Page 59 of Wicked Games

“I didn’t give you permission to leave,” barked Richard. “Sit down.”

I knew better than to turn my head to see if he obeyed but I assumed he did. Everyone obeyed Richard’s commands.

Richard placed his hand on the back of my head.

I knew what was coming. Keeping my mouth open as wide as I could, I braced for the assault. He pulled my head violently forward, forcing me to take all nine inches till my nose touched his stomach. His cock hit the back of my throat then continued to press till it plunged deep. I choked and gagged but he kept the pressure on.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded.

I raised my tear-filled eyes. My jaw ached and I felt like I was going to retch. Finally, I felt the pressure on my head ease and I surged backward, gasping for air. There was only a moment’s reprieve before he once more grabbed my head and pushed it onto his cock. Richard didn’t like the tease of a blowjob. There were no coquettish licks of the head, or tickle of the balls. There was no running my tongue over the sensitive ridge or up the underside of his shaft.

There was only dominance. Him fucking my face as if it were my cunt. This was how I showed I had learned my lesson and was trying to be a good girl. By opening my throat and allowing him to thrust in deep over and over again. By proving to him that I no longer needed the gag to keep my mouth open. I was particularly proud of that part.

It had taken several instructions in the siege d’amour chair with me secured upside down with my head dangling between the stirrups and him plunging his cock into my mouth while he kept his fingers pressed into my cheeks to make sure I didn’t bite down. If I did, he forced me to keep his cock in my mouth while he whipped me between the legs with the leather belt.

Once, I bit down from the pain while he was whipping me. I didn’t like to think about what happened afterward. It was days before I could leave my bed.

I continued to allow him to use my mouth. Several times I reached between my legs to ease the tension but the full silk skirts and petticoats prevented me from feeling much. It was okay; Richard never failed to make sure I also achieved release, even if he tortured me by making me wait for it.

I gloried in the deep guttural sounds he made each time his cock bottomed out down my throat. I even liked how the hairs on his abdomen tickled my nose whenever I was able to take it all the way down. As I desperately tried to get the slightest bit of air through my nose, I would also inhale his sandalwood cologne mixed with the musk of his arousal.

This was all pleasurable to me because, as a lady, I was doing my duty, There should be no greater fulfillment in life than knowing you had done your duty, according to the books Richard had been giving me to read.

The scrape of a chair leg on the polished wood reminded me that Lord Radfoot was still in the room. I felt this sick feeling twist in my stomach. It shouldn’t bother me that he was watching because it wasn’t my place to have an opinion. It was what Richard requested. Yet, there was this small niggling feeling that it did bother me. That it should bother me.

It was like there was a small bird trapped in my chest. It was furiously flapping its wings against my heart and lungs trying to get my attention. Trying to get me to remember, to react, to something… but what? It was there. Just past the fog in my mind.

“Fuck, Richard! She can’t breathe!” exclaimed Lord Radfoot… had I called him Mike earlier? I think I had.

Richard ignored him and only pressed my head down on his cock harder.

I could feel it begin to swell. His balls cinched up to brush against my chin. This was my favorite part. Not only because the torment was over but because it was obvious how much I had pleased Richard.

“Fuck, Lizzie! Yes!” he growled. Thick salty streams of come coated my tongue and face as he marked me. That was what he liked to call it, marking me as his.

In that moment, I felt as though I had been doused in freezing cold water.

My mind shattered. All thoughts crystalized with more clarity than I had felt in weeks.

Lizzie.

Richard called me Lizzie.

CHAPTER 22

LIZZIE

“Iwas very proud of you tonight.”

“Thank you,” I answered stiffly. With my mind racing, I was desperately trying to keep my rapid thoughts from shining through my eyes.

I know, you bastard!

I know!

The moment he called me Lizzie my mind snapped awake. I couldn’t account for why, other than he always insisted on calling me Elizabeth. There was something about hearing Lizzie.

Lizzie. Me. My name. My old name. My real name. My identity. My forgotten identity. It was all there in just that single utterance of the name, Lizzie, coming from his lips.

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