Love In Handcuffs: The Secret Billionaire (Part One) (BDSM And Domination Erotic Romance Novelette) Read online

  I wandered around the ship for a little while, killing time. There was a lunch show, some medley of musical numbers that made very little impression on me; the talent was good, but my brain was consumed with meeting up with Michael again. I didn’t even truly notice the food I ate at lunch—it was more as if I knew it was good than experienced it as being tasty. Every moment that separated me from my rendezvous with Michael seemed to drag on for an eternity. I had noticed an odd sound as I got out of the crowded areas of the ship; I sat down on my bed to try and think of what it could be. There was some odd grinding noise coming from below. I told myself that I was being ridiculous; this was the first cruise I was on, and what did I know about enormous ships anyway? I wasn’t even entirely sure I understood how the water worked. I checked my hair and makeup and made myself walk slowly out of my stateroom and through the corridors leading out to the deck.

  I spotted Michael right away. He was standing at the bar, in the exact place he had been the day before, and I smiled to myself. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but a comfortable-yet-stylish shirt and slacks, the shirt sleeves rolled up to just under his elbow to show his forearms. He was having a beer, glancing around idly until he spotted me. I grinned at him and slowly made my way over, not wanting to appear—either to him or to any crew members watching—that I was rushing over. I wasn’t sure who knew me as his wife and who knew me as a single woman. It didn’t seem to matter ultimately. Michael met me as I approached the bar, guiding me to where he had been standing and gesturing to the bartender for another beer. I was tingling where his hand rested on the small of my back. I breathed in, smelling the ocean air, the alcohol nearby, and Michael’s cologne. It was as if my entire body was already in tune with him; I cautioned myself against becoming too attached, but it was too easy to lean into his touch.

  We drank our beers and moved out onto the main part of the deck, walking and talking as we had the day before. Michael’s hands moved over me in polite but sensual ways; touching the small of my back, brushing against my waist, pushing a strand of hair out of my face. I wanted nothing more than for Michael to push me up against the railing and have me right there—and at several points I wished I had gone through with my original idea to forget wearing panties. At the same time, Michael was so amusing, making me laugh at his anecdotes about his time in college, about his early years as a businessman and the mistakes he had made. Hours passed by so quickly that I didn’t even notice them—or the growing rumble from below the deck.

  We were stopped mid-stride by a crewman, who approached Michael with an apologetic air. “I’m sorry to report that the ship’s engine is failing, and we won’t be able to make it to Mexico. We’ve requested assistance, and we’ll be getting a tow into the closest Florida port shortly.” He nodded, and Michael responded in kind. I was too busy trying not to collapse right there in front of everyone. I looked at Michael, terrified already—panic welling up in my stomach, my heart pounding. Michael pulled me close to him, embracing me lightly and looking down into my face.

  “I think you’d probably rather absorb this shock privately. Am I right?” I nodded, holding back the tears that stung my eyes with an effort. Michael led me quickly to his stateroom, and as soon as the door was closed behind us, I began to cry. I couldn’t believe it. After all of my careful planning, after everything—we were going to be back in the United States in a matter of hours. If my theft had been discovered, I was almost certainly heading to my arrest. Michael left my side for just a moment, bringing me an impossibly soft handkerchief. I had to pull myself together. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes a moment and dabbing at my makeup to fix it. Michael brought me a drink—a shot of something over ice—and I knocked it back, appreciating the burn as it went down.

  I was sitting on the bed without really knowing how I had gotten there and Michael leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. Between the alcohol and my own fairly certain doom, I decided that, if tonight was going to be my last night as a free woman, I would enjoy myself to the fullest. I deepened the kiss, probing Michael’s mouth with my tongue to taste the faint bitterness of beer riding on the sweetness of his lips. His hands started to move all over my body quickly, teasing my breasts and caressing my waist. After several long moments, he broke away from the kiss, smiling faintly down at me. “I have an idea,” he murmured, stepping back and moving towards the wardrobe.

  “Oh?” I asked, intrigued. I hoped that his idea would be along the lines of mine.

  “Your main fear right now is the loss of your freedom, correct?” I nodded, and watched as Michael freed the pair of handcuffs from the wardrobe door. “Then I think you should have a taste of captivity. After all, if you’ve already experienced it, you can hardly be afraid of it, right?” My eyes widened as I realized what he was implying. My mouth began to water, and I felt my pussy getting wet at the suggestion.

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Michael crossed the distance between us and pulled me up into a standing position. He took me in slowly, his cold blue eyes almost caressing me as he considered what he would do.

  “Well, first, I think we need to give you the experience of a strip-search.” He set the handcuffs down on the bed and went to work unbuttoning my dress in quick, impersonal movements. Michael methodically moved all the way down the front of the outfit, and as the fabric started to fall to the sides, I felt myself getting more excited—feeling more exposed. He tugged at the sleeves, pulling it away from my body, his face set in stern, uncaring lines as he gave me a little shove away from the bed and closer to the center of the room. He followed me, pulling my bra straps down from my shoulders and reaching around to the back to unlatch it before giving it a quick jerk off of me and tossing it aside. My breasts were quivering as he went next to my panties, almost ripping them off of me with brutal efficiency and leaving me standing in front of him, naked except for my shoes.

  “Take off your shoes,” he said curtly, gesturing. I crouched on the floor and unbuckled the straps on my heels, slipping them off of my feet. Even though I knew it was play—that I was as safe as I could be with any stranger—I felt a pulse of intimidation as Michael stood over me, watching me with cold eyes. I didn’t want to stand up, to let him see me naked—even when he had stripped me down before, I hadn’t felt so exposed. “Stand.” I slowly stood up, not quite able to make eye contact, trapped in the role already. Michael stepped closer to me and kicked my legs open. “Arms out,” he commanded. I extended my arms, and he began to run his hands over my body, at first with the same impersonal touch that he had used in unbuttoning my dress, but gradually becoming more aggressive, squeezing each of my breasts hard; he knelt down in front of me, running his hands over my legs, upward until he came to my pussy.

  I fidgeted as he cupped my wet pussy with one hand, rubbing me slowly. “Don’t move.” I tried to remain still, even though I could feel all of the muscles in my body twitching, my legs straining with the effort of remaining still when the friction of Michael’s hand against me was so delicious—but also so intimidating. My arms were already starting to ache from holding them up and spread in the air. Michael began to rub my pussy more firmly with the heel of his hand, and I gasped, becoming more and more wet with every passing moment. He suddenly spread my labia and plunged two fingers inside of me and I cried out, surprise mingled with pleasure mingled with pain, with a sense of almost-violation. “Quiet,” Michael said firmly, slapping the inside of my thigh with his free hand. “Are you carrying anything in your cunt, Solly?” he asked me, probing deeper into my pussy with rough, aggressive strokes of his fingers. I shook my head, shocked that he remembered my last name. “Answer verbally.” I swallowed against the sudden dryness of my throat; it was amazing, the way the opulence of his stateroom had fallen out of my gaze just by enacting these roles.

  “N-no,” I mumbled, as Michael’s fingers pushed up painfully deep inside my pussy. His palm rested against my clit, rubbing it slowly as he fingered me. He found my g-spot and pressed again
st it with his fingertips, roughly stroking it until I was gasping, blushing—torn between pleasure and humiliation. He slapped the inside of my thigh again.

  “You say ‘no sir,’ Solly. Understood?” I nodded quickly, trying to regain my ability to speak.

  “Yes sir.” Michael withdrew his fingers, standing quickly and stepping around me before I could react to the sudden change. His hands moved over my back, and I could feel my fluids on his fingers as he lightly touched my shoulder blades, moving down to my hips. As he reached my ass, he paused, and his touch left me. I started to turn my head, startled at the absence.

  “Face forward.” I turned back so quickly that I was briefly dizzy; my ears strained, and I could almost imagine the muscles in them stretching, as I tried to hear what he was doing, tried to make out what would happen next. I stared in front of me, seeing and not seeing, everything becoming a blur except as all of my attention focused on the soft, slight sounds; I heard the muted click of a wooden mechanism, the creak of a hinge, the snap of a closing door. I could almost discern the sound of Michael’s feet against the floor, approaching me again from behind. It was a shock to my listening body when one of his hands came to rest on my hip, holding onto the curve of my pelvis tightly, rooting me in place. He began to run his hands over my ass cheeks, squeezing them slightly, parting them and exposing me even more. I felt my face heating up from the blood that rushed to my head even as my nipples hardened from the combination of fear and arousal. “Are you carrying anything inside your ass, Solly?” My heart fluttered—the sudden knowledge of exactly what was about to happen raking needles against my nerves.

  “N-no, sir,” I said softly, not sure that Michael had heard me. He let go of my hip and I heard a wet, sucking sound, so quiet and yet in the silence of the room so loud. I tried to breathe more slowly, realizing that along with my pulse my breaths were coming more quickly—but not giving me enough oxygen, or so it seemed. Then Michael was parting my ass cheeks again, and I almost held my breath as I felt his slick fingers brush against my tight, tense asshole.

  “Relax, Solly.” Michael’s fingertips rubbed against me, teasing me the way he’d teased my pussy before. “I have to check you. This will go easier if you breathe.” There was little tenderness in his voice, more a no-nonsense explanation. I inhaled deeply, trying to unclench the muscles in my body, and his fingers slowly worked their way past the ring of muscle. I swallowed, my arms shaking from the effort of holding them up, every muscle in my legs clamping down against my urge to squirm away from his touch. Michael took his time, inserting first one finger and then two in my ass and feeling around slowly—as if he were really searching for contraband. I bit my lip, trying to remain still, oddly both turned on and shamed. My arms were throbbing, aching from the strain, as Michael’s fingers began to move in and out, slowly becoming much more than a search. I couldn’t understand it as I started to become intensely aroused, almost moaning from the oddly pleasant sensation. I let out a small whimper, biting my lip to keep it from becoming a more desirous sound.

  Michael’s fingers suddenly retreated and I almost stumbled, my body trying to comprehend the abrupt lack of sensation. “Put your arms down, Solly.” I did as I was told, relief washing through me, leaving pins and needles in its wake. I could still feel the slickness of the lube in my ass, a somehow—slutty—feeling that I secretly loved. Michael walked around me, wiping his fingers clean and picking up the handcuffs. He reached out and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me over to the bed. He closed the cuff around my wrist tightly, the cold metal biting into my skin and making me gasp. He attached the other side of the restraint to one of the posts at the foot of the bed, trapping me, naked, wet, and with my heart pounding. He stood in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me in a way that was somehow both lewd and impersonal. “Do you want a cigarette, Solly?” at the suggestion, I suddenly couldn’t want anything more. I nodded.

  “Y-yes sir.” He smiled slowly, the expression somehow not warming the cool blue depths of his eyes.

  “You can earn one.” He began to unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping the fly on his pants and taking out his cock without undressing. “On your knees.” I sank down; my wrist awkwardly trapped at shoulder height, and looked up at him, my whole body throbbing with need. Michael stepped into my space, guiding his cock up against my lips and rubbing the tip of it slowly from one corner of my mouth to the other. “Open.” I opened my mouth and Michael pushed his erect dick past my lips, almost more quickly than I could take it. I struggled against the instinctive gag reflex as he thrust farther into my mouth, closing my eyes and maintaining my composure by force of will. I could feel the velvety heat of his skin, taste the precum that oozed from his head, coating my tongue in saltiness with a slight bitter tang. “Suck me off, Solly, and you’ll get your cigarette.” I went to work, sucking and licking, taking more and more of him into my mouth, worshipping the firm, silky flesh. When I could take no more, I reached up with my free hand and wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, stroking him in time to the movements of my lips up and down his shaft, running my tongue and thumb along the length of him underneath. I teased his head with my tongue, willing more of his precum to flow into my mouth.

  Michael’s hips began to buck, and I heard him groan with pleasure, one of his hands moving into my hair. He didn’t quite stroke but ran his fingers through the strands, tightening his grip close to my scalp. I moaned around him, feeling the vibration in my throat and along my lips, and he moaned out loud, his hips moving faster. Even in the context of a perverted prison guard, he was careful not to hurt me, taking his pleasure in restraint. I let go of his cock and slipped my hand down between my legs, my fingers slipping along the folds of my pussy and finding my clit. I rubbed myself as I took Michael with my mouth, trying to give him as much pleasure as I could. I almost stopped short when I felt Michael’s hand against my face, slapping me just enough to get my attention. “You’re not here to get yourself off, Solly.” I felt my cheeks darken with a flush and withdrew my hand, reaching up to take the base of his cock once more. “Open your eyes.” I obeyed, looking up at Michael’s face. He began to thrust more quickly, more deeply into my mouth, moaning with every few passes of my lips and tongue over his dick.

  It was difficult to keep my eyes open, to keep looking up at the pleasure on Michael’s face, and neither pleasure myself nor get distracted from my task. I was both relieved and disappointed when his precum began to flow more freely, his cock beginning to twitch between my lips as he approached his orgasm. He moaned out loud, gripping the bedpost and thrusting fast and hard into my mouth. I almost choked as his cum began to flood my mouth, filling it with sticky, salt-sweet heat. I swallowed instinctively, trying to time my swallowing with the waves of cum that gushed across my tongue. Finally, he pulled out, taking a step back to catch his breath as I stayed on the ground, in a haze of desire, need, and anticipation, the taste of him rich and full in my mouth.

  After several moments, Michael had recovered, and began to arrange his clothes, tucking away his cock and quickly regaining his stony composure. He unlocked the handcuff from the bed, attaching it to my other wrist. He stood me up and draped a throw over my shoulders, guiding me to the French doors leading to the balcony. “Sit.” I fumbled my way onto the floor, clumsy with my hands bound in front of me. He took a cigarette out of the pack and put it to my lips, lighting it in a quick movement. The taste of the smoke mingled with the flavor of his cum as I inhaled, bringing both hands up to take the cigarette between my fingers. Michael watched me as I smoked, trying to keep the blanket covering me from any outside stares. He reached out and pulled it open carefully, leaving me exposed to his gaze, while still covered to the outside world. When I’d smoked the cigarette down almost to the filter, he snatched it away, stepping out onto the balcony and stubbing it out before returning.

  “Stand up, Solly.” I got up clumsily, trying to keep the blanket from falling off, and Michael jerked
it away from my body, landing a hard slap across my ass. “To the bed.” I stumbled, walking in that direction and stopping as I reached the bedposts. I turned to face him; the handcuffs were tight against my wrists, the chain between them small. I felt vulnerable, my whole body on display, unable to defend myself. Michael sneered at me, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. “If you want privileges, you are going to have to earn them, is that understood?” I nodded slowly.

  “Yes sir.” Michael kicked my ankles apart, reaching up between my legs and rubbing my pussy roughly. He cupped me, one of his fingers brushing against my asshole so that I flinched in memory of his earlier fingering.

  “What was that, Solly?” I bit my lip, trying to suppress my instinctive reaction to defiance. Michael pulled his belt through the loops of his pants, doubling it over. “You need to learn your place, I think.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me across his lap and adjusting me with rough hands until my ass was perfectly centered, raised up between his legs, my hands dangling underneath me. He caressed the backs of my thighs, giving my ass cheeks a quick squeeze. I had started to relax, thinking that I knew exactly what would come next—when I heard the belt whistle slightly as it moved through the air, right as I felt the leather land against my thighs, sending a shockwave of heat and sensation throughout my body, straight to my pussy. I gasped, arching in reaction, and Michael pushed me down, holding the small of my back with one hand as he brought the belt down again and again, across a different section of my ass, my thighs, each time. I cried out, torn between pain and pleasure, my body trying desperately to make out what was happening to me. My pussy was soaking wet, my breasts tingling with every blow. I lost count of how many times the belt flashed across my skin, before Michael stopped, his fingers dancing over my hot skin, tracing the marks he had left and sending cool waves every bit as intense as the heat the belt had brought with it. “Are you going to do as you’re told, Solly?” I cleared my throat, trembling all over.