Verbatim

by BodiceRippersContest

She comes to him when the power she wields is too heavy to bear. He strips it all away.

Title: Verbatim

Summary: She comes to him when the power she wields is too heavy to bear. He strips it all away.

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

-~-O-~-

"Kneel. Eyes down."

A shiver of anticipation runs down Isabella's spine as she pushes her silky red robe off of her shoulders, revealing her near-naked form as she complies.

The horror of the day she has just experienced — one that left her numb and shell-shocked with betrayal and despair — melts away like the red silk that puddles on the floor at her feet as she shrugs it off.

She knows what she needs tonight. And she knows this is where she will find it.

Edward's voice, though it maintains that velvet-smooth timbre that never fails to send a thrill through her insides, is now infused with steel.

"Hands behind your back. Crossed, palms outward and open."

Authority. Strength. Power. They are supposed to be her domain. She must by necessity exhibit them unfailingly in her public life, where one show of weakness could spell the end of not only her reign but her life.

Those qualities are not required of her here, with him. They would be utterly redundant. Power and authority radiate from this man with an innate easiness she envies him.

She doesn't dare look up at him. Her head is bowed low as he slowly, slowly makes his way around her, circling and inspecting her.

What does he make of her choice of attire tonight, she wonders? In the past, she has come to him in virginal white — sheer, silky lingerie that screams of innocence.

Tonight, she wears only strips of black leather wrapped around her body in strategic places, encircling and framing her full breasts and bare womanhood but doing nothing to cover them. The position he has demanded only emphasizes those assets, puts them on display, causing her to push her bare breasts out in wordless invitation. She rolls her shoulders back, putting an arch in her spine that pushes them out all the more.

Her hair hangs down her back in a long, straight ponytail fixed high atop her head, the perfect handle for his long fingers to grab hold and further control her.

Tonight, she intends to break his control.

Tonight, it will not be his inanimate implements of pleasure that her tight walls grasp onto as she endlessly climaxes.

No. It will be his rock-hard manhood; his thick, meaty cock she's seen standing at attention through the black pants that are all he wears when he dominates her.

She needs it. Him. Tonight more than ever.

She needs...a change. She can't do this anymore. She can't do any of it — her job, her life, this. It all has to change.

Edward never fails to give her exactly what they agreed upon the first night she sought him out. No more, no less. He's never touched her beyond what is necessary, never used her for his own pleasure, no matter how much she's wished for it. He binds her body, he dominates her, and he uses only his many toys and implements to do so. Never his own body.

But he wants her for himself. She knows this. She sees it, feels the way he is increasingly drawn to her, just as she is to him.

He has desired her body from the first night she came to him.

And tonight, he will have her.

She intends to make certain of it.

He approaches from behind and brushes her ponytail forward over her left shoulder, fingertips skimming across her back and neck in a touch so light it makes her shiver. He buckles a large ball gag loosely around her neck, the one she wears as a collar when she's under his control. He's never once inserted it into her mouth to silence her, though he certainly could. It functions as a symbol only, signifying that their session has begun — and that she is not to speak another word until he removes it.

There is one word she is permitted, however. That word will cause everything to stop at once, the only measure of control she's afforded.

Lamb.

She didn't want that option when they began this, craving freedom from even that small measure of control over what happens to her. She didn't want an out. She told him as much.

He insisted upon it.

He insisted upon his own safe word, as well. Should he choose, for any reason, to prematurely end a scene and release her, the word she will hear is Lion.

She never wants to hear that word. She never wants to say hers, although she's come close to biting off her own tongue to keep it from spilling out when the merciless pleasure he inflicts on her keeps coming long past what she believes is her ability to bear it.

Sometimes, she thinks he wants her to use her safe word. Sometimes, she thinks he's desperate to get her to use it.

He slips a padlock through the hasp on the ball gag's locking mechanism, sealing the device around her slim throat with a click of finality close to her ear.

She is his now, for so long as he desires to keep her.

"Rise. Stand beneath the bar in the center of the room. Then head down and eyes closed."

Her trembling intensifies as her gaze comes up to find a wide silver bar, at least three feet long, connected to the high stone ceiling by a heavy chain. Her eyes have been cast respectfully low since she entered the room he modified in his ancient castle to do this for her. The suspended bar is a new addition. Thick, sturdy leather cuffs wait on either end, ready to restrain her arms above her head in perfect helplessness to him.

She wastes no time in doing as she is told, getting into position. Edward demands strict, perfect obedience. If she wants to scream herself hoarse with pure pleasure, she must obey him perfectly.

He leaves no room for confusion in his commands. It is all part of what he offers her: there are no decisions to make here. She doesn't have to think; she has only to obey.

In this isolated fortress outside the borders of Volterra, where no one will recognize her, she's not in charge.

He is.

"Right arm up and out. Do not grab the bar or there will be consequences."

She wants him to be rough with her. She wants to break him, force him to put his hands on her. So tonight, she only partially obeys.

Her arm goes up, but not out. No sooner than it is extended straight above her head, her forearm brushing the cold metal bar, his warm hands seize her wrist and jerk it outward. His grip is iron. He buckles her right wrist tightly into the cuff on the end. Her arm is now stretched taut above her and as far out to the side as she can reach. Her wrist is level with the bar, her hand extended above with nothing to grab onto but air.

"Left. Up and out. Nice and wide, Isabella. Don't make me correct you again."

At the darkening tone of his voice, the gentle throbbing between her legs intensifies. Despite her determination to defy him tonight, to see how far she can push him, obedience to that particular tone has become ingrained. Of its own accord, her left arm stretches up and outward, positioning itself almost perfectly.

He buckles that wrist into the waiting cuff, leaving her standing with her arms stretched up and outward, so far above her head that she is nearly pulled up onto her toes.

It is a position that implies helplessness. Yet at this point, nothing could be farther from the truth.

For the moment, she could still snap those chains and be free with one twitch of her limbs, should she choose.

Edward has not yet neutralized her powers tonight, nor has he cast his spell to make her as physically weak as the human girl she once was.

But he will do both. Soon.

And then she will be completely at his mercy, unable to free herself from her bonds until he chooses to release her and restore her gifts.

He is powerful in his own right, her wizard. But his brand of power is far different from hers.

It's why she came to him the first time, this man of whom she'd heard whisperings — a man whose vampire talent is the ability to neutralize the gifts and talents of others. Even one so powerful as hers.

Given her job, that dangerous ability should have qualified him as an enemy to be feared. Annihilated.

She searched him out for a far different reason.

And when she finally found him — on another horrible night not unlike this one, when her title and position as enforcer of the law had forced her to personally dispense brutal justice upon an entire coven as they screamed and begged her for mercy — she threw herself down on his doorstep at his feet.

He knew who she was the moment he laid eyes on her. He had expected this woman to come for him since he first learned of her slaughter of the entire leadership of the Volturi — vengeance for their execution of her beloved creator. She assumed their throne herself, citing a desire for fairness, but was no less uncompromising with the law. She ruled with an iron hand. Isabella the Bloody, she was called in certain circles.

Her blood-red eyes certainly implied that moniker to be fitting.

Despite his own formidable powers, Edward had remained unmolested by the Volturi during their centuries-long reign over the vampire realm. It was why he felt comfortable settling so close to Volterra. Aro Volturi had seen his mind. He knew Edward wished for little more than a peaceful existence, representing no threat to the Volturi's power.

And Aro also knew, from his glimpse into Edward's mind, exactly what Edward could and would do to him if he tried to force him into service in the Guard.

But when the regime changed, when Isabella the Bloody crushed Aro and his closest followers into powder inside her powerful offensive shield, Edward knew there would certainly be a target painted on his own back.

He had been a wizard in his human life. As a vampire, he was an even more powerful one. With one touch to the forehead, a few words from his lips, he could strip away the supernatural gifts and/or the vampire strength of anyone he chose — either temporarily or permanently, at his discretion.

This Isabella would not have Aro's confidence in Edward's peaceful intentions. She would only have heard of his capacity to rob her of her shield, a gift that gave her the ability to maim and destroy anyone inside its bubble, just as efficiently as she could use it to offer protection.

As new de facto ruler of the Volturi, she would certainly see Edward's existence as a threat. And she would no doubt come for him.

So when she first came pounding on his door, he was waiting. He fully believed she was there to kill him — or at least make a futile attempt of it — and he was fully prepared to destroy her.

He opened the door expecting a cruel monster. Instead, he found a beautiful woman on her hands and knees, begging for his services.

She pled with him to use his gift to free her, to release her from her powers and their terrible accompanying responsibilities; even to kill her, if that was what it took to be free of the lonely, brutal existence she had found herself surviving.

She didn't even know what to ask of him. She only knew she needed his help.

It was he who put a gentle finger under her chin, tilted her head up to solemnly study her hopeless, despairing red eyes — and then confidently suggested this perfect, less permanent compromise for her need to have her power and control stripped away.

In the present, as she stands with arms extended above her head and tightly attached to his bar, she must still be careful not to break the chains that hold her.

She trembles with anticipation of his gentle touch to her forehead, his soft words — "You are bound."

Those words will free her, leave her completely helpless and at his mercy, as he temporarily takes away both her shield and her superhuman strength.

But that moment does not yet come. He prefers to first physically bind her, commanding her to submit each limb to him of her own accord, one at a time, while she still has the power to break free with one uncontrolled twitch of her body.

It's one of his only conditions to this arrangement. She must give herself to him each time — in perfect, willing submission — before he will take her control.

There is one exception to that rule, she knows. It's an exception she trembles at the thought of utilizing.

If she disobeys — if she defies him and chooses not to use her safe word to avoid swift punishment — he will strip her powers and strength immediately and bind her body by force.

But she will certainly not get what she wants out of it.

Edward found cause to teach her that lesson of exact obedience only once. What he wanted from her, he would command. She was to follow his orders.

Verbatim.

Improvisation was not only discouraged but swiftly punished.

That type of absolute freedom from her own control, from her own rule, was exactly what she needed from him. He knew it well.

So he made certain she knew the rules.

And the first time she deviated in the slightest, he made unfailingly certain she would never forget again...

The memory causes her to press her thighs a little more closely together so she doesn't repeat her mistake.

She must not spread her legs for him. He hasn't yet commanded it.

It is a mistake she made once before, early on in their arrangement. She won't make it again...

-~-O-~-

Two months earlier...

His preferred methods of punishment have very little to do with pain. At least, pain in the traditional sense. By the end of their fourth session, he had yet to strike her flesh.

He enforces utter submission a different way. The slightest disobedience, the most minute deviation from the letter of his instructions, would gain her not a flogging but simply her own disobedience carried to the extreme.

She learned this during their fifth session, when she wantonly spread her legs during his inspection without being told, trying to tempt him to touch her.

But she had not been told to open her legs.

Edward jerked her up off her knees and told her that if she insisted upon her thighs being spread, she would get her damn wish; he would spread them for her properly.

"You are bound," he growled, gripping her forehead in a strong hand. And she felt her strength leave her immediately. She was his. He was now a thousand times stronger than her, in every way.

He wrapped individual leather cuffs tightly around her wrists, buckling and padlocking them. Then he threw her over his shoulder and deposited her onto a three-foot wide bondage table, on her back.

He roughly seized her ankles and pulled them to opposite corners of the table's foot, cuffing them to heavy steel rings on the outer edges and thus locking her legs wide apart. Next came a chain locked around her waist, to which he secured her cuffed hands in front — with her fingers just out of reach of her wet, throbbing pussy.

Not satisfied with her already limited mobility, he used the multiple strategically placed holes in the surface of the table to run buckling straps that would hold her down at pelvis, waist, throat, and forehead until she could barely move. More straps just barely above and below her breasts compressed the base of the tender globes, sensitizing them and forcing them upward like an offering.

Each elbow was then separately encircled with leather straps and pulled downward, tied off to rings on the table's sides, forcing her own hands more tightly against her waist and further pushing her chest upwards.

Her ankles were over three feet apart, pulled off the edges of the table; although strangely, he'd left some slack in those chains.

Foolishly, she thought the already extreme spread of her thighs was what he had meant by 'spread properly'.

That was when the real lesson started — and also when she found out why he'd left a little slack in her ankles.

He swiftly buckled a wide leather cuff around the middle of each thigh, with D-rings on the outsides. Then he connected each one to yet another chain and started pulling outward, straight sideways, one at a time. He pulled until he could tie off those chains to rings on the outer edges of the table, leaving her more widespread and vulnerable than she had ever been in her life. Her thighs were pressed downward and out, almost flush to the table, like the frog she'd pinned to a dissection table in biology class in her human life.

Any wiggle room she'd had from the slack in her ankle chains was a thing of the past. She was tensioned tightly in every direction.

She nearly came right then and there, imagining what he was about to do to her in that utterly spread, utterly helpless position. Her knees were strapped down so tightly she couldn't bring her legs together in the slightest. Her vulnerable womanhood was wide open, thoroughly defenseless, dripping onto the table. Anything he wanted to do to her, he could do for hours. And she would stay there, spread in open invitation for him to continue.

Her mind raced wildly. This was her first punishment. Would he use those long, sinfully designed fingers to ruthlessly tease her? Would he torment her with that perfect, crooked mouth? Maybe he would put one of his many pleasure toys inside her, turn it on high, fuck her with it and simply drive her to the brink of insanity.

Would he, although he hadn't yet, finally use her for his own pleasure? Spear her with his cock and fuck her raw?

He turned his back on her, slowly walked to the heavy wood chest of drawers that held his many pleasure devices. A whimper escaped her lips when she saw what he pulled out.

A heavy leather flogger, one he'd used in their first session to tease her, dragging the strands up and down her bound body, across her sensitive nipples and clit, but had not once used to strike her.

He had just been letting her know he could; letting her feel exactly how spread and helpless she was to stop him.

Was it going to happen for real this time? Was Edward going to truly punish her?

Maybe he would flog her pushed-up breasts, her nipples. Maybe he would use it to whip her spread thighs and pussy until she begged to close them — something else she'd fantasized about him doing since the first time she gave herself to him, but had yet to experience.

He did none of those things. He approached her, ran the strands gently down the side of her face.

"Open," he commanded, brushing the handle across her lips to demonstrate his meaning.

Her eyes widened. Despite the ball gag that hung around her neck, the first item he put on her each time she came to him in need of his dominance, he'd never once actually gagged her with it. Its presence meant she was not to speak again until he took it off, but it did nothing to take away her ability to do so.

Excitement flooded her as she opened her mouth.

Complete defenselessness. No way out. No safe word. It was what she craved but he'd so far refused to give her. Until now, she thought.

But it wasn't the huge ball around her neck that he inserted between her lips. "Bite down," he ordered, as he put the leather-wrapped handle of the flogger between her teeth. It was wide, a stretch for her small mouth, but she managed it. "You will not allow this to fall. Do you understand? You will answer me."

She didn't dare risk words. Her grip on the instrument was tentative enough as it was.

"Mm-hmm."

His hand closed, very gently, around her chin, tipping her head back until her neck strained at the strap around it. She bit down on the flogger handle and held on for dear life.

"That's not an answer, Isabella. You've already earned one punishment tonight. I would not recommend testing me. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yeth..." she started, but had to stop. God, she was going to drop the handle like this, attempting to speak. But leaving off the "sir" would surely be worse. Already, his eyebrow was slowly raising. "Thir. Yeth thir!" she finished quickly.

The flogger tipped sideways, but she somehow managed to hold on. His lips turned up with that crooked smile she so loved, the one that meant she'd pleased him.

"Very good. Now...close your eyes."

She did so immediately, only to feel the long strands of the flogger being arranged over her closed eyelids — a makeshift blindfold.

"Your punishment begins now."

She was left there, untouched, without so much as the sound of his voice. Not even the sight of him.

Finally, she came to understand the purpose of her provocative position — the real intent of her punishment.

She had wanted to take matters into her own hands, spread her knees apart without being told? He made sure spread legs was the only thing she got from him that night, and that she got them in abundance.

The positioning of her fingers, so close but so far away from her clit, was cruel torture. She could do nothing but lie there, wide open, aching and throbbing with want.

When he finally released her, he barely looked at her as she put her robe on. He did not touch her.

He told her that if she touched herself before she next came to him, he would know — and it would be the last orgasm she ever got by him, directly or indirectly.

It was the one time she ever left his presence unfulfilled; the most effective punishment imaginable, or so she thought.

Little did she realize she had not yet fully learned her lesson. She hadn't yet comprehended that any form of disobedience would be punished by forcing her to carry her own behavior to extremes.

She learned that lesson thoroughly when she returned to him the very next night, without pre-arrangement, almost shaking with desire. She threw herself down at his feet, begged him to take her powers and just please make her come.

He already wore nothing but the tight black pants he wore during their sessions, as though he had been expecting her. His eyes went dark, and that was the first time she truly saw the effect she had on him, straining against the fabric between his legs.

She very nearly begged him for his dick right then and there — to let her free it, lick it, kiss it, ride it, suck it — any way he would give it to her.

He scooped her up into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You are bound, my Isabella," he whispered, almost gently. She had never known he could bind her powers with his lips, rather than his hands. It hardly mattered. She would have been putty in his hands that night even had he not divested her of her strength first.

It didn't even occur to her that his binding her powers and strength before he had her physically bound was a sure sign that she was about to receive another punishment...

He carried her to his bondage table, where he gently stripped her and then fastened her into very nearly the same position as the night before, minus the flogger between her teeth. The other difference was that this time, her arms were stretched back over her head and separately secured to the table's top legs, pulling her hands down below the surface of the table in a way that pushed her chest up even more vulnerably.

Her thighs were again at maximum spread, locked down to the side edges and unable to be closed in the slightest. She was dripping and half out of her mind with want by the time he finished going back through and painstakingly tightening every last strap that held her down.

"You are still being punished. You are not to come unless I explicitly command it," he ordered sternly, and a long, low moan fell from her lips. His voice was nothing but gravel. She felt it lick through her throbbing loins like a physical touch.

Only then, when she was completely helpless, did he fill her aching, dripping cunt with a thick, veiny, vibrating rubber cock. He took his time, pressing it into her slowly, one inch at a time, rotating it as he went. He watched her face intently as she moaned continuously and bit her lip in concentration to keep from exploding with pleasure. Her legs flexed and strained against the straps, but they held her firm, her thighs pinioned flat to the table, defenselessly spread for his slow, sweet torment.

At the same time, she tried desperately to thrust her hips, similarly prevented by the tight bondage around her hips and waist that held her helpless and still.

She could neither push the slowly advancing cock deeper into her body nor pull away from it.

Once the pleasure device was fully seated within her, the bonds around her torso were loosened enough to once again padlock a chain around her waist — but this time he didn't secure her hands to it. They stayed right where they were, stretched back over her head.

Instead, he ran a doubled-up piece of thin rope through one of the links at the front of her waist, pulled it down between her legs, across the base of the vibrator, through the middle of her ass cheeks, and then tied it tightly off to the back of the chain.

There was now no way she could expel the thick invader between her legs. And the bonds around her body were once again tightened to hold her securely to the table.

He kissed her forehead again.

"Do not come, Isabella," he warned her harshly. "These are the fruits of your own disobedience last night. If you orgasm without my permission, you will only earn another punishment."

And then he turned that vibrator on what had to be the highest setting.

It was too much. She'd been almost painfully aroused for more than twenty-four hours by that point, consumed with lascivious thoughts of this man binding her, licking her, sucking her, fucking her, all while her pussy throbbed and begged for just the slightest touch.

She thrashed hard with what little mobility she had, bucking and twisting her hips to try to escape the overwhelming pleasure that pushed her ever closer to the forbidden brink. But the source of that pleasure was secured deeply within her. No matter how much she writhed, there was no way to escape it.

Despite the fact that she couldn't possibly expel it, Edward put his hand on the base of the vibrator and pushed it in a little deeper. He released that pressure with his hand after a moment, allowing the device to slide a few centimeters out, then repeated the process by pushing it back in...and then releasing it. The effect was that the vibrating monster inside her was now shallowly fucking her too. His long fingers came so close to her flesh with each pass that she could feel the air circulating around her swollen, unprotected clit.

So close, yet he still refused to intimately touch her.

She very nearly slipped up and begged him to fuck her at that point, before she remembered that breaking her silence would be a grave mistake, one that would earn her yet another punishment. She pled with her eyes instead.

"You are not in charge here, love," he reminded her, very nearly sending her straight over the edge. "The answer is no. Do. Not. Come."

She squeezed her eyes shut in concentration and tipped her head back as best she could around the restraining strap around her neck. An orgasm was what she wanted more than she wanted her next breath. She fought it with everything she had.

"Have you learned the lesson yet, Isabella?" he asked calmly, increasing the pace of the shallow thrusts caused by his hand against the vibrator's base. She desperately tried but could gain no leverage to thrust her hips and fuck herself harder, deeper. "When you spread your legs without being told, I spread them wider. I make you spread them for hours. Your disobedience becomes your punishment."

His fingers closed around the base of the vibrator, his knuckles brushing against her heated flesh and making her buck at his touch. He began to slowly rotate it within her body. Every nerve ending made its presence devastatingly known at the feel of the rubber cock's veiny surface twisting within her channel. He leaned over her until his mouth was right next to her ear, never losing his rhythm with the hand between her legs.

His voice dropped low, his mouth right against her ear, quiet and intimate.

"So just imagine what I'm going to do to you if you disobey me and come right now."

A whimper escaped, her walls involuntarily squeezing the cock inside her.

Could he mean what she thought? Would he force her into orgasm after countless orgasm? For how long?

It hardly sounded like punishment to her overly needy body.

God, she couldn't hold it back anymore. His punishment, his touch, his words...

Her utter helplessness...

She was so close...she couldn't hold it...she had to hold it...

His free hand wound into her hair, gripped it firmly and pulled her head to the side, straining against the strap around her neck. He planted a soft kiss right behind her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin when he spoke.

"Do you think you can handle it, Isabella? Being forced to come over and over again, with no mercy, until I decide you've had enough? Do you want to find out?"

The pressure deep within her continued to build uncontrollably. Her head tried to thrash back and forth, pulled up short by his grip on her hair. Her legs and wrists bucked hard, trying to escape their bonds so she could close her legs and shrink away from the overwhelming pleasure. She remained open and defenseless.

His hand tightened in her hair. He pushed the rubber dick harder into her, his palm pressing into it and his fingers cupping her sex. It was the first firm contact his hand had ever made with her intimate flesh, and she strained her hips upward against the pinioning straps, trying to press and grind into his warmth. Her walls began to clamp down.

Still, he wasn't done.

"I'll keep you coming until you beg me to stop. And then you'll be punished for speaking without permission." His cupping hand tightened its grip on her mound. "Do you know what that punishment will be, Isabella? I'll just start all over. You want to beg? I'll have you begging for hours."

As he made that vow, he turned his hand to bring his index finger up, spread her slit open and start gently brushing his fingertip across her highly sensitive bundle of nerves. She bucked so hard the table lurched, but her bonds held firm.

"I'll spread this wet pussy open and rub this sweet little clit until you can't take it anymore. And when you've come until you can't even struggle anymore, maybe I'll stop." He leaned so close to her face she felt his warm breath against her lips. "Or maybe I'll just go harder."

He pressed his finger firmly against her clit, and that was the breaking point. She came so hard she couldn't even cry out.

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body bowed into the strictest arch allowed by her restraining straps as though she'd been electrified, quivering and convulsing with pleasure. She couldn't thrust her hips. She couldn't close her legs. She couldn't do anything but come and come and come as he kept twisting that vibrator inside her, rubbing her clit with a firm pressure.

The pleasure was endless. It seemed like minutes before her body finally slumped into her bonds, going limp.

His finger left her. The vibration inside her stopped, though he did not remove the giant cock from her still-spasming vaginal cavity. He left it firmly roped inside her body, his hand still pushing it tighter.

"Look at me," he commanded, and she forced open her heavy-lidded eyes to gaze up at him worshipfully. She wanted to beg him to take her power permanently, to keep her and make her his forever — to make her feel like this forever.

Little did she know how close she was about to come to getting the last part of that wish.

"I gave you fair warning. Your next punishment begins now, Isabella. I sincerely hope it was worth it."

She gasped when a smooth leather blindfold was slipped over her head and the straps secured tightly. He took his time, ensuring that her sense of sight was completely removed from her.

She knew every sensation would now be heightened tenfold.

He knew it too.

Her body still quaked with orgasmic aftershocks.

He knew that, too.

She believed he was untying her when she felt a release of the chains holding her knees down to the table, a slackening in the chains at her ankles and the strap around her pelvis.

She believed that until he pulled on the chains at her knees and wrenched them upward, one after the other, securing them two rings higher up the table and once again pinning them to the table's surface.

She was still as spread as she was before.

But now, with her legs pulled farther back, her wide-open pussy was pulled up off the table's surface, even more defenseless and vulnerable.

More importantly, so was her virgin ass.

She gasped again at the feel of an oily, slick substance being liberally applied to that very area. She moaned loud and long as he hooked his finger beneath the rope between her legs where it passed through her ass cheeks. He pulled it to the side, exposing her hole — and also increasing the rope's pressure across her slit and the vaginal vibrator.

Very carefully, while she writhed and whimpered, he slowly worked a small and well-lubricated plug into her tight asshole. Though barely larger than the diameter of a finger, it certainly felt huge.

Once it was fully seated and the rope was resituated between her cheeks to hold both plugs inside her, she quickly learned that the one in her ass vibrated too.

Powerfully.

She pulled hard at the straps on her thighs, but they stayed split wide apart, pulled up and back, presenting her stuffed cunt and plugged ass for any punishment he wished to dole out.

The vibration and full feeling in her rear passage was almost immediately overwhelming. It became more so when he reactivated the colossal vibrator in her vagina.

She had been wrong before. It wasn't on high the first time.

It was now.

She heard his footsteps walk away as she futilely squirmed and struggled on the table's surface, briefly fearing that his intent was to leave her there, victim to the two mechanical tormentors quickly driving her toward another explosive climax she wasn't sure she could handle. She needed him. Her head tossed as much as the straps allowed, but the blindfold was too tight. She couldn't dislodge it to look for him, to see what was going on. She couldn't even open her eyes.

She partially relaxed when she heard his steps once again approaching — until a high-pitched buzzing noise started and every muscle in her body tensed.

His vibrating wand. It was powerful to the point of devastation. When he used it on her, it drove her to orgasm in record time.

He'd never used it on her when she had already orgasmed.

But his hand was already gently spreading her lips apart as her legs once again strained against the straps keeping them pinioned apart. His fingers coaxed out and stroked the tender bud of highly sensitized nerves until it stood at stark attention, not comprehending what was coming.

"Do you wish to use your safe word, my little lamb?" he asked, when the device hovered centimeters from her bucking body.

She stayed silent, but she stopped fighting her bonds, her body now straining upward toward its fate. It was answer enough.

"You may come, Isabella," he told her, his tone tender. "You may come, you may scream, and you may beg. And you will, until you can't any more."

He applied the wand to her presented clit, and she did all three.

Repeatedly.

He skillfully brought her over the edge again and again, ignoring her desperate pleas and cries as he varied the pressure, the speed, taking it away just as she tipped over the edge, only to press it back against her as her orgasm waned, sending her straight into the next one.

Sometimes he held the powerful vibrator against the base of either of the two vibrators filling her holes, exponentially increasing the power of the vibration she felt within. Sometimes he slowly ran it up her torso and skimmed it across her hard nipples, cupping the base of her breast in his hand when she tried to squirm away and applying a firmer pressure.

She screamed and writhed. She made incoherent pleas.

There was only one word he was listening for, one word that would stop it — and she refused to use it, no matter how many times he asked if she wanted to.

Deep down, she didn't want it to stop.

Nonetheless, by the time he took mercy on her, she no longer felt a need to test his authority in the future.

Exact, verbatim obedience. It was a lesson he had to teach only once. She had been oversensitive and trembly for two full days, even after he restored her strength and sent her back to Volterra.

And yet here she is tonight, two months later, once again contemplating breaking his rules.

Does she dare blatantly defy him? Can she handle his brand of pleasure-punishment again?

Is there anything on earth she wants more?

Yes, actually. There is.

She wants it to be him doing those things to her body. Not his collection of cold, hard, vibrating toys.

His fingers. His mouth.

His thick cock.

She makes a decision — a promise to herself.

She will not come all over his toys tonight.

She's going to come all over him.

Even if it means using her safe word to change all the rules.

-~-O-~-

-Edward-

Edward studies Isabella closely as she stands with her arms spread high above her head, securely attached to his bar.

His pretty little Bella is not the only one assailed by memories of the only two nights he's ever found cause to punish her. He can think of nothing else.

Just as it was those nights, there is something off about her tonight — and not just those damnably tiny strips of leather she's chosen to wrap herself in to torment him.

No, it's something else; a desperation for his dominance that is almost frightening. It's an urgency he hasn't seen since she arrived at his door begging him to make her come, barely twenty-four hours after he spread her legs wide and then sent her home untouched.

He had hoped she would return to him that next night, despite not having scheduled anything. It had nearly killed him to send her away unfulfilled the night before. So he was ready and waiting for her when she turned up on his doorstep that night, begging him to make her come.

And he was already so hard his dick throbbed in his pants.

He'd given her everything he had that night, in an effort to sate that intense need in her. She had been barely able to stand by the time he was finished ripping orgasm after orgasm from her body and released her from his table. And still she had looked at him with want in her eyes.

Through it all, she'd refused to use her safe word.

Part of him wanted her to use it. Until she finally did, he could do nothing to change their arrangement. Her continued acceptance meant this was all she needed from him.

She doesn't want what he wants to give her, which is so much more than this.

And yet there is an uneasiness in the pit of his gut tonight — a feeling that he's missing something. Something important.

Despite that uneasiness, at the sight of her bare breasts, framed and lifted by strips of leather that tightly encircle their bases and cause her nipples to swell and engorge, his dick is so hard it hurts.

Keeping that dick to himself — to say nothing of his hands, his fingers, his mouth — only grows more difficult each time he has her naked and restrained, helpless before him.

He's never wanted a woman so much in his life.

He's never wanted anything like he wants her. Not even blood.

He doesn't just want to take her. He wants to keep her. Take away the powers that plague her, that force her into a miserable and lonely existence as sole leader of the Volturi. He wants to take her away from Volterra and spend the rest of his days buried balls-deep in her; spend the rest of his nights listening to those incredible sounds she makes when he gives her so much pleasure she can't control herself.

If she ever again asks him to take her powers from her permanently, as she did that first night she found him and he instead suggested this insane arrangement, he's not going to say no.

She will be his forever.

He's already hers. He never believed in soulmates before, until he first opened his door and looked down into beautiful tormented eyes, begging for his help. When their eyes met, the change in him was instantaneous and permanent.

Whatever she needed, he would be for her.

That immediate decision, combined with her pouring out her story to him — a complete stranger — led to his realization that what she really needed was a break from her own steely control.

That realization had led to his suggesting this maddening agreement where he gets her naked on a weekly basis but can't touch her with anything other than the sex toys he hastily researched and amassed to play his role.

His creator, Carlisle, had been correct. There is one mate for every vampire. And keeping his hands off of his until she realizes that fact for herself is the most difficult thing he's ever done.

Does she feel it, he often wonders? The pull, drawing them ever closer together? Does she hear the tenderness in his voice when he forgets himself and slips from character? Did she catch it when he bound her powers one night by kissing her forehead, rather than touching it with his hand — and during a punishment, no less?

How can she not feel it like he does, this constant ache in his chest just to have her close, to feel her flesh against his?

She still stands with her head bowed as commanded, her arms stretched up overhead. He reaches out with one strong finger, tips her chin up so he can see her eyes. Still, she keeps her gaze focused downward.

"Look at me," he commands. And when she does, his guts clench. Never has he seen her eyes so dark, nor so haunted.

It gives him pause.

"Do you wish to submit to me tonight, Isabella?"

She searches his eyes, like there's something she needs to tell him. He holds his breath.

And then her gaze drops without a word.

He nearly curses. He forgot his role yet again. It was he who insisted upon verbatim obedience — that she do nothing he doesn't explicitly command. It was the most thorough way he could find to take care of her, to give her the freedom from decision she craves.

And he had just asked her a question but failed to grant her permission to speak.

"Good girl," he corrects his mistake. "You may answer now." Please answer. "Do you wish to submit to me tonight? Look me in the eye and respond truthfully."

Her eyes are bottomless pools of crimson, drawing him in when they meet his again. "Yes, sir." She swallows, and he's holding his breath again. Her voice is timid. "Please...sir."

It's more than she was commanded to say, but he has no intention of doing anything other than letting that slide. He needs to hear more from her right now.

"Very well," he accepts, the rasp in his tone having to pass for sternness right now.

He kneels down and loops the rope in his hand around her left ankle, swiftly tying it off. She likes it tight, he learned early on. Then he begins to pull the trailing end outward, pulling her left leg farther and farther from her right. He ties it off to a sturdy steel ring he bolted into the floor barely an hour ago, when he dreamed up this particular scenario for her tonight.

Her eyes close, her chest rising and falling faster and faster as he immediately reaches for her right ankle and begins to loop soft rope around that one too. She knows what's coming, that her legs will soon be pulled far apart, helplessly spread, opening her up to whatever he chooses to do to her. He can smell her, the raw need pooling between her legs.

It causes his mouth to water, his venom to flow.

He gently pulls outward, ready to steady her should she lose her balance. The little moan of arousal that spills from her lips as her legs are drawn farther apart is nearly his undoing. He ties off her right ankle to the other ring in the floor, a full 3 feet from her left. With her legs spread, the height of the bar means she's now pulled high up onto her toes, stretched tight. He made his calculations perfectly.

He rises to his feet, tips her chin up yet again. The sight of her bound spread-eagle before him, dripping wet and ready for anything he wants to do to her, is the most erotic thing he's seen yet.

He can't help it. His lips once again tenderly find her forehead as he murmurs the words he knows she's waiting for.

"You are bound, Isabella." He hesitates, then adds on something he's always restrained before. "And you are mine."

The shudder that wracks her bound body, her limbs testing their immediate weakness by pulling at her bonds — bonds she can no longer break — would concern him if not for the fresh flood of arousal that goes along with it. Her thighs are slick with it, glistening.

It would be so easy to drop to his knees and taste. Just feast on every drop coating her inner thighs before he goes straight to the source to suck out the rest.

He knows she would not object.

But he has something special planned tonight. Something he has resisted but knows she wants from him. He hadn't fully decided to go through with it until the moment he saw that desperation in her eyes tonight.

It's time.

He intends to blindfold her for most of it, both to increase her sensation and to hide his own hesitance — but not yet. Not until he sees her reaction as he walks to the heavy, dark-cherry chest-of-drawers directly across the room from her and takes out his flogger.

He's used it to tease, to drag the fronds across her squirming, bound flesh.

He's used the strands as a makeshift blindfold.

He's used the handle as the "gag" he knows she wants, if only after first forcing her to speak with it between her lips so that he would know she could still get out her safe word if she needed to.

He's watched her eyes go dark every time he pulls it from the drawer, a subtle shifting and gyration of her hips beginning.

He's seen the disappointment when he doesn't utilize it for its intended purpose.

Giving her disappointment is not something he finds acceptable any longer.

His Isabella craves a little bit of pain with her pleasure. And despite his misgivings, tonight he's decided to dom up and give her what she needs.

All of what she needs.

She knows what he intends the moment he pulls it out and whips it through the air, letting her hear the sound of it as he cracks it against his own pants-covered thigh, testing the sensation. It's tolerable to vampire flesh, even with the strength he put into that blow. It won't harm her.

He'll not strike her nearly so hard anyway, but she doesn't have to know that.

She whimpers a couple times, her arms and legs again testing their bonds as he approaches.

She's not trying to escape. He can tell the difference by now. She just wants to know she's completely helpless — that she can't close her legs, should he choose to swing that flogger up through her spread thighs; that she can't cover her defenseless breasts, should he choose to focus his attentions there.

He walks around behind her, watching her jump when he again cracks the leather against his own leg. She's barely settled again before he has the blindfold he had hidden in his hand looped around her head, plunging her into darkness.

He gives an experimental kiss of the flogger across her ass, barely more than a tap.

Bella's head falls back and her back arches, her pebbled, hard nipples pointing at the sky. The sound that comes from deep in her throat tests his control. He wants to drop that flogger and bury himself in her warmth.

Her hips begin to rock, as though she wants the same thing. He has to avert his eyes or he will be lost, down on his knees with his face between her thighs.

He circles slowly around and around her, varying where the leather strands fall — one stroke to the back of a thigh; then one to her side, wrapping around her body to lightly sting the tender skin of her stomach; followed by one firm swat across her left nipple that has her biting her lip and stifling a moan.

He focuses most of his attentions across her supple ass, enjoying the way her delicate hips buck and twist, trying to anticipate where the next blow will fall.

Twenty strokes in, when her juices are running down her leg, only then does he retrieve the last tool he had planned for today — a large vibrating egg. He comes up behind her and, despite its girth, easily slides it deep into her soaked pussy. His fingers linger, holding it inside her, keeping his hand still and avoiding her clit entirely. Her arms jerk against the cuffs holding her arms spread, but they remain stretched out above her.

"You have twenty strokes remaining," he tells her, feeling her walls clamp down around the tip of his finger as she clenches around the toy inside her, whining softly. "You will not be allowed to come until they are completed. If you let this fall out, Isabella, you won't come at all tonight. I'll leave you here spread out and untouched until I decide to send you home. Do I make myself clear? You may say yes or no."

"Yes...yes, sir. Oh, God, yes."

He should spank her ass another twenty times for once again saying more than explicitly demanded, but the way his pants tightened at the sultry, needy tone in her voice makes him forget all about that.

It also changes his mind about what he's going to use to administer those last twenty strokes.

He turns the vibrator on medium speed and pulls his finger out of her. Then he immediately drops his flogger to the floor, and his own hand comes down across Isabella's ass three times in quick succession, with a loud pop each time.

Bella cries out with bliss, straining back toward him. His hands, of their own volition, rub and squeeze the tender flesh, manipulating it between his fingers. Three more quick spanks fall on the other cheek, which is also immediately palmed and firmly rubbed by him.

By number fifteen, administered three at a time, he's getting into his role more comfortably than he ever has before. Bella is continuously crying out softly, her hips setting up a rhythm as she clamps down tightly on the egg buzzing away inside her, letting it drive her closer and closer to the edge.

"I said don't you come," Edward growls, two particularly hard smacks landing one after the other, one on the inside of each widespread thigh. His hand comes up to cup her sex, and he gives a very light smack upward with that one, right on her tender pussy, as a reminder.

That makes eighteen. She never receives the final two.

He knows she's close, the way she grinds against his hand after she yelps at the unexpected smack. He wants to push her right to the edge before he gives her the final two spanks, ideally tipping her over just as he finishes. So he reaches between her legs, up inside her, and turns up the frequency on the little egg.

Bella comes undone five seconds later, while he's still letting the anticipation build about where his hand will fall next. Her hips buck wildly.

"Please," she begs, the first time she's ever broken his command to be silent. "Please...please...I can't hold it back...oh God...Edward! Stop! Lamb! Lamb!"

He's never moved so fast. He has the blindfold off her face, the vibrator out of her, by the time that word is fully out of her mouth the second time. The bar that holds her cuffed arms and the ropes that tether her ankles wide apart are all snapped in two in the next second. When her legs give out the moment the leather cuffs around her wrist slide free of the broken bar, he catches her around the waist, sweeping her up with his other arm beneath her knees to hold her against him.

"Fuck," he hears come from his own panicked voice. He needs out too. "Lion. Lion. Talk to me, Bella."

He's never called her that out loud before, though he often thinks of her that way in his own mind. She divulged to him on that first night they met that Bella is what she went by in her human life. It was also what her creator called her.

She prefers Isabella when she governs, an attempt to distance her real self from the life she now leads.

She prefers Isabella when she's with him, too, making it painfully clear that Bella does not belong to him. Only the fictitious Isabella does.

Nonetheless, the name slipped out just then, in his frantic state — as his steely tone of authority does now.

"Tell me what's wrong, Isabella. Now."

Her whole body trembles against him, the leather cuffs still locked around her otherwise free wrists. Ropes trail from each of her ankles, still tied tightly around them. He broke them right where they attached her to the rings bolted into the floor, intent on freeing her as quickly as possible.

"I...I can't do this anymore," she gulps out, one breathless sentence at a time as his arms tighten around her. "I promised myself. Not tonight. Not like this."

That doesn't tell him any of what he so desperately needs to know. He sits down on the floor right where he is, with her in his lap. His strong hands look huge when they engulf her face between them, holding her steady and making her look right into his eyes.

"Not like what, Isabella? What do you need from me? Tell me."

She shudders, but her gaze doesn't drop. He feels her tiny little hands grip his broad shoulders. "You. I want to come with you inside me tonight, Edward. Not that...that thing. You."

His heart soars as the pieces slowly click into place.

The way she looked him up and down that first night, so readily agreeing when he made this outlandish proposition for helping her take a break from her control...

The way she loses her mind at the slightest brush of his fingers against her skin...

The way she responds to the sound of his voice, every single time...

The increasingly provocative lingerie she's worn to their sessions, culminating in this fuck-me leather harness she wore tonight in an attempt to break him once and for all...

Understanding hits hard. He's never been alone in his desire. He was never the only one who felt the magnetic pull drawing him to her for something more than this.

He was never the only one hanging by a thread, desperately suppressing his urge to take her.

All this time, she's wanted to be taken. She's been fighting to control her own desire, just as he's fought to control his.

A flash of remorse hits him. That type of struggle is exactly what he was supposed to be providing her with sanctuary against, and he's failed her.

He's going to fucking remedy that, right now. Just as soon as he has the full truth about what's going on with her, about what had broken her before she ever walked through his door that night.

His hands are gentle as they slide down to cup her neck between them. By contrast, his voice is steel.

"If I take you, I get all of you. Not just your body. Tell me what happened today, Bella. What brought you to me tonight? What hurt you?"

She presses closer. And like the first night they met, it all comes pouring out.

He learns that her trusted advisor and only close friend among her hand-chosen Guard, Jacob Black, betrayed her earlier that day. He staged a coup. He descended on her dwelling quarters with a veritable army — two-thirds of her Guard, having managed to turn that many against her. He was attempting to overthrow her and assume power for himself.

Edward's hands leave Bella's neck, his arms going around her so that he can clench his fists into tight balls behind her back. If this Jacob Black fucker is still drawing breath, he won't be for very long. Edward will see to that personally.

If Bella was capable of tears, they would be flowing as she speaks of being surrounded on all sides, with her friend grinning malevolently at her from 'safely' behind the line of attackers he considered disposable.

Jacob had thought he'd gathered enough intel about how her shield worked. He'd believed she could only push it out in one direction — hence his plan to woo enough of the Guard to his cause and use them to surround her. The plan was brutally simple: she could take out the ones in front of her, but not the ones behind her. Some would make it through, and she would die.

She had the same belief about her capabilities, until that moment. But with all of her strength, she'd managed to push her shield out in a circle all the way around herself — something she had never tried before — enveloping them all.

And then she'd slowly crushed every last one of them into fine dust with it. Jacob included.

Good.

Pride floods Edward, even as Bella buries her face in his neck with a tearless sob at the memory of destroying someone for whom she'd once cared deeply.

She'd never wanted to be head of anything, she confesses as Edward gently holds her, rubbing her back. She was barely more than a newborn. She had only come to Volterra to avenge her creator's unjust execution — an execution meant to strip Bella of any remaining reasons for not joining Aro's guard and using her formidable powers for him, when he learned of them.

She'd chosen a different path than becoming part of Aro's collection. And the bastard never even saw it coming.

When the entire Guard dropped to their knees at her feet immediately after she crushed Aro and his followers, calling her Master and asking what her next orders were, no one had been more surprised than she.

She is trapped now, a very unwilling ruler. She hates her shield, her powers. She came to Edward that first night wanting him to take them away — and she still wants that.

Edward has heard enough. He reclaims his hold on her face, pulling her away from his neck and forcing her to look at him.

"I'll take it from you," he vows, his tone as gentle as he's ever used with anyone. "Permanently. Tonight. We'll leave Volterra."

Her lips part, her head shaking back and forth in denial. "We can't. I despise it. But it's the only thing keeping me alive. Without it, every enemy I've made here would come for me. They'd come for you. I can't escape, Edward. Not ever."

Whatever she needed.

That was the promise that had captured his soul the first night he saw her. It was what had led to all of this.

It was what now led him to make a decision to accept the kind of power he'd avoided his entire secondary existence, ever since he woke up centuries ago as a vampire and came to realize exactly what he was now capable of.

His thumbs caress her face. "Yes, you can. You can. I'll take your shield for myself. I'll only use it to protect us. To protect you."

She stares at him, wide-eyed at his revelation that not only can he remove powers from others, he can commandeer them for himself.

"You can do that?" she whispers.

He nods, his focus only on her. His answer is simple. "Yes."

Her brow furrows. "Then you could just take anything you want. All the power. The whole world. It could all be yours."

His hands slide into her hair. "I don't want that. I've never wanted that. But I'll do it, if that's what it takes to protect you. I'll rule for you, if you wish to remain here in Volterra, and you can be free. I'd do anything for you, Bella."

She's overwhelmed. He can see it in her eyes.

"Why?" she questions.

There's only one possible answer to that question, and it doesn't involve words.

He's not gentle when he pulls her face to his and crushes his lips to hers. He's waited far too long to be gentle.

She returns his hard kiss enthusiastically, clinging to him. His tongue pushes its way inside her mouth, and he's never tasted anything so sweet.

But he will soon taste something even sweeter.

He draws back all too soon, smooths her hair back off her face as he looks into her eyes.

"Let me give you what you've been needing from me," he murmurs. "Let me do it right this time."

Her eyes go completely dark, a deep burgundy. He can smell her renewed arousal. "Do you mean..."

He hardens his tone. "Stand at the foot of my table, facing it. Legs spread. Hands behind your back."

Her lip pulls between her teeth, her breath quickening. "Yes. Yes, Edward."

He grabs a handful of ponytail, pulls her head back sharply. "Did I tell you to speak?" He nips at her exposed throat with his teeth, and her excitement is palpable as she squirms against his hold. "Nothing has changed. You will do exactly what I tell you. Verbatim."

Her eyes widen and dilate at the same time, and she doesn't say another word. It makes his dick twitch in his pants at the feeling of control that floods through him. With the knowledge that he gets to take her wet pussy for himself this time, the prospect of having her all tied up and wide open is doing things to him it never has before.

He can't wait.

He releases her hair, doesn't touch her in any way aside from her continued presence in his lap.

"I gave you an order, Bella. I suggest you follow it. Now."

His eyes follow her, his dick throbbing as he watches her rush to stand at the foot of his bondage table, facing away from him. She spreads her legs shoulder-width apart — which is not nearly sufficient for what he has in mind — and clasps her hands together behind her back.

Her legs are trembling with anticipation, he notes with pleasure. He intends to have them quivering by the time he's done with her.

He gathers a few things, taking his time to let the suspense build, and then comes up behind her. She obediently faces straight forward, though he can feel her desire to turn and see what he's about to do with her.

He first loops a coil of rope around her forearms, a little higher up than the tops of the cuffs she still wears on each wrist. He ties it tightly, pulling her arms close together behind her and forcing her to push her chest forward.

She can barely stay still, her head back and eyes closed, her breathing coming hard as he binds her arms together behind her back.

He holds onto the trailing ends of the rope, keeping her arms under his control as he puts a hand in the middle of her back and pushes her forward until she's bent over his table. A strap of leather is then run through the holes in the table's surface and swiftly buckled around the middle of her back, holding her down flat with her arms bound helplessly behind her.

She tests her bonds and finds that she is quite unable to stand up. He approves wholeheartedly.

Now to get her legs spread properly so his tongue and his dick can both have unimpeded access to all her wet, pink holes.

Using the pieces of rope that still trail from her ankles, he pulls each one out to the side and ties them to the outside of the table's legs, spreading her wide. Wide enough that he can see the lips of her pink, swollen pussy peeking out at him from between her widespread thighs when he backs up to enjoy the view.

Bella is moaning continuously now, her hips straining back toward him. He takes his time, slipping one more loop of rope around each of her knees and securing those to the table legs as well. He's nothing if not thorough.

She is now almost completely helpless. And he knows she knows it. She is soaking wet as she pulls hard against the straps, confirming their absolute hold on her.

Only one thing remains to make her more helpless — something else he's denied her before tonight.

Leaning over her, he lifts the large ball hanging around her neck and holds it to her full lips.

"You're going to need this, Bella," he tells her as she willingly opens her mouth to him with a little gasp of surprised pleasure. "Because I'm about to make you scream."

Her hips buck at that promise as he pushes it deep into her mouth. He unlocks the strap so he can tighten it, re-buckling it securely behind her head and once again locking it shut.

He doesn't waste time with preamble now that he has her right where he wants her. He simply drops to the ground and backs himself into position beneath her widespread legs, looking right up into her dripping slit. He immediately begins to drag his tongue along the crease of her left thigh where it meets her body, lapping up the slick wetness there.

Her cries of pleasure are muffled by the gag, only making his cock even harder. His fingers reach up and dig into her hips to hold her still, preventing her attempt to grind herself onto his face as he slowly cleans her inner thighs with his tongue, getting ever closer to where they both want him.

When she drips onto his face, he loses patience with secondhand. He wants a taste of that straight from the source.

Without any further delay, he spears his hard tongue straight into her tight, wet pussy.

Her hips tense in his firm hold as her first orgasm tears through her body without warning.

It won't be the last. Not even close.

He fucks her with his tongue as her body spasms around it. He can feel the grip of her walls trying to drag him deeper. His hands squeeze her perfect ass in a ruthless grip, allowing her only the slightest freedom to desperately thrust her hips.

He waits for the perfect moment, just as the intensity of her first climax is beginning to fade — and then he replaces his tongue with two long fingers, curling them up sharply inside her at exactly the right moment.

A muffled scream rips out of her throat at his aggressive manipulation of her G-spot, rolling that first orgasm seamlessly into a double. Her legs pull hard against the straps holding them apart, her body bucking against the strap at her back.

They hold firm. There is nothing she can do but stay right where she is and ride his fingers into oblivion, the intense pleasure driving her wild.

Despite the urgent desire throbbing between his own legs, Edward is utterly content. He would happily spend the rest of his eternity with his face between his Bella's thighs.

And he's going to spend an appreciable portion of it there right now.

-~-O-~-

-Bella-

After countless hours spent fantasizing about exactly this, having Edward's tongue deep inside her tightly bound body, the reality far surpasses every expectation she's ever had.

When he tied her arms, bent her forward over that table and strapped her waist down, his hard cock was nestled up against her ass through his pants and she knew she was about to come fast and hard. No matter what he did to her.

She was already expecting him to spread her legs and secure her ankles to the table legs. That came as no surprise. But when he looped those straps around her knees and secured those hard up against the table legs as well, giving her absolutely no recourse to bring her thighs together in the slightest, she nearly came right then.

The gag was nearly the end of her. The final piece of the puzzle to her complete submission to this unbelievable man who has taken her soul captive.

His tongue. His fingers. Working in conjunction, they bring her to two quick orgasms, no less powerful for their hastiness.

And she knows he's nowhere near finished.

She feels him shift beneath her, still sitting right between her legs, and she fidgets, not knowing what's coming next. She can't possibly look down to see, but she knows he's looking up right into her spread-open slit.

There's no time for embarrassment. When he suddenly drags the flat of his tongue right down the middle of her seam, from asshole all the way through her entrance and up to clit, she bucks hard.

She feels a finger between her folds and doesn't realize he's gathering her wetness, lubricating that digit, until she squeals into her gag when he slides it right up her ass. Then he uses it to help hold her right where he wants her while his tongue takes control of her body, working her over.

Up and down through her folds his tongue drags, as she squirms and writhes with what little mobility her hips have. He plants open-mouthed kisses all along her seam, sometimes french-kissing the top of her slit and swirling his tongue around her clit, sometimes plunging that tongue hard and fast into her entrance. He licks and sucks and nips, pulls her lips between his teeth, laves them with his tongue.

He brings her to the edge over and over again, slowing his movements and softening them to the lightest touch to prevent her falling over the cliff until he's ready to let her. His finger in her ass begins to retreat and advance, fucking her there too.

He fucks her with fingers and tongue, in both of her defenseless holes, until she's desperate for his cock. When she reaches her breaking point, it's because he has three fingers inside her, determinedly stretching her pussy to accommodate the girth of what is coming for her next; all while his lips are closed firmly around her clit, sucking in earnest.

She screams and pleads into her gag, begging him to fuck her. She doesn't think any clear words make it past the substantially sized ball in her mouth, but he must understand. Edward's body disappears from the floor between her legs, and he's soon standing behind her, his spread legs between hers. His now-naked cock begins rubbing up and down between her folds, coating himself in her wetness.

"This pussy is mine," he growls, and feeds the first thick inch into her, holding her hips still as her entrance is stretched wide by the girth of him. "It's always been mine. And I'm about to split it wide open."

He leans over her and a hand fists into her hair. She nearly explodes when he pulls her head back, just as far as the strap around her back allows, and slowly pushes his thick pole deeper and deeper into her body.

Her hands twist in their bonds at her back, desperately wanting to do something to control his entrance. But that is denied her.

She tries to push her ass back against him, draw him into her tight channel at her own pace, but he allows neither. The hand that doesn't have control of her hair shoots out to seize her bound wrists, pushing them higher up her back and holding her down hard against the table as he slowly fills her.

It feels so good she wants to weep as he bottoms out inside her, stretching her open to her fullest.

It feels even better when he slowly withdraws and then slams himself back into her.

Even the gag in her mouth does little to control her volume level as Edward begins to pound her from behind, pulling her backward by the hair while keeping her body pushed forward by her bound wrists against her back. She can feel every inch of him intimately, sliding in and out of her, as he pulls nearly all the way out of her with each deep thrust despite her attempts to hold him in.

Her longstanding wish to come all over Edward's hard, thrusting cock is fulfilled when he begins to pick up his pace, pounding her like a jackhammer. She doesn't even care if she's allowed to come or not, or what he might do to her if she does. She welcomes it, the thought of him punishing her with his cock. It shoots her right over the moon. Her tight walls clamp down around him, and she's lost.

Her insides try hard to grip onto him, hold him deep within her. He growls, letting go of her hair and arms to grip her hips for better leverage. He changes the angle of his stance to fuck her even deeper and faster, trying to hit her G-spot on each thrust — and succeeding.

She's just about to go limp when his fingers dig in tight and he explodes into her, bathing her insides with his cum and setting her off all over again.

He's still rock hard when he abruptly pulls out of her, and she whimpers in protest at that too-soon end to the scene — especially when she feels him snapping the bonds around her legs to free them. The strap across her back is next to go, leaving only her bound arms and the gag in her mouth.

She expects those to go next. So it's a surprise when Edward pulls her up and turns her to face him.

"I'm not done with you," he grits out — and then takes them both down to the floor, him seated with her kneeling straddled over his lap.

Her arms are still bound behind her, her cries still stifled by the gag as he now focuses his attention on her pushed-out breasts, right there in his face and completely accessible to his lips, teeth, and tongue. His hands span her waist, lifting her up and then carefully lowering her, impaling her once again onto the thick pole between his legs.

She has no leverage like this, her knees barely brushing the floor and her arms bound behind her. Edward is in complete control of her body once more. His mouth sucks at one nipple and then the other like a man possessed as he pumps his hips, lifting her up and pulling her down onto him over and over again.

At this angle, he brushes her over-sensitized clit with every thrust, and that's the end of her.

This final orgasm is the most devastating one of all. He wraps one arm around her waist to support her and control her movements, freeing up his other hand to reach between their bodies. Gently, he massages and rolls her clit between his fingers while his lips softly suck on her nipple, working her through her climax and doing everything he can to extend it.

She doesn't feel the lock or buckle of her gag being undone, doesn't even know it's happened until he pulls it out of her mouth and throws it to the side.

"Scream, Isabella," he grates. "One more. I want to hear you when you fall apart all over my dick."

His fingers press down demandingly against her clit, combining with his erotic words to send one final, powerful wave through her — and she screams his name at the top of her lungs, grinding down into his lap and taking him as deep as she can get him.

Her walls clamp down so hard he falls over the edge with her, filling her full of his load a second time as he throws his head back and bellows her name too, pushing deep inside her one last time.

It is Bella he yells when he comes apart. Not Isabella. It hardly matters to her. They are both his now.

Her head falls forward onto his shoulder, her body finally feeling completely sated, for the first time since she laid eyes on him.

The next thing she's consciously aware of, she's sitting on the edge of his bondage table, completely free of her bonds, with him standing naked between her dangling legs. He's cradling her face in his hands as he deeply and gently kisses her. Her hands rest on his shoulders.

She has no memory of how she got there. But she can feel the tingle of her shield, the strength in her body, and knows he's restored both.

There's an aching void inside her, right where his thick length filled her only moments before.

She misses him already. But she can taste herself on his lips and tongue, and that sets her to throbbing again.

He pulls back to look into her eyes, still gently holding her face between his palms.

"There is no going back once I do this," he tells her, searching her eyes. "You will retain your strength, but your shield will be mine permanently. You have to be sure. Are you?"

His promise comes flooding back. He's going to bind her powers permanently, take them upon himself — and use them to protect her.

She doesn't want her shield anymore; hasn't wanted it since she used it to crush an entire room full of living beings in coldblooded vengeance, unknowingly catapulting herself into a job that required the taking of even more sentient lives.

She doesn't trust herself with that kind of power. She's barely a year into this life, and she's already misused it.

Edward, she trusts. He has resisted an even more absolute power for centuries. She and her gift are both safe in his capable hands.

"Yes." Her answer is unequivocal.

He kisses her hard on the mouth, then moves his lips to her forehead.

"You are bound, Bella...forever." She feels his lips stretch into a smile against her forehead, followed by an adoring kiss. "And you are mine."

THE END.