Craving the Crop, Part II

It’s Halloween, and the Manor is having another masquerade! Callie returns to spend another night with her secret Valentine – who’s been pining for her for a long time. This is a continuation of Craving the Crop and takes place later in the story, which will be released as a novella later this year (hopefully). There’s a little time-hop, and *things have happened*. But don’t worry, you don’t need them for the fun about to be had. Also, this one is long. Buckle up.

 

Months. It had been months since the one-night-stand to end all one night stands. Sebastian didn’t believe in love at first sight, he really, really didn’t. He wasn’t in love. He was… obsessed. Yes, obsessed was the right word. Thoroughly, utterly obsessed with a ghost.

Because Bess? She didn’t exist.

The morning after their Valentine’s Fling, still giddy and tingling from the best night of his life, he started looking for Bess, who’d left with some vital organ of his tucked into her fist. It was either his heart or his brain. The jury was still out on that. If his lovelorn moping was any sign, it was both.

A name should have been enough to track her down. Parties at the Manor were invitation-only; there had to be a record of who attended Rourke Fairhaven’s glitzy shindig.

Hah. You’d think.

Bess was a stranger. No one had even heard of her. Not Rourke. Not Holden; the mystery woman made the lawyer as paranoid as Sebastian.

“People can’t just walk in like that. There are protocols in place to prevent exactly this scenario from happening. Everyone attending has to be accounted for.” Holden had wanted to convince himself as much as everyone else two weeks after the party. Sebastian still believed then that discovering Bess’ identity was merely a matter of asking the right people.

“There you have it, Dante. You fucked a ghost.” Rourke, lounging on the couch, shrugged and flashed an infuriating smirk. “I just hope it wasn’t great-grandmother Elizabeth. But if you want to check, her portrait hangs in the hallway on the third floor of the West wing. You have my permission to go snooping.”

“Jerk.” Sebastian rubbed his forehead to stave off the impending headache. He hadn’t slept with a ghost. Bess had been real, devastatingly so. She’d rocked him to his core, shaken up his foundation–and turned him into a total, blithering idiot. “Maybe she gave me a fake name?”

“That seems more likely. Perhaps she’s married.” Rourke seemed unbothered by that idea. Meanwhile, Sebastian’s world was caving in.

She couldn’t be married. Not to anyone else but him.

Whoa, there, Dante, hold your horses. He’d spent one night with the woman. An amazing night, sure, but dreaming of marriage this quickly was a bit excessive.

“I can see that reason has left the building,” Holden said dryly.

“I am reasonable.” Admittedly, he didn’t feel reasonable. More like frantic.

“Good. Because a fake name means she wants to remain incognito, so this charming mission is over.” For Rourke, that was that. He wasn’t the type of man who would invest energy in pursuing an unwilling person romantically. Sure, he’d bully everyone and their grandmother into behaving like his own personal chess pieces for his amusement, but he’d never, ever expose himself to the risk of wanting where he wasn’t wanted.

Sebastian wondered how that worked, simply deciding not to be interested in a person anymore. He couldn’t reason himself into forgetting Bess and their night together.

He still looked for her.

He visited the Manor religiously, but he’d stopped playing, instead watching from the sidelines, grasping for a sense of familiarity, of recognition, but none of the women playing at the club were the one consuming his dreams.

“You have it bad,” Holden told him at some point, and judging by the wrinkle between his brows, that wasn’t a good thing.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sebastian sipped his iced coffee and wished it were something stronger. Alcohol wasn’t permitted at the Manor, though, which probably was to his benefit.

“That’s a faulty premise, as I don’t know what you don’t know and therefore can’t tell you that.”

“I had no idea,” Sebastian said mildly, tickled by Holden’s scowl.

“Don’t get cocky with me.” There was a threat simmering in Holden’s gaze. It tempted Sebastian to goad the other man into bossing him around; the wicked kiss of a whip might have pulled him out of his head.

Holden had started a new relationship, but he still filled his role as enforcer, keeping the players at the Manor in line. But he hadn’t mixed friendship and sex before, and now, he belonged to Elaine. Sebastian had never had the luck of experiencing the sting of Holden’s lash.

“Yes, Master,” he said, without conviction. He could say it’d been a joke.

Holden studied him for a drawn out, uncomfortable moment, before he relaxed. “I don’t think so.”

Rourke sauntered over, dropping onto a two-seater next to their couch. He looked tired.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked. Rourke rarely appeared down. He was so unconcerned and cheerful most of the time. It was disconcerting seeing him so drawn and down.

Rourke rubbed his temples, wincing. “Just a headache.”

Holden frowned; he cleared his expression when he noticed Sebastian’s look. “Probably the weather,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s the waning daylight,” Sebastian said. “It’s the season of festering depression.”

Rourke dropped his hand and gaped at him, outraged. “But it’s Halloween! Who’s depressed in Halloween?”

Holden snorted. “You’re aware that Halloween is a day, not a season, and the month’s called October?”

Rourke waved that away. “Heathen.”

Sebastian sat up straight.  “We should do a Halloween party at the Manor.”

This was a brilliant idea. Another masked party to create an opportunity for Bess to return–and for him to pin her down.

“You’re just hoping to catch your elusive Valentine Kitty,” Holden said, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly!” The longer he thought about it, the more he liked the plan.

“I like the idea,” Rourke said, a glimmer in his eyes. “And you don’t need to act like you don’t love Halloween, Holden, we know the truth.”

“I’m scary year-round,” Holden said with a disdainful sniff. “Just ask Elaine.”

“And you love the opportunity to be even scarier. It’s decided, we’re doing this.”

Once on a trajectory, Rourke was unstoppable. Sebastian got roped into the organization committee, experiencing the unique torment of being at the beck and call of a cheerleading queen bee. When he hinted at it, Rourke just smirked and said, “The head cheerleader had nothing on this theater kid.”

Two weeks was a rather short time to plan a party as lavish as Rourke Fairhaven deemed appropriate, but Sebastian was motivated. He aimed to recreate the Valentine’s Masquerade where he’d first met Bess, despite Holden’s grousing that it wasn’t subtle at all.

“The goal isn’t to be subtle. It’s to be tempting.”

“And if you tempt her into returning, how do you recognize her? More importantly, what happens if she plays with someone else? Your obsession isn’t healthy.”

Sebastian hated that Holden had to be so fucking reasonable. Reality would have to take a hike on Halloween. This was about magic. And horror, but mainly magic. “It’s not an obsession. And she won’t.”

“Will you stop pining if I get her to play with Rourke?”

Sebastian’s hackles rose with a vengeance. “We’re not betting on who gets to sleep with her!”

“A bet? Hell, no.” Holden looked appalled, soothing Sebastian’s fit of rage. “I’m just wondering if you’ll return to normal once your heart inevitably gets broken.”

“You shouldn’t look so gleeful at the prospect.”

Holden rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh and stretched his shoulders, making his spine crack. “Why am I only friends with drama queens and romantics? It’s fucking exhausting.”

Sebastian felt weary himself. Something had to be wrong with him to obsess over somebody for eight months.

And then there was Callie.

Since she’d started working for him, she’d done miracles in his office, and on top of that, she’d started feeding him delicious lunches every day. In the beginning, she’d made him sandwiches with whatever she found in his kitchen when she took a break from digging through his non-existent filing system; then, she’d also started coming in on her days off — when she worked at the Dog Salon, or as a maid. Almost every day, she drove by his stables and commandeered his kitchen just to make sure he ate something.

She lurked at the edges of his mind, a silent specter as he hoped to find Bess.

Callie was real, and she might be open to explore and have fun with him. But she was his employee, and Sebastian never crossed lines like that. His principles wouldn’t allow for the abuse of power.

Bess had to show up at the Halloween Party. He would allow himself this last chance to find her, and if he didn’t, then she would forever remain a dream. Fleeting and unattainable.

***

After a feverish, two-week race of preparation, Sebastian could finally survey the results of his work. The dungeon had transformed into a spooky wonderland of kink. The space was packed, and people wore everything from elaborate costumes to nothing but  intricate slips of lace over their eyes, functioning as masks. He loved it.

He’d been roaming the floor all night, on the prowl, searching the crowd through the narrow slits of his leather wolf mask. A predator on the hunt, scanning the room for a hint of his prey. So far, without luck.

Rourke sidled up to him, bumping shoulders. “You can be proud of yourself. It’s a wonderful party.”

Sebastian studied him. He was usually a Halloween menace, but recently his enthusiasm had dulled. As the magical date approached, the Master of the Manor had become increasingly subdued.

“You know we didn’t have to do this, right? It’s been a stressful few days.”

Rourke looked out at the crowd. They stood in the shadows of a small alcove, a perfect vantage point to overlook the dungeon. “Yes, we had to. How else would you find your Cinderella again?”

“My hopeless crush on a ghost isn’t enough of a reason to throw such a lavish party.”

“It’s the only reason I need. Don’t worry about me.” Rourke stretched the fingers of his right hand, looking down at the narrow gold band on his ring finger. “I want people to find happiness. It’s what makes me happy.”

“Rourke, are you alright?”

“Just another anniversary coming up. I’ll get over it.” Rourke didn’t look at him, shrugging off his concern. “Now, have you spotted your mystery kitten?”

Sebastian accepted the distraction. “No luck so far. At this point, I’m not even sure if I’d recognize her anymore.”

A small smile flickered across Rourke’s lips. “You will. If it’s meant to be, there’s nothing that will keep you apart.”

Sebastian wasn’t as optimistic. It was an hour to midnight, and most players had already paired up. His chances of finding Bess were diminishing by the minute. “I hope you’re right,” he said, but when he looked to his right, Rourke had disappeared. He sighed.

Time for another prowl.

He circled the dungeon once more, observing scenes and the people clustered around, watching them. As he passed groups lounging on couches and caught up in conversation, his gaze slipped over people lurking alone, searching, searching, until — she was there.

A single look at the woman in the black bunny mask jolted him to the bone. His body recognized her before his brain did. It was the same beautiful mouth, the same stubborn jawline, the same curves poured into a skin-tight corset. The same dark, silken hair that begged to be wrapped around his fist and pulled.

It was her, and Sebastian changed direction and started stalking his prey as she drifted between scene areas, stopping from time to time to watch, but never talking to anyone. His heart kicked when he recognized the pattern of her movements: she was searching.

For him?

He’d stalked her to within an arm’s length, his cock already hard as a rock, when she ducked into a shadowy corner to observe the room from behind a large-leafed plant. She didn’t notice him as he slipped behind her, her gaze fastened on the people beyond her hide-out.

“You should pay more attention to the big bad wolf, little bunny,” he rasped, stepping close behind her.

She froze, sucking in air. Not turning around, she whispered, “Perhaps I wanted to be caught.”

Sebastian had to lean close to catch the words. “Is that so? Were you looking for a particular wolf tonight?”

She tilted her head, giving him a glimpse of her luscious mouth, the corner hiked up in a smile. “I think I might have found him.”

A groan rumbled in his chest, and it took everything in him to allow the hand-width of space between them, and not yank her against him to let her feel his throbbing hardness. “I’ve got you now, little bunny. Are you up for a game?”

“Please.” It was hardly more than a breath, but it was all he needed, telling him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“I want to ravish you, sweet thing.”

Her whimper nearly killed him, going straight to his groin and turning his knees to mush. Such a needy sound, with the power to undo him.

His voice was pure gravel. “I’ll let you choose: here in the dungeon, or in a private room. Those are your choices.”

“A room,” she said in a rush.

“Good bunny.” For the first time that night, he touched her, and it sent a shock of electricity through him, prickling across his skin before it settled in his core. Trailing his fingertips from her nape, down her arm, down to circle her wrist, he captured her. Her body shuddered in response to his touch, and it filled him with primal satisfaction. He wouldn’t let her go anytime soon.

Like a good girl, she followed him as he led her through the throng of the dungeon. Up the lavish stairs to the playroom he’d reserved, fueled by hope and optimism. He only released her when he had her pinned to the closed door, re-enacting their first time. Hooking a finger underneath her chin, he tilted her face up.

Her eyes were soft, like velvet behind the mask. He burned to yank it off. It was more elaborate than the previous one; leather straps fastened on the lower edge of the mask laid across her cheeks, buckling beneath her chin, and more straps stretched around her head to the back of her skull, creating an elaborate head harness. It was sexy and endlessly frustrating; he couldn’t just knock it loose to see her face at last. His own mask thwarted his craving to kiss her, so he swiped it from his face and tossed it across the room. After all, she’d already seen his face once before.

“Can we take this off?” he asked, tracing the straps across her cheek with his fingertip.

“No.” Her denial burst out like a racehorse exploding onto the tracks.

Sebastian didn’t allow his disappointment to show. “Alright. It stays on.”

“Thank you.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned close, taking her full lips in the softest kiss. The warmth of her skin seeped into his, making him prickle. “Don’t thank me yet. Tell me what game you want to play tonight. Last time, we covered the crop. Do you want more of that?”

Sebastian was so close that he saw the flicker of sadness and longing enter her eyes before she blinked it away. “No. I want you to be mean to me.”

He cocked his head, studying her. Her mouth had a determined slant, her chin lifted in defiance, as if she expected him to deny her. As if he could. “You want me nasty, hm? Cruel? How mean, exactly? Should I be rough with you? Slap you? Degrade you?”

Her lashes fluttered shut, and a moan passed her trembling lips. Her whole body arched against him, her hands pressed in tight fists against the door behind her. “Yes. Please.” Her quivering desperation was enough to break any reservations he might have left.

She needed this, and he wanted to give her everything she needed. She wanted to be roughed up, wanted him mean and filthy? He could do that.

Straightening, he stepped back, scanning her trembling form from head to toe as he hardened his expression. “Alright, little bunny. Tell me your safeword.”

“Red to stop, yellow to slow down. Green to go on.”

“Excellent. Use it if you need it, at any point. Understand?”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “Yes, Sir.”

Oh, he liked that. “Good girl. Now strip. I want to look at my little fucktoy.”

She inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing. Good. She liked that. Her fingers shook as she reached for the busk of her corset, unhooking it. Sebastian lifted his hand, stopping her.

“Try to make it sexy.”

“Oh.” Her flush darkened, and she glanced around as if searching for instructions on how to accomplish that. He had a feeling that she rarely felt sexy, and his request stumped her.

“Sway those hips and jiggle your tits, little bunny. Show me what you’ve got.” He crossed the room and dropped into an armchair, throwing his leg over the armrest and adopting a lazy, insolent pose, twirling his hand to spur her into action. He liked the red splotches on her chest, betraying her nerves. It was the only outward sign of her fear, though.

She stepped further into the room with swaying hips, moving in a slow and sensual—albeit awkward—dance as she shed the corset, followed by her tight leather mini. Stepping out of her heels and making it sexy challenged her balance, and he chuckled as she wobbled a bit. He’d aimed to prick her pride with his derision, and she rose to the challenge, snapping her garters with fiery defiance and popping out her ass while rolling down her stockings. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he didn’t show his appreciation.

“Mhm, better.” It was difficult to sound unaffected, but her reaction was worth it. She glowed, the heat pouring off her a physical thing. He let her stew for a moment, studying her naked body with cool affectation, while inside, he burned. “Lift your tits,” he commanded. “Present them. Show me those greedy little nipples.”

She obeyed, even as her body all but vibrated with nerves.

“Hmm.” He made sure her eyes stayed glued to his every move as he undid his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking the throbbing length. “Think you deserve this cock, little bunny?”

She made a sound, a mix between hiccup and gasp, nodding fervently.

He chuckled. “Words, bunny.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, what?”

“I deserve your cock, Sir. I need it.”

Not good enough. Parroting words he fed her wasn’t much of a challenge. He had to dig deep, find the things that embarrassed her, and exploit them mercilessly. He wanted to reach to the deepest core of her, take it apart, so that he could put her back together afterwards and marvel at her strength. “I don’t know. Give me a reason I should let you have this.” He swiped his thumb over the glistening head of his cock, spreading pre-cum and easing the glide of his hand.

She seemed transfixed by the movement, struck silent.

“Get on with it.” He let impatience flash in his tone, despite enjoying her speechlessness very much.

“Um. Because I’m your little fucktoy and you can use me any way you want?”

“That’s true, and nice, but not a reason I should give it to you. Come on, give me something.”

She fidgeted, her hands clenching and unclenching, her knees twitching. Her agitation made him smirk. His ego loved the flattery of her obvious desperation.

“I need it. Need one more chance to get fucked by you, one more chance to be a slut for you, and feel your cock inside me. I don’t even care which of my holes you use, as long as I get another taste of that fucking glorious cock! Sir.”

He laughed. “Adequate, as far as reasons go. You want to be my little slut?”

“Yes!” All that hunger in one little word.

Torturing her was so much fun.

“Alright. Come here.” He pointed at the floor between his knees, but stopped her as she took her first step towards him. “Crawl. Slutty fucktoys like you belong on their knees.”

“Yes, Sir.” She lowered herself awkwardly, her nipples hard and her skin pebbled with goosebumps.

The rush of power from her prompt obedience went straight to his head — the big one and the little one. His cock pulsed, spewing out another bead of pre-cum.

When she arrived between his legs, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him, her eyes dark, liquid pools of vulnerability and desire.

He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb — the same one he’d used to spread his pre-cum across his shaft — against her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting him, and her lashes fluttered. He carded his fingers through her hair and yanked her face against his crotch, mashing her nose into the crease between his balls and his cock. Her moan vibrated against his skin, and his eyes rolled back as he tossed back his head. Then he shoved her away. “You want this cock? Then beg me.”

A glint of rebellion flashed in her eyes, and Sebastian smothered a grin. He wanted all her emotions, her defiance, her shame, more than he wanted the words.

“Please, may I have your cock, Sir?” Finally, some strain entered her voice.

“To do what, slut?”

“I want to suck it. Lick it. Kiss it.”

“Aw, how cute. I’ll let you have it, but you’re going to gag and choke on it. You may start with kissing, though.”

She went for his cock like a ravenous animal, and he laughed and stopped her with the sole of his oxford to her chest.

“Ah, ah, ah. Start with my shoes and kiss your way up. Enjoy yourself.”

A visible shudder went through her, and she hesitated. But when he raised his brow, she caved, bowing low to press her lips to the tip of his shoe, while he draped his other leg back over the armrest of the chair.

He’d never felt more like a king. The touch of her lips was imperceptible through the leather of his shoe, but the rush of power was all the more heady, and he had to squeeze the base of his cock hard to keep himself from coming as she kissed her way up to his ankles, up the inside of his calf, his knee, his thigh. That would have been embarrassing.

She reached his groin and pressed a kiss to his knuckles where his hand still gripped his shaft, her eyes closed, long lashes winged against her delicate skin beneath the mask. Her beauty punched the air right out of him.

He wanted to mess up her control. Ruin her.

Own her.

God, the sick cravings she unleashed in him! He used to be easy-going, moderately kinky with his partners, on either end of the crop. With her, he lost his measured calm, his collectedness. She turned him into a beast, uncovering the brute asshole he hadn’t even known he had inside him.

Her lashes fluttered, and she looked up at him, his sweet, innocent bunny ready to be broken. Her soft tongue came out, licking across his knuckles, and up his shaft, one long stroke to the purple head, ending with an open-mouthed, filthy kiss to his tip.

“Good little bunny,” he said, his voice deeper and raspier than ever. He jerked to his feet, towering over her, one hand buried in her hair as he forced her face into his groin. “Now get it wet. This cock better be dripping for what comes next.”

She gasped, and opened wide, allowing him to push deep inside her mouth, too deep, and she gagged when his cock head met the back of her throat. He didn’t relent, didn’t pull back, instead holding himself there as her throat convulsed, trying to keep him out. Already, tears filled her eyes, and he allowed her only a moment of respite as he pulled out, before sliding in again even deeper.

“Open for me and keep that tongue against my cock.”

She obeyed, relaxing her throat, and for a few, blissful minutes, he fucked her face, getting more and more brutal, loving the desperate, wet sounds coming from her, the gagging, the choking when he thrust in deep and held her there. Tears sneaked out from beneath her mask in black streaks, her face turned red and puffy, her chin wet with foamy drool.

She was a glorious mess, and Sebastian was already too close to coming. He planned to gorge himself on pleasure, on her, but not yet.

He pushed her off his cock, and she landed in a panting heap at his feet. His coolness was fake as he looked down at her, pursing his lips.

“We’ll practice this again later,” he said, as if she hadn’t almost sucked his brains out through his cock just now. “Now get on the bed. Tits up.”

A little unsteady, like a fawn finding its legs, she staggered to her feet and threw herself onto the soft comforter, crawling to the center of the enormous bed and dropping onto her back. Her chest was still heaving.

Sebastian undressed, folding his clothes methodically and placing them on a dresser. Naked, he climbed onto the bed, his cock bobbing against his stomach as he crawled up her body and straddled her chest.

Her mouth opened slightly, vulnerability shining in her eyes, and her throat moved as she looked up at him.

He bent over her, an evil grin pulling at his lips as he grasped his cock and slapped it against her tits, leaving shining wet spots behind. Her breathing came faster, and Sebastian surprised himself with what he did next, without so much as thinking twice: he spat on her chest, and rubbed his cock through the wetness of his spit. She gasped, her chest lifting against him. He could feel her shaking beneath him.

“Push your tits together around my cock,” he commanded, and she obeyed, rosy marks on her cheeks.

Her lashes had lowered, hiding her embarrassment, but it was in every line of her quivering jaw, her flushed skin, her hitched breath.

“Hmmm, good little fucktoy. Keep them like that.” His crooning voice had a mocking edge to it that was shocking to himself, and it was working on her, deepening her color as he started rolling his hips, fucking her tits like she was nothing but a toy for him, a tool to get him off without consideration of her own pleasure. He propped himself up over her, his hands on either side of her head, fucking her in long, measured strokes. The tip of his cock bumped against her chin, until he reached between her bunny ears, cupped the crown of her head and tilted her face towards him. “Open up, and put your tongue out.”

She did as she was told, allowing him to end each stroke in the warm wetness of her mouth. Heaven. He let himself fall into the softness of her tits, the sweet little kitten licks of her tongue, the absolute power trip of her submission, tossing his head back and tightening his grip on her head as he fucked, and fucked, and fucked. When he looked down at her, her eyes were on him, burning, beautiful, and he sank into that deep pool of breathless attraction between them.

Lust. Perfection. Bone-deep kinship.

She was everything.

He came with a groan, spurting ropes of cum all over her chest, her face, her mask, into her open mouth.

“Keep it open,” he rasped, panting. “Don’t swallow yet.”

She looked filthy like this, covered in thick gobs of cum, blinking up at him in dazed shock.

She probably thought it was over. But Sebastian had learned in the months since first meeting her that he needed to jerk off several times in a row to exorcise her from his thoughts; now that he had her in the flesh, he would glory in her. Enjoy this night to the fullest.

He took his cock, still half hard, and wiped the tip through the cum on her cheek before pushing between her lips. She blubbered frothy cum around him, her eyes going wide, and he grinned. Pulling out, he wiped up more cum with his cock, pushing it into her mouth, fucking a little deeper into the mess each time.

“That’s a good little cum dumpster,” he said, watching her like a hawk. When her pupils dilated and she moaned around him, his cock twitched. Oh yeah, he was far from done. How lucky that she wanted him to be nasty tonight.

He wanted to defile her. Dirty her up in all the best ways.

After using his cock to deposit as much of his cum as he could in her mouth, he pulled back, getting the last bits with his fingers and fucking them deep into her mouth, rubbing the creamy, white jizz into her tongue so that she would taste him for days. Her throat gurgled, fighting with all that liquid in her mouth. He grabbed her face with his wet, sticky hand and bent low.

“Now you may swallow,” he said, sliding his palm to her throat to feel it move as his load slid down. Her little grimace of distaste was too cute, and he chuckled. “That bad, hm? We’ll practice that some more.” He crawled backwards down her body, capturing her sticky lips in a messy kiss before moving down, down, kissing and nipping her nipples, her tits, her soft stomach, dipping his tongue in her belly button before nuzzling his way down to her cunt. He tossed her thighs over his shoulders and glanced up at her as he inhaled, sucking the scent of her wet pussy deep into his lungs.

Then he feasted.

He sucked on her puffy folds before diving in between to worship her swollen clit. Her little mewls of pleasure brought him back to full hardness. When she gave him loud moans and cries and screams as she ground against his face, he humped the bed to relieve the pressure. He could tell she was almost there, her clit pulsing beneath the suction of his mouth — so of course, he pulled back. Her helpless cry as he knelt up made him laugh, and he landed a mean little slap to her pussy.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come that easily, hm, little fucktoy?”

“Oh please, I need to come! Please!” She scrabbled for his chest, sounding truly desperate.

“Maybe later. If you’re good.” He grasped her hips and tossed her onto her stomach, pulling her up to her knees. Her ass was a work of art, and his body tightened as he pictured her strangling his shaft as he slid deep. He licked his thumb and circled her puckered hole with it, grinning when her whole body twitched. “Oh yes, you’re going to be so good, aren’t you? You’ll let me slide my fat cock up this tight little ass, like a good little slut.” His vocabulary dwindled with the lust short-circuiting his system, but he didn’t care.

Bess groaned, pushing against his thumb. “Yes, fuck my ass, please, fuck me, please!” she babbled. Sobbed, really.

“Spread your ass for me.” He sat back on his heels as she scrambled to obey, and took a condom, opening the foil quietly so she wouldn’t hear. After rolling it on, he opened a packet of lube just as silently and generously slathered his length with the contents.

“Please, please, please,” she chanted into the comforter, and Sebastian grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled them apart even more, letting her savor the stretch.

“You’re begging so prettily,” he said, voice hoarse, leaning over her. “I’m really liking it. Now, beg me to spit on your hole. It’s the only lube you’ll get, so better make it good.”

She twitched, gasping, and her hands on her ass clenched. “Oh, god. Please, Sir…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, and he laughed.

“Not good enough, slut. Do you like it when it hurts?”

A shudder ran through her, and her cunt pulsed. He gripped the back of her neck, pushing her deeper into the bedding, holding her down.

“Say it. Beg me.”

He felt it when she caved, her body melting beneath him.

“Please,” she said into the comforter, “please spit on my hole. Please.”

“There you go. I’ll accept that, because it’s your first time as my filthy little fucktoy.” Squeezing a handful of her ass, he spat, and she let out a breathless cry as it hit her pucker and trickled down her slit. He massaged it in, sliding a finger inside to the first knuckle. “Hm, think that’ll be enough? Still feels a little tight in here.”

“No, no, no, spit on me again, please, please, spit on me again! Spit on my ass!”

God, she was a delight to torture. Sebastian spat again, noisily, and after pushing in two fingers and stretching her none too gently, he put the head of his cock to her hole and pressed in, mercilessly, while she cried and panted and clawed at the bed. He spanked her ass hard, one, two, three times.

“Keep that ass spread open for me,” he barked, and she reached back again to grab her cheeks. His tip popped in, and they both groaned. God, she was tight. His eyes crossed as he pushed to invade her deeper, inexorably conquering her ass.

She was still babbling senselessly, sobbing and gasping, keening when he was finally seated all the way inside and stilled, his balls crushed to her cunt.

“Good girl,” he said, struggling to breathe as she squeezed his cock. When he started to retreat, she cried out.

“Nononono, please, please!”

“What, fucktoy? You know how to make it stop.”

“No, don’t stop, please don’t stop! Fuck my ass!”

Well, if she was going to ask so nicely… Sebastian started moving with long, slow thrusts, withdrawing until only his flared tip remained inside, then sliding deep in a leisurely rhythm. As her ass softened to the invasion, her panting cries turned into drawn out moans, vibrating through her body down to his balls. Then he picked up speed, until he was pounding her with wild, relentless force, praising and degrading her in turns, telling her how good she was taking his cock, how deep, how good she felt, what a dirty little slut she was.

Her ass started pulsing, fluttering around him; she was almost there.

Sebastian got there first, however, his thrusts stuttering when his climax sparked blinding white behind his eyes and his cum surged out into the condom.

Bess cried and begged and cursed as he left her hanging. She rolled her ass against him, trying to milk him for her pleasure, sobbing when he yanked out and left her hole gaping.

Fuck, he could get high on that power.

He discarded the condom, dropping it down the side of the bed where she couldn’t see it. Then he fisted her hair, pulling her roughly up and around, pushing her face into his groin, nose to his balls.

“You haven’t earned it yet, fucktoy. Clean up your mess.”

Her eyes flew wide, and she looked up at him, rebellion sparking in those hazy depths, so he pushed her closer, rubbing his half-hard dick against her nose and lips. “Give me a color.”

He held his breath as she blinked up at him. “Green,” she said, her exhale tickling his balls.

Thank God.

“You want to come tonight? Then open your mouth and suck. Get me squeaky clean.”

She shuddered, but the utter depravity of it must have hit the spot; her eyes rolled back in her head as she moaned and opened her mouth, sucking him inside with obvious reluctance.

“There you go. What a perfect little whore you are.”

Her lashes fluttered and her eyes glittered with tears as she looked up at him, but something must have registered with her, because she sucked him harder, and deeper, breathing deeply as the tension flowed out of her.

He was already hard again.

His refractory period was off the charts. And he was still horny. So many perverted things he craved, and not enough time to do them. He yanked out of her mouth, fisted her hair, and pulled her off the bed and to the floor, towering over her as she knelt at his feet, blinking up at him. He slapped the dazed look off her face with his sticky cock.

“You wanted me to be mean to you, hm? What a stupid idea,” he mocked, rubbing the dripping tip of his dick against her lips. Her pupils blew even wider. “Open your mouth and stick out that tongue.”

Her obedience came swiftly, and she looked like the most adorable little bunny with her mouth open. Completely fuck-drunk. He had to stop himself from wrapping her up in his arms and cuddling the fuck out of her. Instead, he gripped his balls, making them bulge, and rubbed them all over her face, one hand between her bunny ears to secure her in place. His cock bobbed as he rubbed his full balls against her hot tongue.

“Suck,” he said, grinning when she struggled to take as much of his sac into her mouth as possible. “Hm, that’s good, just like that. Have I fucked you stupid yet?”

She nodded, making a pathetic sound that vibrated deliciously into his balls.

“My cock has made you stupid, hm?”

Another nod, another helpless moan. Her lashes fluttered like butterfly wings as her eyes rolled back.

“Say it.”

She wanted to pull back, but he kept her in place, hooking one finger under the strap of the mask across her cheek.

“Say it like this, with your mouth full of my balls.”

She garbled something that sounded close enough to “Your cock has made me stupid” — if you spoke slut bunny — but he scoffed.

“Speak up, slut. I didn’t get that.”

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and her cheeks burned, but she tried again, debasing herself for him, repeating the awful phrase, just as garbled but louder this time. God, he could do this all night. Every night. That she was contorting and twisting to please him gave him a kick he could easily get addicted to. Not to mention the delicious tingle that raced through his balls when she shouted around them.

“No,” he mused, mashing his sac against her nose. “I didn’t get that. I think my cock must have made you stupid.”

Her glare was adorable. He rewarded her by rubbing his sticky, wet balls all over her face and mask, leaving her glistening when he stepped back.

Her skin beneath the straps across her cheeks and chin looked red and angry, and he hooked his finger inside to loosen them. He spotted a few places where the edge of the straps had rubbed her raw. Without asking, he undid the buckles securing the straps beneath her chin.

She drew back, a look of panic in her eyes, but he fisted her hair and held her in place.

“I won’t take off the mask,” he said, voice soothing, “but I won’t have you injure yourself. Got it?”

She bit her lip, but nodded. “Okay.”

“It should stay put with these,” he said, tracing the straps running around the back of her head. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all directions thanks to his rough handling, but he loved seeing her wrecked like this.

“I don’t want it to come off.”

His chest twinged at that. Would she disappear again once the night was over? “It won’t,” he said, maybe a little too curt. To distract from his roiling emotions, he used his grip on her hair to pull her up to her feet and toss her onto the bed again. There were still damp, sticky spots from earlier, and he pressed her face into one of them, rubbing it into the mess.

She shivered and moaned and lifted her ass to push against him.

“You’re really a needy little slut, aren’t you? You can’t get enough.”

“Please, I need…” She spread her legs, showing him her swollen, dripping cunt.

“What? Say it.”

“Your cock! I need your cock. Fuck me, please. I need to come, so badly.”

He leaned over her, nipping along her shoulder, her nape. “You do, don’t you? My needy little whore.” He knelt up and stretched, fetching another condom, and his mind provided him with images of fucking her without anything between them.

Bess interrupted his disjointed thoughts, bucking her hips. “Please, fuck me bare. Fill me up. I want your cum inside me. I need it, oh please!”

He lowered his hand with the still unopened foil packet. “You want me to breed your cunt?” Shit, he hadn’t known this was a kink of his, but suddenly, all he could think about was pumping her full of his cum, over and over again, until she was dripping with him. His skin crackled with electricity, and his stomach lurched.

Bess stilled below him as his words penetrated her lust-fogged brain. Then she nodded, like a bobble-head on a bumpy road. “Yes! Breed me, daddy!”

The words had barely left her lips before she froze, her body going tense beneath his.

“Not a kink I’d thought I’d have,” he mused, kneading her ass and stretching her cheeks apart to reveal her juicy cunt and still rosy pucker. “But I’ll take it. Beg daddy for his cum, little fuck bunny.”

The tension bled from her, and she sagged into the mattress. “Damn, this is so weird,” she muttered into the comforter, and Sebastian laughed.

“Hey, no shade from me. I’ve discovered more than one weird kink tonight I didn’t have before. Now, lift that ass and let daddy breed you.”

With an adorable giggle, she pushed up onto her knees, presenting her perfect, puffy slit. Sebastian circled the base of his cock and guided the tip between her molten-hot folds, sliding into her in slow-motion. He was hyper-sensitive by now, and her dripping heat was as excruciating as it was wonderful. Caught on the knife-edge between agony and bliss, he groaned and bottomed out inside her.

“Fuck.”

Bess moaned, pushing back, as if she wanted to draw him even deeper. “Move, please!” she whined.

Sebastian slid his hand along her spine and to the back of her head again, shoving her deeper into the mattress. “You get exactly what I give you. You’re my fuck bunny, my toy, and you take it like a good girl.”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, just…”

It could easily go to a guy’s ego, having reduced his partner to incoherence. His cock twitched, and she gasped, rocking on his length. It started a feedback loop of stimulation and pleasure, and he clenched his teeth to keep from pounding her senseless.

“Squeeze my cock,” he said, voice gritty, and he almost collapsed when she obeyed and clenched her cunt on his length, gripping him like a vise. He hadn’t moved yet, but his balls were drawing up, already close to erupting. “Keep it up. Keep squeezing daddy’s cock while I fuck you. You want my cum, you milk it from me, my little slut bunny.” His voice sounded like he’d been a chain smoker for ten years. All gravel and smoke, utterly depraved.

Bess sobbed, squeezing and rocking, crying out when he finally started moving.

He forced himself to go slow, wanting to make it last, but his resolve broke within the first few strokes. Every nerve ending screamed at him to take, conquer, possess, to lose himself inside her, and he started thrusting harder, deeper. Moving faster.

Her cries turned to screams, fingers clawing at the bedding, tears soaking into the fabric, and through it all, she kept up a steady, babbling stream of pleas to go even harder, to fill her up, to fucking destroy her.

A ball of blinding, white-hot sensation swirled at the base of his spine, rising with every deep, merciless thrust inside her.

Her cunt started fluttering around him, squeezing him tighter, spasming, clenching — until her whole body locked up and she screamed into the mattress. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Pistoning in and out like a battering ram, he chased his release, one hand shoving her into the puddle of her tears and juices, the other going around her waist and strumming her clit, forcing her orgasm to go on and on and on. No capacity left for dirty talk, all his air locked in his lungs, he gritted out a string of curses as the ball of bliss inside him expanded, and exploded. He came harder than he’d ever come before.

His ears thrummed with white noise, his vision flickered, and white spots danced across it. Not pulling out, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped to the side, taking her with him.

“Holy shit,” he whispered against her nape, tasting the salt of her sweaty skin.

“No lie. Holy shit.” Her ribs moved with her panting breath. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Sebastian snorted. “You’re good for a man’s ego.”

She clenched her cunt around his softened cock, making him groan.

“Enough. I’m not sure I have any skin left on my bone.” He sounded whiny, and Bess laughed.

“Brat.” He said it with as much heat as he could scrounge up, pinching her nipple.

Her breath hissed as she inhaled sharply, bucking against him.

“I see you’re still not fucked into submission,” he growled, dragging his teeth across her neck, relishing her violent shudder.

“Never.” But she stilled, tension seeping back into her languid body. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d just remembered real life.

“This doesn’t have to end, you know,” he said, dancing his fingertips up and down her arm. If anything, she tensed more.

“It does.”

Silence settled between them, but it was awkward and stilted. A strange, hollow ache sank between his ribs. She didn’t have to say it for him to understand that she didn’t want them to continue whatever this was.

“Okay,” he said at last. He couldn’t help the brittle edge sneaking into his voice. “If that’s what you want.”

She reached for him, linking their fingers where he was still touching her arm, even as his stroking had stopped. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said, voice soft.

“You don’t have to defend your position.” But of course, he wanted her to. He needed to hear a real, plain reason they couldn’t take this into the real world. Maybe a reason to convince himself, too.

Suddenly, the air in the room had grown too thin, and her body against his too hot. He needed space, a moment to collect himself and tuck away the needy part of him that refused to let her go. Extricating himself from their tangle of sweaty limbs was awkward, but he managed.

“I’ll just get a washcloth for… this,” he said, with a helpless wave at her sticky body; then he fled to the ensuite, closing the door with a quiet click before he banged the heel of his hand to his forehead.

“Real fucking smooth, Dante,” he hissed at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He grabbed a bunch of folded cloths and soaked them under the faucet, then yanked the door open again. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry, I just—”

But there, he trailed off.

Bess sat on the bed, struggling to smooth out her tangled hair, her mask dangling from her wrist, her jerky movements freezing when he barged in again, staring at him with wide, stricken eyes.

He felt like the floor dropped out under him.

This couldn’t be Bess.

“Callie?”

 

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