Raw Ch. 05

"You're awfully quiet." He gave me a sideways glance before backing the car out of its parking space.

I gave him a smirk, knowing full-well what that would do to him. "Someone told me to stop asking questions and to just trust them."

"Don't start getting cheeky now, Becca." There was a hint of a growl in his tone, and that turned me on.

"So what's in the bags?"

"A surprise."

"Do you not see how aggravating you are?" I shook my head and rolled down the window, letting the autumn breeze rustle my hair. "Either I'm asking too many questions or I'm not speaking enough. I lose either way."

"Maybe you're not asking the right questions."

"Seriously?" I tried to envision where were heading now. I inhaled deeply, wondering if that was the ocean I was smelling in the air. "Okay, how long are we here?"

"Until Monday night."

I turned back to him. "What about school?"

"Would you believe me if I said I called in a favor?"

"No. I don't envision you playing hooky."

He let out a deep sigh. "It's Columbus Day weekend, Becca. I'm off until Tuesday."

"Oh." I guess I'd never had a job where you got designated holidays off. Unless it was Christmas or Thanksgiving, I worked whenever I had the time or had a deadline. "What are we doing here?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, can you at least tell me why you had to make up this whole fake trip?"

"I had to get you to the airport somehow."

"You know how to pick up a phone, right?"

"Becca?" He caught my gaze for a moment then turned his eyes back to the road. "We haven't been very civil to each other lately. I didn't think a phone call would have convinced you."

"You're probably right. But kidnapping me?"

"I believe you went with Daphne willingly."

I crossed my arms. Why did he have to be right. Again?

"Relax, Becca. All will be revealed soon. Trust me."

For the next fifteen minutes, I pouted, during which time it occurred to me that he seemed very at-ease. Like knowing where a grocery store was...and that it wouldn't take long to get what he wanted. Or where we were going without referring to the on-board navigation that I now realized was no longer on.

I remained quiet and stared at the steady line of trees on either side of the road. They were broken by the occasional driveway branching off the main road, the only hint that that something else was on the other side. The salty smell in the air was stronger now. I wondered how close we were to the Atlantic Ocean.

Malcolm slowed down and turned off onto one of the side roads. As I presumed, there were houses hidden behind those trees. The cul-de-sac we were in had four, two-story houses, and two, three-story houses. The larger ones were at the back of the property.

My eye grew wide as he pulled our car into the drive of one of the three-story houses and shifted into park. I retrieved my meager bag and met him at the front of the car.

"Seriously? This is where we're staying?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Becca. Seriously. Come on."

"What about the groceries?"

"They'll be fine. I want to show you something first."

He took my hand, and I followed him up a set of flagstone steps to a black front door, which he unlocked...with a key on his keychain.

I let go of his hand and stayed on what I guess was the front landing as he opened the door and stepped inside. "Tell me one thing, okay?"

He didn't say anything, although he smiled at me.

"Is this your house? As in, do you own it?"

He nodded.

My knees were suddenly weak. I gripped the doorframe as he gently tugged my bag from my hands and set it on the floor.

He took my hand again. "Let me show you around."

My jaw ached by the time he walked me through just the first floor with its expansive kitchen fit for a professional chef that flowed into an equally large main living area like the waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashing on the beach that I could see through a wall of windows. There were a couple of small rooms to view—a library, a den, and a bathroom—and then he led me to an open staircase that seemed to float up to the second floor.

Upstairs, four bedrooms faced the ocean. And all of them had sliding glass doors as windows that led onto a continuous balcony that spanned the width of the house. Each room was decorated in a different color with a nautical or ocean theme. Two bathrooms sat at the back of the house on either end of an open sitting room with a vaulted ceiling. A spiral staircase in one corner led up a loft area overlooking the sitting room's arrangement of couches and chairs arranged around a fireplace.

Back at the main stairway, we went up another set of floating stairs. I wasn't sure if anything could be more extravagant than what he'd already showed me. I was wrong.

"The master suite," Malcolm said, squeezing my hand.

"Pinch me, please."

While the rest of the house was beachy in colors and décor, as one would expect, this room was the complete opposite. It was, in a word, Malcolm. And that made me smile.

The walls and ceiling were shades of gray, and the minimalist furniture—a bed, two nightstands, and a dresser with a mirror—were a dark cherry wood. A forest-green duvet and two light-gray throw pillows decorated the four-poster bed that faced the same view of the ocean as the bedrooms and living area below. Green curtains flanked the windows, and above the bed, a fabric panel of patterned greens and grays hung along the slope of the ceiling. The only other color was a mustard-yellow blanket draped across a low, leather bench at the end of the bed.

It was all masculine and yet sexy. Cozy, making me feel like I was miles away from the beach, although one glance outside proved I was less than five-hundred feet from the ocean.

He pulled me towards three doors at the far end of the room. Two were closed, but the third was open and led into a spacious master bath complete with Jacuzzi tub and a glass-walled shower. Daylight streamed in through the skylight overhead and warmed my face.

"So what's behind door number two?" I let go of his hand and reached for the nearest doorknob, but he opened the other door instead.

"Walk-in closet."

I glanced inside and noticed it was empty except for a stack of towels and linens on two of the shelves. "Looks like you're missing something."

"Yeah, I haven't been here in awhile." He took my hand again and squeezed it as he stared into my eyes. "I want you to know that I've never brought another woman here before. This was my parents' summer retreat, and they handed ownership over to me just before my mother passed away. I used to come out during the summers to get away from life, but it's been a couple of years."

"I think it's amazing. What's a place like this worth?"

He shrugged. "I think the appraisal we had six years ago put it at around two million-five."

I flinched and tried to pull away, but he held fast.

"Don't, Becca, please. I'm not trying to brag, so I apologize if it came off that way. I brought you here because you are special to me, and I have lots of good memories being here. I wanted to share them with you. If it comes down to choosing between the house and you, I'd sell it in a heartbeat."

"Thank you." I squeezed his hand back. "I hope you understand that I'm not the kind of woman who judges people by their possessions."

He cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my lips. "I know."

"But if it matters, don't sell the beach house anytime soon. I'm kind of keen on rubbing it in to Drake that my boyfriend owns a house on the Atlantic Ocean."

Malcolm chuckled. "Okay."

I lowered my voice to a whisper and pointed over his shoulder. "What are you hiding?"

"Promise you'll not overreact?"

"No promises, but I'm willing to give you the chance to explain whatever it is."

"Fair enough." He reached for the third door handle but didn't turn it. "This room? I don't know why I built it, but..."

I gave him a quick kiss. "Just show me, okay?"

He nodded. The door opened to darkness. He let me enter first, and I heard the soft snap of a switch before light flooded the smallish room. There appeared to be no windows, and the walls were painted black, like his basement back home. Small sconces interspersed on the wall with candle-like bulbs gave the room a soft, arousing glow.

I gasped as something deep inside me felt like a wildcat wanting to be unleashed. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to strap me to the Saint Andrew's Cross on one wall and flog my back and ass with that feathery-looking thing amongst the handcuffs, ropes, and paddles hanging on a rack just inside the door. Or maybe to be secured to that padded bench with the leather restraints while he fucked me mercilessly from behind. I could even envision myself kneeling on what appeared to be modified church kneeler, submitting to whatever it was he had intended the contraption to be used for.

His hands pressed down on my shoulders that I realized were shaking. "Relax."

I whimpered. "How can I when you've shown me this?"

"I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around me. "I knew it was too soon."

"What are you sorry for? I'm trying to figure out which of those things you're going to tie me down to first. God, I'm so fucking horny right now."

As soon as I said those words, I felt his own arousal pressing against my ass. Then I heard his deep growl in my ear as his hands slowly lowered, caressing me through my clothes.

"What I don't understand," I said turning around, "is you don't have a dungeon or kinky room back home but you have one out here on the East Coast where you rarely visit."

"Like I said, I don't know why I built and stocked this room. I've never even used it. Maybe I just had the dream that someday I would..."

I reached up and laid my hand on his cheek. "I feel honored that you've shown it to me."

He closed his eyes briefly and leaned into my touch. I felt my chest swell with pride that he felt this comfortable around me...that he could be honest and let his guard down, even if just a little.

I stood on my tiptoes and licked his bottom lip, gently tugging on it with my teeth. "When can we start playing?"

He growled and deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, we both moaned. "I have to bring in the groceries. Wait here, Lady Becca."

"Y-yes, Sir." My knees trembled as I watched him turn and walk out of the room.

I sat on the padded bench and I tried not to laugh as I heard his footsteps running down the stairs. For as controlled as he liked to appear, he was as anxious as I was to try out his contraptions.

A door slammed downstairs a moment later. I got brave and ventured to check out the accoutrements he'd gathered for his version of a kinky room. I wasn't too keen on the wooden cane, but the feathery flogger that had looked good from a distance was soft on my fingertips. Another one beside it had strips of suede. I was studying a ball gag when I heard a throat clear behind me.

I spun around and felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

"Come here, Lady Becca."

I stopped before him, my eyes downcast.

He tipped my chin up with his finger. "Eyes on me, my dear."

I had to bite my lip as he trailed a finger down my cheek then leisurely undressed me. His hot breath whispered over my nipples as he bared my breasts. His fingertips grazed my hips as he lowered my pants, and I swear his hands shook.

When I was naked before him, he guided me to the kneeler as if I were going to confess my sins. He left me staring at the wall for a moment, and when he returned, he was carrying the box he'd retrieved at the airport. He pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and cut through the official tape, then he opened the box to reveal an assortment of ropes, dildos, vibrators, and a metal chain with clips on it.

"Well, now I see why you didn't pack that with your luggage," I said, my laugh strained.

"Shh."

He tweaked each of my erect nipples before methodically wrapping a length of rope around my breasts and tying it off behind my back. Then he bound two shorter pieces of rope around each of my wrists. I thought he was done with my chest, but he pulled that metal chain out of the box.

"Let me know if you can't take it."

I watched his hands as he pinched the clips between his thumb and forefinger, opening the rubber-tipped ends. I wasn't prepared for the sharp pain as he clamped first one nipple then other in each of the clips, and I gritted my teeth to quell the cries rising up my throat. The chain hung between the two clamps, and when he gently tugged on it, I finally cried out.

"Are we okay, Lady Becca?"

I took a couple of deep breaths then nodded.

A gentle press at my shoulders had me on my knees. Another between my shoulder blades, and I leaned forward, my bound breasts resting on the padded top. It was the strangest feeling. My breasts had began to swell from arousal but were restricted from expanding, and my nipples throbbed from their own binding. I went to rest my arms on top as well, but Malcolm had different plans.

"If at any time you cannot go on, Lady Becca," he said as he placed each of my hands on either side of the elaborate ironwork that created the veridical supports and tied my left wrist in place, "just pull back. You will be unable to speak."

I raised an eyebrow, but he wasn't looking at my face at the moment. He was concentrating on securing my other wrist. When he appeared to be satisfied, he stood up and removed his shirt. I licked my lips as he undid his pants and lowered them to the floor as well, allowing his cock to spring free.

"As was the case last night, I am fucking you, Lady Becca. Do not attempt to give me a blowjob. And no teeth, unless I say so. Understood?"

I swallowed heavily. I started to nod, but I caught myself and instead said, "Yes, Sir."

"Very good. Open wide."

At my current height with my arms tied to the sides of the kneeler and with my bound breasts pressed against the top, I could barely move. I was completely at his mercy. Especially with him holding that chain in one hand.

He rubbed the tip of his cock, wet with precum, against my lips. Then ever so slowly, he slid inside. He was hot and thick, and he tasted divine.

I closed my eyes, moaning softly, but a yank on my hair made me stare straight up at him.

"Good girl. Eyes on me."

I gripped the iron and tried to breathe as he fucked my mouth.

He started out with long, gentle strokes, tugging on my hair when I accidentally licked him or sucked him or looked away. He held my head still as he sped up. I gagged a little, especially when he thrust deeper, and saliva dribbled out of my mouth.

"I have an idea."

I whimpered as he withdrew and walked behind me. I heard him rummaging through his special box again, then the clink of metal. When he stood before me once more, a metal ring encircled the base of his cock with a short chain descending from it. He slid his cock into my mouth again, then he secured the chain to the one dangling between my nipples.

I raised my eyes to his and started to pull back. This was not something we'd done before. I was suddenly scared.

"Shh. It's okay, Lady Becca. It's okay." He stroked my hair as he drew his cock back.

My eyes widened as the motion pulled on the chain and therefore my nipples and breasts. It was a dull pain, and it lessened as he slid back in. He repeated the movement a couple of times, and eventually I relaxed again.

I watched his soft brown eyes grow darker in the glow of the sconces. The firmness of his jaw as he tried to control me and control himself at the same time. The glean of sweat that gathered on his forehead and naked chest. The way the humidity in the room made his long hair curl away from his face.

All else ceased to exist when I was with him. He took me away to another world, a blessed respite from the daily hassles. So far, I'd not questioned anything he wanted to do to me. It occurred to me that I really loved this man. That I would do anything for him. That the vision I'd had in Brian's chambers so long ago was possible with Malcolm. And only with Malcolm.

His grip tightened on my braid, pulling me back to the moment. He withdrew and rubbed his cock against my lips and cheeks as I gasped for breath. I was a little dizzy as he unhooked his cock from my breasts, untied my wrists, and helped me over to the Saint Andrew's Cross. He positioned me face-first against the wall and secured my wrists above my head on each of the upper branches of the X-shaped device. Then he spread my legs and secured my ankles to the lower beams. He adjusted the chains that held the cuffs until I was spread eagle against the wall to his liking.

I was standing on the hardwood, but it was odd with my legs and feet turned out so they were flat against the wall as well. I leaned my forehead against the leather-padded wall, and took several deep breaths. What was he going to do to me now?

"Feather, leather, or suede, Lady Becca?"

I found my senses enough to mutter, "Feather."

Then, just as I had imagined, he was stroking my back with the feather flogger. Each sweeping pass sent shivers racing up and down my spine, and I mewled like a kitten. When he brushed the soft ends along my ass and then the insides of my legs and up against my pussy, I pulled on my restraints, trying to arch away. But there was nowhere to go. I loved it.

After awhile, he suggested switching to the suede flogger. I mumbled my consent. As before, he stroked the soft ends from my wrists down to my ankles. I had my eyes closed, feeling very relaxed and a little sleepy when suddenly, a slap against my ass jolted me awake.

The feeling came again, and I choked on my cry, realizing he was swatting me now with the flogger. He alternated between my right ass cheek and my left, then the backs of my thighs. It wasn't painful, but it was no longer relaxing. In fact, the more he did it, the more aroused I became.

I gripped at the air, rising up the few allowable inches on my toes as I tried to arch my back unsuccessfully. I bit my lip to silence my cries and prevent the word on my tongue from spilling out. I don't know where it came from. It wasn't like me. Yet, it was there all the same. And it wanted to be released, much like the orgasm that had been building ever since we'd entered the room.

He kept up this sweet torture for several long minutes. I cried out each time now, and it grew more difficult to keep the word inside. To stay silent. I squeaked at one point, and finally, he spoke.

"Lady Becca, do you want to tell me something? "

"Yes, Sir." I was panting now, clenching my eyes closed.

"Speak freely."

"Harder." I gulped. "Please."

He tucked my braid over my shoulder and kissed me between my shoulder blades. "How delightful, my dear. As you wish."

The next swat was across my right ass cheek. I shrieked as he struck again, but he did it with more force. Soon, the room was filled with the repetitive slapping sounds of the flogger connecting with my skin alternated with my muffled cries.

I so wanted to collapse, but the way I was positioned on the cross, I was stretched wide open and unable to even let my knees bend. I tried to relax and let myself hang by my wrists instead. It helped, but only a little. I was wound tight, and my bound breasts and nipples throbbed as they pressed into the wall.

The swats eventually returned to gentle glides against my skin from top to bottom. Then they ceased entirely. I had just managed to get a deep breath in when Malcolm's hands stroked the insides of my thighs. I let out a deep moan, which turned into a strangled gasp as I felt his hot breath against my ass.

Before I could rationalize how that was possible, something pointy pressed against my ass and something flat and soft pressed against my wet pussy. I realized it was his nose...his tongue... when his moan vibrated against my skin. The shudders started low and rose quickly.