Under His Control – No Safeword Read Online Claire Thompson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Kink Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
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“Oh, I totally get that,” Ellen said. “That’s how I felt when I first went to Lair Sade, and later, to The Enclave.”

“I wandered around for a while just gawking at everyone and everything. Eventually, I hooked up with this German girl. I didn’t even have a gear bag back then, but she did. We had a very intense three-hour scene. She basically topped from the bottom because I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing. But from that first time I used a whip, handled rope, took control of a woman, I was hooked. I’ve never bothered with vanilla sex since.”

She glanced shyly toward him. “So, what happened to this girl?”

Damon shrugged. “I never saw her again after that night. Not that it mattered—there were plenty of eager sub girls to play with whenever I managed to get back there.”

The air had turned colder as they walked, dusk darkening their path. Ellen wrapped her arms around her torso and shivered. Damon put his arm around her again, just to keep her warm, and led her back to the cabin.

After their hike, they shared a dinner of steaks and salad, followed by ice cream sundaes. They watched a movie on his laptop. To keep things interesting, he had her keep her legs spread wide, cunt accessible. While they watched, he teased and stroked her until she was panting, her cunt sopping wet. Each time she seemed to be getting too close to orgasm, he would smack her slick cunt with a hard palm and forbid her to come.

He didn’t pay any attention at all to the movie, and doubted she did either. He paused the picture every so often and instructed her to suck his cock. She would slide from the sofa and kneel before him, eagerly taking his shaft into her mouth as she cradled his balls.

He finally gave in near the end of the film, shooting his seed down her throat. Directing her back onto the sofa, he continued to finger fuck and tease her until she begged, “Please, Sir! Oh, god, please, may I come?”

Abruptly, he pulled his hand away and then smacked her again. “No, slave. You may not.”

When he finally did let her come, she keened her pleasure as she shuddered and trembled. Then she dropped again to her knees before him. Grabbing his hands, she kissed them over and over. “Thank you, Sir. Oh, thank you,” she said with such fervent sincerity it embarrassed him.

“Don’t thank me too soon,” he replied with a chuckle. “You know you’re going to have to pay for it.”

They stood side-by-side in the bathroom, washing their faces and brushing their teeth like an old married couple. It should have made him nervous, but he found he rather enjoyed the easy comradery of it.

That night in bed, he cuffed her wrists as always and then pulled her into his arms.

I could almost get used to this, he thought as he drifted to sleep.

The night is eerily black, illuminated by the occasional flicker of gunfire. He moves stealthily through the shadows, every sense on heightened alert. The air is thick with tension. Adrenaline pumps through his body. His heart pounds, echoing in his ears as he navigates through the rubble-torn streets.

He hears the enemy before he sees them. He presses against a dilapidated wall, blending into the night as he strains to decipher their words. As he edges closer, time seems to slow. They are huddled around a small campfire, their faces hidden as they murmur in low, guttural voices.

His training takes over as he moves with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey. He draws his weapon and aims. With the press of the trigger, he finds his marks with deadly accuracy, one after the other.

As he comes closer, he nudges one of the fallen with the toe of his combat boot. As the bloodied corpse rolls over, horror trickles through his veins, mingled with disbelief and shock. It’s a little girl, maybe ten years old. Panicked, he looks at the faces of the others—all children, their small, shattered bodies spread out before him, their dirty, ravaged faces blank with death.

Falling to his knees, he lifts his head and howls with grief…

Damon bolted upright, heart hammering, body drenched with sweat. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, who was beside him or what the hell she was babbling.

“Oh, thank god,” she breathed. “You were crying out in your sleep. I couldn’t wake you. Are you okay?”

Damon stared for a long moment in incomprehension. As his brain slowly clicked back on, he recognized Ellen.

Her eyes were wide with concern, her cuffed hands clasped together. “You’re shaking. You poor darling.”

Damon turned away, horribly embarrassed she’d seen him in such a vulnerable moment. Damn it. This was why he always sent his scene partners home after play.


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