His Pleasures and Pain (Book II) (Allen Trilogy 2)

by Chevelle Allen

  His Pleasures and Pain

  Chevelle Allen

  Copyright © 2016 Chevelle Allen

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:0692612231

  ISBN-10: 0692612238

  Visit:

  www.ChevelleAllen.com

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead, some businesses or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover photography and design

  By

  Petite Shards Productions

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to my loved ones who continue to support my passion with humor, patience, and understanding. Additional gratitude to DB3, LCB, CSC, SLK, CBM, PMC and of course RaynStorm and Mr., my early readers who provided insights, valuable critique and inspiration.

  —Chevelle

  DEDICATION

  For all those who found the love of their lives—but didn’t know what to do with it.

  chapter 1

  “Let me be clear. Finding someone to fuck is very easy for me. Finding someone to love is much more difficult.” He whispered those words in her ear after her outburst accusing him of trying to use her for casual sex. Nothing could have been further from the truth. It wasn’t some boastful statement about his sexual prowess or ability to seduce women. He was letting her know he was falling in love with her despite being deeply hurt by her accusation to the contrary. In that moment he wanted her to understand in no uncertain terms his intentions towards her were sincere and deeply meaningful.

  Fellow classmates in law school, Michael and Janine spent many hours together talking about varied topics after class. Sometimes over coffee, other times over drinks. Intensely stimulating, those conversations revealed a woman equally as intelligent and as ambitious as he. She was also whimsical and gregarious with a sweetness that lifted his spirit whenever she smiled. And yet as fiercely independent as she was, he would learn she could be tender, loving and vulnerable with him. The level of intimacy he shared with her was unlike anything he experienced before or after.

  Even though he was only twenty-two when they met, he knew then, Janine Powell could easily be the love of his life. For three years, she was his partner and soul mate, wholly embracing the light and enigma within him. She was the one person with whom he shared the most because she understood and loved him just as he had her. But through a series of events beyond his control, he lost her shortly after graduating law school. In the ten years since his time with her, very few women came close to being all she was to him.

  Michael Josey was the kind of man who used words sparingly but precisely. His introversion wasn’t a reflection of shyness, but rather a reflection of someone generally content and self contained. He didn’t need the company of others to make him feel fulfilled. He was intensely private yet curious about the simplest and finer things in life. He had the ability to listen to the subtleties of words spoken and was keenly observant of the world and those around him. A brilliant corporate lawyer with an equal penchant for pro bono work aiding the less fortunate, he was a force unto himself. But at the end of his day, he’d come home to his small apartment and write his thoughts into his journal before diving into the latest historical or sociopolitical tome with a cold beer, bourbon or glass of wine by his side.

  But there were times when his needs required a different level of stimulus. This was one of those nights. It was a trying day full of aggravations. He was tense and needed a release. He reached for his cell phone, pulled up the number and dialed.

  The woman’s voice on the other end of the phone was soft, sexy and compliant. “Good evening Sir. How may I serve you?”

  “Come over,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir. What do you need?”

  “We’ll figure that out when you get here,” he said.

  “Of course. I can be there in about forty-five minutes,” she said.

  “Good.” He hung up the phone, and returned to his reading and finished his beer.

  Among the partners he found to play with over the years, Nikita was among his favorites. They had been together for almost a year. He didn’t care to know her real name or share his; that’s how he preferred it. He met her during an event hosted by Mistress Spectra at her club. It was a special party for those members without Dominants or Submissives. Of the women he met that evening, Nikita was the one who intrigued him most.

  She was attractive, full-figured with an ample ass and had a virtually fearless yet buoyant personality. Although he could be attracted to women of all shapes and hues, he had a strong preference for intelligent women with medium to deep brown skin. Nikita was also a little feisty. Despite popular notions, Michael knew from experience that having a Sub with a weak personality was potentially dangerous emotionally and physically for both partners. With everything they did together, it had to remain safe, sane and consensual for both Dom and Sub.

  During their initial negotiations, Nikita made clear her hard limits were no blood or water sports. Michael never had any interest in cutting or piercing his partners, let alone urinating on them. At least on some level, he thought they might be compatible. However when she described herself as being in a “Sub Frenzy,” it suggested she was eager to find a new Dom, resume her play and test new boundaries. What they discovered together was she loved toying with intense pain. She was also a budding exhibitionist with a touch of voyeurism.

  In time, what he appreciated about her was her strong personality despite the fact she had a tendency to try to “top from the bottom.” But her most worthy trait was she could gauge her Dom thereby helping him expand his skill set. Having sex with one another was never originally a part of their agreement, but in time they considered it a natural progression in their interactions with one another. He genuinely liked her, but he could never be in love with her even as their intimacy increased. The truth was he was growing increasingly concerned she was falling in love with him.

  When the doorbell rang, Michael glanced at his watch noting she was actually a little early, which warranted giving her a reward. He opened the door and said, “Come in. I’ll take your coat.”

  She handed it to him revealing an embroidered corset to match her collar, thong and thigh-high silk stockings with platform heels. Her hair was freshly coifed and her makeup impeccable. Nikita was lovely. Without another word between them, she walked towards the sofa and knelt down to sit on her legs and heels while her hands rested on her thighs. She sat patiently on the floor awaiting his commands. She was a seasoned Sub and he liked that about her. But even the most experienced could always learn something new. It was his job to challenge her and figure out new limits.

  With Nikita, the key was discovering how to fuck with her head. During his time with her, he often got an incredible rush from finding new ways to play mind games with her. How long would she be willing to stay in a position before her legs and knees ached? Would she walk down the streets of the city dressed that way? How long would it take before she defied him by trying to suggest what he might do to her? But tonight, he really just wanted to fuck her and he hoped she was agreeable even though he would have to play for a while.

  “Nikita?” he said.

  “Yes, Sir? How may I serve you?”

  “Go to my bedroom and wait for me on the bed.”

  “Yes, Sir. Would you like me to get anything ready for you? I can set things out for you.”

  “I think we may need th
e paddle because once again, you’ve said more than you should have. The reward I was going to give you for being early will be replaced with punishment,” he said with a hint of playfulness.

  “I’ll try to be good,” Nikita said with a little smirk on her face as she seductively swayed down the hall to his bedroom.

  He had been with her long enough to know when she willfully misbehaved it was his signal she was in the mood for flogging or paddling with a higher level of intensity than their normal exchanges. This was her ultimate “Sub Space”—her high and what brought about her euphoria in play. Sex was secondary with her, or at least it had been prior to their encounters. While he enjoyed sex with Nikita, for him it was equally about the play and release. He knew how to please a woman regardless of whether the sex was vanilla or this.

  As he made his way to his bedroom, Nikita was waiting for him, but she was out of position. She was standing with her hands on her hips rather than sitting on the bed with her eyes cast down as expected. Her behavior indicated she wanted to change the game. He considered ignoring her and continuing with his plans. Instead, he opted to make the most of the situation and perhaps have a little fun in the process.

  “Nikita?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you to wait on the bed.”

  “I must have forgotten…sorry.”

  “You forgot?” he said a bit surprised by the direction she was clearly taking. His penetrating eyes focused on hers as he walked towards her and stood face to face with her. With a stern yet hypnotic and breathy tone he said, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  She stood more erect and dropped her hands from her hips, but she didn’t move into position. He inhaled deeply and he could smell the subtle perfume she wore. So, she wants to play a new game, he thought. He ran his elegant fingers under her chin and down the side of her neck before tracing them along her arm. He could feel the goose bumps rise on her flesh and he saw her breath deepen. Without warning, he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her hard against the wall. He then took hold of her wrists and planted them between the anchors above her head as he expertly snapped the restraints that would hold her.

  “What are you going to do, spank me?” she said with a smug expression and a little too much defiance for his mood.

  “Among other things,” he said as he considered which punishment he’d deliver to his willing partner. The blindfold placed on the bed earlier was the first item he picked up. He fit it snugly over her eyes and leaned into her whispering, “I should leave you like this for a while, until you learn to behave better.”

  He stood back from her, inspecting the chains and cuffs holding her. Having placed the anchors into the wall joist and studs himself, he knew there was no way she could free her self. Nonetheless, he tightened the chains making them taut. She let out a slight grunt signifying her increasing level of discomfort. As he stood looking at her, he could feel his arousal increasing.

  Her rose colored lipstick accentuated her full lips and her loosed ringlet, yet mussed hair draped along her face. The purple embroidered corset cinched her waist and pressed her breasts into oval mounds begging to be licked and touched. Nikita began to squirm and dropped her chin in response to the rising discomfort she was experiencing in her arms and shoulders. But he waited—watching every twitch and registering every slight sound she made. Finally, he stealthy walked towards her. He kissed her gently and began rubbing her clit as it swelled with his expert touches.

  “Are you ready to behave?” he whispered.

  She said nothing, but instead smiled at him and pursed her lips inviting another kiss. Good girl, he thought as he leaned in to kiss her again. But much to his surprise, she bit him hard on the lip. He drew back from her in shock and tinge of anger.

  “What the fuck!” he yelled.

  Without thinking, he pulled down at the sides of her corset freeing her breasts from it. He snatched the blindfold from her eyes and reached for the flogger on the bed. He wanted her to see each strike he was about to deliver across her nipples and breasts. After the first strike, she let out a muffled groan before taunting, “Is that all you got, M?”

  She was only allowed to call him M when they were negotiating new terms; otherwise he was always to be referred to as “Sir.” She knew it and she deliberately crossed a line. He couldn’t discern exactly what she was doing or why. Back and forth, he swung the device across her breasts increasing his force until they had reddened significantly. She yelled out several times before he released her from the restraints.

  “Go to the bench,” he said with a calmer tone in defiance of his throbbing lip and with genuine aggravation she dared be familiar with him.

  Nikita went over to the bench positioning herself on it with her luscious ass high in the air. He didn’t give her time to prepare before he struck her hard with the paddle. She barely flinched, so he struck her again. The rippling bounce of her fleshy ass enticed and mesmerized him with each subsequent strike. He could feel his arousal mounting. Hoping to signal her he was ready to fuck, he pressed his penis against her ass. A part of him hoped she would comply and stop this trajectory they were on. But she leaned away from him so he struck her again—much harder. She gritted her teeth and moaned loudly. She had incredible stamina and a high pain threshold making clear to him he would have to keep going—push new boundaries with her yet again.

  “Who I am?” he asked as he struck her again with the paddle.

  “My master!” she cried out.

  “Who am I?” he repeated not once raising his voice even though he had increased his force considerably. There was a strange sensation building within him—distracting him.

  “My master!”

  It wasn’t the right answer and she knew it. But her smooth brown ass was beginning to welt. He knew the bruising would be significant if he struck her much more. Yet he continued to strike—pausing a little longer after each strike-hoping at some point she would cry out the safe word or signal him to stop. But she wouldn’t relent and he didn’t quite know what to do. He decided to change tactics fearful he would actually injure her if he went much further.

  “Don’t move,” he instructed her. But as soon as he said it, she looked over her shoulder at him matching his intense gaze. Given what she had done thus far, there was no telling how far she was planning on taking her impudence or how much pain she was willing to endure during this play scene. A part of him knew she was also pushing him. He went to his dresser and looked at the various items trying to decide which would serve his needs best, but he realized nothing would. So he headed towards the bathroom.

  As he suspected, she was standing facing him and completely out of position again when he returned. Standing with his hands behind him, he took a deep breath and said, “I told you not to move. Get back on the bench, Nikita.”

  Again, she didn’t move but stood looking at him with a slight grin on her face. Fine! She wants to fuck with me? That works both ways! He walked towards her slowly with his deep brown eyes set on her. He watched hers widened when he brought his right hand forward revealing the open, straight-edge razor.

  With incredible swiftness, he reached out and grabbed her by the leather collar around her neck. He forced her towards the floor onto her hands and knees.

  He knelt down whispering to her, “I don’t like it when you disobey me. There’s a price to pay.”

  Standing and still holding her by the collar with his left hand, he pulled her towards the dresser. He placed the razor on it before getting the metal cuffs from the drawer. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and he could feel his heart pounding. Under normal circumstances, it took far more effort to maneuver her because Nikita was larger than the women he usually dated or played with. She was easily five feet eight inches tall and likely weighed at least one hundred seventy pounds, if not more. But he easily pulled her back to the bench and lifted her up ensuring that she now straddled it.

  He roughly snapped the cuffs on her wrists s
ecuring them to the metal bar on the bench. He reached down and clamped her ankles to the restraints at the base. His breathing had increased considerably, his urges intensified and he was beginning to sweat. Meanwhile his focus was slipping away from him and he felt unsettled at best, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Coming towards her again, he could see her ass was heavily welted. Tending to it would require considerable care on his part once this was all over. Of course that was assuming she wanted him to care for her. Sometimes Nikita opted instead to relish the pain for as long as the aftereffects lasted. He grinned and thought She’s going to feel this shit for days.

  He grabbed the razor from the dresser and walked towards her. Now facing her, he leaned over her and ran the razor’s blunt side slowly along her arm, across her throat, just below the collar and down the other arm. She flinched and her breath quickened almost to a pant.

  “You’ve been very naughty tonight. It can’t happen again,” he said with an almost hypnotic cadence as he began walking around her.

  He continued to move the razor over her body. As he moved it over her dangling breasts, he made a quick slicing motion causing her to jerk. He could see her fear and arousal rising. A part of him relished the fact he had created it and the rush was intoxicating. He then moved the razor along her belly and toward her pussy. Unbeknownst to her, he flipped the razor closed running the handle between her folds and against her clit. The fluid seeping from her was easy to detect on the handle when he drew it back.

  “I’m sorry! It will never happen again!” Her voice had taken on a slight tremble.

  “I don’t believe you’re sorry.”

  “I am!”

  “Then who am I?” he asked her again.