Kink

  But not now. I won’t think about that now. In this moment, Paul belongs to me.

  Chapter 18.

  “If you wish your female sub to climax from a spanking, strike the lower half of her derrière, directly at the center. This oh-so agreeable sensation, will vibrate with excruciating ecstasy, directly through to her clitoris. Mon Dieu, j’adore to hear my subs scream with pleasure.”

  – André Chevalier

  ~~~

  Paul’s question echoes in my mind. Would I like him to fuck my ass? The wanton, needy slut in me surfaces and gasps out her reply, “God, yes. Fuck my ass. Fuck me anywhere. I need you deep inside me.”

  The room is quiet for a long moment. I hear rhythmic suck and pull noises, as Paul fucks my pussy with his fingers and my asshole with his thumb. His single-minded actions are audible, making soft and luscious, liquid sounds.

  I whimper and try to hold still. With one touch of my throbbing clit, I’m sure I’ll explode.

  “I can’t take your ass yet,” he finally says, with cool control. “You’re not ready. But soon. Fuck, you’re so damn tight. I wish you could see this. Your greedy little asshole sucks my thumb right in. It knows what it wants. It’s cock-hungry, just like all of your lovely, feminine holes.” He grunts that last word, in a husky, lust-filled voice.

  Paul’s an ass man, I realize. I’ll think about that later. Just now, in this overstimulated state of devastating arousal, anything sounds great.

  Will I feel different tomorrow, I mentally ask myself? Just now I think, who cares?

  Man, I’m so far gone. Tension builds and intensifies, creating a heavy sensual pressure low in my belly. Mindless hunger burns inside me. I’ve been reduced to abject begging, to animalistic pleas, moans and whimpers.

  “Fuck me,” I cry out in desperation. I feel so empty and needy inside. “Please. Please. I need you to fuck me.”

  “No,” he says. “But I do enjoy the sound of you begging.”

  I gasp, but somehow manage to swallow my cry of frustration. It wouldn’t help. He’s in charge. Of course that’s the appeal. That’s what’s so arousing. Him taking control. Him doing exactly what he wants.

  Paul using my body for his pleasure.

  Two fingers tease inside my core, drawing my wetness up and circling my clit. His thumb is in my asshole. He adds to these incredibly erotic sensations, by giving me more pain.

  Slap! Slap!

  Left cheek, right cheek, in alternating blows, he mercilessly continues to spank me. Shockwaves of need roll through my body. My molten core clenches and pulses. I sweat and cry and pant.

  Through it all, he praises me. He tells me how sexy and desirable I am, how hard I make him, and how much he wants to fuck me.

  I’m flying so high, but his deep voice – soothing and approving, is always there.

  It anchors me.

  Paul’s fingers trace my clit and labia, teasing and sometimes filling my needy entrance. His thumb remains inside of me, teasing my anal ring.

  Sensations overwhelm me. So much pleasure. So much pain. I love this – I hate this! While the rhythm of his blows remains even, the intensity increases. I lay across his lap, my head near his ankles. He has easy access to everything he wants.

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  My eyes close tight. I shake my head, in an attempt to clear my mind. Bad idea. Paul’s touch grounds me. If he wasn’t holding me down, I feel as if I’d fly away. My mind disconnects from my body. Even though my face is wet from tears, even though I thrash and buck, I’m back to that transcendental head space. What’s happening here?

  Shit, I’m hyperaware of everything: The scratchy feel of Paul’s blue jeans against my stomach and chest. His hard strong muscular thighs where I lay over them. My rapid pulse, and the elevated blood pressure in my head as it hangs toward the floor. His stiff cock, pressing against me. His fingers, alternating between rough and gentle, as they tease my sex. My wrists restrained by warm leather, tightly bound behind my back. The captivating sound of Paul’s ragged breathing, as he becomes more and more physical.

  I’m so worked up I’m afraid that I’ll explode when I have an orgasm. I’m also pretty sure that I’ll die if I don’t have one soon.

  He strikes me low on my buttocks. Jesus. A forceful rush of vibration pulses, spiking through my body. I feel it right through my pelvic area and into my womb.

  Fucking hell.

  I totally understand now, how a woman can climax from being spanked. This pounding punishment is not unlike the feel of a hard, rough fuck. Somehow pain seamlessly intertwines with pleasure.

  With merciless determination, he probes and fingers my folds and my clit. His thumb works in and out of my rear entry. Paul croons and praises between each succession of blows, his hand tenderly circling and comforting while I catch my breath.

  How can this man who so cruelly spanks me, also be so damn sweet? So gentle and caring?

  Yet when he starts up again, all softness is gone. His palm is hard as wood; and his probing fingers are unremitting, unrelenting, rough and ruthless. His focus and concentration are intense. I know that he’s enjoying himself immensely. Somehow that knowledge sees me through the pain.

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Only one here, but it’s going to hurt,” he growls a warning.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, until he slaps me hard, right between my legs. “Ow!” I scream. This is too much.

  This must be the real definition of pussy whipped, I think dazedly. Except Paul didn’t use a whip. Yet that one slap causes excruciating pleasure, and bliss-filled agony.

  It’s crazy, but I want him to hit me there again.

  Slap! Slap!

  I whimper, I groan, I call out. Noise from me is constant now. I feel as though I’m experiencing a fever. Just like a human body increases a person’s temperature, and causes discomfort in order to restore a person to health; he uses pain, to torment me into sensual nirvana.

  My swollen, abused clit throbs with tingling energy, heat and sensation. Shit. It’s official. Pain makes pleasure much more intense. But it isn’t only pain. Somehow this spanking highlights his power over me. I feel claimed.

  At this moment, I am his whole world.

  Paul’s focusing everything he has on me. Somehow his actions, his devotion to my pain and pleasure, makes me feel safe, cherished, loved and cared for. How fucked up is that? I want this. I need this. It’s perverse, but too bad. It’s connecting us at a deeper level. A level I crave.

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  This feels too damned good! I’m going to climax. My molten core tightens. Is it because this punishment I’m taking feels like a hard, fast, fuck? That thought causes my inner core to pulse. I want Paul to fuck me right now.

  A continuous cascade of pleasure rolls through me. After that rough and thorough brushing, every inch of my skin is alive. My pussy is on fire. The coil of tension grows and builds inside of me. My limbs shake. I can’t control them.

  I can’t control anything, not my body, not my mind.

  Breathless, mindless, I’m at the mercy of my own body’s sensations and responses and, of course, the man who masters me so completely.

  My core clenches in a pre-orgasmic pulse.

  I bathe his hand and feel a rush of warm liquid on my thighs. Paul’s body tenses. He reacts with an awed curse, murmured under his breath. I’ve affected him. This makes my heart soar.

  “That’s right,” he says a husky voice of dark seduction. “Christ, you’re such a good girl.”

  His loving praise is an overwhelming counterpoint to the savage strikes from his hand. His thumb twists deep in my backside, his fingers circle and play with my clit and all the while, his hand is rhythmically slapping, slapping, slapping.

  “Please,” I gasp. “Fuck me… fuck me… fuck me!”

  “I love how much you need me,” he growls. “Tell me exactly what you want. Details, Em. Give me details.” He pauses what he’s doing, and waits for me to answ
er.

  “Jesus,” I gasp. “You’re killing me. I can’t take anymore. Stop teasing me. I want your cock inside. I don’t care where. Anywhere. Everywhere. I need your cum. I want it in my mouth, in my cunt, on my face… Give it to me. Please, I’m begging you. Pleeeaase!”

  He laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “You, rabbit?” he teases in a tone of unholy appreciation. “Saying that naughty word: cunt?” There’s pride in his voice. It thrills me. “You delicious little slut,” he murmurs with indulgent good humor. “I think it’s time for a reward. You’re going to come for me, Em,” he says. “Come. Now.”

  The forceful edge to this command brings me to a devastating peak. Suddenly, he draws his hand away and just like that, his fingers are gone from inside me. I whimper in protest. I’m a total wreck. I hurt, I shake, I cry and my whole body burns and throbs with lust and need.

  Slap!

  He strikes low on my buttocks, one resounding strike.

  Tingling vibrations shoot right through me, stimulating my empty core. Sensation slams into my swollen, aching clitoris with the force of a jackhammer. I moan loudly, shiver and convulse, helpless with indescribable pleasure.

  I’m on the very edge of ecstasy.

  “Give it up,” he demands. “I want to watch you come. Let it go. Do it. Do it now,” The authoritative bite in his tone almost pushes me over the edge, but not quite. His thumb penetrates me, impaling my anus. His fingers push deep into my pussy. I give a strangled cry. Every muscle I have curls tightly, straining for release.

  “Come for me.” His beautiful voice is a sensual caress, filling my senses and raising goose bumps on my flesh. The sound of him rolls over me, as palpable as his hands. It’s vital that I obey. When his fingers capture and gently pinch my aching clit, that’s all it takes.

  I explode.

  A tidal wave of orgasmic bliss rips through me. Every tight muscle I have lets go. Screaming, I buck and shake as if electrocuted.

  The human body isn’t made to endure such pleasure. Whatever synapses I have, all alive and firing at once, utterly short circuit.

  The last thing that I remember is sobbing Paul’s name.

  Chapter 19.

  “We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation.”

  – Lily Tomlin

  ~~~

  PAUL

  In awe, I stare down at my utterly sated sub. Draped across my lap, Emily’s body looks boneless. In mental and physical overload, the woman passed out. Wow. I’m impressed. That doesn’t happen too often.

  I feel arrogant, self-satisfied and rather smug.

  Physically I’m so damn high. I love the heat generated by spanking a woman; that raw ache that burns right through my hand. Holding Emily down and beating her beautiful ass buzzes the hell out of me. My sadistic drug. I can’t get enough.

  Fuck. The way she squirmed and struggled to obey me, while she valiantly took what I gave her? Well. My dick’s never been so hard. Not to mention her delicious screams of tortured pleasure. Mmmm.

  Sweaty, languid, but satisfied, I feel as if I’ve just spent two hours in a gym with a personal trainer. Right now I have the same sense of well-being that I get after a really good workout. Only this high is stronger and way more intense.

  I shift Emily over, on to the bed and remove my leather belt from her wrists. Too bad she’s out of it. I usually like to leave restraints on for a while after a scene. It’s sexy and it emphasizes the sub’s place. But Em’s new to this and that was a huge scene for her. I would have stopped sooner, but she seemed up for it.

  My lips curl with satisfaction. I think Emily is already beginning to know her place.

  I cuddle up against her, wrapping her in my warm embrace, until she rouses to some degree, in a couple of minutes. I help her get ready for bed, but there’s not much to do in the way of aftercare. No talking, no tears, no intimate confessions.

  The woman is gone, man. She isn’t hungry, but I get her to drink a glass of milk. I provide a straw because her hands shake.

  Em yawns and her eyes keep drifting shut. She went through a lot of adrenaline tonight. Not to mention the oxytocin, dopamine and endorphins that flooded her system.

  I kiss her goodnight, wrap myself around her and keep her warm. Unaware if she’s able to even hear me, I continue to comfort, praise and cuddle with her. My beautiful little rabbit falls asleep in my arms.

  I watch her for some time, simply stroking her forehead, cheeks and neck or running my hands though her hair. Relaxed, with a faint smile; she’s so pure and perfect in sleep. I’ll never tire of just looking at her. I’m entranced with her face, her skin and the soft curvy body that hides the kind, courageous powerhouse within.

  I’ll never be good enough for her.

  There’s a saying about respecting the woman, but adoring the inner slut. Tonight, Em channeled her inner slut like mad, bless her sweet, submissive heart.

  I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I wouldn’t trade my life with anyone.

  Thanks to Emily, I’ve found my bliss, my heaven on earth. I’ve never felt anything close to this before. I never knew it existed. So many poor bastards out there will never experience this joy.

  I must’ve done something right in a past life. I don’t imagine that I’ve earned such incredible happiness in this one.

  All in all, it’s been a great night. I achieved a number of objectives. My girl learned that she enjoys anal play and she discovered the fascinating and hypnotic ecstasy of pain. She also begged for, but wasn’t allowed to touch my cock. Nor did she have the pleasure of being fucked.

  She’ll be even more desperate for my cock next time.

  I’ll only fuck her when she begs, when she’s really hungry for it. Emily needs to learn that having my dick is an extra special reward. I want her to consider it a privilege when I fuck her, when I take her in her mouth, her cunt, or I fuck her tits or her ass.

  I’m training her that my cock and especially my orgasms, are the ultimate reward for her. That’s why I’m keeping a tighter rein on them. If she gets those honors every time we’re together, the value will decrease.

  This crazy idea of withholding my own orgasm is called delayed gratification. Putting off immediate pleasure, in order to achieve a greater goal later. Damned if I’ll keep this up much longer. I snicker then, because I’ve been ‘up’ all night long.

  There’s nothing more beautiful than the desperate sound of a woman begging. Begging for pleasure, begging for cock, or begging for mercy. That kind of power has always filled a hungry void deep within me.

  I’m focused and in the zone when dominating a submissive. I feel worthy, rather than worthless. Loved rather than rejected. Whole rather than empty. I’m in control as a Dom and I’m good at it.

  My father was a demanding man. I was a high achieving student at school and excellent at sports, yet as a child, I grew up never feeling good enough to meet his exacting standards. Isn’t it funny how those childhood ideas seem to stick?

  I think Em’s asleep, but suddenly her eyelids flutter and then open.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” I ask. It’s the first time that I’ve ever called anyone ‘sweetheart.’ How pathetic. The woman’s turning me into a marshmallow. True, I’m a sexually deviant, domineering marshmallow, but still soft.

  Hmm. Well actually, a marshmallow in some ways. I smirk, aware of how stiff my cock still is and has been all night long.

  I only want Emily, there’s no one else for me. The strangest part is that except for feeling so vulnerable and worried about losing her somehow, I kind of like it. I enjoy the over-the-top nurturing, loving and caring side of myself that she brings out. I’d no idea that it existed.

  Imagine that. Me, Paul Jarman, the man who keeps everyone at a distance. I used to flick through women like I used the TV remote; never settling on the same channel for more than a couple of minutes.

  I guess truth can be stranger than fiction.

 
Her instant smile makes my chest tighten. “I’m a little sore, but blissed out. Thank you,” she murmurs softly.

  Her smile broadens into a grin while we both remember recent explosive sex. That was when I began teaching her to thank me for orgasms and for having the honor of my cock.

  “I came, but what about you?” she asks. Her eyes open wider and she shifts. Her hand reaches down toward my dick.

  “No,” I say, putting her hand back beside her head. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You’re tired.”

  “But…”

  “Shush,” I say firmly. “I’m good.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m great. Sleep now, rabbit. It’s been a big day.” I pull her close and whisper in her ear. “I’m incredibly proud of you.”

  These words seems to do the trick. Emily smiles, murmurs something unintelligible, shuts her eyes, and falls instantly to sleep again. I bet that she only woke up because she knew that I hadn’t had my own release.

  My sweet, selfless sub. I adore her.

  And what do you know? I’m being selfless too, right now. My girl’s innate kindness and desire to please is rubbing off on me.

  I smirk. “Rubbing off.” Of course my mind hits the gutter with that thought. Too bad there’s no male nearby to laugh with, in order to fully appreciate that joke. I settle for my own smile and say a silent ‘good one,’ as I mentally pat myself on the back.

  I’m thinking of Emily before any thought of myself and it feels good. She’s not up for more sex.

  I really have to work on the romance thing. I’m going to get her to marry me. Why wait? Maybe Google has some ideas on how to propose. I might even talk to her mom, or maybe even André. Either way, I’ll keep at it until she gives in.

  Em and I were made for each other.

  I’ll feel better once we’re married. More secure. She’ll never leave me then. Lots of people divorce, but Emily would never do that. I worry that maybe one day she’ll wake up and realize that she’s too good for me.

  To outsiders I seem like a nice guy. I can be charming, but I hide my true self. I’ve spent my life disconnected, not getting too close to anyone, really. I’ve had some friends over the years, like Jai, or Emily’s brother, Reese. But even with them, I don’t share myself at a deeper level. It’s more like camaraderie.