Bound to You Page 8

  His stroking hands paused. “Then you’ll have to receive both punishments, won’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered seriously, all the former pressure to laugh disappearing.

  “Lay across my lap, then,” he said. He seemed to know precisely how he wanted her. She couldn’t help but wonder how often he did this sort of thing. By the time she was in position, her bottom curved around his right thigh and the bottom of her breasts brushed the outside of his left. He’d pushed her jeans down to her knees. The cool air tickled her bare ass, thighs and moist sex. She was sure he heard her panting when he carefully moved aside her jacket, as well, making sure her breasts were exposed.

  She went still in anticipation when John placed his hand over her right ass cheek and caressed her. “Part your thighs an inch or two,” he commanded.

  She did so. Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears.

  “Will it hurt, Sir?”

  “A little,” he replied sternly. “But perhaps you should have thought of that before you ate the candy.”

  “I understand. I deserve to be punished by you.”

  He lifted his hand and served her a brisk swat. She wiggled in his lap, feeling his erection pressing against his fly. He spanked her again, causing a loud smacking sound to echo off the cave walls. She squeaked, more in surprise than pain.

  “Stop twisting around. Keep your ass a still target, or you’ll get more swats.”

  She endeavored to do what he commanded, but it was hard, which she learned as he swatted her several more times. Not because she wanted to avoid his spanking hand, but because it was exciting. Every nerve in her body wanted to be stimulated, every muscle tensed to move. Her nipples prickled with arousal, her pussy clenched tight, and the sting in her ass somehow seemed to be directly connected to her clit. He paused after about ten strokes and caressed her bottom, soothing the agitated nerves.

  “It’s getting nice and warm,” she heard him murmur, and she moaned feverishly. “How does it feel to you?”

  “It hurts so bad.”

  His hand faltered. “Does it really?” he asked, sounding worried.

  “No,” she said under her breath, assuring him, before she resumed her role. “You’re making my bottom burn. Is it normal when getting a spanking for . . . well . . .”

  “Well, what?” he asked, now rubbing her ass again.

  “For it to burn between my legs as well?”

  “You mean here?” he asked tautly, sliding his hand between her thighs and sliding his finger between her labia. He paused, and then gave her clit a rapid flick. She jumped in his lap and whimpered as pleasure spiked through her. He removed his hand and spanked her several times.

  “Only really, really bad girls’ pussies get that hot and wet when they’re being spanked,” he said while his hand smacked against her ass again and again. She smiled into the darkness, because even though he’d said bad, she’d heard good. “Really, really bad girls’ nipples get hard during their punishments as well. Ah . . . your guilt is once again obvious,” he said. She gasped as he fondled a nipple. He pinched it lightly at the same rhythm that he spanked her bottom. Jennifer began to squirm in his lap, wild for sensation, hungry for the delicious feeling of the long column of his cock pressing against denim. Her pussy ached to be touched. She grew so desperate she wondered if she could break their sex play and beg him to fuck her, then and there.

  Suddenly, his hands fell away.

  “I can see this type of punishment just won’t do. You’re one of my more stubborn cases.”

  “I . . . I suppose you will be forced to use your cane?” The tremor in her voice wasn’t entirely theatrical. Wouldn’t the cane hurt?

  “That’s right. Now, stand up and remove your clothing.”

  “All of it, Sir?”

  “All of it but your socks.”

  She crawled off his lap, hating the absence of his heat. She got to her feet and opened her eyes. Suddenly the darkness was there, swallowing her.

  “I’m here,” John said suddenly, his voice somewhere to the right of her. He touched her shoulder, his fingers warm and reassuring.

  “I . . . I know . . . S-sir,” she managed, scrunching her eyes closed. She kicked off her boots. Fear had pierced her secure cocoon of sexual arousal, but she didn’t want to succumb to it. She wouldn’t. She shivered a moment later, standing on top of John’s coat, naked except for her socks.

  “It’s cold, isn’t it?” He’d stood. His voice resounded just to her right. He brushed his body against hers.

  “Yes,” she whispered, entirely focused on the feeling of the hard male heat residing behind his button fly as he pressed it lightly against her hip. She felt vulnerable, standing there naked while he was clothed. He ran his large, spread hand along her right hip and up the side of her ribs. Her nipples pulled so tight she winced. She shivered uncontrollably. It suddenly struck her how small she was in comparison to him.

  “You have a very firm bottom, but you’re very tender and soft. I would prefer to use my paddle on your ass, but you’ve been so bad, I have to punish you with the cane,” he said gently.

  “Do you own a paddle?” she asked impulsively, the question for John and not the punishing principal from their sex play.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” she replied breathlessly. She wanted to ask him what other types of sex toys he owned, but was distracted. He began to stroke her skin with his long cane. The well-worn leather slid erotically against her hip and then her belly. Her skin felt so sensitive beneath it. She held her breath when it rose, and he rubbed it against her nipples. She gasped raggedly and put her hand between her thighs, desperate to staunch the sharp pain of arousal that pierced her.

  Somehow he recognized her intentions. He removed her hand and pulled it to the small of her back. “None of that. Not now.”

  “But Sir . . . your punishment is too harsh.”

  “It will be over soon enough. You will have your relief,” he soothed. She felt cloth against her wrist and recognized the texture of her scarf. He must have retrieved it at the same time he’d gotten his cane. “But in the meantime, I’m afraid we’ll have to bind these busy hands of yours.”

  She panted softly while he drew back her other wrist to her lower back and tied her hands together.

  “Now, bend over to receive your punishment.” He put the tip of his cane between her thighs and batted gently at one, then the other. “Spread your thighs some.”

  Jennifer bent at the waist and opened her legs, feeling the cool air kiss at her wet pussy. She didn’t think she could stand the anticipation much longer. Anxious excitement, a tiny flicker of fear and potent sexual arousal created a strange brew in her blood. She thought her heart had leapt into her throat when she felt John press his black cane at the top of her thighs, just beneath her buttocks. He lifted, plumping her ass cheeks. He squeezed one buttock, then the other, before he slapped each lightly.

  “As I said, you are very tender, so I’ll be careful. Tell me if it hurts too much.”

  She opened her lips, but her reply was cut off by the sensation of the cane striking her bottom. She gasped. His hand was immediately there, stroking the sting, soothing it. It had shocked her a little, the sharp, focused burst of pain. But it was fading now, sending prickles of sensation through her, causing her anus to tingle and her clit to twang in arousal.

  “I’m thinking this bottom is more suited to my hand for punishment,” she heard John say dryly.

  “No . . . I mean . . . it did hurt a bit more than your hand, but now . . .”

  “Yes?” he asked, removing his hand and replacing it with the cane. He stroked her bottom and the tops of her thighs with the leather covered wood.

  “Now it tingles. I think . . . I think I might deserve another stroke, Sir,” she said cautiously.

  “You bad girls always do ask for it,” he said, a smile in his voice. He caned her bottom again and she cried out at the quick pain and then the burn. His hand was immediat
ely there, his fingertips seeking out the heated skin where the cane had just struck.

  “All indications are that your punishment is nearly over,” he murmured. “I think four more swats with my hand and then one final one with the cane will be all for now, but let me check the other indicators.”

  “Other indicators?” she asked shakily.

  “Yes,” he said with mock somberness. She felt his hand move between her thighs.

  “Oh,” she cried out sharply when he plunged his middle finger straight into her pussy.

  “Hmmm, yes,” he murmured as he kept his finger inserted and Jennifer nearly had a heart attack. “The wetness and heat I feel here certainly indicate things are coming to an end,” he said. His voice sounded thick and gruff and not quite so droll and playful as it had a moment ago.

  She whimpered in disappointment when he slid his finger out of her pussy. “Stand up for a moment,” he commanded.

  Jennifer straightened, sensing him standing just inches away. She wanted to press her naked body against him, feel his heat and strength, but forced herself to stand still in the darkness. He suddenly pressed his fingertips to one of her nipples and rubbed.

  “Oh, Sir,” she cried shakily. He was rubbing the warm, slick fluid from her pussy onto her nipple, circling and tweaking and rhythmically pinching very lightly. He must have set down his cane because suddenly he was agitating both nipples at once. “Why do you have to punish me so?”

  “Because you’re bad and sweet and lovely,” he said into the darkness. She bit her lip as he shaped her breasts to his palms and squeezed her lasciviously . . . lovingly. “Jennifer?”

  “Yes?”

  “The only way I’m going to stimulate you after I finish punishing you is on your pretty nipples. Do you want to come that way?”

  “Yes,” she said fervently.

  “Then bend back over,” he said.

  Jennifer bent. John pressed close to her. She felt his cock pressing against her hip as he smoothed his hand over her bottom. Suddenly, he hissed a curse and backed away.

  “John?” she asked. “I mean . . . Sir?”

  “It’s okay. I’m right here,” he said a second later, coming back against her. Her eyes sprang wide, but she didn’t register the darkness. Instead, her entire focus was on the feeling of John’s exposed erection. He pressed it between himself and her hip. He obviously had just pulled it out through his fly, because she also felt a hard button next to her skin.

  She smiled. “Is this a routine part of punishments, Sir?”

  “No. But I do unorthodox things in . . . strained situations.”

  She broke her character and laughed softly. She thought she heard him chuckle, too, but then his hand landed on her bottom with a taut smack.

  “Oooh,” she cried out in surprise.

  He rubbed her bottom while he reached beneath her body with his other hand. Her pussy clamped tight, aching to be possessed, when he filled his palm with one of her breasts and began to caress her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. She groaned and arched her back, pushing her breast further against him, greedy for more stimulation. He spanked her again, harder this time. His cock lurched against her hip at the loud cracking sound of skin against skin. His palm struck again, and he pinched her nipple.

  He opened his palm beneath the suspended nipple and rubbed it briskly, back and forth, back and forth, while he spanked her again.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Please. Please make it end.”

  “The only thing left is for you to take the cane one more time.”

  She whimpered. He left her side and she knew he was retrieving his cane.

  “You’ve been such a trial to punish that you’ve made my cock hard enough to pound nails,” he murmured a moment later as he ran the cane over the curve of her bottom.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her tongue ran over her lower lip anxiously. “You could . . . you could make me suck it.”

  “Jennifer,” he growled warningly, sounding very John-like versus Sir-like. He gave her ass a little pop with the cane. “Get ready to receive your last stroke. Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she panted.

  It was difficult to draw breath, her anticipation and arousal were so sharp. He caressed her bottom warmly with the cane, and then removed it. She heard the sound of the cane swooshing through the air. The breath she’d held in her lungs popped out of her when it struck. She clenched her teeth against the burst of pain, but was quickly distracted even from that when John once again thrust his finger into her drenched pussy.

  “Stand up,” he said, his voice sounding rough and tight. Was he as turned on as she was? No. Impossible.

  She stood and again he was rubbing her cream on the tips of her breasts. He’d stimulated her nipples so much they were exquisitely sensitive. Her bottom burned and her inner thighs were wet from her arousal. When he began to lightly pinch and tweak her nipples, she screamed in sexual frustration.

  “Shhh,” he soothed, before he leaned her back against one of his arms and took a nipple into his mouth. She cried out in delight at the sensation of his warm, sucking mouth and lashing tongue.

  “That’s right. Oh, suck it good and hard,” she begged.

  He gave her what she wanted while he pinched her other nipple. Jennifer arched her back against his supporting arm. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight. The air seemed to take on weight against her pussy. When John bit tenderly, she screamed as orgasm broke through her, the quality of it tight and cramped without genital stimulation.

  “Oh, it hurts . . . so good,” she moaned, not even sure what she was saying.

  Suddenly John was turning her into his arms, embracing her. His hand found its way to her pussy. He rubbed her slick clit briskly. It was as if he’d liberated the congested energy. She shouted as climax rocketed through her, more intense and powerful than she’d ever experienced. She rode his hand mindlessly, lost in the battering waves of a sea of sensation and pleasure.

  Slowly, the storm eased. John continued to rub her with his hand, nursing every last shudder of bliss out of her. Finally, she sagged against his chest.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered in breathless awe, staring into the pitch-black and not flinching.

  “You’re amazing,” he said next to her ear. The heat and tension in his voice made her eyes spring wide.

  “Do you have another condom, John?”

  “No,” he replied, his voice thick with regret.

  “Then untie me and let me suck you.”

  She heard the raggedness of his breath as he leaned close, his hands behind her back. His penis, warm, heavy and hard as a poker, brushed against her heaving belly.

  She went to her knees immediately when her hands were free, her role in their sex play forgotten. Only hunger ruled her—that and her innate understanding of how much he hurt for relief.

  He spoke to her as she sucked him. His deep, ragged voice blended with the feeling of his thick, pulsing cock in her mouth and hand, mixed with the scent of his arousal filling her nose, and mingled with the taste of him on her tongue, until she didn’t need to see him; he was with her, racing in her blood, throbbing in every cell of her being.

  “How can you be so sweet and small and suck so hard?” he muttered, his voice cracking. He hissed when she scraped the edge of her teeth against the underside of his penis on her sweep upwards. “And you knew my sweet spot from the first, didn’t you?” His hands tightened in her hair. “Ah, I’m about to come. I wish I was coming high and hard in your little pussy. Hold still and let me fuck your pretty mouth a little. Oh, God that feels like a miracle.”

  She clenched her eyes tight, overwhelmed by emotion, sucking him as hard as she could while he pulsed his cock in and out of her mouth.

  “I feel it, honey,” he muttered. She felt it too, his penis swelling even larger in her mouth. “I’m going to come.”

  He groaned gutturally. She felt warm semen jet onto her tongue. He jerked his hips more forcefull
y, but she kept up with him, sucking him while he ejaculated, keeping his final ride smooth and electric. He’d given her so much pleasure, she’d forgotten herself . . . lost herself in it. She wanted to do the same for him.

  She wanted to do more.

  Chapter Six

  John insisted that she put back on every stitch of clothing she possessed, including bra, panties, scarf and boots. “Every little scrap will help keep you warm,” he told Jennifer.

  He brushed off his coat and donned it. After he’d found the softest spot available, he called to Jennifer and she came down on the ground with him. He took her into his arms, marveling at how soft she felt, so feminine pressed against the straight, hard planes of his body. She lay against his abdomen and chest and he closed his coat around her, hugging her tight.

  She turned her face into his chest and gave a low purr of contentment.

  “You all right?” he asked, caressing her jean-covered hip.

  “I’m very good,” she murmured, turning her face into his chest. He liked the way she did that, nuzzling her nose into his chest as if she craved his heat, his nearness. After a moment, she laid her cheek against him. He felt her muscles go lax, and wondered if she slept.

  He listened to the sound of the falling water and considered their chances for getting out of the cave alive and well. If they could just hold out for another two days, chances were a rescue team would eventually find them. Two more days trapped with Jennifer Turner.

  There were worse ways for a guy to spend his time.

  A hell of a lot of worse ways for a man to die.

  No, they’d get out. That was a good certainty. There’d be a decent insistence upon finding him when he was noticed missing, but Jennifer Turner? They’d plow the ground until they found her.

  They’d be rescued. No doubt.

  But the longer he spent with Jennifer, wouldn’t it be harder for him to let her go? He got it, why she’d wanted to become intimate with him. She’d instinctively understood it would help her combat the terrifying fear and claustrophobia she experienced in the absolute darkness. They were clearly sexually compatible, that much was a certainty. But once they were free of the cave and she was no longer living on the edge of fear, his use to her . . . her need for him, would entirely dissipate.