Maya Banks - Sweet Persuasion

“The longer you resist, the longer I’ll make this last,” Damon said. “You’re mine, Serena. Your body is mine. Your mouth is mine. I own you. I’m fucking your mouth because it belongs to me. I’ll use it for as long as it pleases me before I come, and you’ll swallow everything I give to you.”

In response, she merely opened her mouth wider to show him her submission. Immediately, he shoved forward, forcing himself to her very depths.

She controlled the urge to fight, to gag and to reject the cock so deep in her throat. It took everything she had, but she focused on Damon’s eyes, locked on to the warmth and approval she found there, and she blocked everything else out.

As soon as she relented, he quit prolonging his orgasm and sped up his pace until he fucked her mouth as he would her pussy. Her cheeks hollowed and the sucking sounds filled the room as he smacked in and out of her mouth.

Precum spilled and coated her tongue as he swelled larger. Two men held her head. She was powerless and immobile. On her knees, her legs spread and bound, a cock possessing her mouth with relentless force. It was almost as though she were having an out-of-body experience, for as with the whipping, she slipped from the boundaries laid by her body and floated free, high on pleasure she didn’t understand but embraced with her entire being.

Damon’s face blurred but she felt him. His hands, his strength, his cock and finally the very essence of him. Male, primitive.

She drank greedily, determined that she would reject no part of his offering. In his hands, she found a comfort she’d never imagined. A security and safe haven that she would never know outside of his arms. She knew it, accepted it as an irrefutable truth.

“Serena.”

She heard her name. Soft and mellow. From a distance.

“Serena mine.”

Loving. Tender and approving.

A dreamy smile tugged at her lips, and it was then she realized that Damon had slipped from her mouth. Micah’s hands had left her hair. Gentle hands were tugging her upward as fingers pulled at the bonds at her ankles.

Her legs shook, and she wobbled precariously, but she was caught against a hard chest. Whispered words melted over her ears. Damon’s face came into focus. She blinked. Once and then twice.

“Go and kneel by my chair,” Damon said in a low voice. “You’ll remain there until our guests have taken their leave. I’ll bring you food and drink once everyone else has been served.”

Numbly, she stepped forward. Though Damon let her walk alone, he followed close behind, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fall.

As she sank to her knees on the soft pallet by his chair, a soft moan escaped before she could call it back. The warm, heady flow of pleasure faded and was replaced by a pulsating ache across her throbbing back and buttocks.

Awareness of her surroundings flooded back as she watched the activity in the room return to normal. She was largely ignored save for the occasional curious glance thrown her way.

She held herself rigid, determined not to disappoint Damon further in front of his friends. Her jaw ached from being set so hard, but she’d allow no sound of discomfort to escape her.

How could she have gone from such indecision just hours earlier to complete and utter acceptance of Damon’s demands? Did distance change her perspective? Did proximity blind her to all reason?

What had possessed her to goad Damon as she had done? At the time she’d been angry, lashing out, more over her own indecision and frustration than anything Damon had done. Now she just felt foolish.

And she still had one more punishment to suffer.

Her shoulders sagged, not in fear, but in regret.

Across the room, Damon stood with Micah and one other man. They conversed in low tones, occasionally stopping as others joined. Damon was comfortable with these people. He smiled easily and gestured with his hands.

A flush crawled over her cheeks when, at one point, she obviously became the conversation piece because they all turned to glance at her. One man gestured toward her and smiled broadly at Damon. Damon’s expression changed rapidly, becoming dark.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the man had wanted.

She lowered her head, refusing to look at those observing her any longer.

“Your shame becomes his.”

Serena’s head came up to see Robbie standing a foot away holding a drink as he looked over at Damon.

“Hold your head up so that he can hold his up. Give him pride.”

She resisted the idea of this man telling her anything, but neither did she want to cause Damon any more embarrassment than she already had.

Her gaze slid coolly over Robbie’s face before she nodded briefly in acceptance of his dictate.

Evidently satisfied, he walked away to join a beautiful woman across the room. Was she his slave? His touch was possessive as he slid his hand up her back and then around her waist. She smiled welcomingly at him, and he bent down to nuzzle at her ear. There was clear affection between them even if her posture was submissive.

The next hour was a test of her staying power. Her back ached, her legs ached from kneeling. Her spine was stiff from her position, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl into a ball.

Damon had largely ignored her, sparing her only an occasional glance before he returned to his guests. There was laughter and conversation, and for the most part, Serena ceased to exist.

Then the call for dinner was given, and if Serena thought being on display in front of everyone had been difficult, the sudden quiet of the empty living room was worse. The guests filed into the dining room, and she could only hear them in the distance.

She could get up and walk out. Nothing was keeping her here. She could go to the bedroom and crawl into bed or she could simply walk out, get into her car and go home. To her apartment, back to her life. Fulfilling other people’s fantasies. Selling them lies and half-truths. Shades of gray, pocket dreams and a day in the sun.

But still she knelt there, determination driving her relentlessly. It was no longer about her and her fantasy. If she left, if she walked away, her failure became Damon’s. He didn’t deserve it when he’d only given her what she wanted.

Is this what you want?

It came to her as a whisper, a soft ribbon threading its way through her consciousness. It was a question she couldn’t answer. Or maybe she didn’t want to answer it.

She lost track of time and was startled when the guests began to trickle back into the living room. Damon approached, holding a plate. Without saying anything, he settled into the chair beside her. With a gentle hand, he directed her head until she rested on his lap.

A sigh of contentment, of weariness and relief, expelled from the innermost part of her body.

He fed her, small bites, coaxing them past her lips. Occasionally he stopped to offer her a drink from the glass at his side.

There was a calmness and intimacy to his movements. He didn’t just feed her mechanically. He touched her frequently, short little brushes across her cheek, or he’d smooth a strand of hair from her face. When wine gathered at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it away with his thumb and then licked at the pad.

She closed her eyes as her cheek rested against his leg. He didn’t make any further attempt to feed her more. Instead, he simply stroked her cheek. As he spoke to those around him, his fingers slid into her hair and to her nape where he gently massaged.

She was very nearly asleep when she heard Damon say good-bye. Her eyes opened sluggishly, and Damon carefully pushed her head away as he rose. She wobbled and then steadied herself as she watched him see his friends out.