Page 27

Celeste

Love Like Mine by Stela Cole

A few days later

“ S uch a good girl, keeping my cock nice and warm in that sweet little mouth,” he praises as he strokes my soft cheek.

The ring gag prevents me from closing my mouth, but even if I could, I wouldn’t. I love the feel of him inside me—in my mouth, in my pussy, hell, even in my ass. I’ve become addicted to this man’s cock. Soon I’ll have both his cock and Liv’s cunt, and I’ll be the happiest little captive there ever was.

In the past few weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve learned that Luke is a big fan of cock warming. Most nights we fall asleep with his spent length still inside me. And for the last week, he’s been training me to keep him in my mouth while he works. It’s torture for my jaw but we’ve been working on building up my strength so I’m able to sit between his knees, warming his cock while he works for longer periods of time. At first, I was hesitant about just sitting here on the harsh wooden floors with the grooves digging into the skin of my bent legs, my head on his lap, and his cock in my mouth. But the anticipation of what’s coming for me at the end if I’m a good little pet for him, is unbearably exciting. I’m beginning to love our training sessions and the inevitable multiple orgasms I get at the end.

Luke occasionally does his work here in the monitor room now that it’s not his secret bad guy lair. He told me all about his plans involving Liv, and while it might be a bit unconventional, he’s right; she has walls built up around her that are higher than fucking Sleeping Beauty’s tower. So, if we want her to let down those walls and let us in, an unconventional approach might be needed. I’m not very helpful in terms of going out of the house, but apparently being the bait is more helpful anyway. A secret, dark part of me is thrilled that she’s willing to go to such lengths and let herself be jerked around by a masked stalker in order to find me. There was always a part of me, a very insecure part, that was uncertain of how she felt about me. I had a secret crush on my best friend for years, but she’s always been so cool, open, and free, and I’m so … not. I assumed if I shared my feelings with her she’d laugh at me or ‘let me down easy’ and it would ruin our friendship. I would rather be her friend than lose her, so I never said anything. But hearing Luke talk about the absolute desperation with which she’s been looking for me has me rethinking everything. It seems wild, but Luke’s vision of a happy throupling future might just work.

Some of the time he’s in here scheming about Liv or watching back footage, but he also does a lot of work that I don’t quite understand. When he’s working on cases for the law firm, he does that on his work computers that are spread out in the dining room. But in here, he uses different computers and is definitely not working on traditional cases. When I asked him about it, he told me that he does some work for Garett’s cybersecurity business but seemed hesitant to elaborate. I’m not sure if he doesn’t want to tell me because it is confidential, boring, or dangerous. I grew up in a religious backwater commune—I know what a fucking gun safe looks like, and the fact that he has one in here has a gnawing worry perpetually nagging at me. I try not to think about it too much though, I’m sure it’s just for protection and that the business is on the up and up. At least, I hope that’s what’s going on here.

Drool is building up in my mouth, threatening to spill over my lips and run down my chin. It’s degrading, but a sudden rush of tingling pleasure runs up my spine at the thought of being so wet for him. The knowledge that I’m his good girl, being used as his pet and plaything like this, has me squeezing my thighs together in order to get some relief. I can’t help myself from stroking the underside of his soft length with my tongue. He twitches as I grind against a particularly sensitive vein.

“Such a naughty girl, always wanting your master’s cock. Aren’t you?” he growls from above the desk that I’m perched underneath.

I softly moan around him in agreement. I am completely and utterly consumed by my desire for this man. His chair pulls backwards, allowing me to see him. His heated gaze meets mine and I practically melt on the spot. I let my tongue travel up and down the length of him again. The seductive movement causes his cock to harden slightly in my mouth, cutting off a bit of my air, and forcing spit to fall over my lips and down my chin.

“Fuck,” he moans and throws his head back as I reposition to take his quickly stiffening length better into my mouth. I work my spread lips up and down his length, sucking him as best I can with the gag still in. “Does my pet need to be played with?”

I whine again in response to his question, flicking his bulging head with my tongue and being rewarded with dripping precum oozing from the tip into my throat. I love the taste of his desire in my mouth.

“Stand up,” he commands as his fingers slide into my hair and twist. My scalp burns as he pulls me off his erect cock.

I do as he commands and stand before him. His heated gaze trails down my naked form. My entire body is aching for his touch. My nipples are peaked and begging to be pinched. My pussy is throbbing uncontrollably between my thighs. If he doesn’t touch me soon, I might very well combust.

“Turn around and bend over. Hands flat on the desk and legs spread. Let me see that desperate cunt, Sweetness.”

His words are always filthy, but when he’s needy for me his tenor drops even lower. The growling commands of my dangerous master are enough to make me light-headed and giddy with anticipation. I love how he uses my body; he owns and dominates me in a way that is possessive yet proud. I never have any doubts how he feels about me—I might be his pet, but he worships me.

I continue to do as he commands, bending at the waist with my hands palm down on the papers he was just looking at. My hips rise as a single one of his fingers caresses the outside lips of my pussy.

“So fucking wet already, pet.” He uses two fingers to spread me wide. I flinch at the sudden rush of cold air on my wet core, but the sharp intake of breath he sucks in has me immediately relaxing back into the desk below. “This is the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Pushing his two thick digits into my dripping folds, he begins to rub soft circles around my heated clit. It feels so fucking good like every nerve in my system is tingling with excitement. And then he moves back, circling my entrance.

“Does my pet need her master to take care of her?” His fingers dip inside me slowly. “Pump her full of cream until it drips down her thighs?”

I can’t answer him with the gag still in, but I drive my hips backwards, begging with my body. The loss of his fingers leaves me sagging against the hard wood beneath me, but when I hear the sound of his pants being discarded, I shiver with anticipation.

He lines the warm head of his cock up with my entrance, rubbing it between my wet folds first to lube it up. “Beg for it,” he demands as he continues to rub his cock up and down but refusing to give me what I need.

I moan and gargle unintelligibly as I writhe against the desk. I’m dripping and drooling—a real needy fucking mess. Weeks ago I would have been embarrassed and self conscious, but now I know how much he loves me like this. It pleases my master to see me desperate for him.

Without warning, he jerks his hips forward—seating himself entirely inside me. I scream and flail against the surface of the desk, shocked by the sudden intrusion. My hands come up off the wood as I search for something to steady myself, but he’s there instantly, bent over my body and holding both my wrists firmly in one of his large hands.

“Nuh-uh, love. You’re not going anywhere. You acted like a desperate slut and now you’re going to take my cock like one too,” he grunts as he begins to rut into me furiously.

His hips snap against my backside with each pump, driving me against the hard edge of the desk. This will absolutely leave a bruise, a thought that makes me feel even more needy. I love when he marks me as his. His fingers of his free hand dip inside the ring of the wide gag. He rubs the pads against my tongue.

“Taste how needy you are for me, slut. Your pussy leaking all over my fucking fingers,” he grunts between punishing thrusts that are quickly propelling me toward ecstasy.

I so badly want to close my mouth around his fingers and suck the evidence of my desperation for him off his digits but the gag is preventing me. He gathers up some of the building saliva before removing his fingers. A moment later I feel the wet digits pushing against my back hole. I mewl and croon around the metal rings as he slowly works a thick finger into my tight opening.

“Come on, Sweetness, be a good girl and relax so I can stuff both your slutty little holes,” he demands as he slowly works his finger in a bit deeper.

The pressure is almost too much, and as he adds a second finger, I fear I won’t be able to take it. I fight against his hold, trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure but he holds me down, fucking me in both holes ruthlessly. I feel his fingers push past the ring of muscles in my ass causing me to cry out in passionate agony. I’m somewhere between pleasure and pain, not sure if I want him to stop or if I want more. When he adds a third finger to my ass I freeze up. I’m not sure if three fingers and his cock will all fit inside me at once or if the pain will pull me under.

His other hand releases my wrists before moving to push hair off my forehead and tuck my raven locks behind my ear. His hips stop thrusting roughly, alternating to a low, languid pace. But he doesn’t stop pumping all three thick fingers into my tight hole.

I’m a panting whimpering mess beneath him. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Relax, pet. Let me in. I want to feel you come around both my cock and my fingers, baby.”

I take a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm before my muscles relax enough to let him all the way in.

“Good girl,” he praises as he puts his hand back down on the wooden surface beneath us. “Now, you may want to hold onto the desk, because I can’t hold back any longer, Sweetness.”

His words send a thrilling tingle up my spine. I listen immediately and slightly reposition so I can hold on to the edge of the desk. His hips snap against me at a punishing pace while his fingers plunge in and out of me just as fiercely. He ruts into me from behind like a beast, wild and unrestrained.

“Fuck, Sweetness,” he groans between gritted teeth as he thrusts into me. “I can feel my cock with my fingers through your thin walls. You feel—” he thrusts so deeply that I’m pretty sure he shatters my insides. “Too. Fucking. Good.” Each word comes out strained through his clenched teeth.

All I can do is hold on to the desk while he uses me. His fingers massage my insides as his thick cock scrapes across my sensitive bundle of nerves at a maddening pace. I’m panting and drooling all over the papers beneath me but I can’t even be bothered to care, all my brain can process is the intense pleasure he’s aggressively ripping from my body.

“Come. For. Me,” he demands, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.

And I can’t deny my master.

“Fuck!” I scream into the gag as everything goes black. My entire body and mind are flooded with waves of electrifying pleasure. My pussy contracts over and over again as my pleasure crests.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Squeeze my fucking cock,” Luke moans from behind me as his own release hits. Rope after rope of warmth coats my insides, forcing even more pleasure from me. “Milk every last drop from me.”

We’re a mess. Our panting breaths fill the cavernous space of the two story room. The lights of the screens before us flicker across our sated forms. With a grunt, he slowly removes his fingers from me. I groan at the loss of being filled in both holes. When he pulls his softening length from me, I feel our combined release drip down my thighs. He releases my gag, letting my aching jaw finally close.

“I love you, pet,” he whispers as he plants a soft kiss on my head before lifting me and carrying me to our room.

As he lays me gently on the bed, my eyes flutter closed. My body is completely spent. I just want to curl up and sleep. On the periphery of my consciousness, I hear the bathtub running.

“No sleeping yet, my love.” Luke’s strong arms lift me again, carrying me as he walks across our room. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

I open my eyes as he shifts me in order to step into the tub. He lowered the blinds, turned the lights low, and lit candles. Rose scented bubbles fill the tub as warm water rushes from the tap. Lowering us both, he positions our bodies so that my back rests against his front. His long legs bracket my stated form. He rubs my shoulders, arms, and legs in soothing circles as the warm water finishes surrounding us.

He turns off the faucet and pulls me back tightly against him, whispering in my ear, “I do love you, you know. I might be aggressive and possessive, and how we met might be a bit unconventional ,” I snort at his nonchalant tone while explaining how he kidnapped me. “But I love you and I want us all to be happy. Happy, safe, and together.”

I lean my head back against his shoulder, soaking in his strength and warmth. My eyes fall closed again and we sit in a comfortable silence for a moment.

“I love you too,” I whisper as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, the dark stubble scratching my skin. “I think it’s time you go get our girl and bring her home.”

He doesn’t respond right away and I worry I’ve said the wrong thing. I know he said she needed time, and he has a plan and a schedule. But quite honestly, fuck planning. When you know, you know. And I know that I’m ready for them both.

But then he finally speaks, “You’re right. It’s time.”

My master will be home in an hour. I have fifty-five minutes to get myself ready and get everything set up. Butterflies make my stomach flip in anticipation. I know I see him every night, but I want tonight to be extra special. I’ve made his favorite dinner, prepared his favorite dessert, and cleaned the entire house. I even purchased some new lingerie online for tonight. I want everything to be perfect.

We’ve been talking a lot about his plans for the future—a future with the three of us. Since I told him that I think we’re ready for Liv to know the truth, we’ve been talking about the best way to get her on board with everything. We decided it might be best if we take it slowly instead of springing it all on her at once. The more he described his vision of the future to me, the more the idea grew on me. It’s untraditional—yes. But who the fuck is to say that untraditional is wrong? He loves me, adores me, and treats me like a fucking queen. And on top of that, he’s willing to share me with the woman who holds a special part of my heart. Not many men would be willing to share their partner with someone else. He’s smart, capable, and I know he will take care of our family. He’s the type of partner that will make our life so much more than mundane. So, fuck tradition. I’m in love with both of them, why should any of us have to choose?

Last week, I got my period, signaling that I am definitely not pregnant. Luke wanted to continue fucking, telling me that a little blood doesn’t bother him, and as good as an orgasm sounded that’s just one of those things that’s a no-go for me. I do not feel sexy while I’m on my period. I want to eat chocolate ice cream in bed while wearing oversized sweats and crying. There’s nothing attractive about that. Luke was so sweet and kind; he bought me a hot water bottle and brought me any random things I craved throughout the week. He was so patient while I told him no for sex repeatedly.

His kindness, his understanding attitude, his care for me, it all made me realize that he’s going to make an amazing partner for me and father for our children. He’s been talking about breeding me and knocking me up for weeks now. He even admitted to tampering with my birth control. I was angry when he told me about that at first. But now, I’m not so sure it’d really be a bad thing. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, love, desperation—whatever you want, but he’s an amazing partner, and I’d be lucky to carry his children.

But my aunt has left so I’m ready to show him just how much I appreciate his patience and how very ready I am to be stuffed full of his cum.

I showered and shaved, making sure to exfoliate with a sugar scrub so that my skin is silky smooth. Then I blow dried my hair and worked on dinner and dessert. Mrs. Prichett came by to help me with the cooking and baking. Steak with potatoes and green beans for dinner and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. The cookies are simple but Luke says they remind him of his mom, before he got put into the system of course, and the sweet simplicity of a boy who just wanted a loving home tugged at something in my heart. Damn hormones . So, of course I made them tonight for him. I want to prove to him just how much our future together means to me.

Swiping the liquid liner across the tops of my lashline, I curve it up and out. I’m going for dark and sexy tonight so heavy on the eyeshadow and winged liner it is. When I was finally out from under my parent’s thumb, I was able to find some things that I, as a unique and independent woman, enjoyed. And makeup is definitely one of them. I love playing with different shades, colors, and textures. It’s like art but on a human canvas. It’s fun and creative. I’ve watched way too many YouTube tutorials on various techniques and tools.

Once satisfied with the sexy smokey eye I was able to put together, I move onto my hair. Luke likes my hair down so I opt to leave it down in loose waves. Once finished, I check the time—ten minutes to spare.

Wandering into our massive walk-in closet, I get onto my hands and knees to crawl into the very back corner. Reaching out, my fingers close around the stiffness of the cardboard box I shoved back there earlier in the week. Pulling it out and sitting back on my heels, I open the lid. Inside is a strappy contraption that looked amazing on the model online but now looks horribly intimidating. Does this thing come with a fucking instruction manual?

Stepping into what I think are the leg holes, I try to pull it up but curse loudly when it appears I’m somehow in an arm hole. Fuck , I didn’t think about the whole getting it on process when I bought this stupid thing online.

“You will look so good in this, he’ll have no choice but to knock you up,” I remind myself as I take the clusterfuck of straps off and try again.

After several more attempts, I finally get myself in the faux leather strappy number. Two wide pieces of black material sling over my shoulders and come down to cover my nipples—barely. They are connected to another strap that sits horizontally right between my bust and belly button. From there, straps connect to pieces wrapped around both of my thighs. Looking in the mirror I’m blown away by the final result. I look damn fucking good.

I finally hear footsteps thundering up the stairs and despite my annoyance at his lateness, I hurriedly get into position. I get on my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. The dark wooden floorboard digs into the tender flesh of my exposed lower legs, but I don’t mind the small bit of pain. I drop my hands to my thighs, palms down and flat. Then I hang my head down in submission. I do one finally check to make sure the strappy piece of pleather I’m wearing is laying against my skin as it’s supposed to. Everything looks good. Just as I settle into place, the door swings open. It cracks against the wall behind it, sending a deafening bang through the room.

The sound makes me quiver with anticipation. The times when he’s rough and animalistic are some of my favorite. My pussy leaks at just the thought of him using me. I love being his little plaything.

Light footsteps pad toward me hesitantly. The feeling of something being … off gnaws at me. I’m tempted to look up, but I’ve been trained better than that. I keep my head bowed down in submission. That is, until a female voice reaches my ears.

“Celeste?” the voice prompts.

I know that voice.

Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is combat boots—black, platform combat boots. My eyes scan up her form, taking in her ripped fishnets and her short, tight black skirt. The soft olive skin of her exposed midriff. I stop just short of her face, unable to believe that she’s really here.

“Celeste?” Liv asks again.