Ray Ch. 02: Damsel

There were too many more arguments he could pick with her about her job, her choices, her fearlessness, but he had already risked enough for one night. "I don't want my favorite dessert to get damaged."

The quiet laugh sounded again, reassuring him his knocks on her door would still be answered.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he started, hoping to take advantage of the moment. "I worry about you, and I worry about you in that job—"

"I don't know if anything has ever turned me on more than watching you drag that asshole to the ground, Officer Ray." There it was, the wall he always crashed into. But he would keep running for it, hitting it over and over until one day he would be strong enough to break it down. "Do you want to come in and finish your dessert, Officer Ray?"

If this was as close to her soul as she would allow him, he would take what he could get. It was closer than he deserved, especially after his earlier behavior, and he couldn't let it destroy him that this was the only part of herself she would ever allow him to know. "Yes, Mistress."

He followed her into the house, locking the door behind him then getting to his knees to crawl behind her to the bedroom. She peeled off her sweatshirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor in front of him, then sank stomach first into the mattress on her bed. His tongue began at her ankles, then circled over the bruises already darkening on her legs. The sight brought a resurgence of anger within him. A man was built to protect, the instinct to do so well written into his being, and that instinct boiled through him as he imagined how her bruises came to be.

He caressed her marred skin with his lips as if he could erase the marks from her body. When he felt eyes on him he glanced up, keeping his tongue pressed into her as her eyes watched him. For the first time he realized how small she was. She had always seemed larger than life, standing over him and smiling down at him with a confidence an army couldn't shatter. But when he had seen her running, chasing a man twice her size down a dark, empty street, his heart had stopped. He had thought she may punish him for following her, but she could lock him up for a year if she chose and he still wouldn't wish he could go back and change his decision.

She rolled over when he reached her thighs and spread her legs. He buried his head between them, sucking her clit into his mouth. His cage dug into his skin, the discomfort chasing the other thoughts from his head and bringing his focus back to where it belonged. Her hands massaged into her breasts, her fingers circling over the hardened peaks in the middle. He watched from between her thighs, his tongue tracing soft patterns into her skin.

He took his time to enjoy her, hoping his tongue was soothing away the memory of the night. Every so often her body would shiver, alerting him he'd hit a sensitive area. He'd soften his tongue, circling the spot until her muscles relaxed again. He had learned the basics of the female orgasm in his twenties, but had mastered the true secrets in his slave training. It builds. It builds. Let it build. Let it build. How many slaves had told him that when he was still in training? And how long had it taken him to believe them?

Her hands stopped moving over her breasts, her eyelids creasing as they squeezed tighter. "Keep going," the whisper gasped from her mouth. It was a waste of words. There was nothing that would stop him from completing his service.

Her legs tightened, her breath uneven as it moaned from her lips. Her need dripped down his chin, soaking the small trail of dark hair covering it. Her moan exploded from her mouth as her body arched off the bed. His tongue never faltered, the spasms of her body flowing through it. When she shoved his head away he sat up and pushed two fingers inside her, curling them up to draw out her climax. Her body arched again, her need pouring down his hand as her body clamped down repeatedly against his.

"Enough!" she moaned, grasping at his arm. "Enough."

********************

She rolled into the middle of her empty bed, the soreness permeating through her body forcing her awake. The sunlight was just a soft glow starting to illuminate her bedroom, but memories of Ben's smile from the back of the police cruiser wouldn't allow her to remain at peace. She made her way to the bathroom and turned on the light, squinting as it assaulted her eyes. She blindly dug through her medicine chest, trying to find Advil or Tylenol. When she found the bottle she was looking for she began limping her way towards the kitchen. She filled a glass with water from the dispenser on her refrigerator, poured two pills into her hand then popped them into her mouth.

When she turned around the white bakery bag was calling to her from the counter. She pulled out a cookie and stuffed it into her mouth. She had sent Ray home after she recovered enough function in her legs to walk him to the front door. She never allowed him to stay longer than was necessary to fulfill her needs. No matter how good he was at what he did, there were some lines she preferred not to cross.

She took the bag of cookies with her to her bedroom and climbed back under the covers. After she shoved another cookie in her mouth she reached over and grabbed her phone off the nightstand, turning it back on. The screen lit up to inform her of eight missed calls, two from a number she didn't know and the rest from the relief staff she had called in.

"This message is for Natalie Morris. This is Officer Gomes. Ben Whitmore was just brought into custody but we can't keep him. Per his court order he's to be remanded to your treatment facility if arrested unless arrested on felony charges. I'll try calling the other number I have for you..."

She stared down at the screen, the next voicemail from her on duty staff. Even if she refused to listen to it, it wouldn't make the problem disappear.

"Natalie, this is Laura. Alias is back. We had to go get him..."