He snarled and turned his face away. “Choose or I’ll go print the butt plug.” He continued to stroke his cock as he waited for her answer.
Her bottom was still tender from his hand spanking. She was not in a hurry to feel his belt. Hating herself for being such a coward, she reluctantly reached for his cock.
“Grasp your hands behind your back,” he insisted. “I just want your mouth.”
She was the enemy. Who would welcome the touch of their enemy? Saddened by the thought, she quickly licked her lips and leaned forward. If he needed to humble her, she would offer this as the first payment toward the debt she owed. Her guilt was oppressive and overwhelming. She needed to express regret as much as he needed to punish her.
His fingers pushed into her hair and made a loose fist as he guided her lips to the tip of his cock. “Lick me, slave. I want to be nice and wet when I slide into your throat.”
Her eyes widened but she swirled her tongue around his flared tip. Was he really going to—of course he was, and she knew why. The feeding tube. She’d interacted with Patrick for almost two years when he became despondent and depressed. He refused to cooperate with any order, and his final act of defiance was refusing to eat. Heather had been ordered to ‘gavage’ him, to insert a tube through his nose, advance it down his throat and into his stomach. Concentrated nutrition had then been poured down the tube, forcing Patrick to ingest it. She had performed the procedure three times before he resumed eating on his own.
Their gazes locked as Patrick slid the head of his cock past her lips. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes as the memoriesrolled through her mind. His struggles had been so violent that the restraints bruised his wrists and ankles. She hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t said a word as she prepared to force feed him. Over and over, he screamed at her to stop and she ignored each outburst. She was a medical professional. It was her job to protect and prolong life. Without her assistance, Patrick would have died. It didn’t matter that he welcomed death, desired it more than anything else in the universe. She simply focused on her task, refusing to feel anything.
She licked and sucked, hoping to arouse him quickly and end her punishment. But he took his time, leisurely sliding in and out as his gaze bore into hers.
“I used to imagine you like this,” he whispered, voice harsh and low. “Sometimes you were willing, but more often it was payback for something you’d done.” Rather than rocking his hips, he pulled her forward and pushed her back. Her lips caressed his entire length as he slid deeper into her mouth. “You can be so damn sweet.” His hands shifted to either side of her head, holding her firmly in place as his cock neared the back of her throat. “That’s why it was so frustrating when you turned cold and bitchy.”
He drew her forward so forcefully that he triggered her gag reflex. Heather let out a muffled cry and instinctively grabbed his wrists.
“Hands back!” He accented the order with a slap to each of her breasts. “Donotput your hands on me again.”
Reluctantly, Heather clasped her hands behind her back, but her attention was drawn to her breasts. The slaps made her flesh feel hot and heavy, and her nipples had drawn into tight little beads. Was it guilt that made her body respond to his harshtreatment or was there something about this planet that turned human females into masochists? She honestly didn’t know, but she wasn’t the first to wonder about the phenomenon.
His warm hands framed her face, sliding her forward and back, the rhythm steady yet demanding. He rested against the chair, hips thrust forward and he rocked her on and off his cock. “So good,” he muttered as his eyes drifted shut. “Take it, angel. Take it all.”
Angel, not slave. The word caught her by surprise and sent a tingle down her spine. He used to call her angel when he flirted and teased. He was hard to resist when he turned on the charm. His body tensed, eyes squeezing shut. He was clearly lost in pleasure. She kept her lips snug while allowing him to slide freely in and out of her mouth.
His throaty moan sparked her own desire. This might have started out as punishment, but it was evolving into something else, something needful and raw.
For just a moment she was back at Nuevo’s off-world complex lost in a familiar fantasy. She lay in her lonely bed, hastily rubbing her clit as sensual images flowed through her mind. She imagined sneaking into Patrick’s cell and awakening him with kisses. Her attraction to him had grown steadily over the years and she frequently used his image to trigger her orgasms.
Savage energy emanated from Patrick. She’d only seen him shift a couple of times, but his predatory nature was evident in every look, every movement. His carefully controlled wildness excited and aroused her. She always approached him with cool professionalism, which fed the sexual tension humming between them. Each night she released all that energy and let her fantasies run wild.
She knew he’d be demanding, even dominant, so their imaginary sessions always begun with her taking his cock in her mouth. She’d obediently lick and suck until he lost control and fucked her pussy fast and hard. His sexual aggression only proved how wild he was to fuck her, claim her, make her his! And she reveled in every demand.
“Damn it, Heather,” he whispered, hips lifting toward her face. “Why did it have to be you?”
His taste intensified as pre-cum spread across her tongue. She sucked harder, knowing he was close. He reached down with one hand and squeezed her breast as he thrust well into her throat. Heather fought back the urge to gag. Her instinctual need to please him made her relax her throat and let him take his pleasure. He panted helplessly, hips nearly frantic in their movements.
She took his entire length with each demanding thrust and tears trailed down her face. He fucked her savagely, and she welcomed the frenzy. Her fantasy blended with a cathartic rush of empathy. She understood his desperation, his need to regain control. She’d played a part in his misery. Now her surrender could help him heal.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Oh, fuck.” He yanked his hips back until the tip of his cock rested on the middle of her tongue, then he released his seed in hot spurts.
She kept her lips sealed tightly around him as his shaft jerked and pulsed. Heat cascaded through her body and her clit twitched needfully as his taste filled her mouth.
“Swallow, slave. Suck out every drop.”
She willingly obeyed, licking and sucking until he slowly drew out of her mouth.
“Good girl,” he muttered, giving her nipple a little pinch. He panted softly as he put his cock away and zipped up his jeans.
Their gazes locked and tingling heat cascaded through Heather’s body. His expression was sharp and assessing, yet his posture was relaxed, almost peaceful. She had clearly satisfied his body, but turmoil still raged within his mind.
He suddenly stood and brushed past her. Moving with purposeful speed, he gathered up her clothes and tossed them into the fireplace. Then he stormed across the room and grabbed an unlabeled bottle. There was only an inch or so of amber liquid in the bottle and he unceremoniously dumped it on top of her clothing. The unmistakable smell of liquor filled the room.
Trepidation gripped her gut and a gasp escaped her mouth. She scrambled to her feet. “You’re not going to?—”
He set the empty bottle on the mantel and grabbed a box of matches. Scraping the matchhead against the fireplace stones, he ignited the match then tossed it onto her damp clothes.
