Page 34 of Take Me

When he turns to the tray beside him, I realize I’m breathing deep and loud, through my mouth, all the way into my stomach. And when he lifts the large syringe, smears lube on the tip, and presses it into my narrow hole, I just stare at him.

It’s not until water seeps into my belly, unnatural and unwanted, that I react.

A tiny mewl slips past my lips, and I snap my eyes shut, flexing my hands as I tug at the straps. The water keeps coming in a constant flow, and a slow sense of panic creeps along the edges of my mind. I writhe my hips on the surface, wanting to get away from the intrusion.

“Lie still,” Dax urges with enough firmness to incite my instant obedience. But alarm keeps building in my body, and my legs twitch in the stirrups as the need to rip them out and close them wars with the need to obey.

Finally, the syringe disappears, and the water settles deep in my belly, where it’s less obtrusive.

A warm hand on my stomach has me opening my eyes to look straight into Dax’s sincere ones.

“Would you feel better if I tied you down?”

“I—I don’t…” the idea soothes the turmoil rolling inside me, but I can’t admit it.

“I can see it on your legs,” he nods to the side where my leg is still twitching. “You’re struggling with yourself. Not having a choice would make it easier.”

I give a shake of my head, not getting how he reads it so easily.

“I don’t mind.” He closes the strap around my ankle and pulls to let me feel the rush of being trapped and helpless. “You’ve proven your submission plenty.”

He proceeds to close every other strap on the table, stroking my skin and holding my gaze as he goes. When he’s done, there’s not a single thought in my head. There’s just him, his calm power, and the irrational peace of being trapped.

My eyelids flutter, wanting to fall shut as a pleasant dizziness fills my head.

I’ve never felt anything like it, and I find myself never wanting to leave this chair.

I register Dax returning to sit on the stool between my legs just before I let my eyes fall shut, closing me into a peaceful darkness where barely the feeling of the plastic tip sinking into my ass disturbs me.

But once again, I can’t ignore the water when Dax pushes more into my belly. Humiliation hovers at the edges of my mind, trying to break through the quiet darkness and infect my thoughts. But when the restlessness tries to take hold of my body, I meet the resistance of the straps. They keep me down like a tight, comforting blanket, stabilizing me through the humiliation.

“Good girl,” Dax croons, and when he starts on the next syringe, something odd happens.

The water distends my belly painfully, but the pain mixes with the loss of control—the dominance that competent hands exert over me—and it morphs into something else.

A pulsing heat close to my core.

A moan sounds somewhere in the room, and the moment I realize it’s mine, my eyes dart open, staring into gentle eyes that reflect a steadiness strong enough to level me through the storm.

“Close your eyes,” Dax gently says, and I do. “Your body knows that it belongs to me right now. Let your mind accept it too.”

A voice in the back of my head tells me that it belongs to someone else. Someone far away who laid claim to it before I got here. But the thought quickly drowns in the overwhelming sensation of the water pressing against my belly from the inside.

I moan again, and when Dax begins on the fourth round of water, tears trickle from my eyes. But it’s not tears of grief. It’s pure overstimulation—pure loss of control—that needs an outlet.

“It’s too… too much,” I whimper somewhere along the way, my words slurred and weak. I open my eyes only to have them fall shut a moment later, too heavy to keep open. “Too much.”

“We’re done in a moment.”

The pressure builds a little longer, and then the syringe disappears. But the discomfort doesn’t fade. It keeps throbbing inside me, needing to get out, and it takes all my drowsy energy to keep it inside.

Someone starts loosening the straps, working quickly, and then I’m hoisted up into strong arms. Long hair tickles my nose as Dax cradles me against his hard chest and carries me through the room to place me on the toilet.

“Are… I…” I try to say something, but can’t form the words.

“Let go,” a warm voice says as a wide hand cradles the back of my head, tugging me forward to lean against a stomach.

From there on, I barely realize what happens. It’s like I’m drugged all over again.

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