Raw Ch. 10

In my peripheral vision, though, I could always see his arm moving. I knew what it was doing. And regardless of where I looked, my gaze always came back to settle between his strong legs.

The longer he stroked, the more I thought about not my hand or mouth replacing his hand but my pussy. And then my muscles clenched more often. I was able to arch my back away from the headboard and wiggle my ass a little, which helped with the stiffness settling into my body. Plus it helped distract me. But the former action seemed to tighten the ropes encasing my breasts. Reminding me that they, too, ached, and my nipples stung slightly from their own restraints. God, I really wanted some release.

"Stay with me, Lady Becca. Just a little longer."

I heard Malcolm's voice, but it was so hard to listen. Still, I bit down on my lip to fend off the twisting desire within. I heard grunting and realized it was coming from me.

My hands clenched at the air. My toes curled against the sheet. My vision became a little blurry. My breathing shallower. All of the thoughts in my head centered on one thing: wanting him to fuck me.

Suddenly, my wish came true. Sort of. His fingers were inside me. It felt so damn good I moaned loudly. I tried to rock my hips against his hand, but I found it was useless with the way he had bound me. His thumb rubbed at my clit, and my jaw dropped as my body froze. All noises ceased as I told myself to hold on. Yet, I knew I was reaching my limit. Oh, please...please...

"Come for me, Lady Becca."

I'd never heard such sweeter words. His hand was thrusting hard against my pussy. It took only seconds before everything brook loose within me and I was crying. I felt the heat of the tears on my cheeks and tasted the saltiness as they reached my lips. I thrashed against the headboard, the movement mostly impeded by the ropes.

I heard his heavy breathing mixing with mine in my head. Felt him remove his hand. Heard the chain attached to my ankles rattling. Then my legs were being lifted, my pelvis as well. I almost passed out as his cock slid into me and he lowered my legs to rest on top of his thighs.

The soles of my feet pressed against the cool sheet on either side of him. I found that I could now arch my hips against him. I sobbed from relief as he filled me.

"Shh. Shh, Lady Becca." Malcolm wrapped my calves around his hips and rocked gently. His hands caressed where ropes didn't cover me.

Suddenly, he released one clamp. His mouth settled onto the painful nipple, his tongue like a branding iron to my sensitive skin. He suckled, soothing and yet arousing at the same time. I was babbling by the time he repeated it on my other nipple.

I flung my head back against the pillow as I came again. When I opened my eyes, he was still there kneeling before me. Still thrusting into me. Our eyes met, and finally our mouths. His hands were on my face then, holding me still so he could kiss every inch of my cheeks, nose, eyelids, and forehead before he came back to my lips.

I thought he was done as he started to pull out, but his thumb rested on my clit and rubbed it while he must have been guiding just the head of his cock into me. I could feel the slight pressure each time he entered as well as his hand bumping against my pelvis.

"Oh, God." They were the first words I'd said since this has begun. Despite his rule, I wasn't able to stop them. I was staring at the ceiling now as the lower part of my body convulsed against him.

The tingling intensified as he slid fully inside again.

"Becca!" He growled my name. His forehead pressed to my shoulder, his chest against mine, as he found release within me.

I tightened my legs around him, hugging him close in the only way possible. I managed to turn my head and kiss his hair.

It was several minutes before he moved. When he did, I moaned because his cock fell out. I cried as he carefully unwound the ropes. It seemed like forever before he cuddled me on the bed.

"Shh, Becca. It's okay." He kissed the back of my shoulder, his hands massaging each breast to distract me from the pain of blood flowing back into them.

My sobs subsided as I snuggled up against his body.

"Good girl."

After some time of listening to our breathing slowing down, I was cognizant enough to realize that I could finally get my hands on him. I caressed his body. Felt the heat emanating from him. The strength in his muscles.

As my hands wandered, arousal burned within again. Especially when he let out a low moan as my fingers grazed over his cock. It lay between our thighs, and it twitched to life as I touched it. There was a lingering hardness beneath the loose skin as my fingers wrapped around him.

"You are going to be the death of me," Malcolm said, his voice tight and gravelly.

I bit my lower lip and doubled my efforts, my hand tightening slightly, stroking a little faster but still at a leisurely pace.

Suddenly, he moved away from my grasp.

"Hey!" I propped myself up on one elbow. This brought me face-to-face with his cock because he knelt before me.

"Hey, yourself," he whispered, his thumb rubbing my lower lip. He put a little pressure, and my jaw opened. My tongue flicked out, the tip licking my upper lip. He growled. "Oh, baby, what you do to me."

I didn't have a chance to ask him to elaborate as he pressed his cock to my mouth. I kissed the tip and ran my tongue over the tiny hole, tasting the saltiness of the lingering cum from his recent ejaculation mixed with the spiciness from my own pussy. I moaned my consent and opened my mouth wider, gladly taking him in further.

My eyes fluttered closed as I licked him, my hand cupping a still-tender breast. When he pulled out, I gasped and opened my eyes to see he had gotten off the bed.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize." He was sifting through the dresser again. What now?

He tied a short length of rope to the metal D-ring on the cuff still encasing my right ankle. The other end as tied around two spindles of the footboard. I was still trying to figure out what had happened when he repeated the process on my left ankle. It left me sitting on the bed, my legs spread-eagle.

"Lie down, Lady Becca."

It must have been aftereffects of our previous session, because my head was a little cloudy. I just stared up at him. He sighed and pressed on my shoulder so that I landed on my back with a slight "oomph." He reached under me and gathered my hair so it lay spread out above my head on the pillow.

I flinched away when his cock brushed my hip. It tickled, and I failed to bite back a giggle.

He paused, his fingers wrapped around my right wrist as he held it in the air. "Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head, and then emitted a soft squeal as he tightened his grip. I gulped. "No, Sir."

His lips pressed into a firm line as he continued with securing a leather cuff around each of my wrists. He laced a piece of rope several times between the two metal D-rings, holding my wrists together, and then tied my arms above me to the headboard.

Only then did he get back on the bed next to me.

"I told you, this is because I neglected you. I want you to relax. You deserve this."

Relax? Ha! I could relax from his massages. Or leisurely lovemaking. But not bondage. Bondage excited me. At least with him. But I wasn't going to complain.

When he held the base of his cock in his hand, I didn't need any further instruction. I opened my mouth and turned my head slightly. He guided the tip so it traced my lips like an oversized tube of lipstick.

I couldn't wait to taste him. My tongue snaked out and followed the head, trying to get just a quick sample. Then my eyes darted up to his face. Was I on the verge of topping him? His jaw noticeably tightened, but he said nothing. He pressed a little further into my mouth, and I closed my lips around the crown.

My tongue took over from there as if it had a mind of its own. I licked. I teased. And when I pressed the tip just under the base of the crown on the underside of his cock and glided it side to side, I drew such deep growls from him that I froze.

"If you don't continue..." he hissed.

I blinked and got back down to business. Eventually, he slid further in so that the flat top of the head slid against the back of my mouth. As he withdrew, he tilted my head back slightly, and I felt the tip graze against the rough part of my pallet behind my top teeth. We both groaned then.

He alternated between fucking my mouth and letting me suck. He gripped my hair at one point, and I sucked harder. Which made him thrust deeper.

I was concentrating on breathing and sucking at the same time when I felt his hand cover my pussy. I almost choked on his cock as his fingers dipped in and stroked, his thumb rubbing lightly. My eyes had only closed for a second before I felt the yank on my hair.

"Eyes on me, Lady Becca."

My fingers and toes repeatedly curled and then fanned out as he fucked my mouth with his cock and my pussy with his fingers. I came twice, thrashing under his gentle but unrelenting touch. I had to release his cock both times so I could breathe.

I was feeling a little lightheaded when he removed his hand after the second orgasm. My efforts to suck his cock had dwindled as well. I was grateful for the respite, but he wasn't done with me.

He released my hands from the headboard but kept them tied together. As soon as he untied my ankles, he flipped me onto my stomach and dragged me to the edge of the bed. My toes had just touched the rug on the floor when he slammed into me from behind.

"Oh, God, Malcolm!" I screamed so loud I'm sure our guests heard us. And I relished the thought.

Then all of my thoughts ceased to exist as feelings took over. His thick cock in me. My breasts smashed beneath me against the mattress. My nose pressed into the remnants of my latest release, my own scent infiltrating my head.

His hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back. My back arched. I screamed again when his hand landed on one side of my ass. Then the other. Back and forth, spanking me while he fucked me. My bound, outstretched hands gripped for purchase on the wrinkled sheets. And then we came together.

I floated on a cloud of euphoria. Somewhere in the distance, I heard his grunts and groans as he continued to stroke despite his release. Every bit of me tingled. I was so buzzed I felt like I'd drunk an entire bottle of wine. And I never wanted the feeling to end.

I think I passed out. When I forced my eyes open, I was on my side under the covers, all traces of the cuffs and ropes gone. And I smelled bacon.

I tried rolling over. My body was so sore I felt tears in my eyes. But I eventually managed to sit up. And on the nightstand was a tray with a plate of eggs, toast, and several strips of the best-tasting meat ever. There was also a glass of orange juice, a folded note...and a single red rose.

I opened the note and pressed my hand to my chest, finding it hard to breathe for a moment. In Malcolm's masculine handwriting, he'd written, "This is your snow day. Watch TV, read a book, or get some rest. You may get up to take a shower, but otherwise, you are to stay in bed today. Enjoy your breakfast. I'll be by to check on you later. I love you, Becca."

I held the rose to my nose and inhaled deeply. As I exhaled, one single thought filled my head. How had I gotten so lucky?

True to his word, Malcolm stopped in around lunchtime with a tray of cold sandwiches. He made me eat in bed, but not until after we did a sixty-nine. After lunch, I took a shower. And then the two of us spent the afternoon having sex or cuddled under the blankets while we flipped between cooking, home improvement shows, and a classic movie from the '80s.

Not once did I ask him about our guests. I didn't care. I had him, and that was all that mattered.

I actually didn't see our guests who'd outstayed their uninvited welcome again. I woke up Wednesday morning to the bright sunshine beaming in through the window. Malcolm wasn't in bed beside me, and the clock showed it was well past ten o'clock. I dressed in warm clothes and wandered downstairs.

It was eerily quiet when I entered the kitchen. I grabbed a bagel from the fridge and was staring out the window as it toasted when I saw Malcolm pushing the snowblower up the driveway. He didn't seem to see me, and he turned to go back in the other direction. They must have closed school again. Maybe it was too cold because the roads looked clear. Did I dare get hopeful?

I wanted to race to the basement. Instead, I tiptoed down the stairs instead, as if I wasn't supposed to go there. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, and I cringed. But the main room was dark.

When I turned on the lights, there was no evidence that anyone was present. Still, I checked each of the four private rooms. Only after I had confirmed that they were each empty—save for the bed, table, and chair that we kept there for playtime—did I let out my breath.

My house was my house again.

~ H