“Hum.” He was half awake, napping in the early afternoon heat of Louisiana.
“I love you.”
Sam opened his violet-blue eyes and stared at Carissa, thinking perhaps that he was still dreaming. “I’m sorry, mistress. What did you say?”
She chuckled. “I love you.”
He sat up. He'd given up hope of hearing those words from her, the daughter of a prominent member of the militant Amjad regimen. He suddenly burst into a grin. “Nisaa, I love you, too. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?”
Her lips thinned at his use of the name Nissa. It meant ‘she that makes men forget.’ His term of endearment, but also a reminder to himself that no matter how happy he was with her, he was still her slave. Apparently, she knew this second meaning. He stilled, wary.
“Has it felt so long, Sam?” He heard hurt through her anger.
“No mistress.” He tried to sooth her. She rose and sat astride him, pushing him forcefully against the bed. Her light under dress hiked up above her ebony thighs, and only her panties separated her woman’s heat from his now fluttering stomach. Her hands expertly pinched and pulled at his sensitive pink nipples in a way she knew drove him feverishly insane with pleasure.
Sam moaned and caressed her thighs, feeling the soft skin hard muscles underneath. He resisted the familiar urge to take over, to move on top of her and lead their love making.
She paused and stared intently at his face. “Swear you will never try to escape?”
Sam let her question echo in his head for a moment, wanting to say no, but not being able to.
“Swear to never leave me" she whispered.
“I swear.” A satisfied look of pleasure crossed Carissa’s face while a heavy weight seemed to crush his chest. He meant the words, but he could not accept being a slave. He saw no way to reconcile the two resolves.
She kissed him deeply subdued his tongue with her own. Her hands caressed his neck and ears. Waves of pleasure tingled through his body as she lingered on his most sensitive spots. He settled into the pleasure, eager to put all else aside for the moment. She released him from her kiss and braced herself with her hands against his chest. Slowly, she slide down his stomach and over the top of his thin house pants to sit on his growing bulge.
Sam let out a groan and clasped her thighs tighter as she thrust herself firmly against him. Even with the thin clothing between them, he could feel her heat and wetness. She sighed as she grind down on him.
“You’re so hard and ready for me.” Carissa purred. “Tell me how it feels, Sam.”
“So damn good!” Sam pulled her hips even closer. “You know how good I can make you feel. Let me.”
Her lips thinned. “Let you? A demand, slave?” She raised one manicured brow as she abandonned him on the bed. “Perhaps I will make you. First, you may take position for the punishment you are so obviously pulling for.”
“Yes, mistress.” Sam swallowed a curse as he stood to remove his pants. His cock twitched with a happy anticipation that he did not share. He hid his flaming cheeks from her as he bent down to retreive a bolster and arrange it on the bed.
Carissa brought the cock strap and paddle from the closet. She pulled the strap tight around the base of Sam’s cock and balls to keep him from coming prematurely during punishment. He was surprised to see that she also had binding straps for his arms and legs. Beckoning him to lay across the bolster, she secured him to the bed posts spread eagle. She hadn’t strapped him down since his first year with her. She offered no explanation, but he needed none. It was another reminder of his place.
Sam felt hollowness in his stomach and a dull nausea at the edges. They lived in a crazy world where he was by law her slave, but somehow it had never felt real to him. His mind had accepted it as a game they played where he was submissive, she dominant, playing out an extended s/m scene that had gone on for years but would have an end as all games do. He'd though it would end when she admitted she loved him. But he now realized that Carissa didn’t consider this a game.
She skipped her usual teasing warmup strokes and started in with hard paddle whacks against both buttocks. The first one shocked him. By the eighth his ass was burning, and by the twelth he could not hold back a small grunt.
“Nice and red. That’s a good start.” Carissa purred.
Sam made an effort to unclench his teeth. Tensing would only increase the pain. Damn her. Was she regretting sharing her feelings?
She lightly caressed his heated bottom, stroking between his cheeks down to his testicles. He relaxed, lulled by the familiar, soothing touch.
Then slap! She hit him with stinging barehanded blows on each butt cheek. He flinched and grunted. His arms and legs struggled against his bonds.
Normally he enjoyed her barehanded spanking, much to his shame, but the harsh paddling had left his flesh hyper sensitive.
He squirmed and grunted under an extended volley before she returned to the soothing strokes. Carissa feathered her fingertips under his balls and massaged his erect staff. Sam jerked with the pleasant sensations heightened by the contrasting pain.
She continued her erotic torture, switching between punishing volleys and increasingly vigorus cock stroking. He would have come long since if not for the binding on his genitals.
His grunts of mixed pleasure and pain were continous by the time she finally removed the cock strap and ordered him, "Come." In an explosive, bone jarring orgasm, his body obeyed her. And he cursed them both.
Much later, Sam gently shook Carissa to make sure the drug had taken affect. He had planned on leaving her here in the drug induced sleep while he met the boat that would take him to the free lands. But he’d sworn not to leave her. He frowned down at her as he considered how different life was about to become for her. She would be his responsibility in the land of her enemies. She’d be his. A slow triumphant smile crawled across his lips.