And then, just like that, it was over. Realistically, my whipping couldn't have lasted for more than a minute, but like the kettle bell swings, it seemed to go on forever.
I felt his hands on my burning, swollen, welted ass cheeks.
"God, if they could only see you now. You've got a beautiful pussy, you know that? The pinkest little cunt I've ever seen."
I shuddered in pleasure as I felt his fingers slide down from my bruised and abused ass to my wet and only-somewhat-less-abused pussy.
"Thank you, Sir," I whimpered. "It's all for you."
"I know that. I know it is," he hissed. I gasped as he slid a finger inside of me.
"Mmm, tighter than I would have thought. You know, based on your age and promiscuity."
I strangled a sob as he slid a second finger into me.
"But maybe we can have Sven add some exercises into your routine to tight things up down here. What do you say, Tara?"
I gasped, the tears falling from my eyes. It didn't hurt anymore--I mean, my ass did, but I had gotten used to that--but the humiliation was what burnt.
"Yes, Sir. I have been a slut," I whimpered pathetically.
"It's good that you admit it. I bet you were a slut in high school, in college? I bet all the boys wanted to fuck you and you let them."
He was right. But I never thought of that as being slutty--I mean, sure, I know girls get shamed for that, but I had always ignored such talk. But now I couldn't ignore it.
"Did you think they cared about you? All those assholes who you sucked off in the parking lot after school?"
"No. No, I knew they didn't."
"That's right. Good to be honest. Why did you do it?"
He was rubbing my clit and my G-Spot at the same time, his fingers deft and accurate. My muscles were shuddering something awful and I knew I would cum in seconds.
"Because... I was lonely... And I wanted to fit in and be cool..."
"That's right. You poor, dumb little slut. And look where you are now."
I gasped as my orgasm washed over me. I squealed, arching my back, my muscles trembling around him, squeezing him hard.
"Sir!" I squealed. "Oh, fuck!"
I shook beneath him, my body rebelling and shaking. I couldn't even hear what he was saying, how he was trying to humiliate me--the pleasure, the ecstasy was too much. It blocked out everything: his words, his touch, even the city glittering and gleaming in the night around us, embracing us and suffocating us in equal measure.
When I returned to my senses, I was curled up in the fetal position on the chaise. Boss was peering at me.
"Are you all right? How do you feel?"
"I feel..." I started to say, planning to end with "fine," but then I decided to actually take account of my feelings. I felt... Strangely great. I felt like that orgasm had wiped away cobwebs that had been in place for years. I felt like it had cleaned my brain, cleaned my soul, like I was strangely free.
"I feel pretty good," I said, taking a deep breath and offering him a smile. He returned the smile.
"Are you good to keep going?"
I nodded with a big grin. I lay back on the chaise, gasping as my bruised and welted backside came in contact with the slightly coarse, rain-proof material of the furniture. I spread my legs wide and pulled my knees up, practically up to my shoulders--thank you, years of yoga, pilates, and the crash course boot camp Sven had put me through.
I felt his cock press against my wetness as he leaned down over me, the mask glinting in the lights of the city as he rubbed his thick tip against my hole.
"Please, Sir..." I moaned. "God, I need it bad..."
"Beg for it. Beg more, Tara. I want to hear you beg."
I bit my lip, pushing my hips forward as if trying to suck him in with my wetness.
"Please, I need it so bad. I can't wait to feel you inside of me. I need, need, need to feel you inside of me... Boss..."
He ran a hand over my belly, up from my crotch to my breasts, flicking one of my nipples. I gasped and arched my back. My body felt like it was on fire, like his every touch was a match ready to spread the conflagration.
"What will you give me, if I fuck you?" he growled, leaning down to suckle my other nipple. I whimpered, feeling his hot tongue wash over my tender, swollen flesh.
"Anything... Anything, Sir. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be your slut. Your slave. You have beat me, break me, fuck me, do whatever you want to me... I just need to feel you inside of me right now..."
I gasped, groaning and grimacing as he impaled me. God, it had been such a long time since I had had a cock that huge. It spread me open and dug deep into me. I arched my back, taking him deep and moaning as his hand grabbed me by the hair, forced my head back. I whimpered at the pain of him, pulling my hair, but that slight pain was all the more overwhelmed by the exquisite agony of feeling him dig his cock deep into me.
"Please, Sir, please!" I squealed, shamelessly, bucking my hips against him, my body squeezing him, my muscles gripping him hard. "Fuck me!"
His cock began to slide in and out of me as his hips pulled back, almost pulled out, and then slammed back into me. God, he fucked hard. Each thrust was like an earth quake inside of me. He was strong, fucking strong, and I loved it. I understood why he had wanted me to get in better shape. I could barely withstand his thrusts now. A few weeks ago, he would have broken me.
"I'm nice and surprised by how tight you are," he growled in my ear. "I would have assumed you'd be looser. Especially after feeling you."
"It's just for you, Sir," I whimpered, letting out a gasp as he drove into me.
"That's right. You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that, Tara," he growled, taking one of my nipples and twisting it hard. "Beg for my cock, Tara. Be my good little slut."
"Please, Sir!" I all but screamed. "Fuck me! I need your cock! I need your cum, Sir! I'll die without it..."
And it honestly felt like I would. I couldn't explain it, couldn't explain what I was going through, but I was sure that if he didn't fuck me as hard as he could, I'd die, I'd wither away, waste away, dry up and die without that hot seed inside of me...
He held my tight by my ass and pounded into me, his hips pistoning in and out of my tightness. I grimaced, whimpered, shuddered, and did my best to remain conscious as he pounded me.
"Please..." I groaned. "God, I need it..."
I felt like a broken record, or a little girl's doll, unable to say much of anything else besides what I had been programmed to say. But I didn't care. I was finally getting what I needed, what I hadn't realized that I needed.
Then his mouth claimed mine and I melted, wrapped my legs around his waist as he bore down into me, feeling his cock plumb my deepest depths, feeling it drive into my guts. I wrapped my arms around him tight as he pumped me, as our mouths dueled--or, really, as he claimed my mouth, since I was completely, and utterly, in his control, under his power. He felt free to bite my lips, my tongue, and then down my chin, my neck, leaving marks with reckless abandon. He took one of my breasts in his mouth, not even the nipple but just the plump flesh, and sucked hard, leaving an ugly, splotchy welt on my skin. I gasped and groaned, dying for more of his touch.
"Fucking hell..." he growled, and I felt his cock twitching and tightening inside of me.
"Please," I begged. "I want your cum. I want to feel your cum inside of me."
And that was it. With a groan, he released his seed, and I arched my back, widening my legs, trying to take it all. I moaned in bliss at the sensation, savoring the feeling of that hot seed invading my womb, filling me up, sticking to the sides of my pussy walls, and his cock, pumping the entire time, as if churning butter inside of me. What a strange thought, I realized vaguely as I whimpered, but that's what it reminded me of. After all, I am from Wisconsin.
Finally, he was done. He slid out of me with a loud pop. God, but he had been buried deep inside of me. My muscles reacted achingly to the removal of the intruder, relaxing around the void they
now found themselves encompassing as his seed dripped out of my sloppy mess of a pussy and onto the chaise.
"That was amazing..." I whimpered, leaning back and looking up at the stars. I saw he was on his phone. Typical man.
"Unfortunately, I'll have to go into the office tomorrow morning. Something came up. We'll have to cut our activities short tonight."
I pouted, but secretly, I wasn't sure I would be able to withstand much more of his attention tonight.
"I was hoping to initiate you into the more esoteric aspects of my interests... But I had better have you sign a contract first, anyway."
"Like in--"
"Yes, Fifty Shades of Grey. We've been over that, Tara," he said, rolling his eyes behind the mask.
And then, he picked me up, wrapping me up in his strong arms. That was good--my legs were still trembling from the force of his fucking. I snuggled into his chest as he carried me back into the apartment and to my bedroom.
"Bobby will be bringing you a morning after pill tomorrow. We'll do that for a while. We can discuss a more permanent solution, but the morning after pill seems the easiest, as it won't wreck too much havoc on your system."
I smiled.
"You're not the condom type, are you?"
"I haven't used a condom in years," he murmured. "I don't fuck people I have concerns about. At least not biological concerns."
"I'm glad to hear you have so much confidence in me," I said with a giggly smile. I was giddy and sleepy. "At least, biological confidence."
My bed was all made up for me. He laid me down in it and I snuggled into the covers. Damn, but they were really, really soft. It was like getting into a warm bath.
"You're not going to come sleep with me? What if you want me in the middle of the night?" I suggested, thinking that being woken up by his cock sounded quite nice...
"I have some work to do," he grunted. "And I think it's best that we maintain separate bed rooms for the time being."
I bit my lip. Of course. I had to remember that I was his toy, his plaything. I could be put away when he was done playing with me. Back on my shelf. Back in the toy chest. Nothing else to do with the doll.
"Whatever you say, Sir," I replied as he drifted out of my room. And I was alone, in the darkness. I trembled, but not for long: sleep overtook me before long and I became part of the darkness surrounding me.
6
The Contract
The next morning, I awoke to light filtering into my window, casting shadows over the room. Another day in the capitol of the world, I thought groggily as I sat up. For a moment, I had half forgotten where I was, and why I was there. I could have thought that I was still in my old apartment, hungover from a wild party on some finance bro’s yacht. But then, just as quickly as you please, I remembered the events of the previous night. They came flooding back to me fast and hard, and my eyes widened, as if everything I had done, everything that had been done to me, were being played in front of my eyes like a movie…
My entire body ached. My ass was sore and welted beyond belief. My breasts were bruised and covered in even more welts. My lips were sore. My pussy was sore. My insides were sore. Even my bones were sore.
I was glad we had finished up when we did. I sincerely doubted my ability to keep going, after everything he had done to me...
I rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom to wash up, something which I hadn't done after our lovemaking--no, our fucking--I couldn't get confused about these things. Well, no, I wasn't confused. Maybe I just... Wanted something else.
Wanted something else? What was I thinking about here? I never got hung up like this over any other guy. It was dumb. So dumb. So fucking dumb. Don't fall in love.
But, even as I tried to push those ideas out of my head, they came hurtling back. Love. Devotion. What did I wanted out of him? I was pretty sure I had never acted like this about any other guy. I was usually pretty practical when it came to men. I used them for as long as they pleased me, and when I got bored with them, I stopped. That was it. That seemed simple. Who cared what men thought? Who cared if they got hurt? They were way more likely to hurt someone again anyway. I just didn't give a damn.
But with Boss... It all felt different. I could see myself serving him, loving him, getting down on my knees and doing whatever he wanted... Living with him, like this, for a long, long time. Maybe it was the effect of being locked up in the apartment for so long (I guess I wasn't actually locked up--I was completely able to unlock the door and leave--it had just never occurred to me) but I wanted to lean into this life, to be his loving slave and get love in return. What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe it was because I was exercising, eating healthy, and sleeping well for the first time in years?
Even with my soreness and my aches, I felt great. Even when he humiliated me--reminded me of all the guys I had slept with, had meaningless sex with just because they told me how pretty I am, because they told me that they loved my thigh gap (which I knew meant I was Skinny Enough--but enough for what, I had no idea and I still don't)--I wanted to bend over, bow down, and take it. For him.
I felt myself blushing. This wasn't like me.
I cleaned up. I met Sven in the gym half an hour later for a short workout--some pilates, some kettle bell swings, and some stretches. I had had a pretty intense workout the day before, and I wasn't even talking about the sex.
"Your Mr. Boss thinks you are doing very well. Health wise, I mean," Sven told me after we had finished. "Says you look very healthy. Looking stronger."
"I'm glad. All thanks to you!" I declared, and we exchanged a high five. Sven, weirdly, seemed to love high fives. He said it wasn't a thing in Norway, but here, in America? Get a cab when it's raining out? High five. Set a new deadlift personal record? High five. Return from the edge of anorexia and drug addiction to become a fit sex slave for your mysterious billionaire master? High five!
After he left, I took a moment to admire myself in the tall mirrors of the gym. Glad in my Lululemon finest--sports bra, revealing my tight, muscled tummy, and a pair of skin-tight yoga pants--I definitely looked healthier than when I had first arrived here. I had more muscle and, yes, more fat--but you'd never look at me and say I was fat. In fact, I think most people would probably say I was still too skinny. But at the very least, I didn't look like I would fall over anymore. I hadn't felt wobbly when walking in a long time. And I had gained nearly eleven pounds.
Of course, I didn't know what the modeling world would think of this change. I had definitely gone up a few sizes. But I was still pretty.
I knew as well as anyone that being pretty wasn't all it took, of course. But that was a bridge I'd cross when I came to it.
Back in the kitchen, after swallowing the morning after pill left taped to my usual post-workout smoothie, I noticed a packet of papers on the counter. It took me a second to realize what these were.
The contract. The Fifty Shades of Grey-esque contract. I rolled my eyes when I saw it and I began to flip through it.
It was kind of what you would expect--if you were the type of person who thought much about weird BDSM-enabling contracts.
It stated that I was free to break the contract at any time, but that while I was in his house, I would adhere to its rules--no cigarettes, no drugs, alcohol in moderation, healthy diet, lots of exercise. Easy enough--I had been doing that for nearly two weeks without having to sign anything in the first place.
And then... There was the weird sex stuff. Lots of it. I found myself giggling--like I said, I'm not a prude. I've done some weird stuff in my time. I had a boyfriend once--not really a boyfriend so much as a guy who wanted me and I wanted a ride to a party in the Hamptons but I digress--who was super into feet--the smellier the better. I would wear thick socks, often several pairs, and then he would get down on his hands and knees and smell them. Then, he would fuck me with reckless abandon. That didn't last that long, but mostly because the party was over--he was a perfectly good fuck otherwise.
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br /> But there was stuff on there I'd never heard of. Stuff I'd never considered. Lots of anal stuff. That had always been a hard line for me, something I refused to cross: whenever I was with a guy and he started sliding his fingers back there, pretending they had "slipped," I shut that shit down real quick. No pun intended.
But with Boss... I felt different. I was willing to give it a try.
There was the usual tying up, the whipping, even weirder stuff--being left home alone with a vibrator on, while tied up and blindfolded? God, that sounded insane--but I wasn't about to say no to that either. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
He could exhibit me if he wanted to, the contract stated, and a thrill went up and down my spine. What do you expect? I'm a model. I'm an exhibitionist by nature. I've always liked people looking at me and admiring me. The idea of him, having a fancy party, powerful men there--and then I come out, naked, for all his powerful colleagues to admire... I found myself biting my lip and pressing my thighs together at the thought.
I wasn't allowed to fuck anyone without his permission. That made sense. I would sleep in my own room unless specifically invited to sleep somewhere else. That also made... sense, I supposed. At least, that's what he seemed to have already introduced, so who was I to dispute it?
Finally, the contract stated that the terms and long-term nature of the agreement would be revisited in three months' time. Yes, that's also what I expected.
At the bottom, Boss had already signed--just an X. He wasn't putting his real name somewhere for me to see. That sent a shudder through my body, though you wouldn't have known it by looking at me, I suppose. Why wouldn't he tell me his name, damn it? I understood the role playing, master/slave aspect of it--but I wanted to know more about him. Just who was the man who had brought me to one of the most powerful orgasms of my life, who was able to get inside my head and humiliate me in a way that made me want to be humiliated, made me want to be his slut, his toy, his pretty little plaything? It was fine to keep up the Boss-persona for play time, but I wanted to know just who this was I was fucking.
Insatiable: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 7