Chapter One

 

I was trying to put a DVD in the DVD player across from the bed. It was one of the Harry Potter movies if it matters to you, and Seth had asked me to because I was on that side of the bed. Anyway, the DVD was on a low shelf so I was sitting on my heels as I put it in. No, I wasn't going to just stand there and bend over - naked as I was.

Not that I had anything to hide from Seth. We'd just had sex and were both naked. Anyway, his DVD player isn't exactly new, and isn't in the best shape, so sometimes you have to take the DVD out again and kind of rub it with a cloth and then put it back in and then it'll work. It also takes some seconds, like thirty or forty, before it will decide whether to actually play a DVD.

I turned around towards him fully because he wanted to show me something on the tablet he was playing with. And then he just stopped and looked at me. I had no idea why. It wasn't like he hadn't seen me naked before.

"Spread your knees wider," he said.

I frowned. "Why?"

"Just do it."

I gave a mental shrug and shifted my knees wider. My hands were on my thighs close to my knees so I was leaning forward a little. I have full breasts, though not enormous. I pride myself that they don't sag at all. But of course, they did when I leaned forward. Leaning forward softened their perfect, taut shape. And since my arms were together my breasts were pushed in closer together.

"Don't move," he said as he put down the tablet and rolled out of bed.

I frowned at him warily as he stood up and stepped forward.

"Don't move your hands."

His cock was already starting to rise, which was a faster recovery than normal for him and it was rising up right in front of my face. He reached down and slid his fingers through my long hair, gathering it up above my head and kind of squeezing it into a mass.

"Suck my cock, "he said in a suddenly harsh voice.

I started to raise my hands and he said "No! Put your hands back on your legs!"

I was confused about why but he seemed very excited. Even as we talked his cock had gotten even harder. That was making me excited too, though I was kind of confused about how I had aroused him so quickly and thoroughly.

He pushed his cock against my mouth and I tilted my head back and let it in. I felt it sliding through my lips and across my tongue and started to suck and lick it right away. It pumped slowly in and out, in and out, though I knew he intended going deeper.

He did, pushing forward, holding my hair tightly and pushing his cock deep into my throat, all the way to the balls and then grinding himself against me.

My heartbeat and pulse both quickened. I wasn't sure why but this was exciting. Maybe because it was different? How different? I wasn't quite sure. It wasn't like I hadn't deep-throated him numerous times before.

He pulled back, then buried it in my throat again, then again as I sat there on my heels, my hands on my legs. He pulled out completely and I gulped in air as he stared down at me. He jerked a little on my hair and I winced, and his cock seemed to bounce a little as if in happiness.

He pushed his cock back into my mouth and slid it in to the balls in one long stroke, grinding himself against my face. Then he pulled out and did it again. He pulled out again and eased a bit back, breathing heavily.

"Spread your knees wider."

What the fuck? What did that matter? I did it, though, and he buried his cock in my mouth and throat again and started to move it in and out faster. That took more effort on my part coping with his cock moving up and down in my throat, but I managed. I had put a lot of effort in the past into mastering this particular skill. I was quite proud of it, in fact.

He pulled out again, and I gasped, some saliva spilling out of my mouth as I gulped in air.

Seth released my hair and drew back.

"Don't move!" he exclaimed, turning and hurrying to a chest in the corner.

He rummaged around in it, baffling me. But I didn't mind as I was glad of the opportunity to regain my breath. He came back with a short length of either thick cord or thin rope and hurriedly dropped to his knees beside me. He immediately wrapped it around my wrist and tied it.

"What are you doing!?" I asked in consternation.

"You'll see."

He pulled my wrist behind me, then reached around and grabbed my other wrist, pulling that behind me. As he started to tie them together I understand with a little jolt of shock which was equal parts wariness and excitement.

"Hey!" I said, trying to jerk my hands back too late. "I didn't say you could tie me up!"

"I'm not going to do anything," he said, almost in annoyance.

Meaning he wasn't going to do anything he hadn't already been doing, I guessed.

He stood up again and grabbed my hair, then pushed his cock into my mouth before I could protest further.

I'd never been tied up before. My wrists pulled tentatively against the cord or rope, but they were firmly bound together as his cock slid deep into my throat. My mind was trying to figure out how this was any different than what he'd just been doing. It wasn't, really, except maybe in the sense of helplessness I felt.

But that sense of helplessness had a strange dark rush to it, a kind of edgy thrill of throwing caution to the wind. Because I couldn't do anything now to oppose anything Seth wanted to do to me. I mean, realistically I couldn't have done anything anyway since he's a guy and could force me. So it was more an emotional kind of thing.

But the emotion, or whatever you want to call it, was real, and I started to feel myself heating up as he fucked my throat and tugged on my hair. Then he pulled back and pulled me forward by the hair. I cried out as individual strands got yanked.

"Come over here," he said, pulling on my hair.

"Ow! Fuck! Not so hard!" I cried, rising off my heels and kind of knee-walking forward.

He pulled down, then, grabbing my shoulder, lowering me to my chest, my shoulders on the floor. He quickly moved behind me and his hands gripped my hips, yanking them upward. He grabbed my hair again, pulling back, and I cried out again.

"Seth!"

"Spread your legs!" he growled.

I felt another dark jolt of something wicked and edgy, and then I yelped as he slapped my bottom.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

I jerked my knees apart quickly. We didn't go in for doggy style much. I, of course, preferred face-to-face, with kissing. It was more romantic, more sensual. Doggy style had always struck me as kind of cold and lacking emotion.

Except this wasn't exactly doggy style. This was... something else. I mean, my chin was on the floor and my bottom raised high. My breasts were now pillowed out against the floor too, and as he thrust himself into me my hips jerked convulsively and my wrists jerked against the ropes, reminding me again that I was helpless.

This was something... powerless. It was like I was his to do with as he chose, his... bitch, his possession, submissive to him and his lust.

I mean, I didn't think that in so many words, but that was what it felt like, and for some reason that sent a dark rush of liquid heat through my body. His hips started to strike my upraised buttocks harder and faster, making my whole body shudder and grinding my breasts under me even as he jerked on my hair.

He slapped my ass again, for no reason, just because he could. It stung, and my hair stung when he jerked on it, but I didn't complain. Because it was filling me with a wondrous sense of dark, thrilling excitement I had rarely ever felt when having sex with him or anyone else. Not that there'd been a lot of others.

Tied up, helpless, bent over like this in a degrading, helpless position, at his mercy as he used me roughly. And he was using me roughly, or at least, more roughly than he ever had before. Then anyone had before, really.

The feel of his cock thrusting into me made me ache but also burn. My whole body was starting to thrum with sexual electricity, my nipples rock hard as my chest ground them into the floor.

I gasped and moaned and let out helpless cries as he yanked on my hair or slapped my butt, but again, I made no protest. I was sinking into this strange, overheated torpor of sexual hunger and passion. I mean, it was like a fever was coming over me, a sexual fever. It was making the world seem to fade around me, even while making the passion and lust and pleasure sharpen and expand.

What the fuuuuck! I remember thinking, kind of muzzily.

The heat was growing more intense, the excitement making it feel like my entire body was trembling like a plucked guitar string. The tension kept growing as I sank into this wonderful bubbling stew of passion and liquid heat and just wallowed in it.

And then I came. Which was the first time I'd ever come with him or any other guy through anything other than oral sex. So it took me by surprise. I cried out, gasping and moaning and trying to buck back against him as his hips pummeled my buttocks and his cock stabbed deep into my quivering, spasming belly again and again.

Not only did I come but it was a really intense come! I mean, there are orgasms and then there are orgasms. Some are mild and short. This was neither. I was so filled with heat that when it exploded the roar almost blew my brains out! I embraced the orgasm and clung to it with a desperate grip, letting my body open totally to whatever felt good. I resisted even breathing in case that detracted from the orgasm! But I had to suck in a deep breath and shuddered as the orgasm continued!

Seth was thrusting as hard and fast as he could. The impact of his hips striking my buttocks was resonating through my lower belly and making my clitoris quiver and shudder as he rammed himself into me with unrestrained violence.

It was a fantastic orgasm, and my best ever sexual experience to that point in time.

But Seth and I broke up a few days later. Not because of the sex, I assure you, though to that point in time sex had been kind of mediocre. No, it was one of those arguments over stupid things which escalated and drew in previous instances of irritation and annoyance with him for a variety of reasons.

I mean, I'd been gradually coming to the idea he wasn't that good a boyfriend for several weeks. The rough sex had kind of pushed back against that idea, but it wasn't enough.

I work at Blacks, a high-end restaurant in Manhattan. It's the kind of place you don't get into in jeans and without a jacket and tie, if you're a man. The uniform was a mockup of a tuxedo, except it was a dress - a short dress.

A very short dress.

It was sleeveless, and it was mostly black, including a black collar meant to sort of vaguely resemble the black bow tie of a tuxedo. But it had a deep, plunging cleavage which bared the inner third of my breasts and dropped almost to my naval. A semi-sheer white lace-covered that so it wasn't too in-your-face. But it was definitely a very sexy outfit.

I got a lot of tips and a lot of come-ons. I learned how to flirt without going too far into actually inviting anything. Of course, not everyone had the best social skills to realize that. But given how expensive it was most of the men there were sophisticated enough to know how to just flirt playfully, and that it didn't mean anything.

Honestly, with the tips I made twice as much as my friends, so I would cope with a bunch of middle-aged guys leering at me and making veiled, and sometimes not so veiled innuendo about what a hotty I was. Hey, I was a hotty. Why not accept it? If there was any power I had at almost nineteen it was sexual.

At first glance, the man who was sat down at one of my tables that lunch was not someone particularly notable. His age was somewhere in his thirties, maybe. He had very short hair and a face which looked... rough. I don't mean he was ugly. But... you know how some men are 'pretty'. Well, he was the opposite.

He looked like kind of a rough guy, to be honest. Except that he was wearing a very expensive and tailored suit which fit his broad shoulders like a glove. He also moved with a kind of grace and delicacy you wouldn't expect on some kind of thug.

"Good morning, Sir," I said, giving him my usual delighted-to-meet you smile. My name is Andrea. Would you like a drink menu?"

He looked at me, his dark eyes skimming up and down my body and face, his own face cold, assessing. "Vodka and soda," he said in a Russian accent.

"Yes, sir, right away," I said, sliding a menu onto the table before him and then smiling my way away.

Yikes. There was something scary about that guy.

I got him his drink and slid it onto the table before him, smiling again as usual, as practiced.

"Andrea," he said, in a tone which said he knew it wasn't my real name, "You're a very beautiful young woman."

"Thank you, sir," I said, smiling modestly. "Are you ready to order yet?"

"What I want is not on the menu," he said, looking at me frankly, his lips smiling.

I smiled back. "We only sell what's on the menu, sir," I said.

"Everything is for sale, Andrea, if the price is high enough. For now I'll have a sirloin steak, medium rare.

Yikes.

"Right away, sir," I said with practiced delight.

Russians were often in your face. I had come to accept that the culture in their country was simply not what it was here, and that men flattering strange women was not considered a big faux-pas there like it was here. Most of the Russians I'd met were like that. One of them had offered me a thousand dollars to sleep with him! As if!

I'd been pretty sure he was serious, too, even if he was sort of pretending to joke. In fact, that had played a part in my sexual fantasies afterward, though of course, the guy offering me a thousand bucks was a handsome Hollywood star instead.

"How old are you, Andrea?" he asked as I slid his plate onto the table.

"Nineteen," I said, finding no reason to lie.

"You haven't been working for long, then."

"If you don't count school," I said cheerfully.

"Nineteen. Everything is fresh and new at nineteen," he said as he cut a piece of steak. "You haven't been jaded by life and turned into a cynic."

"I'm sure I'll get there," I said.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'youth is wasted on the young', girl?"

"Uhm, I think so."

"It means the young don't appreciate how wonderful life is. Hardly their fault as they're anxious to get into the work world, or to get into college and get good marks."

Lots of older men liked to chat. I rarely cut them off unless I was really busy because making even a limited connection meant way better tips.

"I can't afford college," I said.

"No? I'm sure you could find a man willing to pay your way through any school you chose," he said, his eye flicking up and down me.

I smiled tolerantly and shrugged.

"I can tell your parents are not wealthy," he said. "The children of the wealthy do not do real jobs. They tour Europe or work at fun jobs or work for their parents' companies."

"Isn't it the same in Russia?" I asked.

He shrugged as he cut another piece of steak and nodded.

"There are in this world, the haves and the have-nots, yes? It is always better to have than to have-not."

"That's for sure."

"My name is Maxim," he said. "My parents were not wealthy either. I also have worked in restaurants. Now I can buy them if I choose. I washed cars, now I own many of the best. I was a soldier. Now I employ armed men as guards."

He chewed his piece of steak as he looked at me. I looked around, making sure everyone else in my area had what they needed. The conversation wasn't uninteresting, but I had a job to do.

"Have you ever been to Paris, Andrea?"

I shook my head. "That sort of thing costs money."

"London? Rome? Barcelona?"

"Nope. Haven't been anywhere outside New York," I said.

"You should see more of the world. I am flying to Paris tomorrow. Why don't you come with me?"

I blinked. Wow. Now there was an offer! If it was real. And I was far from sure. I grinned, pretending I was sure it was a joke.

"I still can't afford it, and I work tomorrow," I said.

"Do you know what rich men do, Andrea? They surround themselves with beauty. Because they can afford to. So why not? They live in beautiful homes. They work in beautiful offices. They buy beautiful works of art, and have gardeners to build beautiful gardens. They drive around in beautiful cars and fly in beautiful airplanes. And, they hire beautiful people to work for them so that everywhere their eyes rest is beauty."

He sat back in his booth and grinned at me. "Am I beautiful?"

"Uhm, you're very handsome," I said.

He laughed in amusement.

"My wife told me once I have the face of a hit man. People are frightened of my face when I glare at them, Andrea. This is useful in negotiations, if done with restraint."

"I suppose it is," I said.

"Whoops, have to go."

Melinda had seated a couple in my area and grabbed menus and went over to be nice to them instead, then took their orders.

Maxim, if that was his name, made a phone call and ate his steak. I returned and brought him another vodka and soda, and his eyes looked at me again in that way men have. You know, the way that said not only do they like what they see but they want it.

I was hoping he wasn't too obvious that I had to say no until after he'd paid and tipped me.

Though, honestly, he wasn't a bad looking guy, exactly. But yes, he had the face of someone you didn't fuck around with. Like, I wouldn't want him mad at me! He looked determined, aggressive and tough.

I couldn't help wonder what it would be like to have sex with him. I mean, he was a very... masculine man. It would probably be rough and nasty - which brought back the memory of me and Seth. That made me muse about how hot such sex might be. Would Maxim tie me up? He looked like the kind who would want to do things his way.

Yikes!

The thought was darkly exciting. I mean, boy, now that would definitely be edgy! He was at least ten years older than me, more likely fifteen or more. He was sure not boyfriend material! And I wasn't the kind to just pick up a guy and have sex.

Of course, that was at least partly because I didn't want to get the reputation as a slut. I'd only graduated seven months ago, after all, so almost everyone I went out with was part of the same group I'd gone to school with. We all kind of knew each other, or at least knew of each other.

Maxim was a complete stranger. Nothing I did with him would ever get out to anyone.

That was all in the realm of just idle fantasy while I was at work, of course. I had no intention of doing anything with him. But the fantasy was... intriguing.

I returned to him to see if he needed anything else.

"Just the bill, beautiful girl," he said.

I smiled and went and got it.

The bill came in a leather folder, and I brought a portable card reader, as well.

"Here you are, sir," I said.

He looked at my veiled cleavage as I set the folder down. Then he took out a card and paid his bill. I kept my smile on my face as I took the machine back to print out his machine, even though where it said tip it was a measly 10%. Cheap Russian.

"Thank you, very much, Sir," I said.

He caught at my hand, then, startling me, and I felt some paper being pressed into my palm.

"No need for your IRS to know how much you make, hmm!" he said with a smile.

I backed up, startled, and opened my hand to see a folded up bill. It wasn't one I'd ever seen before. It was a $1000 bill! I gaped at it and jerked my eyes up as he stood up.

"This isn't real!" I said in astonishment.

He grinned and his finger slid out and the tip brushed lightly along my lower lip.

"I assure you, my dear, it is," he said.

And then he turned and left!