Read Online Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) by Nya Rawlyns - Free Book Online
Authors: Nya Rawlyns
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SEVEN
Retainer
T he vinyl cushion slid against my
skin, slick with sweat, her sweat. She straddled me at the knees, my shoulder
holster draped across her thighs. Slowly removing the nine, she handled it
cautiously, turning it this way and that, the sun’s rays bluing out the steel,
the only cool oasis in a furnace of lava heat.
With barrel and finger tips, the girl cum whore
expertly maneuvered my jeans low on my thighs, trapping me, exposing my lust.
Why her? Why now?
Eyes narrowing against the glare, I watched as Sasha
thumbed the trigger and thanked the gods of good sense that I never carry hot
with a round in the chamber. Leaning forward, breasts swaying enticingly close
to my belly, she pressed the cool metal against my throat then dragged it
whisper soft down my chest. As she traced the line of my hip, pressure
increased to the point of pain.
Swallowing hard, I concentrated on nipples pinched
to stiff peaks, slim tanned thighs pressing in, holding me hostage. Not
touching was killing me slowly, fear and self-loathing coating my mouth,
willing her to do it…
We weren’t alone.
She liked to watch, to be
watched. Because she liked it, I learned to shut everything out, everything but
pure sensation, the greed of lust, the luxury of pain.
She called it discipline…
It was a thing I knew,
intimately.
Then there was something else, another memory
intruding, overpowering the first.
They say you always remember your
first… It came sharp and sweet, a sting that echoed and tingled, leaving my
skin raw and hot. His slow smile of satisfaction, liking it, savoring the
power. He left without a word and I huddled at the bedroom door, listening to
sounds not meant for a child’s ear.
Shielding my eyes against the sun’s glare I begged
silently, hips arching as the demoness dragged the muzzle across the weeping
tip. Imagining the worst made me harder, thicker, the vein distended in
purplish splendor… screaming for release.
Beads of moisture popped and trickled between
shoulder blades tensed against the harsh plastic.
The rank stink of lust and sex
hung heavy, air too thick to breathe, candles flickering and weaving against
shadowed stone. Stretched out on wooden tables shoved together, hands tied
above my head, the anticipation was almost better than the first crack…
He’d remove the belt with
exquisite care, first the buckle, using both hands, making me watch, building
fear and desire. Then the wide, worn leather eased from the loops, one at a
time, hand-over-hand pulling it forward and wrapping it around his left hand
until only a few inches swung free.
Brushing my hair off my forehead,
he’d stare with cold eyes, making me face him, right hand at my throat, thumb
stroking with loving strength.
Drop ’em, he’d muttered, eyes
hooded with satisfaction. Asking me… how many. Forcing me to keep score. If I
was right, his eyes would gleam with satisfaction. If I was wrong…
Time ceased to exist, I ceased to exist, memory and
sensation cross-firing, misfiring, until there was no distinguishing past or
present. Without being told, I sensed what was allowed, what wasn’t. The only
rule… there were no rules.
Nails, blunted and squared, teased, one, then two,
then many… cold steel gone, set aside for a more personal approach. If I
sighed, if I made any sound at all, it was more with regret than relief.
She hummed a question, guttural and thick, but
looking wasn’t permitted… seeing was, an inner vision releasing a floodgate of
heat, cascading and pooling in my groin. A touch, one, one only and I’d be
gone.
She’d yet to cup the length, preferring to toy and
promise, massaging the soft sacs, forcing them to contract. My legs grew numb,
her weight, the grip of unyielding fabric, all driving blood and sensation
away, upwards, as she directed lust and stole my control.
I whimpered.
Hands clasped my ankles, pinning
me in place.
Soft scuffling,
Retainer
T he vinyl cushion slid against my
skin, slick with sweat, her sweat. She straddled me at the knees, my shoulder
holster draped across her thighs. Slowly removing the nine, she handled it
cautiously, turning it this way and that, the sun’s rays bluing out the steel,
the only cool oasis in a furnace of lava heat.
With barrel and finger tips, the girl cum whore
expertly maneuvered my jeans low on my thighs, trapping me, exposing my lust.
Why her? Why now?
Eyes narrowing against the glare, I watched as Sasha
thumbed the trigger and thanked the gods of good sense that I never carry hot
with a round in the chamber. Leaning forward, breasts swaying enticingly close
to my belly, she pressed the cool metal against my throat then dragged it
whisper soft down my chest. As she traced the line of my hip, pressure
increased to the point of pain.
Swallowing hard, I concentrated on nipples pinched
to stiff peaks, slim tanned thighs pressing in, holding me hostage. Not
touching was killing me slowly, fear and self-loathing coating my mouth,
willing her to do it…
We weren’t alone.
She liked to watch, to be
watched. Because she liked it, I learned to shut everything out, everything but
pure sensation, the greed of lust, the luxury of pain.
She called it discipline…
It was a thing I knew,
intimately.
Then there was something else, another memory
intruding, overpowering the first.
They say you always remember your
first… It came sharp and sweet, a sting that echoed and tingled, leaving my
skin raw and hot. His slow smile of satisfaction, liking it, savoring the
power. He left without a word and I huddled at the bedroom door, listening to
sounds not meant for a child’s ear.
Shielding my eyes against the sun’s glare I begged
silently, hips arching as the demoness dragged the muzzle across the weeping
tip. Imagining the worst made me harder, thicker, the vein distended in
purplish splendor… screaming for release.
Beads of moisture popped and trickled between
shoulder blades tensed against the harsh plastic.
The rank stink of lust and sex
hung heavy, air too thick to breathe, candles flickering and weaving against
shadowed stone. Stretched out on wooden tables shoved together, hands tied
above my head, the anticipation was almost better than the first crack…
He’d remove the belt with
exquisite care, first the buckle, using both hands, making me watch, building
fear and desire. Then the wide, worn leather eased from the loops, one at a
time, hand-over-hand pulling it forward and wrapping it around his left hand
until only a few inches swung free.
Brushing my hair off my forehead,
he’d stare with cold eyes, making me face him, right hand at my throat, thumb
stroking with loving strength.
Drop ’em, he’d muttered, eyes
hooded with satisfaction. Asking me… how many. Forcing me to keep score. If I
was right, his eyes would gleam with satisfaction. If I was wrong…
Time ceased to exist, I ceased to exist, memory and
sensation cross-firing, misfiring, until there was no distinguishing past or
present. Without being told, I sensed what was allowed, what wasn’t. The only
rule… there were no rules.
Nails, blunted and squared, teased, one, then two,
then many… cold steel gone, set aside for a more personal approach. If I
sighed, if I made any sound at all, it was more with regret than relief.
She hummed a question, guttural and thick, but
looking wasn’t permitted… seeing was, an inner vision releasing a floodgate of
heat, cascading and pooling in my groin. A touch, one, one only and I’d be
gone.
She’d yet to cup the length, preferring to toy and
promise, massaging the soft sacs, forcing them to contract. My legs grew numb,
her weight, the grip of unyielding fabric, all driving blood and sensation
away, upwards, as she directed lust and stole my control.
I whimpered.
Hands clasped my ankles, pinning
me in place.
Soft scuffling,
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