Captive Heart

Hard

A tight powerful hug, his broad white-toothed smile, the clean smell of his aftershave, and the smooth fabric of his charcoal suit pressed against my cheek. He kissed me each evening as though it was always the first time. I dared to open my eyes during this kiss and his steel gray were always tight closed. Tonight I could detect his eagerness, he was hungry for more than just dinner.

He drank wine, and tonight he drank a considerable quantity of it. He was not inebriated, but he was very relaxed and happy. He did not even wish to wait for me to clear away the dinner dishes, he ambushed me and carried me to the bedroom. I did try to protest but he silenced my feeble utterances with a sharp slap on my behind.

“Have you forgotten what you are?” He inquired. Shades of his brother.

I felt the sting of my own slip up acutely. I knelt at his feet, tears already in my eyes, my head bowed.

“Up,” he instructed. “Tonight I want to show you something.”

Warning bells sounded for me then, he was somewhat drunk after all. Would he take risks, would he break the tenuous trust we had built? I sat on the edge of the bed eyes downcast while he took off his clothes, unlike his brother he put them all on hangers or in a neat pile on the floor.

He sat opposite me, he was already unashamedly hard. His hand on either side of my face, he still had his gold watch on. He was looking into my eyes and stroking the sides of my face with his large thumbs. “It’s time Lidia you pleasured me as you used to pleasure him.”

I averted my eyes, yes I had been remiss with this act, his younger brother had been so fanatical over it. It had been a prelude to everything, and I had grown to resent it. I had found I just wanted to resist doing this forever. Even if it upset him. He had tried to initiate oral on a couple of occasions, and I had deftly resisted. It had bothered me I had, however, he seemed to accept my unspoken refusal in a gentlemanly fashion and offered no reprisals. I had wrongly figured that would be the end of the matter.

“No more evasion girl. I know you are good at this.”

He was on the verge of drunkenness I could hear it altering his voice. I paused and considered what he might do if I did not obey, but only for a fleeting moment. His hand in my hair, fingers knotting in it he was pulling me towards him. Do as he wishes Lidia, make the best of it even if you don’t mean it, you owe him this much.

My mouth on him, the taste of him not unlike others, he lay back as I took him deep in my throat his hands never leaving my hair. Yet he was unlike the others. He was alive at my caresses, intense guttural growls escaped his lips, my mouth having an effect on him I had never witnessed on a man before.

I paused and looked up, he was fixedly looking down at me a vast expression of undying pleasure on his face. More animal noises and a small shudder coursed through his great frame. A warm rush of pleasure that I had made him react so strongly and surprisingly I forgot my sense of blind duty and began to enjoy what I could do to him.

More tremors from deep inside, this time intense, he was laying supine on the bed his head turning from side to side, eyes closed, his back arching from the mattress shrouded in the black cotton sheets. He was rumpling the bedclothes with his hands.

Was this an act, but I knew, no this was him in all his honest sincerity? He could truly feel, and for the first time in my life, I felt the joy of pleasuring a man orally. More shuddering, he rose abruptly and asked me to stop. Had I done something wrong? One look at his satisfied face told me I had not.

He held me. “Oh, so very good my pet.” He tousled my hair crushing me to him. He held me this way for some time. The resonant chime of the clock in the adjoining room, nine bells.

He lay me face down on the bed. “Close your eyes and trust me,” he said seductively. I wanted to, I needed to, and I had to.

He was in the closet, I knew right where he was at. I did not cheat, I did not attempt to look at him, instead, I remained still, eyes tight shut. Listening to him, trying to second guess his actions. His hands alighted on my behind, lingering at the base of my tailbone.

“Relax, trust me,” he coaxed.

His finger in my behind I tensed, panic already my bedfellow. Frej only ever did this to hurt me. I had hoped I never had to suffer it again. Until tonight he had not pressed me here. More soothing words, his other hand alighting on my back stroking me, holding me down. I twisted about in an attempt to look at him, the coldness of lube and his second finger entering me as a reply. Small panicked pain, I clenched further exacerbating it.

He took his time but he did not desist. “You are mine girl, every part of you. The good and the bad it is all mine. I will use you in any way I desire, whether you like it or not it is not for you to refuse.”

I shivered at his words, fighting to relax. I whimpered as his third finger joined his previous two. He would take me, he would bend me to his will.

With the sudden absence of his invasive fingers, I felt hollow, open. A small gasp as he pushed his thick member into the slack space he had worked to create. His hands followed the contours of my spine as he pressed further inside, filling me in totality. He had discovered his momentum, holding my shoulders, my hair tufted in his fist. Not in a hateful manner but rather a possessive one.

I bucked, I moaned, but his superior weight on me did not allow escape or evasion. He was breathing hard, his skin wet. The smallest inhuman sound escaped me, a cry, or was it the sound of stifled pleasure? He did not relent and I had to begrudgingly admit his version of this was not the same as his brother’s. Deep shuddering climax, he came in me powerfully and hard, pulling my hair.

“You will be open to me in every way girl, like she was.” He rasped in my ear on his act’s completion.

I felt stung by the comparison, even in such an intimate moment he thought of her, and that was quite plain. However he was right about one thing it did not need to hurt, and I did not need to fear it.

We adjourned to the bath, he loved to often languish there. He was a man who basked in life’s simple pleasures. Red wine in a fine glass perched on the dark marble rim of the tub, no light other than flickering candlelight, and classical music for ambiance.

He smiled at me inviting me to his side. I settled into him lulled by the warm scented water.

“You did well girl,” he praised. “I may not be him, yet I still enjoy many of the same pleasures.” His voice held dominant overtones of surety and wickedness. “I’m proud of you,” he hugged me again tightly. He could be very genuine in his emotions.

Later after he had unwound from his stressful day, after our bath, and the black coffee I brought to him, I sat behind him and massaged his enormous back. I did this on many occasions as I had for his younger sibling. He seemed to enjoy it immensely, his eyes were closed and he was quiet. I did not hurry, my hands lingering on the tense muscles, he fascinated me with the power in his body and the coarseness in his well-muscled frame. Just to be in his presence always left me feeling small and vulnerable.