What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [70]
She couldn’t read his expression. Clearly lust drove him, yet his eyes appeared pained as he leaned down close—and when he spoke, he sounded partly like her master but also like Brent. “Not tonight,” he whispered. “Tonight you have to obey. It’s the only way.”
She thought she would die. She found herself wriggling against her leather bindings, as if that would do any good. More whimpers left her throat.
Brent gently touched her face. “Open your mouth now,” he said, still low but soft, almost as if ignoring her pleas were as hard on him as on her. “And suck my cock.”
Jenna simply did as she was told. All choice had been taken from her. Brent was her master now. He pushed his erection slow and deep and she accepted it—even welcomed it, since at least it was another form of being fucked, and right now, she needed more, more, more, even if the “more” wasn’t what would make her come.
He moved gradual and steady between her lips, fucking her mouth fully, unapologetically. And Jenna closed her eyes and simply felt. Every sensation. Even the clawing, nagging pressure on her clit. Her face flushed with warmth even as she attempted to calm herself and just be a good slave, just serve him.
Finally, he placed his hands on her head and drew back, leaving her lips stretched and sore. “Have you had enough torture?” he asked, still sounding more like Brent than the angry, controlling master.
“Yes,” she breathed, aware that the glass toy had gone still in her ass and the leather strips of the flogger now rested unmoving on her flesh.
“Apologize,” Brent instructed her solemnly.
“I’m sorry, master.”
“More,” he insisted.
She didn’t hesitate. “I should have taken what you wanted me to have, master. Please forgive me. I’ll be good from now on.”
“Tell me that whatever I wish for you, you wish it, too.”
She took a breath. “Whatever you wish for me, I wish it, too.”
“Tell me you want to be fucked however I deem you should be fucked.”
“I want to be fucked however you deem I should be fucked.”
Now Brent crouched down before her, looking her very closely in the eye. “Jenna, tell me you mean it. Tell me you’re truly prepared to take what I decide you need. Tell me you want it. Tell me it’s real.”
As she peered into his dark, beautiful eyes, something caught in her throat. He was . . . himself now. Brent. Still all-powerful, but also Brent. Asking her to truly trust him, and to truly choose to please him in a deeper way than she’d experienced thus far. And unable to break her gaze from his—so persuasive, full of emotion—oh God, it became real and profound. The deep need to do as he bid. To please him unconditionally, no matter what it required. Her words came out barely audible, but heartfelt and sincere. “It’s real. I mean it. I want it. Whatever you want for me, from me. If you want it, I want it. I’ll take it. For you.”
Their eyes stayed locked—and his softened. “That’s very good, baby,” he murmured, reaching to stroke his fingertips across her cheek. He raised his voice then, to be heard, but his gaze remained soft on her as he said, “Untie the slave. Strap her to the examination table.”
Jenna didn’t know what to think. Things were changing, but she didn’t yet know how. Would he relieve her frustration or just deal out more?
When the glass knobs exited her ass, it felt odd, uncomfortable, but she couldn’t concentrate on that for long since she realized she was being unbound—both the leather straps around her back and the tie around her wrists loosened. She didn’t even know who helped her up from her knees—she felt like a robot as two men escorted her to yet another apparatus, this one a simple table. Yet she could see more straps and chains attached to it.
She was laid on her back—and went willingly. She’d meant every word she said to Brent, so even as her pussy ached maddeningly, she let herself be guided.
From the bottom of the table, two extensions were drawn out—sort of like a doctor’s table, they supported her legs, yet left empty space