Slave To Her Wicked Desires

  Slave To Her Wicked Desires

  A BDSM Romance Short

  Anita Lawless

  Copyright © 2014 Anita Lawless

  Published by Wild & Lawless Writers

  http://wildlawlesswriters.blogspot.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be distributed, shared, resold, posted online, or reproduced in any electronic or hard copy form.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Any similarities between actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. This ebook contains adult content and is intended for a mature readership. All sexual scenarios depicted in this ebook occur between consenting adults over 18 years of age.

  Cover art design by Wild & Lawless Writers.

  The photo on the cover comes from a royalty free images section of a photo stock site. It is used here under a royalty-free license. The writer, publisher, and cover designer claim no rights to the original photo. Photographer and model have no affiliation with the author, cover designer, or publisher, and use of this photo does not suggest in any way that the model or photographer endorse the author’s work.

  Slave to Her Wicked Desires

  Rachael knew that not showing up at the club for Eric’s show—the first one with the new line up for his band In My Tomb—was a stupid move so new in this relationship. Had part of her wanted to anger him? Wanted to irk the wrath of her new master to see how far his passion would go in the heat of some simmering hurt? Perhaps she had.

  All Rachael knew for sure was that when she got Eric’s message to meet him at the studio, where he was going over some tracks he and the band had just laid earlier tonight, she’d heard the quiet outrage in his voice. As she got ready for the rendezvous he demanded, her breasts tingled and her pussy twitched when she thought of the punishment that lay in store for her.

  Smoothing her pale hand over her long, blue-black hair—held back in a tight high ponytail—Rachael blew out a long breath as she opened the door to the mixing room, where Eric had said he’d be waiting.

  The area was shadowed and quiet. Rachael’s wide blue gaze roamed over the few comfy desk chairs, a pair of headphones laying on the mixing board, and the reams of equipment lining the small room. But she saw no sign of Eric.

  A door to her left, that she had not noticed in the gloom, opened, and Eric entered. He was dressed in a tight black T-shirt and black jeans. His long straight hair fell across his pale, sharply chiseled Scandinavian features.

  “Where were you tonight?” His face remained impassive, steely, as the question left his lips.

  Rachael swallowed over the excitement tingling in her throat, tingling all over her skin. “I…” She paused, her fingers moving in a nervous dance at her waist as she fumbled for an excuse for her absence at the concert. “I…forgot. I’m sorry.”

  He walked closer. His thick soled, black boots beat a quiet, measured tempo as he approached. Rachael held her breath when he reached out with a long, well-muscled pale arm and ran his thin fingers down her cheek. “Take your clothes off, now,” he commanded. “You have three minutes.”

  When Eric stepped back, she quickly began to undress. She fumbled with the combination of buckles and zippers on her polyurethane suit that he’d instructed her to wear. Bastard probably wanted her to sweat, and that’s why he’d chosen the particular, complex outfit. Rachael grinned at his clever trick, but she’d be out of the contraption before her time was up.

  Two and a half minutes ticked by and she was still working on the pants. Rachael cursed in the dim light of the mixing room, and Eric surely wouldn’t allow her any extra illumination for the task. When five seconds remained, he strode toward her purposely and yanked the leather pants that clung to her shapely legs the rest of the way down.

  “My time wasn’t up yet.” She bit her lip when he flashed her a tight-lipped, raised eyebrow glare. Eric did not approve of disobedience, but sometimes compulsive words got the best of her.

  “Sit in the chair.” He nodded to an office chair beside the mixing board and Rachael dutifully obeyed. She could feel wetness begin to seep from between her lips as she stared into his intense, smoky grey eyes.

  “Spread your legs and wrap your arm around the back of the chair, Rachael.”

  She did as her master demanded. Eric bent beneath the mixing boards and slid a large black bag out from underneath the console. Watching her with narrowed eyes and a firm expression on his face—one that accentuated his hungry, angry desire—he unzipped the satchel and his long fingered, pale hands disappeared into its canvas opening.

  Slowly, his eyes holding hers with a cold, purposely evasive stare, Eric removed handcuffs and a thick length of chain, along with a sturdy padlock, from the bag. He dragged the satchel closer to the chair as he bent at her feet to wrap the chain about her ankles.

  “There are more,” he looked into the bag, and then up at her—a smug, promising smile spreading across his lips, “treats in there for you, slave. But they will keep for a bit. My torture will be slow and methodical.” He ran a finger over her lips then dipped it into her mouth, trailed it down her chin, over her clavicle, and down to her breasts, where he pinched her right nipple hard enough to make her hiss air out between her teeth.

  “I want to make you wait, like you made me wait last night for forty-five minutes after the concert. You were very negligent, slave.” He kissed her roughly, squeezing her generous mounds hard in his strong, big hands, until she squirmed and whimpered in pain and delight beneath his mauling.

  “Make me pay, master.” Her words were breathy as she thrust her burning tits against his chest.

  “I’ll make you beg first,” he growled, then stepped back from her to finish securing her to the desk chair.

  He stepped back from her in her manacles, her large breasts now thrust out at him from the way he had secured her to the desk chair. Crossing his large arms over his well-muscled chest, Eric glared at her while he grinned wickedly—satisfied, obviously, with this vulnerable pose.

  He stooped to the bag and his hand disappeared within its black canvas. When it emerged, he held a leather thonged cat o’ nine tails. Rachael’s pussy quivered and her eyes grew wide at the sight of the whip.

  Eric pulled the hand that held the whip back and, involuntarily, she thrust her tits out farther toward the caress of the leather strips. The snap of the tethers preceded the shock of a hot, sudden sting across her large pale mounds. She whimpered as the pain brought pleasure and a flood of dizzying endorphin-filled sensation.

  “Don’t you dare scream.” He came close to her face and squeezed her cheeks hard as he whispered. She bit back her shriek of pleasure, and the defiant grin of bliss that almost broke across her lips. “Don’t show your satisfaction in anyway until I tell you too. Do you understand? Nod.”

  Rachael did as Eric told her. He smiled and returned her nod to show his approval. As he straightened, he kneaded and pinched one breast in his hand, tugging hard on the nipple until she bit her lip to hold back a grunt.

  Righting himself, Eric rubbed the crotch of his snug black jeans, where a growing impressive erection was prevalent. “You like it so much don’t you? You’re just dying to cry out aren’t you, slave?”

  He pulled back with the whip again then lashed it hard across her breasts. This time, Eric did not stop between blows, and he brought the thongs back across her soft, welting skin in short, sharp hard smacks. Eric didn’t stop until she let free a strangled whimper, ceasing the enjoyment with her bit of insolence and lack of self repose.

  “Did I hear you make a noise?” he whispered close to her ear. “Do you want to stop, hmm? I could leave you here, like this. No more toys…” He stroked the whip slowly, soft and sensuous, over
her welted, stinging breasts.

  Her eyes quietly begged him not to stop, and Rachael bit back a sigh of disappointment at the thought of him ceasing this delicious torture. All she wanted to do was make up for her foolhardy insolence. Please him as she took her punishment and satisfaction all in one exhilarating dose.

  Dropping the whip, Eric went to his haunches and reached behind him into the bag, his eyes never leaving hers while he continued to wear that cruel yet sexy smile on his handsome, chiseled Scandinavian face. He rummaged for the next instrument of delight.

  A black candle emerged in his hand and in his other a wrought iron holder. He stood and bent over the end of the mixing board, after he secured the taper into the base of the candle stand. From the side of the electronics, he plucked a cigarette from the pack that sat there and lit it with a Zippo, then lit the tip of the taper as well.

  Rachael almost gasped, but she swallowed her audible anticipation. He drew near, the flame flickering with his movement, head down and eyes penetrating her very flesh with his heated gaze, so it seemed.

  He knelt at her feet like some dark god and waved the candle flame beneath her nipples. She could barely feel the touch of the heat and she tugged against her restraints, trying to get closer to the blazing wick.

  He laughed low and squeezed one ample, thrusting mound, kneading it hard in his hand until the welts stung pleasantly and Rachael thought her skin might split with the force. Damn, how she longed to cry out her enjoyment, but she would behave—be good. She wanted Eric’s satisfaction as much, more, so much more, than her own.

  “Eager, are you?” He tilted his head and let a plume of blue smoke leave his full lips. Teasingly, he moved the flame beneath her breasts—so close yet so far—again. “But you are being a naughty girl, Rachael. I told you not to show any signs of satisfaction until I instructed you otherwise, did I not?”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes, freezing in her current pose, careful not to give away anymore of her pleasure lest he take it away.

  “Good girl.” He could see her strain to remain still and smiled his pleasure at her effort. He brought the burning wick closer to her nipple and Rachael felt the welcome lick of the intense heat on her left nipple.

  Tensing her jaw, wetness flooded her pussy at the touch of the searing flame, and disappointment when Eric pulled it away before it could burn her too severely. Thankfully, he was in control. Her line between desire and pain was thin at times, and she got so lost in the pleasure and the rush that she often didn’t feel anything but the flood of amazing sensation zinging through her brain.

  The heat greeted her right breast and she closed her eyes, concentrating hard on self-restraint. Eric caressed her nipple with the flame for but a second, and then swirled the fire around her breast in searing circles. She could smell the slightest aroma of burning flesh—faint, and she would not blister much. Rachael thought she might orgasm right there. She grit her teeth as a small climax built and broke within her.

  She opened her eyes and gasped when his hot tongue laved her tender breasts. The wet heat made the minor burns from the flame’s caress and the welts from the whip scream and zing with sensation. It raced straight to Rachael’s brain and she clenched her hands into tight fists to avoid screaming. She was in true ecstasy, and as another tiny orgasm rippled through her, Eric moaned his delight. The master was pleased. She smiled.

  She’d found a center of control within herself—a place where she could command her audible cries of pleasure and discipline herself so that satisfaction did not show outwardly. Until the cool steel of the pliers gripped her nipple and pinched hard.

  “Ahhh.” Her head rocked back and Rachael’s ample breasts brushed over Eric’s rock hard crotch. Instantly, she regretted her outburst, her disobedience. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him when the cold metal teeth left her sensitive skin.

  He waved the pliers in front of her face and smiled coolly. Then his face grew tense, serious. Eric dropped to his haunches in front of her and ran the cold handle of the tool down her cheek. He trailed it down her neck and between her breasts, swirling the blunt tips over her nipples and under her tits, teasing her. He watched her face with stern concentration for any signs of reaction.

  With the pliers, he moved lower, down her stomach and then between her legs, nudging open her wet slit with the cold metal and rubbing the blunted nose of the tool up and down.

  “That’s better. Good girl.”

  He held her eyes but did not smile his approval. Rachael had control over herself again and she would not falter this time. She would please him and thus please herself.

  Eric moved the metal back up to her left nipple and let the nose of the pliers hover there, almost tickling the sensitized flesh. The torture was incredible, but she would not cry out for satisfaction. She would remain calm, still, controlled, and please her master.

  She watched as he opened the tool and nestled her taut bud within. Eric regarded her intently, staring deep into her eyes, his brow furrowing as he concentrated on her face for signs of movement, the slightest reaction to the sensation of blissful pain. Rachael concentrated hard on controlling, stifling, all outward signs of pleasure.

  The pliers closed and Eric twisted then pulled. Rachael’s only reaction was to close her eyes as the sharp stab went through her like a white hot needle. Her womb clenched and fluttered with her excitement, but she allowed herself enjoyment only on the inside.

  Eric removed the tool from her left nipple and lightly traced it between her breasts, sliding the cool metal over to her right nipple that stood erect and waiting. “You are pleased, slave.” He gave a slow, smug smile and pulled the pliers back, tapping them against his chin as she waited in silent torment.

  He stood and walked away from her, turning and dropping to his haunches a short distance from Rachael. “Will you ever stand me up like that again, slave? That was very disobedient of you, you know.” Eric kissed the pliers and then dropped them to the floor between his knees as he squatted, glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

  Rachael licked her lips and looked to the pliers on the floor and then to his face. She knew satisfaction would not be granted if she did not give him an explanation for her transgression. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat before she spoke. “May I have permission to speak, master?”

  He nodded slowly, still watching her with an intent, cold stare that made her wish he’d fuck her while he used those pliers on her nipples to twist and squeeze.

  She looked down, trying to feign a demure demeanor for his pleasure. “I admit, I think part of me wanted to,” Rachael bit her lip, “wanted to goad you into this. I was eager to have some time alone with you, master, and you have been busy, preoccupied with the band and launching the tour to support the CD, and I have not wanted to bother you.” She swallowed. She was rambling now and she knew it. Time to wrap it up. Rachael didn’t want to anger Eric further and have her pleasure denied completely.

  He ran the tip of the pliers over his lips as he stared at her, showing no emotion on his face as he studied her. “So, you thought you would make me look like a fool and let me down by not coming to the show, just to get me here for your selfish pleasures?”

  She dropped her head. “N-no…it wasn’t like that, Eric—master. I wasn’t trying to intentionally hurt you…” Rachael bit back tears, and was furious at herself for the sudden emotional impulse to cry. This relationship with Eric was so new and, truly, she cared for him deeply. He was a deep, intelligent soul, and they had so much in common—shared the same views. She didn’t want her rash stupidity to spoil things between them.

  He came near again and studied her for a moment, then reached forward and, with a gentle hand, wiped tears from her cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” He smiled tenderly, and in that moment she saw again just how sexy his dark looks truly made him. “You want to be a good girl. I feel that, baby.” He yanked her head forward and kissed her roughly, raw and deep. “You’ve proven your de
votion to me,” he said when their lips parted. “Keep doing that and maybe I’ll fuck you tonight.”

  Excitement zinged through her belly at the prospect.

  He returned to where he’d set the candle down and brought it back to where she sat bound. Her heart drummed louder and louder in her ears when he slowly tipped the holder. Wax fell toward her breasts in slow motion.

  “If you don’t scream, I’ll fuck you, slave.”

  The wax sizzled when it met her creamy flesh and trickled down over her rosy nipples. She bit her lip until the iron tang of blood filled her mouth. The pain shouted through her head, through her every nerve. A raw, all-encompassing searing that made her feel as if her every pore opened up and bled sensation. Inside, she thrashed and shrieked. Outside, she remained a bastion of disciplined calm.

  He lowered the candle and aimed the wax at her nipple this time, letting this blazing liquid melt into the taut tip. Her teeth squeaked she grit them so hard. She fisted her hands in her bonds until they went numb, but still she did not cry out, did not move and inch in response. So high was she now on the combination of suffering and euphoria, she thought she might faint.

  “Very good, slave,” he said, and he left her long enough to put the candle back in place. “Very good.” He knelt and stroked sweat-damp hair from her face then rained kisses across her brow and down her cheeks. “I think you’ve earned a fucking.”

  Eric took his time undressing in front of her. The candle light gleamed against his white skin, throwing shadows over the curves of muscle in his pecs, arms, and flat stomach. Once more her pussy throbbed. She was mad and hungry with need. Inside, she was a feral beast shrieking for release and to please her master.

  He also took his time unchaining her. Her master was making a statement, reminding her who was in charge of her pleasure, reminding her not to disobey or shame him ever again. She paid attention, but the willful side of her being was already thinking of other ways to be insubordinate and earn another punishment just like this one.