“Yes,” she gasps, when I press against her slick opening. A shudder of urgency runs through her. I want to hold back, to tease her even more, or at least to take it slow, but honestly, I just can’t.
Surging forward, a grunt escapes me as I slam inside of her snug, supple body. The mattress sinks with the force of my effort, the strength of my savage need. Her beautiful body welcomes me into her slick depths. She’s so soft, I’ve probably left marks.
Emily gives a hoarse scream, from pleasure? Or pain? Or both?
But no, her body hungers for me. Her swollen channel clamps down on me hard, swallowing my shaft. My balls draw up, demanding release.
My eyes almost cross from the need to ejaculate. I squeeze them shut. I concentrate on my efforts to delay my imminent climax.
The carnal sensation of it, the feeling of my swollen cock filling her so completely, is incredible. I grind my hips against her for a moment and my dick, frantic for release, jerks inside of her.
“Jesus,” I groan. My chest heaves. Just when did I start panting? What happened to my self-control? A familiar energy flows through me, a delicious contraction of the muscles of my groin and lower abdominals.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Em,” I say huskily. “You’re going to make me come. Dammit, I wanted this to last. It feels too good.”
Ordinarily, I don’t admit to a woman any power that they have over me, but Emily is poles apart from anyone else. Besides, I’m ‘making love’ to her tonight and I figure that letting her know how much she turns me on is part of that.
Ruthless in my primitive need, I begin to pound into her, filling her fast and deep. Her soft feminine flesh easily absorbs the impact of my thrusts. I try to vary my strokes and pace, finding her sweet spots. The bed squeaks. Emily pants, whimpers and writhes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she whimpers and gasps – a constant sound of insatiable feminine arousal. Her skin flushes. It’s shiny with perspiration. A damp lock of her thick brown hair curls over her cheek. Disheveled and wild with sensation, she glows.
She’s never been so beautiful.
Her eyes plead in supplication. Fists clenching the sheets, bending toward me, her lips and breasts seek my heat.
I know she wants to touch me.
Sheets are a poor substitute and I want to reward her obedience. I want to give her everything she needs. “Put your hands on me, Em,” I growl. “Let me feel how much you want me.”
The sound she makes is an inarticulate cry of joy. Her hands wrap around my neck, pulling my hair and scratching my back. Instinctively, she draws her body, skin-to-skin, as close to mine as she can.
Our connection is intense and intimate.
This is more than just sex, or even ‘making love.’ We’re bonded together, body and soul. She belongs to me. I see it in her expression and the absolute submission in her eyes. I feel it scream loudly with her every response. I want to be her everything.
I’m in awe. Beautiful.
Emotions cascade over me, taking me by surprise. Sex and respect, I understand. Sex and kink is a given. Yet, sex and love have never been linked for me.
Until now.
Spread as wide as she is, with her knees at my elbows, I penetrate her deeply. My balls smack her ass with every brutal lunge. My breath comes in gasps. I pant like a winded racehorse.
The blood in my veins feels as if it’s on fire. I pick up speed as I near my peak, moving in short, fast strokes. The base of my spine tingles, signaling imminent release. Shifting the direction of my thrusts, I pump into her, savagely riding her G-spot.
I strain and sweat with physical effort and need.
It’s not about Emily anymore. I am beyond that, at this point. I hammer into her, pistoning my hips, increasing strength and tempo, while making no attempt to hold myself back. My body’s purpose is to mate. To fill her with my cum. This is where all of my focus is.
“You belong to me,” I growl fiercely as I take her. “I own you.” I sink my teeth into the soft skin between her neck and shoulder.
Emily stiffens. A rippling pulse moves through her body as her internal muscles grip my shaft hard.
I jerk from the incredible sensation of it. “Fuck, yes. Come for me,” I gasp in a hoarse voice. “Fucking come, right now.”
“Paul,” she raggedly calls out.
Emily arches and thrashes as her burning hot channel spasms. I’m assailed with intense pleasure as she squeezes me again and again in a long series of short, sharp contractions.
The violence of her climax triggers my own.
I throw my head back and roar my release. My hips and balls slap against her, as I ejaculate in bruising thrusts, once, twice, three… four times.
Hard shudders wrack us both as we cry out in unison. We scream and grunt and gasp together – a discordant chorus of mutual ecstasy.
Spent and exhausted, I fall heavily upon her and wait to catch my breath. My shaft twitches and throbs; her molten core occasionally pulses.
Emily looks tousled, well-used and sated. The feel of her softness and the heady smell of scent is perfect. So satisfying... so right.
I nuzzle into her neck and shoulders, breathing her in. The feel of my cock, deep inside of her, gives me lazy, sensual pleasure. After long languorous movements, I sit up, kiss her cheek and roll off of her. Padding silently, I stride to the bathroom and wet a washcloth.
Returning to my bedroom with the washcloth and a towel, I take my time, cleaning and drying between her legs gently, yet thoroughly. It’s an intimate action that gives me a proprietary buzz. I take care of what’s mine and that sweet little cunt of hers belongs to me.
Expelling a happy breath, I climb back into bed, wrap an arm around her and pull her toward me. Em gives a soft sigh of pleasure as our bodies, slick from effort, slide together seamlessly.
Good sex isn’t complete without cuddling and aftercare.
Men who fall to sleep right after sex are idiots.
Women need to be held after an emotional experience. Any man who neglects this is not only a fool, but he’s missing out on the most intimate and honest part of life.
It took me a while to puzzle this out, but after sex, or a scene, is when I feel the closest connection to another human being. That skin-to-skin contact is a physical confirmation, a way to show one’s sub, or one’s lover, that they are valued and cherished.
Women instinctively know this.
Men, if they’re smart, figure it out.
Being a somewhat typical, emotionally cut-off male, I never understood until I had Dom training and discovered aftercare.
With a soft happy sigh, Emily trustingly shifts, curling closer. Her upper torso, head, arm and soft breasts sprawl over me. Limp and exhausted, her chest rises and falls. I feel at peace, soothed by the gentle, even rhythm of her breathing. In, out. In, out.
This is when life makes the most sense.
Even with an open bedroom door, the honey-smell of burning candles and musky scent of sex fills the room. I breathe in her silky hair that presses on my cheek. Time passes on a dreamy cloud of contentment.
This beautiful woman is my greatest treasure. My little rabbit is just so damn sweet. I love her soft sighs and responses. Her whole body quivers with desire when I command her. Emily’s body already knows its master and that’s a very good start.
Our sex life is amazing, but for me it’s never enough. How soon can I have her the way I want? And worse, what if she never learns to embrace my kind of kink?
It surprises me how quickly I shrug these thoughts off. If Em can’t enjoy my sexual tastes, then I don’t care. I’ll only ever want Emily. Yet she is submissive. If I’m careful, if I associate pain with pleasure, then surely I can teach her.
“Are you okay?” I ask sheepishly when she begins to stir. “I kind of got carried away.”
“Okay? Mmm. No. I’m great.”
“You most certainly are,” I agree with a smug grin. I’d been tense with arousal for so long, but now I’m sated a
nd relaxed. I kiss her forehead. “Happy?”
“Ummm.”
“Talkative, too,” I tease.
“I’m just thinking.”
“Oh?” I allow a tone of wary apprehension to seep into my voice.
To my mind, a woman ‘just thinking’ is generally a bad idea. Frankly, it’s potentially very scary. ‘Thinking’ rarely leads to anything good. I’ve known too many women who’ve started talking and acting irrationally, right after ‘thinking’ way too much.
That’s another reason that I’ve always kept away from the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing. My standard M.O. is to avoid emotional attachments. It’s safer that way. At times women can be irritable and irrational. Who can understand them?
Every man knows the time-honored saying, ‘Bitches be crazy.’
Unfortunately, I’ve often found this to be true, even with a low maintenance type of woman. And every woman, for a few particular and specific days once a month? Those times when they are overly emotional, unpredictable and downright inexplicable?
Well. Don’t even get me started on that.
Chapter 4.
“Where would the world be without the gift of women?”
– André Chevalier
~~~
Em has never been a drama queen, so I work up my courage and go ahead and ask, “What are you thinking about?”
She laughs and grins. Her white teeth seem bright in the flickering candlelight. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. I swear that sometimes this woman can read my mind. Emily knows me really well.
“No big deal,” she says. “I’m thinking about how spectacular sex is with you.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s incredible. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
“You’ll never be with anyone else, so you can forget that right now,” I growl, as a proprietary spike of anger stabs me, tightening my muscles and seizing my lungs. Resorting to my poker face, I attempt to hide my temper as much as possible. “From now on, you belong to me.”
Emily laughs, low and slow. It frees up the sudden tension curling in my gut. “Ah. A man right out of the Stone Age. I thought I recognized that caveman aspect of your personality. Don’t imagine that you’ll be getting down and dirty with anyone else either, will you?”
I kiss her forehead, unable to even conceive of the idea of getting hard for anyone else. “Never.” I shrug, still angry at the thought of losing her to another man. I force a smile. “I’m not averse to multiples of men or women during a scene, of course. It’s pretty hot. But because you’re mine, any others involved would be under my direction. I’d consider them an extension of myself.”
As expected, she flinches. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else.”
I grin and immediately put ‘group sex’ on the list of things to do with her. Why? For the fun of it, really. I want to push her limits and make her give in to me completely. If I’m clever and do it right, in time there will be nothing that Emily won’t do for me.
I wonder who would be best to have join us. André for sure and my friend Jai now that he’s broken up with Marilyn. Not another woman, though. For now.
I can seduce my little rabbit into this. In time she’ll ask for it. Multiples will help her understand that she doesn’t need boundaries where I’m concerned. She’ll trust me to take care of her. Emily belongs to me, but I won’t abuse that power. I’ll only take her places that she really wants to go.
“My dear Emily,” I say with low, dark menace. “I promise you. In time, you’ll want whatever I want.”
I watch as a thrill of fear passes through her. The thought of a ménage or more, pushes her limits. A long moment passes, while I see her utterly reject this idea. Mentally scurrying off, in full retreat, she changes the subject.
This behavior is something I’ve observed her do often. A subject change is her method of avoiding difficult issues. I don’t mind. I’m not pushing her on this right now.
“Anyway, I was also thinking about how you and your dad have finally buried the hatchet,” she says. “And also about your mom, your biological father and my parents. So much has happened in the last few weeks.”
Now that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. Three years ago, Emily’s dad ran off with my mom, creating a crisis for both of our families. After divorcing, they married each other and the dust settled. Well, for the two happy adulterous runaways, at least.
Emily’s mother, once abandoned by her husband, promptly had a nervous breakdown, followed by years of severe depression. My father and I fought because I blamed him for my own mother’s unhappiness in their marriage. I thought that he’d driven her away. Furious, I took off, never wanting to see my mom or dad ever again.
In her usual selfless manner, Em stayed behind to pick up the pieces. She sacrificed her schooling to care for her mom and to work in my dad’s supermarket, after I’d left him behind.
Recently, I returned home, only when my father almost died from a heart attack. A series of unexpected events led me to discover that my parents had kept a huge secret from me, all of my life. Well, more specifically, since I turned nine years old.
That was when my dad discovered that he’d been sterile as a result of having mumps as a kid. That’s how he found out that his only child wasn’t even his. His wife cheated on him and I was the result. It must’ve been a shock.
It certainly was for me when I found out, just a matter of days ago.
Throughout my childhood, my dad was always grumpy and seemed mad at my mom for no reason I could understand. I never felt that I could measure up to his standards either. Although we acted the part, our ‘happy family’ image was all a pretense. Our home was a place of unresolved tension and resentment which I didn’t understand. I blamed everything on my dad.
Now I see things very differently. No wonder our home was tense. Dad never forgave my mom for cheating, and she never told him any details about who she cheated with. They both endured a loveless marriage.
I recently realized that my parents stayed together for my sake. They lived that shitty life for me. What a mind fuck. But at least now my dad and I have resolved our differences.
I still need to have a chat with my mother about the subject. So far, she hasn’t been forthcoming on the matter. It’s strange to realize that somewhere out there in the world, is a man who had sex with my mom and created me.
Who is he? Not that I really give a shit. My dad is the one who raised me. My biological father was merely a sperm donor.
I hug Emily and pull her close. “A lot has happened,” I say. “And even more will happen. Are you still looking forward to going to The Basement?”
The Basement is a local fetish club, with an exclusive and super expensive membership. It will feature prominently in my ongoing strategy to slowly convince Emily that it’s natural and desirable for her to be my willing sex slave.
“Of course,” she says. “I know you have a kink or two you want to try with me.”
“More than one or two,” I warn, in a low voice.
“What if I don’t like what you like?” she asks. Apprehension, bright as a neon sign, flashes through her expression. I school my face to composure. This is exactly my concern too, but I don’t show her that.
“Don’t worry,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I’m going to ease you into the lifestyle. You’ll like it. I’m sure of it.”
This is absolutely true. I’ve trained subs before, but teaching her will be completely different. I’m never cold or distant with her. How can I be impassive with the woman I love?
The short answer is, I can’t. Emily matters. I’ve never been so careful about anything in my life.
She frowns.
“I won’t scare you… well, not too much, anyway.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.
This playful move breaks the tension and reassures her. The sound of her laughter fills the room. The truth is that I do intend to scare her. Fear wi
ll add adrenaline, spiking sensual pleasure. Getting her to face those fears will teach her to trust me completely. But now is not the time to discuss that.
Why do people enjoy roller coasters and scary movies? I think it’s because they like living close to the edge and pushing their limits. It’s exciting. Fear, like pain, or helplessness, is compelling. Overwhelming emotions give people a buzz, especially when combined with sensual delights, titillation and orgasms.
The truth is that day-to-day living can be a real bore. An adrenaline rush caused by pain, fear, or uncertainty floods a person’s body with hormones. It heightens their sensitivity and awareness. That’s when people feel really alive.
One fine day, I’ll push her boundaries and scare the shit out of my sweet girl. She’ll trust me. I’ll own her. And she’ll have the best orgasms of her life. Then she’ll really know what living is.
Just the thought of it causes an all-powerful, almost out-of-body sensation of euphoria. It’s the incredible feeling that I get from complete sexual domination. It makes me feel like a god.
We talk about inconsequential things and joke, flirt and tease each other for another half an hour.
Emily’s soft silky skin presses against me. Hmm. What else can I do with her warm and willing body? My dick stirs as my imagination goes into overdrive.
I want to begin my plan to introduce her into my world of kink. No point putting off till tomorrow, and all that. This is a battle of seduction. The sooner I teach her to enjoy pain and domination, the sooner I’ll be able to act out my fantasies.
I’ll accept nothing less from her than her utter capitulation. Full sexual submission – I don’t care how long it takes to get there. Just the thought of it arouses me. My cock hardens.
I want Emily as my partner for life. She’s the one for me. But I also long to train her to be my willing sex slave. She’s not a masochist and that makes everything even better, in a perverse sort of way. I hunger for her to accept pain, because she wants to please me. To take what I give her, for my pleasure. As a submissive, she’ll get off on giving me what I need.