Kink

  I snicker before I can stop myself.

  “Emily, what’s funny?” he snaps, yanking my head back by the hair. Hard or soft, every time he touches me it feels divine.

  “I’m sorry, Master. It’s just that you hurt me and then you make sure that I’m okay. You’re so caring. There was just something funny about that.”

  During a scene, my Master wants to know what I’m thinking. He never punishes me for being honest about anything that’s going on in my head. However, I did snicker and that wasn’t very respectful. I idly wonder how he’ll punish me for it.

  I hear his boots thud across the floor as he skims his hand down my back and to my bottom.

  “You’re mine, slave. Don’t forget it,” he says sternly while squeezing my buttocks. “My possession to do with as I wish.”

  “Yes, Master,” I say as a shudder of pure pleasure runs through me.

  “It pleases me to take care of my property, particularly my most valued possession.”

  “Oh, thank you, Master.” He doesn’t say it, but it’s implied how much Paul treasures me. A surge of love towards him fills my heart.

  My eyes sting.

  More tears.

  Both of his hands grip my thighs. I suddenly feel his tongue flick between my legs. My senses reel as a tug of molten desire jerks low in my belly. Once more I’m screaming, yet this is an aching cry of wanton need.

  The rapture and bliss from his touch is impossible to contain. His breath is upon me, blowing tendrils of seductive pleasure across my heated flesh. My clit is swollen and hyper-sensitive from taking so much punishment.

  I feel every molecule of that warm air tantalizing my most sensitive areas.

  He fucks me with his fingers. Soft and rough, then gentle once more, his fingers push in and out of me. My pussy contracts, squeezing him. I bite my lip and successfully distract myself so I don’t climax.

  Love, sex and pain.

  Sex, pain and love.

  Paul blurs these lines, joining them together until they intertwine and connect into bonfires of emotion and erotic sensations.

  I buck shamelessly against my cuffs. “Please, Master. Oh, please may I come?”

  “No.”

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  My already thoroughly thrashed bottom gets punished once more, and this time it hurts. I wail.

  He stops to run the flogger over my sensitive skin, teasing and provoking me. I groan and writhe with joy from this tactile reversal. I hear him harshly breathing. He’s been working hard.

  My Master labors with love, passion and angst. I envision how swollen and rigid his cock must be, aching to come. We both need release. This scene has taken so much energy from each of us, yet it’s given so much pleasure as well.

  “You like this, don’t you?” he asks huskily.

  “Yes. Oh, yes, Master.” With the blindfold on I appreciate every sound, but I adore his deep, sexy voice most of all. Primal male need and sensuality oozes from him. I feel his energy and hunger seep into my soul.

  His fingers trace under and over my breasts, circling. Mmmm it feels like heaven. Paul gently pulls my nipple clamps. My pussy spasms and I gasp.

  “You’ve been such a good girl,” he whispers lovingly. “As a reward, I’m going to fuck you, Emily. Slowly, so slowly, building, building until I hammer into you so hard and fast that you’re going to have bruises. Would you like that?”

  “Yes! Yes, Master.” I can barely speak.

  God, I love the things he says. The thought of him pushing himself deep inside of my body tests my control. I concentrate, breathing slowly and evenly.

  “You won’t have this blindfold on when I fuck you.” He tugs at it slightly, but leaves it on. I feel the moisture in it from my tears. “I’ll want to see your eyes when I take you.”

  He presses against me from behind, his chest to my back, his legs flush up against mine. And, oh! He’s naked! Praise the Lord. That fully aroused shaft of his pushes hard and hot against my buttocks.

  Yes. Finally.

  His lips are near my ear, warming the darkness. His hot, delicious breath whispers over me as he speaks. “I’m going to be on top of you as I fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you until you can’t take anymore. And when you come, you’re going to scream so loud, and so hard, that you’re going to lose your voice. I’m going to make you scream, Emily, until you’ve screamed so much that you can’t scream anymore.”

  Jesus.

  I swallow hard, lost in his deep hypnotic voice. The words he uses excite me further. Pure white-hot lust overwhelms, staggers and consumes me. My Master is a force of nature. In the realm of erogenous sensation, Paul’s cast a spell on me.

  He reduces my world to this one moment.

  I’m powerless to his every desire. There’s nothing in this kingdom except the awareness of my Master. I belong to him and him alone.

  God, I love him so much.

  His hand grips my nape in a casual, proprietary gesture. When his palm shifts and curls around my throat, I moan. Shit, I love his hand there. He squeezes my neck just lightly.

  “And when I fuck you, I’m going to do this.” He curls his fingers tighter, harder against my throat. “And all of that time, I’m going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you. And when I cut off your air and you feel like you’re dying, then I’m going to command you to come. I’ll look into your eyes then and I’ll see you, Emily. I’ll see how completely I’ve mastered you. I’ll see into your soul as I take your air and watch you come for me.”

  Holy shit!

  My entire body clenches, I’m about to explode. If my Master commanded it, I’d climax instantly.

  It strikes me then that while he fantasizes about strangling me, maybe I’ll get off on being strangled. Being that vulnerable so that he controls even my breath. Would I be willing to give him everything, even my life?

  What the hell?

  Maybe kink is contagious. If so I’ve caught it from Paul.

  Chapter 40.

  “Pain must only be used as a means to ultimately add to your sub's sensation of pleasure.”

  – André Chevalier

  ~~~

  My Master takes me down from the cross.

  I collapse in his arms with relief. I feel as though I’ve been bound here for days. I’m not sure that my legs can support me, but I don’t worry for even an instant. My Master knows how weak I am. He’ll take care of me.

  My Master exudes awe, gratitude and appreciation. His love surrounds me. The way he embraces and holds me with such care and affection is a primitive joy all its own. Paul, the man I love carries me, not the angry Beast.

  His touch can soothe or calm, or makes my skin tingle and flush, overpowering me with carnal urges.

  It’s up to my Master what he wants me to feel.

  Unless I use my safeword, it’s my role to take whatever he dishes out. Lucky for me that ‘taking it’ from my Master is my favorite thing.

  What I’d like him to do right now is to fuck me. A rush of hopeful expectation spikes my pulse. The heat of need and desire pools somewhere low inside. Please, God, I need to come. Usually Paul grants me frequent and regular sexual release, way more than he has himself.

  Last week he gave me so many forced orgasms that I lost count and literally passed out. Today he hasn’t let me climax once, not even during morning shower sex.

  I feel like a crazy person. I’m beyond aroused, desperate and mindless with need. I’ve been brought to the brink again and again so many times, for so long, while denied release.

  Thankfully this is very rare. Paul typically makes me come again and again. He loves that power he has over me, to make me come apart with pleasure anytime he wants. It demonstrates his ownership and control. It’s all very macho caveman, but this is who he is.

  What shocks the hell out of me is that, I’m a cave girl and a submissive. That is who I am.

  He lays me down on the bed. Finally, he takes the blindfold off and looks into
my eyes. For a long moment I drink in the sight of him. He’s like fresh water when I’m dying of thirst.

  The man’s whole body is tense, burning with energy. Raw hunger radiates from him. The expression on his face is savage and implacable. He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes, looking at me as though I’m a target.

  He looks scary.

  With the instinct of an animal, I flinch from this vibe. Is this the Beast? I can see that Paul’s holding back. He’s keeping himself under tight rein at the moment.

  Through binding me, flogging me and not letting me come, he’s sexually aroused to a whole new level.

  He’s afraid of his darker nature, but we’ve discussed this fully. He’s controlled it so far tonight and I trust him. This next scene will involve breath play, though. Virtually no one dies during BDSM except through breath play.

  A thrill of nerves shoots through me with that thought.

  Cutting off oxygen to anyone is a really stupid idea. We shouldn’t do it. Yet, I feel that this is something that my Master must decide for himself. This is his urge, his desire and his fear. By facing it together, we’ll exorcise the Beast

  Even though my Master appears savage and scary, he’s still beautiful to me. Pure joy must show on my face, because suddenly the man I know and love smiles. The sight lights up my world.

  Lovingly he brushes a damp tendril of hair from my cheek. While his lips curve up, he stares at me with hooded eyes. He doesn’t even blink.

  Paul is drinking me in, too. His pupils flare. He can’t hide his desire.

  Just as he knows me, I know him.

  So much of what we have and what we share is mutual. Not superficially, but at a deeper level. We have connection, understanding and so much love.

  He gently runs his fingers up my breast and I cringe. I’m aware of what’s coming.

  “Look at me, Emily,” he growls. The sound of his hunger rolls over me like an erotic caress. “I want to watch you take this pain.”

  Fuck. His lust and his dominance really do it for me.

  I meet his gaze as he removes one nipple clamp. They aren’t brutal pinchers, it’s just that they’ve been on for so long. He takes the clamp off. The blood rushes back, zinging me with sharp agonizing stabs of excruciating sensation. I cry out.

  His dark eyes, hot and proprietary, flare with satisfaction. “Yes,” he whispers, low and guttural.

  My Master soothes the burning, stinging pain with his hot wet mouth and his tongue. The man unravels me entirely. I hum and writhe, groaning with pleasure.

  I’m so turned on and sexually frustrated. I swear to God, with one touch, my orgasm would register as an earthquake on the Richter Scale.

  We go through the same process with the other clamp. His cock drips with pre-cum. Mmm. My mouth waters. I swallow and lick my lips. Even though I want to badly, I know better than to try for a taste.

  Every time Paul uses nipple clamps on me, I hate them and swear to myself that I’ll never let him put them on me again. They fucking hurt. But every time he takes them off and soothes the ache with his mouth and tongue, I change my mind.

  Jesus, sweet ecstasy unfolds.

  My Master likes my pain. I like it because he does, but it isn’t as if he always hurts me. A session this intense has never happened before, and this scene was seriously negotiated. I wanted to know what the Beast was all about.

  I used to be frightened of getting hurt. André Chevalier opened my eyes. Now my Master plays on the edge of my pain threshold. He has a good sense of what I can take. Tonight is the hardest he’s ever pushed me and it‘s been way more good than bad.

  Pain is the erotic spice of sex. This wild, erratic thought flickers through my brain. And my Master is a Master Chef. What does that make me?

  Ah. I must be his edible, fuckable, artistic creation.

  His attention shifts, he becomes distant and professional. He feels and studies my joints and restraint points, massaging and checking range of motion. He examines me front and back, his palms gliding possessively over me.

  His sole focus is on me, only me. I close my eyes and hum with bliss.

  I believe that he’s trying for detachment, but I see right through it. His hands caress and inspect me like I’m his greatest treasure. As if he would give me the world if he could.

  When he’s certain that I’m okay, he attaches a wide leather cuff to each of my thighs. Black with silver buckles, they match my collar, ankle and wrist cuffs. I thought he was planning a whole rope bondage thing.

  Bummer. If he’s not going to let me come soon, I was looking forward to zoning out for a while. Intricate rope bondage is good for that.

  He’s in a hurry, I guess. Praise the Lord. I suspect that his straining erection is becoming painful.

  “Hands behind your knees, pull them back and spread them. I want full access,” he commands in an oddly angry tone.

  I look at him then, really look at him. His eyes are wide and bloodshot, his hair damp and disheveled, his teeth clenched yet bared. This is the cold fury that he’s holding back. For the first time I really see it.

  I see the Beast. I see the killer that lurks within him.

  It scares the shit out of me.

  My heart jumps in my chest and my breath catches. Instantly, I do as he says, curling my pelvis, spreading and lifting up.

  “That’s right, good girl. Now I can fully see your gorgeous ass and hungry tight cunt. Do you like me to see your empty, greedy holes, Emily? Do you enjoy being spread, open and ready for me to use as I wish?”

  I gasp. I wasn’t expecting him to say that. In truth, I love this position. I love the weight of his hard male body riding on top of me. Man, it’s so easy to orgasm like this.

  “Yes, Master,” I reply, but his words continue to echo in my mind. What is it about the vulgar, sinful things that he says? ‘Cunt’ and ‘holes.’ Those words are so graphic and so rude. They’re so perfect too in the way they arouse me.

  His voice and attitude suddenly shift. “You’re a slut, slave. My sex toy. You’d do anything for my cock, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, Master,” I say automatically, but these words hurt. They feel wrong and grate against me. It wasn’t what he said, but the way that he said it.

  I’m stronger now. I don’t doubt myself. I know who I am and I know who Paul is. That’s why I refuse to take it personally. This isn’t the Paul that I know and love. He’s not cruel or uncaring. He respects me.

  I realize then that he’s ashamed of himself and his Beast. Is he trying to push me away by being mean? If so, it’s not going to work.

  What would André think?

  André would probably say that this is all part of the process. If he faces the Beast, he can learn to tame it. Paul’s fighting and struggling right now. So some of that crap is bound to fall on me. In fact, he’ll probably pour a lot of it out on me. But that’s okay. We’ll get through this.

  I’ll be there for him. He’s my Master and he needs me.

  We’ll talk this entire scene over in great detail later. We always do that at some point following an intense scene. We discuss how we felt before, during and after, as well as what we learned about each other and ourselves.

  As my Dom, ultimately he’s responsible for my emotional well-being. As his sub I’m responsible for him too. This Beast thing is his biggest hang up. Facing it will be a triumph for both of us.

  Paul begins to bind me. It’s not a big job now that he’s put on thigh cuffs. He’s good with a rope, no doubt having had lots of experience. When he has my legs safely bound in the position that he wants, he takes each hand away, cuffing my wrists to the top of the bed.

  I lay in front of him with my arms bound over my head, my pelvis curled forward, my butt very slightly off of the bed and my legs and thighs spread wide. My Master stands back to look at me. He prowls around me, checking all of the attachments.

  If he had boots on, he’d be stomping. Is he angry with me? Or angry with himself?

&
nbsp; Occasionally my Master lovingly traces one of the red welts he’s given me. His marks. His proof of ownership.

  Visual evidence of my submission to him.

  Paul’s swollen shaft bobs and swings with each step. I feel breathless as I watch him. Broad shoulders, tight butt, nice abs, fully aroused cock and a face to die for. He’s so fucking sexy.

  My whole body coils with nerves and lust as I try to imagine what he’ll do next. Standing at the end of the bed, he just stares at me for a long moment. He is such a powerful male animal. Solid muscle, barely restrained and all man.

  He takes a deep breath. I inhale too. I take in the scent of my own arousal, Paul, sex and leather.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he says with conviction.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  My heart melts. That sincere male appreciation in his voice warms me. It’s so good for my ego. Being considered attractive to the man you love is tremendously gratifying.

  “It pleases me to see you bound like this. You’ll take whatever I give you. You want it, don’t you? You want the Beast tonight?” There’s a slight tentative aspect to his question. He’s uncertain if he wants to go through with this.

  I feel like my heart stops for a moment and then races. “Yes, Master,” I whisper. At least I think so. My stomach knots, but I imagine how much facing the Beast will help my Master.

  This thought immediately lessens my fear. I can be strong for him.

  My Master’s eyes burn with hunger when he hears my answer. The ferocity in his expression both frightens and excites me. He wants the Beast. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a basic anal plug with no vibrator.

  Thank God. I’m worried about climaxing without permission as it is. I’m so damn close.

  He strokes my puckered ring, circling and penetrating the rim, teasing and playing. Mmmm, I moan because it feels so good. When he pushes a finger inside, I feel myself open to accept him and then tighten.