Page 53 of The Enslaved Duet

He stepped away from the bed to survey his work, the soft pad of his bare feet against the floor my only indication that he had stepped away from the bed.

The lights flipped on and dimmed immediately.

I blinked away the spots in my vision, panting around the everblooming pleasure in my body and watched as he carried an ornate gold full length mirror to the bottom left side of the bed.

“There,” he purred, angling it just so. “Now you can see my masterpiece, and I can watch your beautiful cunt as I make you come again and again for me.”

He was right.

I could see the entire length of my body in the reflection. I looked obscene, my outrageous curves swollen red from the flogger, my skinny limbs pulled taut by the thick, leather cuffs securing me to the scarlet bed. My hair was a pool of ink beneath my glowing face, my lips parted and plump from his kisses.

I looked wanton, elemental, and deliciously wrong. Lilith, the first woman created by God, but too willful, too full of passions that sent her plummeting straight to hell.

The sight of myself like that, bound and at Alexander’s mercy, shouldn’t have run me through with longing, but it did.

I was tied down, but I was not helpless. I was following orders, but I was not meek.

There was power in the eyes of the woman staring back at me from the mirror.

I only had to shift my eyes to Alexander to know where the power stemmed from.

He seemed carved from marble, Michelangelo’sDavidbuilt to four times the scale. Every one of his muscles was clenched with longing and clamped off from movement by his ironclad willpower, but his eyes were savage. His pupils had blown them wide open so that the ferocity of his desire spilled forth, writing dirty words filled with his intentions across my red dyed skin.

“Please, Master,” I said without deciding to. “Please, fuck me.”

His entire big body shuddered, and then he was climbing onto the bed, adjusting the cuffs on my ankles so that there was more slack between my feet and the posts. I shivered at the feeling of his rough hands sliding under my ass to tip it up into the air and then he ducked his head and clasped his lips around my swollen pussy.

I could see him feast on me from where I lay and also from looking over at the mirror. His proud shoulder bunched with strength as he held me aloft, his strong feet curled into the bed so that he could loom over me and drill down into me with his tongue.

He fucked me like that with his lips, his teeth against my clit in a way that hurt so beautifully it made my skin feel as if it was going to tear apart atom by atom. I humped against his mouth wantonly, senseless noises of pleasure streaming out of my mouth. He used two fingers to stretch me wide, working brutally in and out of my cunt until he could add a third and then, even though I screamed, a fourth.

I wanted to be filled to the brim by him, used until I had nothing left to give him. As if heeding my thoughts, he braced my thighs on his shoulders and used his other hand on my asshole, brushing his fingers around the sex dampened bud before twisting his thumb inside with a pain brightpop.

The light in my head exploded through my body like a super nova, drenching me in golden oblivion. I came so hard I only existed as burst particles, loosely held together in Alexander’s exacting hands and by his talented mouth.

My mind was still floating, my pussy still spasming when he drove his thick cock straight to the end of my pussy. My dazed eyes spun in my head and then settled on the mirror over his shoulders.

I could see his buttocks, carved and full like perfect half-moons, flex as he thrust into me. I wished my hands were free so I could cup him there and feel the strength and the suppleness of his golden skin under my touch.

He pushed me farther into the bed with his hips and spread my legs up and wide with palms on the insides of my thighs.

I was lewdly displayed in the mirror, and I realized that was his intent, so I could watch his ruddy sink into my glistening pink pussy with each and every hard kick of his hips.

I screamed as his tip nudged my womb, the bruising push of it spiraling my mind even further into outer space. My orgasm went on and on, softening slowly like the tide after a tsunami until I was limp but aware Alexander lay on top of me. Outside, my cunt grasped against nothing as his cock lay still hard on my thigh.

I wanted to protest that he hadn’t cum because somehow that seemed vital to me. Was I a good submissive if my Master didn’t come?

But then I noticed he was stroking my hair.

I froze, my breath arrested in my lungs like amber.

My eyes scoured his face for answers to the tenderness, but all I found was the perfect symmetry of his aristocratic features, the plushness of his lower lip, and the bow of the top. There was stubble lining his strong jaw like flakes of pure gold, and his long eyelashes looked like spikes of precious metal over his storm cloud eyes.

I could read nothing in his face.

Unless he wanted it to be, there was nothing there ever.

I’d never seen a man with a face so much a mask.