THE TAKING OF CLARA 2(11)
When she climaxed at his demand, he stood to remove his pants. His cock sprang free. His shaft was long and thick. The vein at the side pulsed as he pumped his cock. He knelt between her thighs, grabbed her hips then plunged inside.
The length of him stretched her. She reached out only to find he pulled on the silk, putting her hands to her sides. He’d trapped her against his body with the floor to her back.
With the sex toys surrounding her, along with the promise each toy possessed, Clara felt her excitement begin to build with each thrust. His cock felt like a brand inside her forging his way deep into her heart and soul.
“That’s it, baby. Take me deep. I can’t get enough of fucking you. Take all of me.” He slammed inside her. Her own release started to build once again.
Her love for this man kept growing with every passing day. Part of her feared what would happen when she gave everything to him. Would Matthew grow bored when he held everything in the palm of his hand?
She didn’t know enough about him to make such an assessment. She bit her lip and closed her eyes to her doubts. This is what she hated the most, the doubts. Her fears filled her heart, making her scared of the real outcome.
Her thoughts turned to her father. Edward Baines was a nightmare and she didn’t relish a future with him being part of it.
Stop thinking about him.
Pushing the thoughts aside once again, she let herself be taken. Matthew made love to her body, taking her pleasure. He gave as much as he took. Only when she went over the edge into bliss did he allow himself to come.
She felt the jerk of his cock followed by the spurt of his seed inside her.
He collapsed against her. His warm breath heated her neck. She waited while he unbound the silk around her wrists.
“I can’t wait to show you how magical this can be. I’ll give you the world, Clara, all I ask for in return is your submission.”
Clara didn’t answer him. He wanted to visit the club he mentioned earlier. Once they visited the club then he’d want her answer. She rubbed her hands as he stood. He lifted her up then carried her up the stairs.
What would happen afterwards? What if the club opened a part of her that made her run? Matthew would never let her go but what if for her own survival she needed to leave?
* * * *
The following day Matthew left her to her own devices at his home. He’d instructed her not to leave the house. After cleaning away their breakfast dishes, Clara went to the library in the hope of distracting herself. Her thoughts kept returning to the playroom. Their time together in that room distracted her. No matter how many times she opened a new book, her thoughts returned to what that room meant for her.
Closing the book in her hand, she went in search of the room in question. The key on the side taunted her. She grabbed the key then opened the door.
Once she turned on the light she gazed freely around the room without Matthew staring at her. Sometimes he made her feel more nervous with his constant look.
She didn’t know what she hoped to find in the room, maybe some answers to her questions. Shrugging her shoulders, she took the time she needed to look around. None of the toys jumped out at her like little monsters waiting to take her away.
This room held the key to Matthew. The sex toys were merely instruments used by him.
Running her hands along the wall, she touched each toy in turn. With her life being about bailing out her father, she didn’t know all the names. One looked like it was made out of wood while another out of leather.
Each would inflict pain. At least, the wooden ones looked painful. She rubbed her behind and thought about the consequences they held.
“You’re not going to get anywhere by looking at them,” she said to herself. Using them was out of the question. She’d probably put herself in the hospital trying to figure out how to do that.
She turned the light out and locked the door then screamed as she saw her father standing in the doorway.
Touching a hand to her heart, she glanced at the man she called a father then frowned. He shouldn’t be in the house.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for some time.”
He advanced in the room. Clara took a step back, afraid of him. Matthew’s warnings echoed through her mind.
“He’s turned you against me.”
“No, he’s not done that. You’ve done that with your gambling. He told me the truth about you. How could you do that to me?” she asked. Her voice rose as she faced the man who’d used her as a stake in a card game.
“Don’t you dare raise your voice to me. I’m your father.”
“Fuck you!” She screamed the words at him. Her anger clawed at her, threatening to get out. Before she could stop herself, she grabbed a crystal vase off the nearest shelf and threw it at him. No comfort came as the vase smashed on the floor. “No father I know would use their daughter to win a fucking game. When are you going to see you have no chance of winning? A card game or horses or the fucking tables are not about luck. It’s about chance, Dad. Your likelihood of winning is fifty percent. There is no luck or winning streak. It’s a fucking game. A high risk game.”