Emily knows me better than anyone in the whole world.
I’ve always been an asshole with women. Every single time I laid my cards on the table, telling them right from the start that I’d have no intention to commit. It never made any difference. Women just get wrapped up in me and somehow. Then I end up breaking their hearts.
I fucking hate that. I always did. But never enough to change.
I love making a woman scream from pain-enhanced release, but I’m not into deliberately fucking anyone up emotionally. Yet, no matter what I’ve said or done to prevent it, I’ve inadvertently hurt so many women who thought that they loved me.
They didn’t even know me. How could they love me? I’d never permitted anyone to get that close. Besides, I don’t even think that I really knew myself.
I’ve spent a lifetime guarding and protecting myself. I’ve never really allowed myself to love anyone. I’m not exactly sure how it happened that I became so detached, so serious and emotionless.
There’s an emptiness inside me that I filled with casual sex.
My life improved dramatically when I discovered BDSM at a fetish club. I realized the depth of my need for domination and control. Unfortunately I used kink as an outlet, until it became an addiction. What I really needed was the love of the right woman.
Em’s always been able to make me laugh. I’m teaching her kink but she’s teaching me love.
I only hope that I can be what she needs, too.
She’s been the only one who’s ever known the real me. She knew me when I was still a kid, before all of my protective walls were erected. Emily has seen parts of me that nobody else has seen.
The stubborn woman has loved me for years. I have no clue why a kind, strong, intelligent woman like her would fall for a bastard like me. But I thank my lucky stars that she has. I want to be worthy of her love.
Love is the ultimate for creating feelings of insecurity and vulnerability. It’s the definitive risk. Love brings out a person’s strengths, while simultaneously uncovering every weakness. I worry about Emily leaving me. I’m concerned about her safety. I want to buy her a better car, and protect her from everything.
As far as I can tell, love is the most perfect joy that any human being can experience. It’s a gift, but it’s also a curse.
Sex is so much easier than love, but also less rewarding.
Eventually, I end up jerking myself off.
Again.
Ah, masturbation, it’s the most effective sleeping pill in the world. Actual sex is better than flying solo, of course. But my girl is exhausted and I’m still denying her my cock.
Stupid me. Tonight was a very satisfying scene. I expect that both of us will sleep right through the night.
As it turns out, I’m wrong about that.
Chapter 20.
“Why whips? Why restraints? For me, it’s all about needing control.”
– Paul Jarman
~~~
In my mind, I’m having a dream. A very erotic, sexy, dream.
It begins with Emily running her hands down my chest, across my abdomen, hips and legs. Her fingernails tease my inner thighs and then she softly fondles my balls. I’m achingly erect. I want her to hold my cock and stroke me with those soft, petite hands of hers.
The weird thing in my dream is that I don’t remember allowing her to touch me. Just as her fingers wrap around my throbbing shaft I wake up and turn on the bedside light.
“Emily,” I snap out as I sit up and firmly grab her wrists. “What are you doing?”
I can see surprise in her expression, but then she smiles. “You made me come. I want to return the favor.”
“That’s very nice of you, my love, but I didn’t give you permission to touch me, did I?”
It astonishes me, how completely I can read her expressions. The softening of her features and slight up-tilt of her lips when I called her ‘my love.’ Followed by an angry flash in her eyes when I remind her of my ‘no-touch’ rule.
“Bullshit, Paul,” she snaps. “I call bullshit on that rule. Kinky lifestyle or not, I’m not going to spend our time together, always asking for permission to touch you.”
She tries to pull her wrists from my grip, but I calmly hold on. Firm-lipped she stops struggling, aware of how much stronger I am and perhaps how stubborn I can be, too.
Her eyes well up. My little rabbit looks like she’s going to cry. She can go through an entire box of tissues during a feel-good movie and she cries at sad, or poignant books. But if you really want to see her cry, just get her mad.
These are angry tears right now. Calling attention to them will just piss her off even more, so I ignore them.
“You only need permission to touch me during sex,” I explain coolly. “This,” I nod toward my erection. “Is sex. I like to be in control, remember?” I lean toward her and while I intentionally soften my voice, I still put a no-compromise authoritative bite to it. “I need control.”
As expected, her brows draw down as her expression changes from anger, to pensive consideration. Right from the start, we discussed this issue. It’s a deal-breaker for me. In bed I have to be in charge and she knows it. Thankfully, that makes our chemistry perfect.
The idea of being dominated and under my sexual control excites Emily.
The rigid tension in her body eases. As a reward, I pull her closer and tell her that she’s permitted to touch me as much as she likes right now. But nothing below the waist, I caution her. With a sniff and a grin, she throws her arms around me, running her hands through my hair and around my neck.
Our mouths meet with a strange mixture of starving need and the comfort of familiarity. Like a match thrown to gasoline, our passion explodes. We ravage each other with teeth, tongues and lips, while our hands roam. My cock presses against her bare stomach. Emily threads her arm between us and touches it with her soft fingers.
I pull back from her. “Nah-uh. What did I say about below the waist?”
She looks at me and raises her eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent. “I followed directions.” She smirks. “The part I touched is above your waist.”
We both look down at my straining erection, jutting up past my belly button and burst out laughing. God, I love her so much.
I catch her wrists again and kiss each small hand. There’s a naughty glint in her eyes. Em looks exactly like I feel: incredibly happy. It’s a little break in our steamy interlude. A moment to regroup.
“Do you want to talk about last night? You fell asleep pretty fast.”
She shrugs. “We can talk anytime.”
“What do you want? Tell me.”
She bites her lower lip while she thinks about that for a bit. As if suddenly aware of the answer, her face lights up and she says, “I want what you want.”
Her response knocks the breath out of me for a moment, I’m so stunned. “Oh, Em,” I whisper in a hoarse voice. “You’re far too good for me.” We kiss once more. I remove the blankets and tell her to lay back on the bed, which she does immediately.
I rummage around in my closet and come out with a terry cloth bathrobe tie. I show it to her and she grins. Other than last night with my belt, or my hands, I’ve never really restrained her.
I get to work and bind both of her wrists together. I yank her wrists over her head and tie them to the headboard of my bed.
Emily’s eyes widen with surprise. Seeing her bound fires my blood. Thoughts of my total power over her make me clench my jaw until my teeth hurt. I’m already rigidly erect.
When I’m done binding and admiring my handiwork, I sit astride her waist and kiss her forehead. “How does that feel?”
She smirks. “Fine.”
“Try to get away.”
She immediately struggles, pulls and tries to buck me off. I have to give it to her, for a little person, she’s surprisingly strong. I pay attention to stay on top of her. She works up a sweat. Flushed and out of breath, we both end up laughing.
“Goo
d girl. That was a ten out of ten escape attempt.”
I check her wrists. The knots haven’t moved and her skin is barely marked. I don’t have to worry about cutting off her circulation or Emily injuring herself. I cup her breasts with my hands and rub my thumbs over her nipples.
“You’re trapped now, aren’t you?” I say, exaggerating a dark voice, playing the wicked captor. She licks her lips, a combination of anticipation and arousal. “You’re at my mercy. I can do anything I want to you.”
I lean forward and whisper across her ear. “I can take you exactly when and how I want. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
Her breath hitches. My plans don’t seem to worry her in the least… but they will.
I crawl off of her and kneel on the bed beside her. “Right now, I want you to be quiet and still. I’m going to play with you.”
A cheeky smile tugs at her lips, but respect creeps back into her tone. “Yes, Paul.”
Em watches me, as I drink her body in. With the light on I can see her so clearly. She’s so delectable and she’s all mine. I begin at the top of her head, running my hands through her hair, stroking her forehead, kissing her eyelids her cheeks, jaw and neck. Her skin is cool against my own.
When I nuzzle in the erogenous sweet spot behind her ear, she rewards me with an Mmmmm, of pleasure. I caress her familiar contours, cradle her face and press my lips against hers.
Already, I’m burning with lust.
But there’s no hurry. My kiss is measured, wet, demanding and controlled. Emily opens her mouth wide and surges toward me, silently begging for more. With just this kiss, I feel her become pliant, mindless and completely absorbed. Yet when I hear a groan, I’m not sure if it’s her or myself making that tortured sound.
My right hand drifts down the column of her neck, my fingers caress the hollow at the base of her throat. That helpless, vulnerable neck of hers tempts me. For just a moment, I circle the upper part of her throat, hold and squeeze lightly.
I hear her surprised gasp; it’s a soft, accepting sound. Mesmerized, she remains still. I don’t think she’d struggle if I tighten my grip and take her air away. Damned if I know why breath play turns me on so much. But it does.
Judging by her response, it does it for her, too.
When I pull back and look at her, she shivers with desire. My gaze courses over her body, from head to toe and back again. Her blue eyes dilate, raw with hunger. I study her breasts.
God, there’s nothing like a woman's breasts. They’re an exquisite playground for a man. I must not focus solely on the nipples either, I remind myself. Not to the exclusion of everything else. Just because they look like targets, doesn't mean I have to hit the bull’s-eye every time.
Emily’s had breast augmentation surgery. Her tits look great, it’s almost impossible to tell. There’s only a tiny scar on each of her underarms. The implants don’t touch her actual breast tissue at all, they rest behind her pectoral muscles. She still has full nipple and skin sensitivity.
I read up on all of this the moment that she told me about them and was glad to discover how tough her implants are. Emily would have to be hit with a force that would break bones before they’d rupture.
I start with my hands on her breasts. Soft strokes, feather light, then pinches, flicks and light slaps. Emily sighs and whimpers and moans deliciously.
“Do you like this?” I ask from time to time. “Or this?”
“God, yes. That feels good.”
My fingernails scratch light red trails across her pale flesh. I enjoy feeling the pressure of my fingertips on the underside and in my palms, weighing them and squeezing.
Firm-lipped with lust, I watch her every reaction intently, gauging how best to take her higher. I want her desperate and begging for more.
I love the feel of an aroused areola, not the tip of the nipple, but the pebbles of dark and tender skin surrounding it. Areolas are sensitive, responsive and so ready for my tongue, or my teeth. Em’s are beautiful. They fascinate me.
Yet, just like the center of a bulls-eye, I’m drawn most to the nub of the nipple itself. Lying flat and dormant, a woman’s nipples wait to be roused. Like magic, they pop up when she’s turned on. Her nipples are stiff and aroused, begging for my hand, or mouth. Taut with excitement, they flush with color.
Best of all, nipples are so tender that any contact with clothing can feel like sandpaper, yet so resilient that they can stand up to pinching, pulling, biting, clamping and even piercing. They’re responsive to the slightest flick of a fingernail.
I smile. Her nipples are going to feel my teeth. I lower my head to her breasts.
Emily’s breath catches. This is what she’s been waiting for, my warm, wet mouth. Taking my time, I softly bite, suck and lick.
As I stimulate her using hands, mouth and teeth, I increase force and intensity until my attentions take her to a painful edge. The fact that I’m inflicting pain on my innocent rabbit, thrills me more than I can say.
A soft, feminine whimper escapes her lips as she writhes and shifts restlessly.
One engorged nipple pops out of my mouth, as I move to the other breast. With greedy lust, I fasten my teeth on her flesh. For me, biting is a primal, animal urge. It’s so damn hot. I bite her, deliberately hurting her.
She whimpers. It’s a bewitching sound of tortured pleasure. She makes me so fucking desperate to to fuck her. Emily tests my control.
I palm her breasts and fondle each stiff upright nipple. I pinch them between thumb and forefinger, once more pushing her limits. Seeing how much she can take.
She gasps from an exquisite rush of pain, then rewards me with a sexy low groan.
I continue to play with her gorgeous tits. Enlarged and swollen, her skin is taut with need. There are so many terrible and wonderful things I want to use on her. Nipple clamps, clothespins, electricity, weights. Lucky for Em, right now she has no idea.
“Who do these breasts belong to?” I ask, now able to fiercely pull and tug on her hard buds.
She bows with pleasure. “You, Paul.”
“Damn right. And just what do you think I should do with these gorgeous tits?”
Despite her growing arousal, my question catches her attention. She blinks, focuses and then slants me a mischievous look. A giggle erupts from her mouth and she says, “Whatever you want.”
My heart does a somersault. “Excellent answer,” I say, grinning back at her, reveling in her playful humor. This is part of the reason that I love her so much. Sex has always been a lustful, serious, dominant business.
It’s still a lustful, serious, dominant business, but Emily has added something totally new to sex. She’s lightened my naturally dark nature. She’s added fun.
“Well, then,” I say. “I think I’ll fuck them.”
Chapter 21.
“Don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time.”
– Unknown
~~~
Licking and laving, I thoroughly wet Emily’s right breast. With my left hand holding her in position, I fist my cock and begin to fuck her soft tit. Christ on a cracker, it feels so damn good. I particularly work on that erect nipple, fucking it hard.
The texture of her silky skin is so smooth, so soft.
I stare at her for a moment as she lays bound here before me, helpless, open and exposed. She is grab-your-balls, scorching hot. I burn with uncontrollable, proprietary hunger. I have to have her. I want to take her in every way possible.
Emily is mine.
I’ve never wanted anyone like I want my beautiful rabbit.
There’s something so sexy about beating off on a woman’s beautiful breasts. It’s sacred and profane. The spirit of innocence against the essence of sin of lust.
Em likes it, too. Is it the effect of pounding stimulation on her nipple? Or just the thought of me getting off? Maybe it’s the visual?
Emily licks her lips as if hoping I’ll feed her my cock. Her wide eyes dilate, while she watches me work my sh
aft on her flesh. I’m positive that she’s enjoying this. That’s certainly a large part of my pleasure. Her breast isn’t a needy feminine hole, but it is a highly sensitive erogenous zone.
I press myself into her. The sensation of surging along her breast and pressing against her sensitive nipple, sends a tingle of pleasure through my lower back and balls. As I increase the pace, thrusting harder, Emily begins to moan.
“Do you like me fucking your tit?” I say, my voice deep and husky.
“Hell, yes.”
“You don’t care where I fuck you, do you? You just want my cock.”
“Yes, Paul,” she rasps hoarsely, restlessly shifting as she absorbs this pleasure. “I do. I want you inside of me, but what you’re doing right now feels incredible.”
Her soft skin needs more moisture. “Open your mouth,” I direct her. I bend toward her and put my cock in-between her greedy lips. “That’s right. Make me wet.” With eager enthusiasm, she bobs her head, trying to swallow me. Her mouth works like a vacuum cleaner.
“No, you don’t get to suck,” I growl, pulling back. “You need to learn to follow orders. Just make me wet. Make me as wet as I bet that tight little cunt of yours is right now.”
Emily drowns my cock in saliva and I return to her breast, working her over once more. Captivated, her eyes watch me fuck her tit. She’s enchanted by what she sees. My shaft has grown enormous, thick veins stand out.
Fuck, this feels good. I’m so ready to come. “Has anyone ever done this to you before?”
Her eyes never leave my cock. “No. Never,” she says breathlessly.
I chuckle. “Well, then. I’d better not neglect your other breast.” I make her open her mouth and wet my cock again. Then I straddle her once more. I lower my head to her generous boobs, licking and wetting them. With a breast in each hand, I push them together around my dick.