His by Carolyn Faulkner (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

But as much as he simply wanted to part those cheeks and drive himself into her - into whichever opening his cock found first - he knew that if he did that, she'd be forced away from him by his own thrusts.

So he went to the closet and tugged out a barricade that she sometimes had to bend low over to receive a correction. It was a simple wooden wall, with an almost saddle like leather area for her to lie across, with lots of padding for her to be pushed up against - hard, like he liked to - without getting bruises he hadn't intended for her to wear. It bolted very securely to the floor, so that even he would have a very hard time knocking it over.

After he'd gotten everything arranged the way he wanted it, all the while still listening to her cries and sobs, he came again to stand behind her, reveling in the sight he'd made of that luscious bottom. He placed a hand on either rounded cheek, over the welts he'd laid previously, and saw her head jerk up at his touch. Blindfolded or not, she no doubt knew what was in store for her merely by the positioning of the sturdy horse in front of her.

"Ah yes, my dear. I've held myself off as long as I can, and now I'm going to bury myself inside you," he growled, leaning over her. "I'm going to fuck you, Raina. In whatever hole I find first."

The spreader bar kept her legs well apart, and because she could lean onto the platform he'd put in front of her, he forced her ankles even further apart, since he had no concerns that she would fall over. He wanted her exposed, and that's just the way she found herself.

As he rose from the squat he'd assumed to make those adjustments, he let his fingers trail up the insides of her legs, until they found that lush, humid grotto they were so familiar with, inserting themselves between lips that had been naturally tugged apart, that provided absolutely no defense against his marauding exploration. She was, as he'd suspected, dripping wet, and he carried some of that dew to her clit, which was already as engorged as her nipples, pinching and tweaking it, lazily considering that it needed its own clothespin, but not willing to go to that trouble.

He was too interested in slaking his own desires at this point.

Appreciating the fact that he was fully clothed and she was completely naked - which, for him, was a hugely sexual situation in and of itself - he undressed himself as little as was necessary to free his rock hard erection, unzipping his pants and rearranging his underwear, but guaranteeing that she could feel the fine fabric of his Armani pants against her sore butt. Keeping those cheeks spread well apart, both of those enticing openings automatically exposed by the way the horse required her to bend low over it, he nevertheless stabbed blindly into her, his rigid cock finding a home in the area of least resistance, swelling up into her pussy as it clamped down upon him almost as surely as those clothespins had clamped down on her poor nipples.

A sigh of the purest of ecstasies escaped his lips as he drank in the sight of her, nude and bent and bound before him, blind and mute, able only to receive that which he decided to give, be in pain or pleasure. After only about three strokes, he knew that he could easily lose complete control, so he backed away for a moment and came around to her head, reaching to the back of it to unbuckle the rod that was yanked so far back in her mouth that it bit into that other set of rounded cheeks.

It fell to the floor with a thud. "Tell me who you belong to," he commanded, moving back around behind her to drive himself into her again, hearing her guttural moan as his swollen length filled her to capacity.

"You, Sir," she whispered.

"Again, louder," he commanded, snapping himself in and out of her in time with his orders.

Raina cleared her scratchy throat and tried again, anxious to please him. "You, Sir,"

"Engagement, wedding, common law marriage, who do you belong to?" he ground out, pumping into her harder and harder.

"You, Sir," she answered immediately through her own groans as she tried to absorb the impact of his powerful strokes.

He let himself enjoy her, just a bit, just for a while, enjoying the way she couldn't quite cringe from him, that she couldn't escape from whatever he did to her, and knowing that she was christening his cock with her own juices, knowing that she loved what he did to her.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her woman's passage, placing his glistening head at her bottom hole. "Is there going to be a pre nup between us, Raina?"

He watched her lower her head. Raina knew when she was defeated. "No, Sir," she tried not to whisper.

At her words, he pushed himself against that small opening, only able to force it to accept a small amount of him on the first try.

"Is there ever again going to be any doubt in your mind as to who is in charge here?"

Almost afraid to say it, but even more afraid not to, Raina answered as softly as she dared, "No, Sir."

He simply leaned his hips into her, almost gently, forcing his way into her. Forcing her body to comply with his demands.

"Who owns you, body and soul, Raina?"

Panting, and trying desperately to relax, she breathed, "You, Sir." She could feel him, stretching her almost beyond her capacity, easing off only slightly to then pressed even further in.

"You just keep saying that while I rape your bottom, Raina. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. You just keep reminding yourself out loud who it is that controls you and your life."

She did as she was told as he