back in his chair and contemplating his wife’s qualities. Yes, the woman could write, there was no doubt about that. And she did it in her spare time.
Several times he had mentioned her staying home, but she always put him off. Jack dropped the issue, thinking her career as a teacher must give her something that staying home with him wouldn’t. His grin widened, putting deep creases in his cheeks. On occasion, she did take a personal day and stayed home to use him for “research”. He always willingly complied.
But then his smile faded and he sat up.
She had used him for research, but he had never used her. In any sense of the word.
Jessica was the love of his life. How could he ever tell her the demons that hid inside of him? The demons that peeked through his writing, but he was afraid to unleash, lest she turn from him in disgust.
For a moment he stared at the scene on the screen, the words detailing yet another of his fantasies—the heroine bound against her will, the hero winning her over with his ways, the inevitable sex scene where she gave herself to him of her own volition, his desires becoming hers.
Her bound breasts, round and firm in their bindings, excited the beast inside his soul.
Capturing the young London aristocrat had been a rare stroke of good fortune in a season of despair. Captain John Blakemoore stared at the white skin of the woman bound in sea ropes before him, her breasts turning pink as he twined the rough rope around them. Her submission to his will was sweeter than the honey of the tropical bees that formed their golden syrup from the flowers that thrived on the sun.
Fear glinted in the woman’s eyes—fear and desire mixed. The captain had worked hard on this conquest, harder than he’d ever worked before. He never cared about a woman’s reasons; her submission to him was all that mattered. The conquest. Forcing her to admit his domination over her.
Only this time his heart had gotten involved and now he bound her tightly, tying her bound hands to the beam overhead, stretching her slender body so that she was forced to her toes.
The glint in her eyes confirmed she was a willing prisoner. Her begging on the deck in port in front of all the townspeople had been a particularly sweet moment of triumph. She was a creature of passion as he was and he ached to take her now.
Instead, the torment of her body would take precedence. He would teach her how pain and pleasure were closely mixed, and how one could easily lead to the other. His fingers reached out to squeeze a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and the small whimper from her throat made his cock hard.
69
Diana Hunter
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small set of clamps, designed at his orders and made by a jeweler in Jamaica. Stretching her nipple taut, he clamped the metal onto her sensitive little bud, then let go and watched her squirm.
She danced in such a delightful way, tears forming in her beautiful eyes. And yet, she did not ask to have it removed. Its companion dangled from the other end of the chain and when he picked it up to attach it to her other nipple, she hesitated only a moment before thrusting her breast forward and into his hand.
With a grin, he repeated his actions, first stretching the nipple out until she gasped, and then attaching the clamp and letting her breast fall to bounce off her chest.
“More,” she whispered into his ear when he leaned down to kiss the white sweep of her stretched arm. Through the sheen of tears, she pleaded her submission. “Let me give all of myself to you, John Blakemoore. Let me surrender to your will.”
No. His beautiful wife would never submit. Jessica would leave him instead. With a muttered curse, Jack Blackburn shut down the program and stalked out of the room.
* * * * *
“Oh, Andi, I get so tired of trying. Why bother anymore?” With the receiver crammed between her ear and her shoulder, Jessica busied herself about the house, dusting and
Several times he had mentioned her staying home, but she always put him off. Jack dropped the issue, thinking her career as a teacher must give her something that staying home with him wouldn’t. His grin widened, putting deep creases in his cheeks. On occasion, she did take a personal day and stayed home to use him for “research”. He always willingly complied.
But then his smile faded and he sat up.
She had used him for research, but he had never used her. In any sense of the word.
Jessica was the love of his life. How could he ever tell her the demons that hid inside of him? The demons that peeked through his writing, but he was afraid to unleash, lest she turn from him in disgust.
For a moment he stared at the scene on the screen, the words detailing yet another of his fantasies—the heroine bound against her will, the hero winning her over with his ways, the inevitable sex scene where she gave herself to him of her own volition, his desires becoming hers.
Her bound breasts, round and firm in their bindings, excited the beast inside his soul.
Capturing the young London aristocrat had been a rare stroke of good fortune in a season of despair. Captain John Blakemoore stared at the white skin of the woman bound in sea ropes before him, her breasts turning pink as he twined the rough rope around them. Her submission to his will was sweeter than the honey of the tropical bees that formed their golden syrup from the flowers that thrived on the sun.
Fear glinted in the woman’s eyes—fear and desire mixed. The captain had worked hard on this conquest, harder than he’d ever worked before. He never cared about a woman’s reasons; her submission to him was all that mattered. The conquest. Forcing her to admit his domination over her.
Only this time his heart had gotten involved and now he bound her tightly, tying her bound hands to the beam overhead, stretching her slender body so that she was forced to her toes.
The glint in her eyes confirmed she was a willing prisoner. Her begging on the deck in port in front of all the townspeople had been a particularly sweet moment of triumph. She was a creature of passion as he was and he ached to take her now.
Instead, the torment of her body would take precedence. He would teach her how pain and pleasure were closely mixed, and how one could easily lead to the other. His fingers reached out to squeeze a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and the small whimper from her throat made his cock hard.
69
Diana Hunter
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small set of clamps, designed at his orders and made by a jeweler in Jamaica. Stretching her nipple taut, he clamped the metal onto her sensitive little bud, then let go and watched her squirm.
She danced in such a delightful way, tears forming in her beautiful eyes. And yet, she did not ask to have it removed. Its companion dangled from the other end of the chain and when he picked it up to attach it to her other nipple, she hesitated only a moment before thrusting her breast forward and into his hand.
With a grin, he repeated his actions, first stretching the nipple out until she gasped, and then attaching the clamp and letting her breast fall to bounce off her chest.
“More,” she whispered into his ear when he leaned down to kiss the white sweep of her stretched arm. Through the sheen of tears, she pleaded her submission. “Let me give all of myself to you, John Blakemoore. Let me surrender to your will.”
No. His beautiful wife would never submit. Jessica would leave him instead. With a muttered curse, Jack Blackburn shut down the program and stalked out of the room.
* * * * *
“Oh, Andi, I get so tired of trying. Why bother anymore?” With the receiver crammed between her ear and her shoulder, Jessica busied herself about the house, dusting and
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