Ken had tossed a leg over her, straddling her, and used his muscles to pull her legs tight together, securing her beneath him. Miranda felt the weight of his balls and cock on the V between her upper thighs. He obviously couldn't fuck her like this, but it shot overwhelming heat to her core, nonetheless. He leaned down to kiss her, much more gently than his commanding hold on her would suggest. He leaned back a bit, watching her, then took the back of his right hand and smacked her lightly on her right cheek, followed by his palm to her left, it was with enough force to move her face an inch or so in either direction, but the sting was soft, and he didn't really hurt her, it was more of a reminder of what he could do given his strength over hers.

Ken was having his own predicament. She might have been the one bound to the bed, but he was the one in trouble. He was at war with his alpha male seeking to control, and his fast spiral under the utter spell of this woman.

He moved down, now settling between her legs and latched his mouth onto one breast, as his hand fell to the other. She shifted upwards to grind herself against him, struggling for some release. He reached a large hand down, palming a stilling contact to her lower abdomen and pelvis. "No," he commanded. "Stop. Hold. Let it build. Allow the pressure. You want to relish in the tightness. Don't let it go too soon."

She settled, doing as he asked. But God, it was hard. She was going to explode.

He returned to her breasts, changing which had his mouth and which had his hand. She willed herself to remain still, her knees open, feet flat on the bed beneath him. She had to hand it to him, with the forced patience, her tension softened and her pleasure from his attention to her breasts only grew.

Finally, he shifted even lower. He licked his finger and was about to bring it to her already drenched sex, when the phone rang.

"Frack," she bit out, "get it, please."

He bent to kiss her lower lips. "Let the machine get it."

"No machine," she responded. "Basically, a guest room. I just stay here sometimes, too. It's probably my parents. They'll just keep calling."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"Nope. Just put the phone to my ear and stay quiet," she directed.

Ken groaned at the interruption but did as he was asked.

Her mom's voice greeted her warmly, "Hello, dearest. Dad and I are just checking in."

"Fine here, Mom. Flight ok?"

"No problems. Paris is as glorious as always."

"Lovely. So, Mom, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Could we talk more tomorrow?"

"Would this have anything to do with the older man that your brother's current girlfriend's mother saw you with at Baxter's last night?"

"Mom! You're halfway around the world! How do you find out these things?"

"Well, it's my business to know what or who my daughter's up to. Plus, I had to call her regarding a possible arrangement for shipping some place settings that she had seen the last time she was in Paris. She had given me the store info and asked me to see if they were still available since she knew we had a trip scheduled. So, who is he?"

Ken was looking at her with a bemused expression. Well, no time like the present for him to learn that her family was a bit, well, off kilter.

"Ken. He's a friend of Gary O'Neill's, and he's not that much older," she answered. Trying to lie was pointless. Her parents would find out one way or another anyway.

"Your father wants to talk to him."

"What? Mom, no."

Her mother continued speaking but her brain was too busy trying to process the insanity of the situation to keep listening. She looked up, somewhat panic stricken, at Ken, who was still leaning over her, holding the receiver to her ear. Giving up, she said, "My father wants to talk to you."

Ken nearly laughed out right. This was a first. He had only really heard Miranda's side of the conversation. The fact that he had the McCallister's daughter naked and tied up in bed under him, and said parents were on the phone wanting to speak with him, was well, nuts. He lifted the receiver from her and placed it against his own ear. "Hello? Mr. McCallister, Sir?" he began.

"Speaking," came an authoritative male voice. "How are you doing, son?"

"Just fine, Sir."

"Good. Now, young man, I know that Miranda will not do anything that she doesn't want to do."

"I know that, Sir."

"Good. I just want to remind you whose daughter you are currently with. Do I need to explain any further?"

"No, Sir. I've got it."

"Good. Now put my girl back on with her mother."

Ken took a deep breath, letting it out as he replaced the receiver to Miranda's ear. She spoke to her mother for about another minute about nothing apparently consequential, and they said their goodbyes. Ken hung up the phone. "What, the, fuck?" he asked, enunciating each word slowly, currently in some semblance of shock as to what had just transpired.

"Um," she began, "Well, that would be Mom and Dad," she replied as if that would answer everything.

He had slid partway off of her with one foot on the floor when he had hung up the phone. He was undeterred in his plan, even though he realized most men would be, he wasn't most men. His towel had slipped loose, and he hadn't bothered to replace it. He was about to resume where he had left off when he noticed the proximity of his dick to her mouth, especially as she had turned her head towards the edge of the bed with his movement. He stood up the rest of the way to move in front of her, and pushed his half hard penis to her lips. She opened willingly, sucking him in about halfway. She mouthed him, sucked and licked. Without much, he was swollen again. She backed her mouth off of him enough to speak. "Easy," she paused, then thinking better of the request, "please," she then pleaded. "I don't have my hands."

He wrapped his left hand into her hair, gathering it at the base of her neck, firmly. "You don't need them," he encouraged. "You just need to suck hard. You have control with your mouth." He directed her back to slide her mouth over his shaft, but didn't force. She tried what he had suggested, and the added pressure of her lips sucking his cock in a tight hold elicited a deep groan from his chest. "That's it," he added.

His left hand remaining wrapped around her hair, he reached his right down to her folds, sliding and curling his index finger inside. As she licked and sucked him down, he curled his finger up, hitting her clit with the base of his palm as he finger fucked her. She moaned, the reverberations of her throat on his cock only intensified his reaction. She started to shift her pelvis against his hand, in time with his movements. Within seconds, he felt her walls clamp down as her breaths came in short pants around his dick and she tumbled into her first orgasm. As she was still riding out her release, he felt himself quiver and spill into her mouth. She swallowed as she licked around him, not caring, sloppily sucking him down, already blissed out of her head. He slid his dick from her and bent to kiss her lips, licking and sucking anything she missed. He was so turned on, he didn't care that he tasted himself on her lips and tongue, it was, after all, his anyway.

He straightened back up, and returned to where he was headed when the phone call had weirdly interrupted them. "Now, where were we?" he asked rhetorically.

She moaned, eyes shut tight, head dropped against the pillow when he dropped his mouth to her lower lips. He licked, he sucked and kissed her clit, plunging a finger into her, bringing her to the precipice once more. A solid flick of his tongue onto her bundle of nerves and she exploded, crying out and pumping herself against his hand, walls clenching around his intruding finger once again. He withdrew and she let her legs fall open, flopped limp on the bed.

Suddenly having a thought, he sat up, stepping off the bed once more to the nightstand. Opening the bottom compartment, he shifted a box of tissues, a pad of paper, a couple of pens, and a novel out of the way, locating in the back, a wand style vibrator. Jackpot.

He turned it on, and Miranda's eyes snapped open at the sound. "Umm…" she started.

He looked at her, her expression nervous yet again, it was really quite endearing. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I plan on pulling as much from you as I can, with whatever resources I have at my disposal."

He turned the device back off, moved to kneel on the bed below her, placed a hand on one repositioned upright knee and dropped the head to her opening. Pushing it up slightly into her and against her clit, he turned the vibrator back on. Miranda let out a gasp and her body jumped.

For several minutes, he worked her, between the vibrator, his fingers, and his mouth; he brought her to orgasm again and again.

Then, feeling fully recovered, he set the vibrator down, scooted her up closer to the corner of the bed to have room to work, and flipped her over. He pushed her knees up so that her ass was in the air with her head down. He took the opportunity to smartly spank her firm behind as he alternated with fingering her again. She was a moaning, dripping mess. He moved to grab a condom from the box in the nightstand, quickly applying it, and finally slid himself into her abused folds. She all but hollered out with every punishing trust as he smacked himself into her from behind, fucking her hard to the end.

Finished, he moved from behind her, disposing of the condom. Miranda didn't budge. Her sex clenching and unclenching as she remained on her knees.

He bent to unfasten the belt. She rolled over. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. Finally recovered enough to sit up, she lifted her hands to him to untie her.

"No," he said. "Go use the facilities and clean up as best you can, but you are staying like that until morning. You are mine," he emphasized. "My prize. My prisoner if you will. My conquest and I want you to feel it. I want you to be reminded for the night in your sleep and when you stir awake."

Somehow his words only brought more heat and moisture to her than she would have thought possible. If she was being honest, she liked the thought of him leaving her secured. It made her feel, well, desired, cherished, something to be protected.

Once she left the room, Ken stood. He fished a travel bottle of mouthwash out of his luggage bag, rinsing his mouth out at the kitchen sink. He picked up the belt from where he had let it drop to the floor, rolling it around his palm and returning it to his bag.

Miranda had managed to pee, brush her teeth, and wash up a bit. She left the bath to return to him. When he had been thrusting into her from behind, she could feel his tip hitting her cervix. She could still feel her body shuddering beneath him. He fucked her like he was marking her, searing his touch into her soul.

Ken had lay down to wait for her. At her approach, he sat up, taking her arms. He wanted her to remain bound, but not be uncomfortable. He had tried to feed the belt through a loop of his tie so it wouldn't pull, but the way she had thrashed he figured she had at least pulled the binding somewhat tighter.

"I thought you weren't taking it off?" she asked.

"I'm not," he answered, as he undid one knot, loosened and repositioned, and resecured not one but two knots.

She was still stuck fast, but she could wiggle a little and the pressure on her wrists lessened.

He looked up at her. "Just because I don't want my fucktoy getting lost, doesn't mean I'm not going to take care of you."

Miranda only bristled slightly at the skewed term of endearment. Coming from him, she realized she was ok with it.

"Now lay down," he directed. He lifted the cover for her, and she scooted to lay down on her side facing towards the outer edge. Ken slid in behind her, nestling his spent dick into the crook of her ass and spooned her.

Miranda felt any tension instantly leave her, comforted in his embrace. They just fit together. Her eyes caught his tie still wrapping her wrists and she smiled. "Thank you for taking care of me," she said.

Ken reached up to kiss her temple, "Always."

They were both asleep in seconds.