Page 68 of To Save Him

Why the hell had I been so naïve as to not think I needed a safeword?

Soon, Brandon was parking the car in the driveway and then he got out.  I opened my door and my feet were on the ground by the time he’d joined me on the other side.  His voice still had a throaty growl to it.  “You need to let me get the door for you.”

I shrugged but said nothing, thinking that keeping my mouth shut was probably the better move.  Once inside, he locked the door, dropped the keys in his pocket, and grabbed me by the arm just above the elbow.  Now I was scared shitless.  “What are you doing?”

“You’re coming with me.”  We were headed straight to my bedroom.

I had half a dozen questions but knew that now my voice would convey the fright I was feeling.  Ever since I was a young girl, I’d been taught (and believed) that animals—human beings included—could sense fear, so I always put up a brave front.  It was a survival tactic and, thus far, it had worked for me for more times than I could count.  What scared me the most about Brandon was our conversation about the sex in the shed.  Was he a different person right now?

The flesh on my inner arm hurt as he pulled me into the bedroom, but I didn’t say a word—no whimper, no complaint.  He shut the door hard before letting go of my hand.  “Kimberly, I can see it in your eyes.  Do you know what you did back at the restaurant?”

I shook my head.  Again, it was safer to keep my mouth shut.

“Youdisobeyedme.  If you’re going to help me, you have to do what you’re told.  You have to obey my commands.  That’s the way this works.  If you intend to help, you do what I saywhen I say it.”  I searched his eyes in the cold charged silence left behind.  Then his next words echoed in my ears.  I don’t know what I’d expected—a beating?  Being chained?  But I hadn’t expected his next sentence and more fear crawled up my spine.  “Lie down on the bed.”

Fuck.  Was he going to rape me instead?  But, no matter the fright I was experiencing, I lay down on the bed, half expecting him to jump on top of me.  Instead, his eyes scoured my body.  “Now…pull your dress up.”  Oh, shit.  No panties.  Yes, that probably was where it was going—forced sex.  He was going to fuck me as punishment.  While I’d try to find a way to enjoy it, it wasn’t going to be exactly consensual, and it wasn’t going to be something I was ready for.

But he was right.  I’d promised to be what he needed and, if this was it, I had to find a way to be strong and take whatever it was he gave me.  I needed to view it not as punishment but instead as a necessity.

I pulled at my dress, causing the fabric of the flowing red skirt to inch up my legs.  I should have just yanked it up, but I knew he wanted titillating and I wanted him happy…so I pulled it up slowly, a tiny bit at a time, until at last it was over my hips.  Then I held the bunched fabric up at my navel, realizing my fingers were clenched a little too tightly.

“Now,” he said, his voice quiet, “you’re going to do what I told you to do in the restaurant.  You’re going to touch yourself.”

The air escaped my lungs as I realized that, even though I’d feel pretty self-conscious and a little weird having him watch me, it wasn’t such a bad punishment.  If this was as bad as his “discipline” would get, I could deal with it.

If I could get over the fear quivering inside my chest.

So I spread my legs a little and wiggled my fingers in between, all while looking at him.  His eyes drifted down from mine to where my hand was getting ready to work a little magic.  And I almost gasped, discovering how wet I was.  Yes, there was the age thing, but I had a revelation:  I’d had no fucking idea I’d been turned on by this.

But, sweet Jesus, I was.

I closed my eyes then, biting down on my lower lip while stroking my index finger over my rigid clit.  I was already close, and seeing Brandon’s face in my head, knowing I was doing his bidding, I knew it wouldn’t take long.

Because I was doing this for him, I decided to make a show of it.  I made little noises, tiny groans and gasps to let him know how good it felt.  He touched my knee, his hand almost on fire, and then my muscles tensed up as I could feel my thigh sinew begin to quiver, my body preparing itself for orgasm.

And then he said, “That’s enough.  Stop.”

I paused, letting his words settle in.  He wasn’t serious, was he?  I opened my eyes but I couldn’t read his face.  He was still intimidating, but I’d expected his face to communicate that he was joking.  Or maybe he wanted in on the action.  I would be all right with that.  I stopped moving my fingers, waiting for what would come next.

Then he unbuckled his belt, sending a fresh charge of fright through my body.  “On your knees.”  I blinked.  His voice didn’t get any louder but his words were somehow more stern.  “Now.”

I sucked in a shallow breath and sat up, quickly falling to my knees in front of him.

Obeying.

As that thought rushed through my head, I watched as his index finger and thumb closed over his zipper and he began pulling it down, opening the front of his slacks.  He was hard as stone—that I could tell before he even pulled his cock out of his underwear—and he didn’t even have to tell me what to do.  I might not have been any sort of expert at giving head, but I wasn’t a slouch, either.  And, for some reason, I was eager to please him.

I wasn’t sure how that had happened, but hearing him sigh as my lips encircled him and feeling his hand smooth the hair on top of my head encouraged me to continue doing what I was doing.  I licked; I sucked; I lapped; I stroked; and everything I did that elicited a positive sound helped me figure out exactly what he liked and what worked for him.

I could feel the throbbing of his cock against my tongue, feel the power inside ready to release in a hot rush, and that was when I felt his fist tighten around my hair, causing me to pause.  My knees and scalp burned and I tried to ignore the pain.  “Kimberly,” he said, and I looked up as much as his grip would allow, but I was unable to speak.  “Listen carefully.  Don’t stop what you’re doing, but I also want you to touch yourself again.”  As if answering my unspoken question, he added, “At the same time.  But don’t come until I do.”  He cocked his head a little, as if instructing someone who needed extra guidance.  “Understand?”

I nodded slightly, still wanting to make him happy, and I tried to figure out how to pleasure both him and myself at the same time.  I’d had my right hand wrapped around the base of his cock, but I replaced it with my left, stroking my thumb on the underside while I began stroking him with my mouth again, bobbing back and forth.  At the same time, I slid my hand down my belly, wondering if I’d be able to do both.  I knew I coulddoit—but would I feel anything when I was so intent onhispleasure?

I spread my legs a bit.  As I slid my fingers down my slit, I was surprised to find I was still soaking wet.  Everything that night had apparently aroused me more than I’d been aware of, much more than I ever would have dreamed possible.  That alone made the act of stroking myself easier.

And I moaned in my throat while taking his cock in as far as it would go.

Fortunately, he was helping now, holding my head with both hands, essentially fucking my mouth, and that left me able to concentrate more on myself.  I could still feel the energy inside him building up to that eventual release, and I was on the verge of orgasm in no time.

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