The Contract


"The Rubicons which women must cross,

the sex barriers which they must breach,

are ultimately those that exist in their own minds"

-Freda Alder


"I own you now," the low sexy voice in her ear growled.

Emily felt herself being pulled even tighter to the wall of granite hard chest at her back. The hands gripping her biceps were strong and the fingers bit into her skin, not that she minded. She was grateful for the iron grip holding her; her bones had turned to liquid and the hands seemed to be the only thing holding her up at the moment.

The man at her back seemed to sense her arousal, or was it trepidation? He could smell the heady combination coming off of her as he buried his nose in her neck and inhaled. Either way, it was an aphrodisiac and it only seemed to intrigue him even more. He was, after all, quite enjoying the delicious way she was trembling in his arms and her breathing hitched.

"I like your tits, show them to me. I want to see you breathe," he commanded.

Emily felt the grip on her arms loosen and the heat at her back disappear when The Man stepped back; instantly missing it.

She was amazed at how much her body had reacted to him. There was something so raw about this man that she couldn't help but be attracted to him.

He stood about six foot two with ice blue eyes and short dark hair. His wide shoulders tapered to slim hips, flat rigid stomach, and long arms and legs that were roped with thick muscle. He had just enough tattoos to be sexy but not so many that it distracted from his good looks, and there was a hint of the nipple rings that he wore under his tight black ribbed shirt.

God, he was beautiful. And although he was pretty he was no mammas boy. He carried himself with a cool confidence that said don't fuck with me. And people didn't.

His most interesting feature, however, was his oversized penis. The Man's attorney had showed her photos of it during the negotiations and made it perfectly clear that based on his size that he might do some damage. And in all honesty, she had no doubt that he could.

It was the kind of cock that would make a porn star envious. It was a thick column of velvet covered steel that jutted out from a dense patch of carefully trimmed coarse coffee colored hair; as long as a women's forearm and so thick she wouldn't be able to close her fist around it. It really was a thing of beauty.

Emily shook out her nervous hands to do as he asked; fumbling with the tiny buttons until the gauzy material flopped to the sides and her breasts fell out, the material clung to the outside edges of her delectable breasts and sloped suggestively to her navel.

The Man stood silently behind her patiently watching... waiting...

Emily stiffened when The Man's arm swept around her waist and pulled her back into the granite wall again, his immense erection was propped against the small of her back and his breath feathered over the nape of her neck.

He greedily cupped the breasts that had been torturing him since the first moment he saw her. Her nipples seared his palm before his hands finally retreated to her hips and caressed them leisurely. An errant smile curved up on the edge his beautiful lips as he admired the peek of her panties each time the hem of her dress crept higher on her thighs.

Emily's eyes flickered to the oversized mirror that hung in front of them and she blushed when she realized he had been intently watching her reactions to him the whole time. The look he gave her was purely predatory, like an animal stalking its prey.

"Who owns you, little one?" He asked to the wide eyes staring back at him.

He did. She was slowly processing that fact as her mind raced over the details of how this unusual situation came about. How a well educated, independent, woman could willingly sign a contract for one million dollars to enter into sexual servitude with a man she just met, and an extra quarter million in it if her husband watched; a contract where this man could and would use her body as he saw fit.

She never gave her husband a chance to say no.

The negotiations hadn't been easy. The Man's attorney, who she suspected was also his bodyguard based on the fact that he was built like a line backer, was relentless in his questioning; asking very personal medical questions.

But those were nothing compared to the humiliating questions that came next. Questions like: How often did she masturbate and did she climax? Has she ever used a vibrator before and how big was it? What was the biggest size penis she's ever had in her?

All of which made her face burn and her husband pace back forth protesting each embarrassing question, wringing his hands so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"We're going to have to take pictures," the linebacker attorney said, grabbing an expensive digital camera and ignoring her husband's protests.

"Maam, if you wouldn't mind?" He motioned towards an elegant couch, "Your dress?"

"Oh, right," she mumbled looking over her shoulder at her husband as she sat down on the large couch. Chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she hated, and raised the cool fabric above her hips.

The attorney kneeled in front of her snapping photos and looking bored. "Spread yourself please," he asked blandly.

Mortified at the mere thought, she held up a hand to silence the attorney. "Are you fucking insane? You know what; don't answer that. I'll do whatever you want." Emily had a feeling that the attorney wouldn't have taken the question rhetorically and would've given her some smartass answer she didn't want to hear.

Her hair was a silky curtain of black around her face as she bowed her head to hide the flush of her face and did as the attorney asked; tentatively sliding her fingers into the warm folds and peeling back the pink swollen furrows. The glossiness that coated her fingers glistened in the light.

The Man languidly sat in an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, watching he negotiations with a stoic look. He kept his legs crossed and elbows resting on the arms of the chair, the amber of his untouched 50-year-old Dalmore scotch swirled in the crystal tumbler next to him.

He glanced at her supple full breasts and noticed that one was about to fall out of the slinky sundress. He could see the full outline of her nipple through the material and a hint of the dusky colored areola as it peeked out, just begging to be tasted. Fucking tease.

Emily hissed loudly and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when a particularly sharp pinch to her nipples shook her out of her thoughts of the negotiations and back to the moment; back to the man who was talking seductively into her ear.

"Who owns you?" He repeated impatiently.

"You do," she stammered out quietly.

"Who?" he asked only because he liked the sound of her voice quivering and wanted to hear it again.

"You do."

He cupped her chin and forced her to look at both reflections in the mirror. "Good, because you're going to go into that room and when I enter to claim you I want you to show your husband how much you want me. I want him to understand that I own you now. And you better be vocal about it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good girl." Twisting her head and kissing her, ravaging her mouth and claiming it as his.

He pulled back so abruptly that it left her gasping, "Now go."


An hour later the door to the outdoor bungalow finally opened.

The Man stepped out into a spacious room that over looked a white sand private beach. There was only one actual wall to the room. The two sidewalls had thick white linens lightly blowing in the wind and the furniture had a Mediterranean look to it; the fourth was nonexistent, leaving a scenic view of the ocean.

The Man nodded to the bored looking attorney and noted that the husband and wife were sitting on an ornate chaise; the woman playing with her hands and chewing her bottom lip.

Ice blue eyes settled on the woman. "Well?"

The color instantly drained from Emily's face as she turned towards her husband, forcing herself to look him in the eyes.

With a death grip she clasped her husband's hands in hers. "He owns me now," she gulped, "to use me as he sees fit."


Her husband simply brought the back of her hand to his mouth, placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, and let her go.

Unsettled, she shuffled towards The Man knowing the frayed threads binding her to her husband were going to completely unravel. She had known her husband for over 10 years and trusted him completely; could tell him anything. Well, almost anything; a girl had to have some secrets.

Her marriage seemed perfect to the outside world. But if anyone had taken the time to really look they would see all the tiny cracks in it: cracks she desperately tried to hide; cracks that would expose her deepest secrets; cracks that had suddenly become giant sinkholes and were swallowing her whole.

But The Man; he was her lifeline out of the dark sinkhole that was her soul and the surgeon knitting the frayed edges back together. She knew that he would be the one to draw her out of her head.

The Man stepped behind her and curled his fingers into her hair tilting her head to the side and exposed her long neck. His other hand slid down her firm belly and disappeared into her panties to the top of her shaved sex.

"Mm... so smooth, so very smooth," he murmured into her neck.

His palm cupped her sex; the tips of his fingers made slow lazy circles that coaxed her legs father apart. "That's my little slut."

"Eyes open little one," The Man whispered in her ear when her eyes flickered closed; his lips moved softly against Emily's neck and his stubbly cheek tickled her.

"I want your husband to see your eyes when I make you come. You do want to come for me, don't you? Show your husband how much you enjoy my mouth on you?" he asked keeping his eyes focused on her husband. Emily's loud throaty moan dismissed any doubt that she belonged to The Man.

A sharp tingle through her scalp made her gasp when his fingers fixed even tighter in her hair. The hand at her core skimmed up and held her tight around her tiny waist, locking her in place against him. His mouth dove firmly against her neck; nipping and sucking the delicate skin intending to leave his mark.

The pleasure of his mouth and the sharp sting of the bites caused her to shatter. Her fingernails scored his forearms as her orgasm hit her hard and caught her off guard making her knees buckle. Once more, The Man's arms were the only thing holding her up.

The Man smirked at her husband, "Mm, such a good little girl, I think I'm going to enjoy having her as a play thing. She's going to make a great slut," The Man chided.

"Tell me, has your husband ever made you cum like that? Just by having his mouth on you?" The Man asked with his mouth close to Emily's ear.

"No... I've always faked it," she admitted, hardly audible.

Shit...shit...shit! What had she done? What happened to 'A girl has to have some secrets'? That was one secret she could have done without sharing. How many more secrets were going to reveal themselves?

The Man's thumb brushed the dark purple spot on her neck, "I've marked you as mine; how do you like wearing my mark?"

"I like it. I like being yours," she croaked.

"I know you do. Now, go show it off." Swatting her on the ass and sending her back to her apprehensive husband.

Emily sat next to her husband and tilted her head exposing the half dollar size mark on the hollow of her neck. The Man waited until he saw a subjugated look on her husbands face before making his way over to them.

The Man stopped in front of Emily, kneeled between her legs, parted her thighs and deliberately admired the swollen sex in front of him; inhaling the sharp musky scent of her arousal.

Emily felt The Man thrust a thick finger into her she and inhaled sharply. She braced herself with her hands, one on the chaise, and the other digging into her husband's thigh.

"What do you want, little one?" he asked while his finger slowly teased her.

"More," she groaned pumping her hips on his hand.

More? More of what? The Man chuckled softly at her generic response and shook his head. He already knew what she wanted more of, what she needed, even more than she did. He just wanted to hear her say it.

However: If she couldn't convey what was in that alluring mind of hers; the mind he was determined to discover; then she would get whatever he was willing to give. And for the moment he was only willing to give her another finger.

His knuckles pressed against her and his thumb hit her clit while he languidly finger fucked her. His other hand spread her open so he could watch her wet pinkness suck his fingers in deeper.

Lazily cupping her cheek with his rough hand, he pulled himself up so he was nose to nose with her and could feel the warm ruffle of her breath across his cheek. Her eyes were glassy and she nuzzled her cheek into his palm.

"Are you ready to get fucked? Say it, baby, tell me what you want," his voice a smooth baritone that rumbled out of his chest.

"I want-" Again, she couldn't finish the sentence. Not that the words themselves were offensive to her; she was just incapable of saying them.

The Man impassively watched Emily's throat move as she swallowed hard trying to find the right words. He finally answered for her, "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes, I want you-" she breathed looking into his eyes and blushing deeply, "-I want you to fuck me."

The Man looked abruptly to her husband; his voice was like ice, "Tell your wife you love her. I'm about to ruin her."

Emily's husband leaned down and whispered that he did at the same moment The Man stuffed a third finger into her. She gasped in surprise as her hips lifted off the couch, her nails clawing into her husband's thigh and on the edge of another climax.

Satisfied that he had gotten Emily's attention, The Man withdrew his fingers before she could orgasm, and methodically stood up between her legs. He loomed over her, put one hand on each side of her shoulders and leaned in, herding her back against the couch.

He placed his mouth next to her ear and whispered haughtily in a low snarl, "When your pussy is screaming to be fucked; when you are screaming to be fucked- then- and only then- is when I'm going to fuck you. But make no mistake, little one, I am going to ruin you; just not right now," he paused for a heartbeat, "I intend to make you last awhile."

With a smug male smirk he pulled away from her, stepped to the attorney and whispered a few words, then made it to the door in three long confidant strides.

Not bothering to look back he called out flatly, "Get some rest, girl. You're going to need it."


Discretion was the main reason people chose to stay at The Man's exclusive hotel so he knew he could trust the staff. But he hadn't taken any chances. He slipped one of the house keepers a couple of Benjamin's, just to make sure the she had sudden memory loss in case anyone questioned how he had gotten into Emily's room.

When he and the attorney entered the room Emily was in the shower and her husband had the "sudden urge" to get a drink at one of the many posh bars in the hotel with the attorney

Emily stood under the hot spray of the shower and grabbed a bottle of shower gel, generously poured some onto a loofa and began to use it liberally over her body; hoping to wash away her sins. It did little good. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get The Man out of her mind or the wonderfully sinful way he had made her come.

Giving up, she stepped out of the shower, wiped the steam from the mirror and inspected the bite mark on her neck. Even though it had been several hours since The Man had given it to her the mark was still tender and darker than ever.

She desperately wanted to see The Man again but the anxiety of waiting was making her edgy and; admittedly, she had mixed emotions about seeing him again in general.

Primarily, she was afraid of what would happen if she allowed herself to let go and fully surrender control to The Man and the experience he was offering. She had enjoyed the way he made her feel but, as usual, was over thinking the situation and fighting the submissive feelings The Man was brining out of her. No one had ever brought out that kind of passion from her, not even her husband. It was exactly what she wanted- and it scared the hell out of her.

The Man took the liberty of making himself comfortable in an oversized couch in Emily's hotel room while scoping her reflection in the bathroom mirror and sipping on Scotch he pillaged from the mini bar.

Emily had conveniently left the bathroom door open and he was savoring the sight of her sliding on her lingerie, her big breasts jiggling as she wiggled her way in. He admired her taste in lingerie; it was something that he would've picked out for her, he had chosen his new pet wisely.

He observed that she was finishing up so he silently got up and waited behind the bathroom door knowing that he would be in her blind spot when she opened it.

When Emily finally stepped out of the bathroom he promptly grabbed her by the waist and muscled her up against the wall knocking the wind out of her.

Making quick work of her hands he easily pinned her wrists to the wall above her head. His chest pressed into hers and his thick thighs forced her to widen her stance to accommodate him; shoving a knee high into her crotch so she was practically sitting on it. She tried to fight The Man's iron grip by throwing her weight into him but he out weighed her by at least eighty pounds and was about ten inches taller. She had no where to go.

Grinning, he allowed her to push him back a step or two just for the fun of it. After all, he was a master at the game and only allowed the give and take because it pleased him to do so. He really did take pleasure playing with her; feeling her lithe body vibrating against him as she as she tried to fight him off. And, damn, she was beautiful in her struggle. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and wide from shock and determination, and her breath was coming out in fast little pants. Fucking beautiful.

"What? Aren't you glad to see me?" He taunted, grinding his erection into her belly and pressing her wrists even tighter to the wall. "That's it, pet; scream for me you know how hard it makes me when you scream."

And she did.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, "where's my-,"

The Man dipped his head down and captured her luscious mouth with his own; cutting off her words and making better use of her mouth. He bit her bottom lip and pulled it lightly with his teeth, letting it snap back into place, kissing her until he felt her body go pliant and she was kissing him back.

Languidly he peeled himself off her and stared into her eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally answered her. His voice was rougher than expected, "He went for a drink. Now, be a good girl and open the curtains."

Holy Hell. She was absolutely stunned by the view. The pearly white of the moonlight cut through the black water and spilled into the room giving it a soft glow.

"It's beautiful, no?"

"It's breathtaking."

Tilting his head to the side The Man was also drinking in the view. But it wasn't the scene outside the window he was admiring. It was her.

The moonlight washed over her making her pale skin look iridescent and he could see the complete silhouette of her curvy body. The lingerie was pale pink and completely translucent; hell, he would've been able to tell if she hadn't shaved. The delicate material clung to her curves and stopped just at the contour of her ass. It had a low v-neck with spaghetti straps and a tiny white bow at her cleavage with identical white ribbon accenting throughout. A matching barely there pink g-string was nestled tight in the cleft between her legs.

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byJust_Jezebel© 9 comments/ 40875 views/ 10 favorites

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