Thea Devine - Captivated

"We've barely begun, my fawn," he whispered against her ear and into the silence; he was still hot and hard inside her, his cream thick and seeping around them. And he still wanted her. Was still hot and raring to pin her to whatever surface was handy. "Just barely." He braced his arms around her bottom and lifted her from the harness, somehow still keeping himself joined to her.

"Did you feel me there,wife? I swear to God you will never get away from me…" He got her on the bed somehow; he laid her down and followed her down, deep down into her where he had shot his seed. "Never…"

…never…

He was so hard and so hot and all of his weight was over her now; she had never felt sonaked and fragile, so much at someone else's mercy. His lust to possess her burned her whole body as he aligned himself against her.

"Just you wait, little fawn. Now that I've slaked my hunger, now that you've gotten a taste…"

"A taste of whatyour power over me? Isn't that understood?" she muttered.

"I hope so," he growled, and thrust himself more tightly into her. It was as if all the sexual heat had dissipated. She was too cold and he had to stoke her up somehow.

He rocked against her, pushing himself deeper.

She made an incoherent sound in the back of her throat.

"Get used to it, my fawn. I don't know why I waited to have you. I'm going to stuff myself into you every waking moment."

She moaned.

"Just like this: on your back, spreading your legs…"

She felt herself sinking, sinking into his scenario of sensual depravity, wondering what there was in it for her. Her feeling of vulnerability intensified. All he had ever made her feel was overpowered, and with his big body and his huge penis deep inside her, she felt even more helpless.

Where was that sense of power that had moved her as she had climbed into the harness?

Like a lamb to the slaughter, she had given him everything he wanted, and lost herself in the process. Stupid to ever think she could bring him to heel.

This would be her life from now on: crushed under his body, a vessel for his mindless lust.

But then, thatwas why men wanted a woman…

She felt his body suddenly stiffen with urgency. "What are youdoing?"

"I want you again."

"You can have anything you want," she muttered, her voice laced with bitterness. "Obviously."

"Ah," he murmured, "the fawn has forgotten the pleasure…"

"There is no pleasure. There's just domination and submission. Just… do what you want, and let me go."

"But I'll never let you go, my wife. You've only just begun to repay me for everything I've done for you. And I wouldn't call your enticing me to the harness submission, either. Feel how ripe, how wet, you are. Your body is submitting to nothing; your body wants me just where I am."

Yes, shehad mounted the harness of her own volition; she burned with the knowledge of that, and that she had ever thought she could rule him.

He ruled everything, from what she ate to what she wore to her position beneath him in his bed.

She just hadn't understood about the carnal nature of men.

Or her own.

"And I want to be just where I am. All day, all night." He gathered her tighter against him. "In spite of whatyou want. You wantthis." He undulated against her. "And this" A long, sleek stroke that took her utterly by surprise. "Yes…"

"Noooo…" she moaned as he thrust again. And again. And again. And her body began moving in concert with his thrusts. Her traitorous body that had a life of its own, that felt rich and wet and ready for whatever he was going to do to her. "No…" her protest feeble now, as a wave of shocking sensation coursed through her and she heaved her body upward to meet his lunges. "… n-o…"

This wasn't right, this wasn't whatshe wanted. And yetand yet… the sensations became familiar, like those stunning feelings he had pulled from her nakedness with his hands and his mouth. And became insistent, necessary,there…

She centered on the spangling sensations right between her legs. He was so long, so strong, and he had planted himself exactly where she needed him to be, at the apex of her sensual craving.

Yes, now, with his hard, insistent thrusting, his perfect positioning, she wanted it; she didn't know, how could she have known? He had opened her body and primed her for him. He couldn't go deep enough, far enough, fast enough.

He felt the exact moment she gave in to him, the moment when she understood the pleasure to be had. Her body quickened, she pulled him in tighter, she spread herself still wider, and she found his rhythmic pace.

It crept up on her like the morning heat, with an awareness that it was there, as elusive as fog, and then suddenly it was alive, intense, sharp, fierce, and flaring into something unspeakably erotic.

Her body caved, bearing down with every ounce of her strength on the dark invader centered just at her point of pleasure.

Just there; just there… he was hard and hot, and every pointed thrust broke into her, and over her in an incandescent shower of light that cracked and sparked and suddenly, unexpectedly, exploded in the darkness.

And all he had to do was follow her down into the tumult of her climax into the backwash of his release.

She awakened in the morning with a jolt. She was still in his bed, still in his arms, her bottom pressed against his unholy-hard erection, his one arm crossed over her breasts, his other lay over her belly, with his fingers inserted between her legs.

She didn't dare move. He was right there. Rightthere and she didn't know how it happened that he had trapped her so completely.

Deliberate. Everything with him was deliberate. She hardly dared breathe, let alone move.

And it was so hot, even this early in the morning. It was barely dawn, and the heat already lay over them like a heavy blanket. She felt sticky with the heat, but her body felt rich and sated.

Sated?

From where she lay she could clearly see the harness suspended from the ceiling. The beginning of the end for her. She had surrendered everything, just everything. There was nothing he didn't have now, nothing he couldn't take.

And she would give. It was the consuming failure of women that in order to experience that unspeakable pleasure, they would give everything over and over and over.

And there was no power in that.

There could only be power in withholding it, in making him work, making him beg and grovel for it. Provided that he wanted it badly enough.

Oh, yes, he did, he wanted heritnow. His fingers flexed involuntarily and her body contracted.

And she wantedthat.

How far she had come in one night. From virgin to tart, already seduced by the promise of that bone-melting pleasure. Ready to spread her legs at his touch.

What a weapon it was. How unfair. How one-sided.

She would never be strong enough to deny him. Nor would he let her.

Helpless again… She moved restively at the thought.

She was a vessel, a body, a servant…

Her body contracted again as his fingers moved against her left nipple.

"Good morning, my fawn." His voice was barely a whisper. "You're so wet, so ripe between your legs. I'm going to take you with my fingers."

"I-"

But there was no "I" in the equation. He rolled onto his back so that she was wholly on top of him, her back against his chest and his penis embedded in her buttocks crease.

"Don't be coy, Drue. Drape your legs over my hipsjust like thatnow I can get to you…"

It was like lying on a sun-hot stone, all rough and rounded, and a dangerous slide. He braced her around her midriff, his one hand still free to cup her left breast and play with her hard nipple.

The other hand he had not removed from her body; he slipped his fingers in more deeply, twisting, pumping, and goading her on.

She arched her body involuntarily against each spasm of pleasure. He knew just how to caress her nipple, just how to play her with his magical hands.

She felt him pumping against her buttocks, she felt his sorcerer's fingers rubbing against that one indescribable sweet spot between her legs. She felt her body melting as she pushed down hard on his mesmerizing knowledge of her body, on his knowledgeable fingers that found the pulse of her pleasure and unerringly wrested it from her body until he had pulled her tight as a bow. And then, with perfect timing, he released hera pitch of arrows piercing her soul, and falling… falling… and fracturing her convulsing body until she could bear it no more.

That…

He rode her buttocks as she lay collapsed against him. She couldn't move. Her whole body felt fragile, explosive. A man ought not know that much about a woman's body.

He… he knew

And every inch of her was his, offered into his hands like the sacrifice she was.

At least there was somereward. At least there was this…

He heaved against her, rolling her onto her belly and canting her bottom upward. She felt him probing for her, and then the slick slide of him neatly and tightly into her in this reverse position.

Her body twinged as he covered her, and he lay with her, his penis embedded in her, quiescent, for all the rest of the morning.

He took her finally as the clock struck noon, riding her to a bone-jarring culmination that left them both panting, and then he left her luxuriating in his bed in the sex-soaked aftermath of their coupling.

He needed a respite. He needed five minutesa half hour away from her, away from her naked, seductive body. Away from his urgent erection and his insane need to possess her over and over and over.

Just a little time where maybe he could relax, not think about her, go through some papers that required his attention. Not that he could pay attention.

He was too covered with the scent of her to concentrate. It permeated everything: his head, his mind, his business.

Damn her. It didn't take him a half hour and his sex was driving to get into her again. And why not? The fawn was full of surprises, not least that she was as hot as a poker and tight as a drum, two qualities any man found easy to take. And she was sure as damn easy to take.

Damn it, he had to have her again. Now.

Whipsawed by his unruly penis and a hot-tailed lady.Damn damn damn damn…

But still, he raced up the steps and burst into his room to find her braced against the headboard, sliding the loops of gold over her protruding nipples.

He almost climaxed then and there. His penis was rigid as a pipe and primed to pop. He stripped off his clothes, climbed into the bed on his knees, and pulled her toward him.

No words, as he lifted her legs to brace them against his chest; no caresses as he poled himself into her as hard and deep as he could go. All he wanted was to climb onto her and ram himself into her. Once. Twice. Three times. He felt himself swelling, his muscles gathering, and not all the willpower in the world could have stopped him. He spewed his seed into her like a geyser, deliberately, purposefully, elementally, and drove himself home.

And it wasn't enough. He collapsed on top of her and he understood: it wasn't enough just to possess her.

It was the other thing he had to know.

He summoned Evie to him later that afternoon and gave her the abominable letter from Lenoir. "You will give this to the mistress."

"Oh, master…" Evie murmured.

"Give it to her. Tell me what she does, what she says. Do not stop her if she leaves the house. But I swear, you'd better tell me where she goes…"

Drue felt bruised right down to her toes. Court could be rough, unfeeling; that last coupling had been brutal and self-serving.

But that was herjob, after all. To service the master.

She got up from the bed and paced restively around his room. It was so like him: large and all-encompassing, every wall filled with massive furniture, the linens heavy cotton which did not wick away the ever-hovering heat.

Here, Evie had not been instructed to remove the bedclothes, the curtains. Here, in this chamber of lust, there was hardly any need. There was nothing she could conceal from him anyway.

And the windows were open to catch the faintest breeze.

No thoughts of jumping now. No chance of escape. Her lot was cast. She was Court's wife, Court's whore, and excising every debt every hour for the rest of her life.