Page 34 of After Dark
He had to know, she thought. He always knew. But it wasn’t until he delivered one last, final blow directly onto her already-engorged clit that she wassureof it.
She came and came, screaming—all of that sharp, shocking pain in her clit roaring up to join the ache in her breasts and then tumbling her over and over and over again until she was nothing at all but a sliver of want and need, strung out on his stern gray eyes.
He stood there beside the table like she was a buffet. Before she was entirely finished coming, he massagedher breasts with his hands, both making the sensation worse and then, eventually, better.
“On your knees,” he told her almost offhandedly, and then stood there as she scrambled off the table, feeling boneless and undone as she collapsed at his feet. “You may kiss my feet, Josette, and thank me for allowing you to come like that. So creatively. So completely. Without seeing to my pleasure at all.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said at once, pressing her lips to his foot. Over and over again, and something about the humiliating position and the obedience she showed so easily, embarrassed her even as it somehow made that low, winding heat blaze to life again inside her all over again. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Follow me,” he ordered her. “You will remain on your knees unless I tell you otherwise.”
As Arlo strode from the room, she had to scramble to follow him, the crawling made awkward by the cuffed hands she had to shove ahead of her. She reminded herself that he knew that. It was deliberate.
She crawled after him in as best a fashion as she could, into the home office he spent almost as much time in as he did in his actual office in the city. He had his desk set up in front of the windows so that anyone he spoke to over his computer could take in the expansive, aspirational view behind him. He had a huge, steel desk that could be used in all sorts of ways, particularly because he kept it swept clean of anything but his computer. The interior walls were all bookshelves and a fully stocked bar above a sink in one corner. He had two chairs in front of his desk for the client meetings he sometimes took at home, when privacy was called for. And in front of the bookcase opposite the wall of windows, hehad a low sofa with rounded arms sitting before a long, low coffee table.
That was where he directed her, making her straddle the arm of that sofa that faced his desk and arranging the way she sat to his satisfaction. He eyed her critically, then moved over to the locked box he kept on one of the bottom shelves of the bookcase.
Josette shuddered in anticipation.
Arlo pulled out two items she recognized all too well. He studied each one intently, as if inspecting them, and then brought them over to the sofa. Once there, he placed both items on the wide arm of the sofa in front of her.
One was a ball gag that made her jaw start to ache in anticipation. The other was a wicked-looking butt plug with a raised pattern of hard plastic knobs all around it. For texture.
She felt her asshole tighten against the very thought of it, though she knew it would do her no good. Maybe Arlo sensed this because he picked up the plug and handed it to her, making her hold it. Making her complicit.
“Bend forward,” he told her sternly. She obeyed, her face hovering just above the ball gag. She heard him move around, opening a drawer in the bookshelves, and then the sound of what she knew perfectly well was a bottle of lubricant. Squeezing. She heard the sound of the tube, and then she felt his hard, pitiless hands on her ass that still hurt from last night.
Something he knew very well, she understood, because he squeezed her sore, red ass cheeks with one hand while with the other he reached into the dark furrow between her cheeks and began working a slippery finger into her ass hole.
Arlo always took her ass the same way. Peremptoryand insistent, working his finger deep into her as every nerve in her body seemed to wind up tight, not sure whether to focus on the discomfort or the desire.
She liked it both ways. Or more accurately, she hated that she liked it both ways. He moved his finger in and out, added more lube, and then did it again.
“Hand me the plug, please,” he said, and even his voice was part of it. So distant, so matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing office supplies.
Her bound hands were in front of her as she rested her forehead on the long arm of the sofa, her mouth almost touching that damned ball gag. She shut her eyes and tried to relax as she felt the cool tip of the plug touch the little bud of her asshole.
And then he began working the plug in.
It was always a production. It was always too much, stretching her and hurting her and somehow sending all that pain and discomfort rushing through her body until it made her nipples into tight, abraded points. Which in turn made her still red and swollen breasts react. She felt her stomach pull tight while entirely too much sensation raced to her clit.
Still he worked that plug in until it was fully inside of her, a big monster of a thing. Josette couldn’t breathe. It was enormous. She could feel it as if it was growing inside of her with every beat of her heart, but she knew that was just a little bit of panic taking her over.
Knowing something was panic, she found, didn’t help the panic any. It just named it.
“Breathe, please,” Arlo told her.
And everything fell away, so there was nothing but the way her too-sensitive breasts rubbed against the sofa and felt… Not exactly good, but at least it diverted the whole of her attention from that stretched and too full feeling in her asshole.
But it couldn’t divert too much of her attention, so she breathed. At first it was a whole lot of mouth breathing, as the panic ran at her. But slowly, she settled. The plug began to feel like a fullness, like part of her. It made every movement she made intense. Wicked.
And the more she relaxed, the more it was that each one of those movements became a lick of fire, moving through her as it wished. Lighting her up… everywhere.
Arlo’s hand was on her ass, and he clearly felt that she was ready, because he smacked her once more and laughed when she made a high-pitched sound in response.
“Sit up,” he told her.
That was an adventure all its own. Josette had to adjust to the plug and the way it shifted deeper into her as she moved. A whole new set of dizzying, overwhelming sensations spun through her, nearly toppling her over.
