Private Box

by Barrie Abalard

  He licked the insides of the suction devices, pinched them to chase out the air, covered each nipple with one, and then let them go. The extreme sucking effect was immediate, and she was glad she had tape across her mouth. It hurt like a bastard.

  Kissing her cheek as she moaned, he said, “Ah, such a lovely night for tormenting my kinky lover. Just look at that moon.” He slapped her bottom with a leather paddle, the sting causing her to jerk against her bonds. “Your moon’s almost as full as the one in the sky, darling, and I do so love it when your moon’s red and sore.” One of his hands wandered down her torso, pressing her belly just above where her pussy’s hair would have been, if she didn’t shave. His other hand dipped between her legs, wetting two of his fingers inside her. He chuckled again upon hearing another muffled moan. “You’re really getting off on this, aren’t you?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. He laughed softly. “Right, dumb question.”

  The two wet fingers came to rest on either side of her clit. To her surprise, his touch was gentle as he rolled her nub between them. She had expected him to pinch her clit forcefully enough to be uncomfortable. His digits worked quickly while his other hand continued pressing the lowest area of her belly. When she was about to come, he stopped, and she groaned her disappointment. He slapped her ass. “You’ll get yours, I promise.”

  He invaded her with one hard thrust, and he came surprisingly quickly. By now, she was actively working against the restraints. She longed to come soon, her pussy repeatedly clenching his softening cock. She would have given hard cash at that moment for an orgasm, for a tongue, for a finger, even a nasty, rough one.

  He slid between her ass cheeks, masturbating against her while leaning to one side. She turned toward him as far as she could, whimpering, so badly did she want him to remove the suction cups from her nipples. When he did, the sensation, simultaneously excruciating and exciting, had her screaming.

  “See why I taped your mouth?” His fingers played with her throbbing nipples—the cups’ suction had engorged them with blood until they were absurdly large—while he continued rubbing his cock in the split of her buttocks, creating friction across her anus that she loved.

  He let go of her. For a wild moment she thought he was gone, leaving her naked and restrained on her balcony, but the loud slap of leather proved otherwise.

  Her toy box held a nasty, nasty length of thick leather. Rarely did she allow anyone to use it on her. She signaled with her eyes that he should stop, but he smiled, and this time, his smile was downright ugly.

  “You’re a filthy-rich little bitch who deserves every lick of this strap. Plus, it has the added advantage of being loud. Perhaps we’ll rouse an audience on this fine evening.”

  She shook her head, tears in her eyes. He held her gaze while smacking one buttock with the tip of the strap. The intense burn produced more tears—and more wetness down below. She had no doubts these days as to exactly how big a pain slut she was. Stephen had expanded the boundaries that Hunter had initially defined.

  He whacked her repeatedly with the punishing leather, and the deep-down smarting heat opened her wide, even as tears coursed down her cheeks. God, the sting, the hot fiery sensation—she would have died to stop it, and yet died to have more. Just one more biting kiss of the indifferent strap.

  She writhed when another fierce leather lick branded her sitting area, the crack almost pistol-shot loud. Then, the hot, wet soothing of his tongue on what she discovered later were large welts quieted her. He bit her behind, something he’d never done before, as a prelude to shoving a dildo, a large one, up her cunt.

  Her need to come had her body shaking as if a strong wind were buffeting her. Stephen slammed his way up her ass, but she was used to his enthusiastic impalements. That night’s ass-fucking was hardly the roughest she’d ever endured—or, more accurately, enjoyed.

  By now she was moaning non-stop behind the tape, both her holes squeezing hard, her orgasm building to unprecedented intensity. With a hard pinch of a nipple and his fingers strumming her clit, she came, shrieking behind the tape. For a moment, she thought, she might have lost consciousness. She came to, collapsed against him, dizzy from the hot thrills coursing through her body, her pussy pulsing as her climax refused to fade. He supported her with one arm, his fingers still whipping her clit while his cock reamed her ass. She’d never come twice in rapid succession before, but that night, another orgasm caught her unawares. She screamed again behind the tape and her toes curled hard, their nails scratching the terrace’s marble.

  Dazed fatigue washed over her. She barely noticed his orgasm, or him sliding out of her, or him removing the dildo. In fact, she was so completely relaxed that her bones felt bendable, given enough pressure. Stephen removed the duct tape from her mouth, ankles, and wrists. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her from the balcony into the living room.

  They stared into the barrel ends of two pistols, held by Boston’s finest. One of them hurried to snatch her from Stephen’s arms while the other snarled, “Hit the floor, asshole.”

  Chapter 4

  A few minutes later, her nakedness covered with a cashmere throw and her orifices commencing their usual post-Stephen-fucking aching, she wondered how it had come to this.

  “Officers, really.” She struggled to speak normally, and not as if she were drugged, which was how she felt after her orgasms. “This man is my lover. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

  Stephen, on the carpet with his hands cuffed behind his back, snapped, “I’m going to sue your asses off, you blue-uniformed bastards.”

  “Are you sure, ma’am?” the taller of the two officers replied. “Neighbors said they heard noise, saw you restrained naked on your balcony, squirming as if you were being tortured—”

  “Tortured with the best fucking she’s ever had,” Stephen cut in, and the shorter officer kicked him, none too gently, in the ribs. “Shut up.”

  “Seriously, no problems here.” Elizabeth clutched the throw around her tighter. “Now, would you please leave?”

  “Well, ma’am,” the taller officer said, “there’s the question of lewd and lascivious sexual behavior in public. I’m going to have to take you both in for that, seeing as how two different callers reported your activities.”

  “If you charge me, I’m ruined. My family’s company will be ruined. Please, no.” As much as she loather her father, she didn’t want Lawrence and Company to fold.

  Stephen spoke up. “Don’t beg, Elizabeth. It’s beneath you.”

  The officer picked up her skirt and blouse, handing it to her. “Get dressed. You’re both going downtown.”

  * * * *

  Several hours later, she sat in wrinkled clothing, clutching a coated paper cup half-full of the worst coffee she’d ever tasted.

  Her world was crashing around her. When her parents found out, as they eventually would, she suspected they’d wish they could send her back to Headmistress for a rousing good caning. Scandal had never touched their family’s firm. Not until now.

  The real Stephen Landsman, she was told, resided in Europe. The man who’d been fucking her was actually named Humphrey Sands, and he was no doctor, unless you considered what he’d done, stealing several million from a company in Chicago, a kind of monetary surgery. As CFO, he’d certainly carved out a nice piece of change for himself from company funds. Of course, he no longer worked for that company, having moved to Boston, using several pieces of false identification to erase his tracks.

  Someone in the station had recalled seeing his picture in connection with the theft on an FBI posting. When the police had confronted Stephen with his real identity, he’d caved, blurting out details she’d had no interest in hearing. She’d been stupid, she’d been blind, she’d let her pussy lead her around, her nose permanently open for Stephen-slash-Humphrey.

  As her father would doubtless say, it served her right.

  “Ms. Lawrence?”

  She lifted her head. A dark-haired,
dark-eyed man had seated himself across from her. “Detective Everett. I need to speak with you.”

  “A detective. Hell. Up to now, no one’s asked me anything. I guess I’d better invoke my right to counsel.”

  “Are you invoking?”

  She thought about it. “Not yet, not officially.”

  He nodded. “Okay, then. Tell me, you didn’t know who Sands was, did you?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. Our firm doesn’t need business that badly, to manage tainted money. I never would have opened his account, except—”

  She stopped herself before she could say, except I wanted to fuck him so badly, I would have sold my Mayflower-descended grandmother into white slavery.

  “Relax. No criminal charges will be brought against Lawrence and Company, or you. Of course, you’ll have to give back all the money you earned from managing Sands’ account.”

  The idea of giving back money stung almost as much as her hindquarters did. “Ouch,” she said. “You really know how to hurt a gal.”

  He flashed a grin at her, a grin that made the pit of her stomach stir pleasantly. “From what the arresting officers told me, you don’t mind certain kinds of hurt.”

  Words popped out of her mouth she had no intention of saying, until she did. “A spanking’s one thing. Giving back money, now, that’s agony.” Shoving the coffee cup at him, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, that was most inappropriate. I apologize.”

  “Don’t. I was wrong to say what I did, and I apologize for my crudeness,” she heard him reply. Her face, still covered by her hands, was burning with mortification, she knew. She always blushed when she was embarrassed.

  “I have something else to tell you.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, bracing herself for the inevitable.

  “No charges are being filed against you. You’re free to go.”

  That snapped her head up. When she looked at his expression, it registered with her that he had a crooked nose she found charming. “What? Not even the public sex charges?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone’s so fuckin’ happy we nailed this guy, no one cares about what you did. You’re considered the innocent, injured party in this mess. Besides, public sex is a misdemeanor. No one gives a crap about that, because we busted Sands.”

  She stood. “If I’m free to go, I will.”

  He extended his hand. “A pleasure meeting you. Tell your lawyers what happened, so we can begin the process of giving the money back. We’ll keep it out of the press if we can, but no promises.”

  She shook his hand, and little chills raced up her arm. She pulled her hand away, fighting the urge to rub it against her thigh, to erase the lingering tingle in her palm.

  “You felt it too, huh?” His sneaky, sexy grin returned.

  “I’m not going to lie to a detective,” she said.

  “You’d better not. When people break the rules, they get disciplined. And lying’s definitely against the rules.”

  She put a hand on her bottom, and rubbed, holding eye contact. “I’m not very good at following the rules, I’m afraid.”

  Inside, she was screaming, What the fuck are you doing, Elizabeth? But she knew what she was doing—she was picking up the pieces and going on with her life. Stephen’s betrayal, she was surprised to notice, didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. Perhaps she was finally done with this phase of her life, her need to send her father an unequivocal fuck-you message no longer urgent. She was done with Hunter, and done with Stephen. But not, she hoped, done with kinky sex—the orgasms were phenomenal.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Anyone ever call you Lizzie? You strike me as being a Lizzie.”

  She batted her eyes twice, a small flirtation. “No, but you go right ahead, Detective.”

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear, and his hot breath hardened her nipples, tender as they were. “Lizzie, I have handcuffs. The real deal. I also have a police-issued belt that’s just perfect for discipline, and you wouldn’t be the first young lady to feel its sting. But I don’t do public sex.”

  She had the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl, an urge she tamped down into a smile. “That’s fine. I don’t think I have an appetite for it any more.”

  An image of Stephen ripped through her head, one of him kissing her tenderly après sex, and pain she hadn’t expected to feel twisted her heart. Maybe she wasn’t as done with him as she’d thought earlier. After all, fucking someone for a few months would cause most anyone to suffer from some emotional involvement. “Listen, give me a few weeks to—recover. Understand?”

  He nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  “I know,” she interrupted, lightly touching a finger to his lips. “Steph—Humphrey and I were never about love, just sex. Despite that, I don’t feel too good inside at the moment.”

  “When you’re ready, call me.” He handed her his card. “I have a feeling I can make you feel good inside.”

  “Me, too,” was all she said. Outside the station, she hailed a taxi to start her workday, the sky in the east pink with promise.

  The End

  ABOUT BARRIE ABALARD

  Barrie Abalard has worked as a radio personality, technical writer, taxi driver, bank clerk, and ad copy writer, but she has always returned to her first love, fiction writing. Since 1995, she has written short stories, novellas, and novels that explore various aspects of kink in both romances and non-romances (erotica), and in both straight and gay relationships. She writes for DisciplineAndDesire.com as “Belle,” and has also written in the past as “Miss Lee.” Barrie is married with a grown child and lives in the Middle Atlantic area, along with their persnickety cat. You can learn more about Barrie and her stories of politically-incorrect love by visiting her website: http://barrieabalard.com.

  If you enjoyed PRIVATE BOX, you might also enjoy:

  A STEP TOO FAR

  Jennifer Campbell

  Gina Tortomelli and Nikki Manning have been friends since childhood, but now with college over and the stresses of working life, things are beginning to come unraveled as lovers. Nikki is moving further and further into an exploration of her submissive desires, which Gina is uncomfortable following her into. In a local newsmagazine, Nikki discovers a new, avant-garde company specializing in bringing women a submissive sexual experience in a safe environment. Anxious to try bondage, Nikki raises a fuss when Gina doesn’t want to play, forcing her lover to investigate the company. Calling the paper, Gina finds out the company has been checked out thoroughly by the PD, and she meets Andrea, a police officer who is also inexperienced but curious about bondage. Gina invites Andrea into her relationship with Nikki, hoping for a friend and ally, but then sparks begin to fly. Gina’s insecurity flares and Nikki becomes bitchy in return when Gina feels Andrea is getting closer to Nikki than she is.

  Nikki continues down a slippery slope of submission, trying to attract Andrea and at the same time confusing and repelling Gina. Eventually Nikki meets Jack Gabriel, who is not at all what he appears, but seems to the submissive to be all she desires. As Nikki is slowly drawn down the road to total enslavement, Gina moves in a surprising new direction, and Andrea struggles to keep the three of them together. Will Nikki give in to full submission, and will Gina find herself as she becomes a person she never thought she was. In a tale of change and renewal where everyone has something to lose and something to gain, who will take the step too far?

  Warnings: This title contains graphic language, domination, bondage, sexual use, male chastity and male feminization.

  Excerpt From A STEP TOO FAR:

  “Danny, Gina and I want to play a game. We want you to be our Master, and make us serve you as your slaves. Please understand, I want you to be dominant, take control of the situation. Do you understand what I’m asking?” His erection now waved in her face, but she waited patiently for his answer.

  “Ya, okay, you want to get kinky, and have me tell you to do things. I
can do that. You do as I say, right?”

  Nikki shook her head. “No, I want you to master me, make me do what you want, not just tell me.”

  Now Danny seemed confused. “Make you? You mean physically force you?”

  Now Nikki smiled and nodded, and Gina shivered glad she still had her panties on. She had watched Nikki do this before, with different guys, with varying results, but Nikki had never been satisfied. However each time Gina watched, she thought of how hard it would be for her to put herself in Nikki’s position, the submissive.

  “Suck my cock.” The command came out of Danny’s mouth with authority, an authority he assumed would make Nikki jump to the task, but he was wrong.

  In her desire for real domination, Nikki simply knelt there, looking sexily up at Danny with her mouth open but unfilled. She had no intention of sucking his cock at his command; she wanted his action to force her.

  Danny moved his shaft toward his mouth, figuring he could simply take possession of the warm wetness, but Nikki was having none of it.

  Folding her arms over her breasts, she closed her mouth, refusing him entry. For Nikki, what Danny did next was a moment of truth.

  As Danny stopped in his tracks and looked down at her with confusion in his eyes, her heart sank. It doesn’t look like he’s the one.

  “Okay, so what is this, a cock tease? You say you want it but then you refuse.” Danny’s confusion could perhaps be forgiven, in the climate of politically correct sexual relations, but what Nikki wanted was not politically correct.

  “No cock tease here, If you make me suck I’ll suck, and I’ll love it.” Again Nikki opened her mouth, and her knees, perhaps to add to his desire to have her. Letting her right hand find her labia, she slipped a finger into her moist tunnel.