Page 20 of Owned


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“That fire in your eyes will dim. I promise you, kitten. I know it’s hard. Giving up control. But I want you to understand house rules. Listen carefully, I’ll only say this once. I tell you what to do, you say yes, Kayne. You will please me. End of story.”

I remain quiet but glare at him callously.

“Kneel,” he commands. My stomach rolls, my freedom fraying as I rise to my knees. I sit just the way he described. On my haunches with my hands splayed on my thighs. Right between his legs. An obedient pet. He groans approvingly. “My kitten.” He leans forward and fondles both of my breasts. Skimming his thumbs over my nipples until they are straining and hard. I breathe rapidly. I don’t want him to touch me, but my body responds involuntarily. The sensations networking straight to my burning core.

“You’re so perfect, Ellie.” He breathes hard as touches me. It seems my body isn’t the only one involuntarily responding. The bulge in his pants is undeniable.

“Another command. On your back. Lay down, bend your knees, spread your legs and place your hands over your head. Do it. Now.”

Kayne tracks my every move as I slowly lay on the floor and open my legs wide for him. I want to fight. I want to say no, but my stinging ass and the image of that woman from last night is a constant reminder of what will happen if I resist.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

He stares down at me for a very long time. His gaze feels heavy, and after what feels like forever, he gets up and walks into the semicircular room with the table of torture. My anxiety spikes tenfold as I hear the opening and closing of drawers. I almost get up and dart into the bathroom, but Kayne returns before I can force my limbs to move. He stands above my mostly naked body. Two pairs of handcuffs dangling in one hand.

“You’ve been a good girl. Time for a treat.” His breath is ragged as he drops to his knees. I squirm away, but he grabs my legs and fastens one handcuff to each ankle.

“Give me your hands.” I don’t move.

“Ellie.” He says my name harshly. “Do you want me to turn you over and spank you instead? Pleasure or pain. Your choice. It doesn’t matter to me either way. I like giving both.”

He reaches over me and grabs my right hand, securing it to the handcuff on my right ankle.

“Kayne, please,” I beg, as he repeats the motion with my left side. I’m bound.

Completely helpless.

No matter which way I move, the restraints act like marionette strings biting into my skin. Pulling one of my wrists up, my leg follows. Pull my ankle down, my arm gets yanked.

I’m gasping with fear.

Kayne hovers over me. My senses on overload.

I tremble as I stare up at him. His eyes are fierce, lustful, wanton, and unrepentant. I know exactly what he wants.

Me.

“Tell me you don’t want me to touch you,” he dares me.

“I don’t want you to touch me.” The words flow, but there’s no fire behind them.

“Are you sure, kitten?” He massages me over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Yes.”No.

“I think you do.” He slides my panties over and I squirm harder in the restraints. My heartbeat palpitating. The metal clinking as I shift. He circles his finger gently over my clit. I close my eyes trying to reject his touch. When he sinks his finger inside me, I gasp.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” He slides his finger in and out, every so often spreading the slickness through my folds. My body tightens and aches, but I fight the urges he’s bringing forth. I will not come. I will not give this man my pleasure. Kayne works his hand faster, insistent. The sensations build and I clench my fists, fighting the orgasm he’s demanding. As if aware I’m resisting, he simultaneously rubs my swollen clit with his thumb while he fingers me relentlessly. I moan uncontrollably.

No! No! No!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Just before I explode, Kayne removes his hand, and I nearly weep.

“Not yet, kitten. I didn’t give you permission.” If I wasn’t bound, I’d slap him. “I tell you when to come. Understand?” I’m panting beneath him, burning a hole through his head with my stare. He smirks arrogantly at me. Then leans down and whispers, taunting me, “Ask my permission.”

“No.”