's home now."

Yvette arched her hips, anxious to feel the flick of
his tongue against her clit.

His head whipped up and his gaze pierced into her,
full of heat. "Enough. You abused my poor baby; I have to take care
of her first."

Pulling at the leather wrapped around her wrists, the
buckle scraping against her tender flesh, Yvette couldn't pull
free, and Brett was obviously planning to torment her. Unable to
break her bonds, she lay there, panting after her exertion while
Brett continued to softly blow on the panties covering her pussy,
the damp material clinging to her skin.

"Brett," she gasped as he nipped at her puffy
lips.

The glint in his eyes gripped her as he lifted his
head to silently scold her. Slowly, he shifted his body, a panther
stalking its prey, moving with a sinuous grace as he held her legs
clasped over his shoulders, pinning them against her chest.

She was helpless, unable to move. Just like that
time. She closed her eyes, fighting the instinctive panic, knowing
if she gave in, that would be it. She'd have to tell Brett what had
happened.

As the blackness of her secret threatened to
overwhelm her, Yvette's eyes flared open and started into Brett’s
brown gaze, seeing it full of love and desire. Matching her breath
to his, she was able to fight through the panic and revel in the
thrill of being tied up, helpless to his passion.

"Damn, baby, I've dreamed of this so many times. In
the desert heat, at night, when all was calm, I'd fist myself
imagining you laying there, your hands bound as I slowly fucked
you." His cock pressed against her pussy, his hips rotating in a
sensual grind against her. "Or it would be daylight, and I'd chase
you across the dunes and when I caught you, I'd tie you up and
slowly thrust into your wetness."

She could almost see and feel it. His tall frame
bending over her, her smaller body pressed between the warmth of
the sand and the warmth of him.

He surged against her, and she bit her lip, holding
back the words that were forming. She wanted to beg him to take
her, but knew he'd only prolong the teasing if she did.

Her knees brushed against her breasts as he pressed
down harder, his body pinning her as he ripped the thin panties
from her. The sound echoed in her memories. His warm gaze had
become her lifeline, holding her to the present, keeping her from
the painful remembrance.

They had made love several times since her rape, in
the two weeks he had been on leave, but she had had always had a
way to wiggle away from him. Now, there was no escape, she had no
control or power.

Rather than terrify her, she could feel her essence
leaking from her pussy, her inner thighs wet with her own
juices.

"Do you want me?" he taunted, brushing his cock
against her outer lips.

Yvette nodded her head.

"Say it," He growled.

She loved the husky rasp to his voice, the tightly
leashed need dripping from his abrupt demand. She knew she needed
to say it as much for herself as for him.

The choice needed to be hers. She realized that it
was true what her therapist had said; despite being bound, she was
still in control. Brett's reasoning had always been that with his
size, anytime he had the advantage, which was almost always, he
needed to pause. It was just one of the things she loved about him.
He had had her pinned against a wall before, his cock pressed tight
against her crotch, and he had held there for what seemed an
eternity until she had demanded he quit teasing her.

"Fuck me," she rasped, her throat tight with
need.

Brett shifted again, his cock nudging at her
entrance. "Mmm, baby, I could stay like this all night." He slipped
just an inch in, and then wiggled his hips. Her clit on fire with
need, Yvette tried to shift beneath him, but her position held her
almost immobile.

"Brett, please," she whimpered, needing him to claim
her, to replace the horror of the rape with a new memory.

Brett's eyes were her lifeline, she held his gaze as
he thrust hard, driving his cock deep within her. Tightening her
legs as they lay over his shoulders, she squeezed her inner muscles
tight, trying to hold him inside her.

With a smile of pure masculine satisfaction, Brett
slipped free, withdrawing until only his cock-head was within
her.

She tried to pull her arms down to pull him in, but
couldn't move. The buckle of the belt scraped the back of her hand,
only heightening the moment as she squirmed, trying to coax him
deeper. His chest hair tickling her breasts, she whimpered her
need, unable to speak for the riot of emotions clouding her
thoughts. She was afraid of just what she would say, so she held
silent.

His eyes lit with a fire, he moved slowly, thrusting
into her, holding his body from crushing her. Immobilized, she
could only lay there, waiting with anticipation for the
down-stroke, and trying not to gasp in dismay as he pulled
back.

Her legs had long since gone numb and become useless,
lying limp over his shoulders as he pumped his cock in and out, the
sheer strength of his body amazing to her.

Yvette could feel her body building to an orgasm, her
pussy clamping on him like a vice.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, sensitive to the least
little flutter of her muscles. She knew he could feel her legs
tightening, the muscles rippling along his arms. Each flutter of
her pussy had to feel like the sweetest of caresses along his
cock.

"Come for me. You're mine, Yvette. Mine, baby."

"Yes!" she agreed.

Pumping hard, his body jostling hers, Brett worked
them both to euphoria. Wrapping her hands around the remaining
length of the leather belt, she hung on tight as she reveled in the
force of his thrusts. She could feel his heart racing against her
inner thigh.

Unable to move, she couldn't shift away from the
approaching orgasm; all she could do was welcome it. Closing her
eyes, she tightened her body around his and reveled in the
explosion of sensation as her other senses compensated. As the rush
descended upon her, every nerve ending feeling like a current of
low volt electricity was pouring into it, she screamed out his
name. Thrashing her head from side to side, one of the few
movements she could make, she let the climax enfold her, holding
her within its sweet embrace.

She could dimly hear Brett's harsh groan before he
dropped his head to the pillow next to hers, always carefully to
hold his body up. The strain on her legs suddenly went away as he
rolled to her side. With a soft moan, she stretched out, her toes
curling as the last wisps of pleasure slipped away. Opening her
eyes, she watched his arms shake with the force of his climax.

As his eyelids flickered open, and he turned his head
so that his gaze met hers, a lazy grin crossed his face. "Damn,
baby, I love you."

"Mmmm," she managed, then pursed her lips for his
kiss. As their lips touched, a zing of need rushed down to her
clit. His tongue swept past her lips, mating with hers as his hands
worked at the knot above their heads.

* * *

Lisa lay spread out on the kitchen island,
her legs dangling from the knee down, the rest of her body
supported by the marble surface. Squirming slightly, she readjusted
her shoulders and neck without dislodging the layer of plastic wrap
that was carefully placed over her naked body and draped around
her.

She could hear the buzz of conversations
going on all throughout the room, the sudden booms of laughter as
someone reacted to a joke, the polite nonsense that everyone was
speaking as they milled about the room, mingling with each other.
Her lover held several such parties a year, always inviting like
minded individuals, those that liked to dabble in power-plays, that
got a thrill out of playing D/s games, and those that lived the
lifestyle full time.

Last year, she had spent the whole evening
clad in a fishnet body suit, her body covered from just under her
chin to her wrists, all the way to her ankles, yet flagrantly bare,
save for a strip of leather around her waist that draped between
her legs, holding the twin dildos trapped inside of her body.

This year, Mark had warned her he had other
plans for her than acting as his hostess, but Lisa hadn’t imagined
he would be so decadent. Her body trembled with repressed need,
which was only getting worse as the night continued. On top of the
wrap was a layer of food, anything from finger sandwiches to fruits
and veggies, and between her legs rested a wooden bowl full of a
specially made dip, the long handle of the spoon resting deep
inside of her pussy. She could feel the trickle of her cream
leaking between her ass-cheeks, probably staining the silk under
her.

Mark’s guests weren’t helping; if anything
they seemed to delight in her predicament, subtly thrusting the
handle deeper inside of her with each dip of a fruit into the
bowl.

One of the guests had even softly stroked
fingers over her weeping core, sliding down around the edge to the
base of the handle, and back up. The butterfly soft touch only
served to inflame her more. Judging by the feel, she would guess it
had been a man, but wasn’t quite certain.