Baby for the Beast

by Penelope Bloom

  “You’ve made me wait too long for this, princess…”

  He brings the paddle down on my bare ass, making me lurch forward and gasp. It stings almost like a swarm of bees got me for a few moments, he doesn’t wait for the pain to fully subside before he brings it down again on the other side of my ass this time. “You knew I wouldn’t approve of your friend coming on our date, but you brought her anyway.”

  I sink down to my forearms, eyes squeezed shut against the sting of the paddle.

  “But,” he says, leaning closer to my ass until his breath brushes the tender skin where he paddled me. He plants a soothing kiss on the spot, melting the pain down until it blends together into something strange and wonderful. “I enjoyed the date very much. More than I thought I would.” He kisses the other side, until I’m left with only a swirling excitement that gathers between my legs, making my need for his even more intimate attention that much greater.

  “You’ve also been very disrespectful,” he says, standing back up and moving to gather one of the candles by the bed. He brings it closer to me, holding it near his face so the flickering light casts his features in an orange glow. “And you must be punished until you learn to show me the proper respect. To address me as Sir. To heed my commands without question.”

  “Turn over and lie on your back,” he says, setting the candle on the nightstand. I do as he says quickly, not wanting to disappoint him again.

  He nods. It’s a small gesture, but when he makes the subtle shift from Jayce to my dom, I’m dragged into a world where the only thing that matters is pleasing him. The only pleasure or satisfaction comes from making my dom happy, in surrendering completely and trusting his guidance to be the truth. So even his slight nod is enough to send a surge of excitement and pleasure through me as I position myself on my back, lying flat while he takes his time appreciating the sight of my body.

  “Gorgeous,” he says. He runs a finger down from my breast to my pussy, lifting his touch just before he reaches my clit in a way that can’t be accidental. I can sense that he wants to drag this out, and I can’t say I’m upset by the realization. “I couldn’t have made you any more perfect myself. Every line,” he says, palming my breast and squeezing firmly. “Every curve.” He grips the inside of my thigh, urging my legs open for him. “Even the way you smell,” he says, bending to kiss my mound as he breathes in deeply. “Sublime.”

  I take in a shuddering breath, my back arching involuntarily as if my body is offering itself up to him.

  “You were made for me, princess,” he says. He pulls a pair of handcuffs from under the bed and dangles them for me to see. “Cell by cell and inch by inch, you were built to be mine.” He pulls my arms over my head and clamps one cuff around my wrist, threads the other through the headboard, and then clamps my other wrist. Thankfully, the cuffs have a black fuzzy material around the metal, so even when he secures them tightly, they aren’t uncomfortable.

  “Now that I’m sure you’re not going anywhere…” He picks up the candle again, lifting it above my stomach and lets a drop of wax fall just above my navel.

  I flinch from the sudden heat, but much like drips of cold water, the intensity is momentary before it gives way to only the subtle reminder of heat. A tight circle forms as the wax cools and solidifies on my skin .

  “And I was made to claim you,” he says, finishing his earlier thought and meeting my eyes with so much intensity I can’t seem to look away, even as I can sense the next drop of wax pooling at the end of the candle.

  It patters down just below my breasts, shocking me again with a temporary burst of heat followed by a warm tightness. The next drop falls on my nipple, and the heat is so intense on the sensitive skin there that I gasp. It’s unpleasant for a second, maybe two, then an unfamiliar sensation spreads through me. Maybe this is what he was talking about--the intimacy of exploring the edge of my desires with him and trusting him to be my guide. It’s almost as if I’ve split away part of my mind in this moment. The part that normally steps in when things go outside my comfort zone and puts it to a stop. Right now I can almost feel Jayce’s presence within me, like he’s taking the control and the responsibility of that job from me.

  Instead of the fear I would normally expect the realization to bring, it only makes my pussy throb with need and my chest fill with the most wonderful warmth. I’m his right now. Completely and totally his. I only have to please him.

  I lose track of time as drop by drop of scorching wax covers my skin. I grow used to the sensation of heat and the gradual fade to warmth and the tight sensation of a growing coating of wax covers my body. When he starts to let drops of wax fall on my mound and my inner thighs, the heat feels so much more intense, but I don’t stop him. I let the heat come and I embrace the warmth. The last drop lands so dangerously close to my clit that I finally get ready to say something, maybe even one of the safe words. It’s as if he really does have some way of knowing my thoughts because sets the candle down on the bedside and looks back to my body, which is covered in drops of wax from my breasts to my pussy.

  “Now the best part,” he says. “It’s time to clean you up.”

  I bite my lip, watching as he slips out of his pants and briefs before climbing on top of me. I raise my eyebrows when he bends to use his mouth to gently work the wax away with his lips and tongue. “Is that safe to put in your mouth?” I ask.

  He looks up at me with a sly expression before chewing and swallowing. “Safe and delicious. It’s edible, princess.”

  “Oh.” I lean back, grinning in excited anticipation of the process ahead of him. Every drop of wax that dropped down on me is now a point of contact where his lips and tongue scour my body bit by bit. I feel him move off me to grab something else from under the bed. When I bend my neck to look up, I see him holding two jars. One is full of chocolate syrup and the other is full of whipped cream.

  I laugh in surprise. “What else is under the bed?”

  He smirks, dipping a spoon in the syrup and raising it so it drizzles back into the jar. “I made sure the room was equipped with everything I’d need before we arrived. And what can I say, I have a sweet tooth. What about you?” he asks, lifting the spoon again.

  “Please, sir,” I say hungrily.

  I expect him to bring the spoon to my mouth, but instead he straddles me so that his erect cock is only inches from my lips.

  “I was thinking something sweeter, but I won’t complain,” I say.

  He picks up the jar of syrup and drizzles it over the head of his cock until the excess drips down my chest, running in warm path between my breasts.

  “I hope you came hungry tonight, princess.”

  33

  Jayce

  I let my eyes close as she wraps her hot mouth around my cock, licking up the syrup like a good little submissive. She doesn’t show any sign of wanting to stop, even when the syrup is all gone. I let her continue to suck me off, occasionally adding more syrup to my cock when I think she’s done a good enough job to deserve the sweet reward, but my own appetite eventually gets the better of me.

  I want to see Miley moaning and begging me for more. I want her so fucking horny that her juices are leaking from that tight little pussy and she can’t keep her moans quiet.

  I dip the spoon in the syrup and pull away, loving the pouty look she gives when I take my cock from her. I drizzle syrup across her tits and her stomach, all the way down to the creases where her legs meet her pussy. Once I’m done, I add a dollop of whipped cream to her nipples and mound for no other reason than the fact that I love the taste. And I know the cold contrast will add another layer to her experience.

  She writhes in the most sexy fucking way imaginable, constantly biting her full bottom lip and letting it pop back out all pink and flushed. I dip my thumb in the chocolate and smear it across her lips before sucking them into my mouth and licking her clean. I kiss my way from her jaw down to her neck and her tits, licking and kissing up every last drop of syrup and cr
eam, taking my time as I do, knowing she’s loving every last second of it.

  By the time I reach her lower stomach, she’s gasping and squirming against me, hips rising off the bed in her desperation to have my attention on her pussy. My cock throbs just thinking how wet she must already be for me and how good it would feel to bury myself inside her again. Not yet, though. Soon, but not yet.

  I run my tongue down her mound, paying special attention to the syrup that found its way into the crease between her pussy and inner thigh, letting my tongue move so close to her folds that she must be ready to lose her mind.

  “Please, sir,” she gasps. “I need it.”

  I look up from between her legs, enjoying the view of her body still glistening from the work I’ve done cleaning her up and her hands cuffed to the headboard above her head. “Tell me what you need, princess. Beg me for it.”

  “I need your mouth. Your cock. Your fingers. Whatever you’ll give me. But I need to cum so bad it hurts.”

  “Since you forgot to call me Sir,” I say tauntingly. “It’s going to keep hurting a little longer.”

  I scoop out some whipped cream and smear it on her toes, which I take into my mouth and suck clean one by one. She closes her eyes and presses her head back into the pillows, lips parting beautifully for me. I let my eyes wander to her slick pussy, which looks so undeniably ready for my cock that I know I’ve reached the limits of my patience. I need to have her, to take her, to own every fucking inch of her tight little hole.

  I grab a condom from beside the bed and slip it on, noticing an odd expression on Miley’s face as I do. Maybe she was hoping I’d take her unprotected again, but I can’t take the chance. That was a mistake. A reckless mistake. I can’t afford to get Miley pregnant and risk her health because of my selfish desire to have a child. Maybe that’s over-the-top, but the guilt I feel over my mother’s death sticks with me every day of my life. Along with it comes the fear that I could do the same thing to the woman I love.

  No fucking way. No kids. No pregnancy. No risk to my princess. I don’t care how good her having my baby might sound. It’s just not a risk I can take. So she can give me that pouty look all she wants, but I’m wearing a rubber.

  Her disappointment is forgotten when I grip the base of my cock and give it to her in one powerful thrust. She takes in a quick burst of air through her nose and her eyes shoot open. I know she’ll feel a slight pain from being entered so suddenly, a stretching sensation maybe, but it will pass. When it does, the pleasure will seem that much more intense by contrast.

  “You like that, princess?” I ask.

  “Mhmm,” she moans.

  I bend my neck to suck her nipple into my mouth, biting slightly before I pull away. It should sting for a moment--long enough to remind her to fucking call me Sir.

  “Sir,” she says like a good girl.

  I grin, pulling her legs up higher so I can get even deeper inside her. She digs her heels into my ass, pulling me in with each thrust, begging me for every inch of cock I’ll give her and more.

  “Jayce,” she gasps.

  I want to draw this out, to make her wait for more, to make her beg until her throat is hoarse, but I can’t stop myself. I drive myself into her again and again, drawing out the most delicious moans from her with every thrust of my hips. When I feel her walls tighten around me and her body tenses, my own orgasm comes roaring from me. I keep fucking her until I’ve emptied every last drop of my cum inside the condom and she’s lying breathless and still.

  Once I’ve thrown away the condom and slipped my pants back on, I move back to Miley, who is waiting so beautifully for me on the bed with her hands still cuffed. I unlock them and check her wrists for any sign of bruising or chafing. There’s a slight indent from where the cuffs pressed into the base of her palms, so I apply lotion and rub the area until I see some of the color return to her skin.

  “I like how you look after me when we’ve finished, sir,” she says.

  I favor her with a smile to let her know she did well remembering to pay me the proper respect. For once. But I actually enjoy that she’s still prone to moments of defiance. My idea of the perfect submissive has always been one who wants to please me above all else, but who also has a mischievous side and tempts my wrath from time to time. As with everything else, Miley fits the mold of what I want perfectly in that regard.

  “Of course,” I say, moving my attention now to all the places I dripped wax across her body. Her skin is slightly pink in some areas. It would pass in a few minutes without my help, but I take the excuse to apply more lotion to my hands and rub it into her soft skin, spending more time than I need to on her breasts. “What we do together is about control, above all else. I don’t expect that I will ever do anything to cause you true harm, but it’s important for me to make sure there were no accidents. No rashes, no bruises, no cuts. I have to be sure you’re as perfect as you were the moment you submitted to me.”

  “Well, I like it,” she says, smiling up at me. “It feels nice. I never really had this kind of gentleness in my life. My dad was always hard on us. So hard,” she says, looking distantly toward a group of candles by the wall. “Nothing ever made him happy. He demanded so much and I think for a long time I tried to make him happy. I wanted to be his good little girl because I was silly enough to think that was the problem. He wasn’t abusive because he was just an asshole to me back then, it was because I wasn’t ever good enough. But when I would do exactly what he wanted, he always seemed to change the rules at the last minute. That was the thing. I could never win. I could never make him happy. Eventually, I figured out the truth, but it was only after so many wasted years.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead. “You know you’ve pleased me very much tonight though, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says, smiling shyly at me. Her expression fades into dejection as she looks down. “I must sound so creepy right now. Like I’m using you as some kind of substitute for my dad that I could never please, but--”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not creepy or strange. It’s normal. Everybody has unresolved issues from their past, and if they say they don’t, they’re either lying or oblivious. Hell, I think that’s most of the point in being an adult. You’re trying to find a way to move beyond the demons in your past, whatever way that is. Some people ignore them, some embrace them, and some overcome them. This is an outlet for you, Miley. It’s cathartic because it helps you heal. Never be ashamed of that. Do you understand me? That’s a command,” I add with a little mock seriousness.

  She flashes me a crooked smile, nodding her head but wiping at her eyes.

  “I mean it,” I say, cupping her face and lifting her chin so she’s looking at me. I wipe a tear from the corner of her eye and kiss her tenderly, longingly. “This is what you need it to be. There’s never any reason to be ashamed of that.”

  “What is it for you?” she asks.

  I chuckle, letting my hands fall and taking my turn studying the ground. She’s perceptive, I’ll give her that, but right now I wish she wasn’t. I can’t exactly tell her to embrace her past and how good a thing it is while also hiding my own from her. So I suck up my reluctance and start talking.

  “For me? I think there are two parts to it. On one hand, it lets the little, skinny kid from my past take control. There were times when I looked at my life and how everything was happening around me and I’d just think how I had no power over any of it. Things could go to complete shit, and it wouldn’t matter how hard I wanted or tried, it’d happen anyway. So maybe part of it is right there. This world is a place where I can take that control back. And if I can take control here, it helps me feel like there’s a little more sense to the rest of it, I guess.”

  She nods. “That makes sense. And what is the other part?”

  “The other part is that I thought one day I’d find a submissive who needed something very specific from her dom. Not just sex. Not just cold dominati
on. Not even just passion. I wanted a submissive who was nearly broken and at the edge of her ability to resist. Someone beautifully flawed--just barely holding on when it seemed like everything was out of her control and the world didn’t care how much she wanted or tried. I wanted to find that woman and show her there is control. There is order. There is a place where she can let go and trust in someone else to be her guide. I wanted to find you,” I say.

  More tears well in her eyes and she leans her head down onto my shoulder, wrapping her small arms around my back.

  “You’re the one I’ve been looking for all this time,” I whisper. “My perfect submissive. My perfect woman. The woman I love,” I say.

  My own words send a cold shock through me. I hadn’t planned to say so much, to reveal everything like I just did. But now that the words have come out of me, I feel the expectation hanging between us like electricity. Will she say it too? Can she?

  She’s crying harder now. Fuck, I think. My stomach is sinking and feels cold. She doesn’t feel the same way. As much as I’ve read into her thoughts and behavior, I’ve been wrong. I was so sure everything between us was mutual, and now I’ve laid it out on the table and she’s flinching, unwilling to commit to what I’ve offered her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says suddenly, pulling away and getting off the bed to find her clothes, which she hastily slips back into. “I can’t be what you need me to be. I want it. I really do. But it wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t.”

  I’m too stunned to speak. I can only watch as she moves to the door and takes one last, longing look back at me. In that moment I can see she’s about to say something, and I lean forward, waiting for the words because my own won’t seem to come.

  Her expression changes and she looks back toward the door, stepping halfway out to the hallway. “I’m sorry,” she says again before closing the door.