by Unknown
He swatted her with his hand, a hard swat though nowhere near his full strength. It was better than the cane, more spread out, more warming. She wiggled her ass at him for another. He gave it to her. Staying away from her pussy, he pressed his hand into her bottom with each stroke. That feels good. Yes. But it wasn’t a caning, wasn’t what she wanted and dreaded.
He stroked his hand across her pussy and she knew his fingers came back soaked with her juices. He gave her another swat and she could feel the wetness he left. “You’re warmed up enough, I think.”
Oh goody. She tensed. Remembering that tensing only made things hurt worse, she tried to relax but it didn’t entirely work.
He laid a line of fire across her backside that made her shriek. He waited for her to catch her breath, stroking her back with his hand, caressing her thighs with the cane.
“Did that leave a mark?”
“I doubt it, unless you bruise easily.”
Crap. He was still going easy. “More, please.” She couldn’t believe she was saying it. She didn’t want more.
He sighed and stung her with another line, just an inch below the first. It was harder, she was sure, but she was proud of herself for not calling out. She felt the tears run down her face and stared straight ahead so as not to show him. It wasn’t about sex anymore, it was about endurance. Showing him she could take it, even if he put her in front of a crowd.
“This one will leave a mark,” he murmured.
A white-hot streak of pain suddenly blossomed just above where her ass met her legs. This time she couldn’t help but scream. She twisted without thinking about it, trying to get her ass away from him. The bonds she was in let her twist her torso, crossing the ropes leading from her wrists, but she couldn’t move her ankles at all.
He pressed up against her, his long arms capturing her and trapping her against the warm car. “Holy fuck,” she heard herself say.
“Easy. Breathe.”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just get hit by that thing.”
“Obey.”
She tried to take a breath, but it came out like a sob. For a minute or more she just stayed there, crying. He pressed against her everywhere he could, including the welt on her bottom, which still stung. But she was grateful for him being there. He was a solid physical presence.
I failed. I can’t take more of that. “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing it wasn’t intelligible through her crying.
“Hmm?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a wimp,” she said.
He reached down and stroked her bottom, his hand briefly going to her pussy and then away. “Why are we doing this, Vanessa?”
“Because you like it.”
“I like turning you on, not turning you off. This isn’t arousing you, so it isn’t arousing me. Although—I still like having you tied to my car.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He kissed her neck and then her cheek, and then licked away some of the tears. “Nothing. But I still want to know why we’re doing this.”
“I don’t want anyone else to be your bottom at the demo. I wanted to be able to—”
“Are you serious?”
“Very.” She twisted to glare at him. His eyes were twinkling. What was so damn funny? His amusement angered her and made her go on. “But then you weren’t planning to tell me about that, were you? I can find stuff on the internet, you know. I signed up to go, even.”
“Because you’re interested in caning?”
“Because if you did cane someone else, I still wanted to be there to make sure I got all your cuddles.”
He smiled, humor still playing on his features. “Possessive wench, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Got a problem with that?”
“None. Which is why I asked Chuck to do the demo for me. I don’t think caning is for us, and as soon as I get to reorganize my bags, I’m going to pack the canes and single tails up.”
She blinked in disbelief. “Chuck is doing the demo?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t need to do this?”
“No, silly girl. Silly, wonderful girl.” He paused. “My silly, wonderful girl.”
“Fuck.”
He chuckled. “Promised you that too, didn’t I? Some nice outdoor sex? Hopefully you haven’t alarmed the neighbors with the screaming.”
“I used to scream my head off as a kid sometimes—no one ever showed up to see what was wrong.” She twisted to kiss him, and he devoured her lips hungrily. She wanted him inside her—not because she was turned-on, although the caning hadn’t vanquished all her arousal, but because she needed it emotionally. “Fuck me, please? Sorry. If it pleases you. I’ve been messing up the protocol too, haven’t I? Um, Master.”
“There’s a time for everything, my Vanessa.” He kissed her cheek. “And with pleasure.”
He moved back for a moment, long enough to pull down his jeans and get a condom on, and then pressed up against her again. She felt his cock at her entrance, and knew that when he pressed forward he would be pressing against her welt again. Strangely, she found she wanted that. It was the kind of pain she could deal with, the kind she found erotic. The cane had been too much. This would be just right. She pushed back against him.
He pushed forward slowly. She’d tightened up from the caning, she supposed, because she could feel each inch of him as he entered. When he touched her welt, she sighed. It was somehow emblematic of the road they had taken to get there. Had she really only known him a week? They had been through a lot, some of it painful. “More, please,” she said, and this time her heart was in it. She felt as if her nipples were hard enough to scrape his paint job.
He filled her. The tie he had her in left her enough freedom to rock in time with his thrusts. He reached around to caress her clit, and his other hand slid between the car and her to hold a breast. Perfect. He didn’t have to hold her hips, because the car held her firm for each thrust.
Each time he buried himself in her to the hilt it stung, but that didn’t stop her from pushing back against him. The familiar tension in her belly grew. She would have thought the fact that he said no so often to her release would have held it back, but it didn’t. She didn’t know what he would do this time, but she knew that her excitement pleased him, so she gave herself to her pleasure with abandon. Her clit ached as she ground against him.
“May I, Master?”
“Come for me, my love.”
There was that word again, love. But she didn’t have time to try to analyze it, because at his command everything seemed to explode outward from her clit, sending coruscating lines of pleasure up her limbs and making her whole body pulse. Then she felt him tense as well, and knew he had held back his own orgasm to come with her. Together they shuddered against the car, and then together they gasped for air as they tried to recover. Her body, she realized, was covered with sweat. So too was his face.
“Mine,” he murmured.
“Mine,” she murmured back. “And yours.”
Chapter Twelve
They went inside, showered and slept together. Hart woke up as the first light filtered through the curtains and slipped out of bed. He got dressed without waking her and went downstairs to his SUV. Sex toys weren’t all he’d brought along. Working quietly, without power tools, he took the screen door off her back door and laid it out on the picnic table. He enjoyed working outdoors on a summer morning. In the afternoon, the heat would make the labor unpleasant. He whistled while he worked, knowing that he was far enough away that the sound wouldn’t wake Vanessa.
The door needed more than just a new screen. Some of the joints that held the screen on were loose as well, and the door was slightly warped. Ideally it should be replaced entirely, but it was still functional and Hart wasn’t a big fan of throwing things away at the slightest sign of imperfection. He couldn’t unwarp the door, but with the joints repaired and the tension of the screen itself restored, it
might get better and would at least not get worse. He set to work.
He had the joints fixed and had just finished pressing down the spline to hold the new screen in place when he heard the sound of feet. Vanessa had on a crimson robe, pulled tight with a sash around her waist. The robe gave tantalizing glimpses of leg and cleavage when she moved.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing your screen door.”
“I see that.” She frowned, and then her features softened. “I guess the proper response is thank you. It would have taken me hours, and I’ve been trying to get the enthusiasm up for it. There’s just so much to be done here.”
“And now there’s one thing less.” He grinned at her.
“They won’t let me go.”
“Who won’t let you go to what?”
“The caning class. They turned me down. I guess I don’t really need to know any more about caning than I learned last night. Do you know my butt still hurts?”
He set down the spline tool and kissed her, pulling her to him with his arms around her waist and resisting the impish urge to squeeze her ass. “I’m not surprised. Do you have a mark?”
“Yes.” She blushed. “I have a purple line of a bruise.”
“And do you like wearing a bruise for me?”
“Yes, dammit.” She blushed deeper. “But don’t think that we’re going to do that all the time. I do like the mark. It still hurt—I don’t even know if I could do that again willingly, knowing what was to come. Maybe for special occasions. I don’t know. I don’t.” She shook her head. “We’re getting off topic. They told me I couldn’t come. Is that because I’m a sub and they want it to be for Doms, like with your bondage class?”
“Well, not Doms. Just one person per couple. Which sucks, but there’s only so much space. Still, they didn’t reject you for that because I’m not signed up. Kevin wouldn’t knock you back unless he was genuinely out of room. You’ve seen the space.”
“That many people want to go? I wouldn’t think there’d be that many people who’d want to go to a class on caning.”
“We turned a dozen people away from the predicament bondage class. And that’s not counting folks that would have much rather attended as a couple. People in the scene love to learn.”
“But there’s not that many people in the scene. I mean, a busy night at Devil’s Workshop is what, fifty people? And how many of them are even into caning? Or any one thing?”
Hart nodded. “Closer to eighty, but a lot of people don’t like the Devil’s Workshop. Some don’t play in public at all. Others just find the place too industrial. A few have had run-ins with Robert, the person who runs it. Others feel it’s not welcoming enough of them, for whatever reason—they don’t see other gay people there, or other transsexuals or anyone else doing latex the night they come—and they decide it’s not for them.”
“I had no idea. Well, about the fact that some people don’t play in public, sure.”
He smiled. “The Devil’s Workshop is a decent place. But it’s a part of the local scene, not the scene itself, regardless of what Robert thinks.”
Vanessa looked thoughtful.
Hart shrugged and checked his work. If there was something that needed to be fixed, it would be easier to repair before he put the door back in place. “As you said, caning isn’t your thing. I used to think I needed to be involved in everything. Attend every meeting of kinky folks, show up to the club whenever it was open. Sometimes, when there were fewer people, it was a matter of supporting the scene. And I was hungry to learn as much as I could. But now the problem is more people than space, and while I’m sure Chuck knows some things I don’t, I’m going to focus on the kind of play that my partner enjoys.” He looked up, satisfied. “That would be you.”
Vanessa nodded. “Does Kevin enjoy hosting?”
That was a good question. The first few times, he clearly did. Kevin liked being the big man. A lot of Doms did, and Hart had to concede there was something of that in himself as well. But the last few times he’d looked a little more weary. John did a lot of the work making sure the house was ready, but Kevin’s duties playing host often stopped him from learning with everyone else, and he’d complained about that at least once. “I don’t know. Some, maybe. I think he’s getting sick of it but he feels obligated.”
“Obligated because—no, never mind. Thank you. Mind if I take a few more minutes to myself?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I still need to put your door back on and I want to do it right. I’m thinking if I overtighten the top, I may be able to reverse the warping somewhat, and then I can come back and rejigger the screws in a month or so.”
She smiled. “Okay. I won’t be very long.”
“When you are ready, I’d like—”
“Breakfast?”
He shook his head. “Don’t interrupt. No. I’d like to see your mark. So I’ll sit back and enjoy the great outdoors on your lovely patio, and when you’re all finished please come out here, lose the robe and bend over this table right here.” He patted the table the door was on.
“Uh, panties too?”
“You’re wearing panties?”
“Well, I usually do.”
“Take those off as soon as you get back in the house.” He grinned. “For the things I like doing to you, they get in the way.”
She smiled. “Only if it pleases you, Master.”
“It does.”
She turned away and walked back inside. He tucked the screwdriver into his belt and hefted the door.
He was finished before she was. He waited for a few minutes on a deck chair, looking around and cataloging the trees that needed work. She’d done a good job with the shrubs and the weeds. Everything she could reach was taken care of. Most of what was left he felt he could do by climbing the trees and tying himself in place while he knocked off some dead branches. The oldest, biggest trees weren’t in bad shape.
And what a view. He’d been telling himself for a while that he liked city living, and he did enjoy the convenience. It was probably a good fifteen or twenty minute drive just to get to a grocery store from Vanessa’s place. But all that faded into insignificance when surrounded by the mass of green life around him, and the knowledge that the neighbors were too far away to see or hear or care what they did. Vanessa never had to wonder how thin her walls were. And the foliage was thick enough he wasn’t even sure if there was a fence between her property and the next. Maybe there was back in there somewhere. He resisted the urge to explore because he’d given Vanessa directions. He wanted to be there when she followed them.
He pretended not to notice when she opened the door, letting her walk past him to the bench. She cast a look back at him and he smiled. “Here? Now?” she asked.
“Here and now,” he confirmed.
“Only if it pleases you.” She turned away and untied the sash of her robe, then shrugged the whole thing off. She did indeed have a line of purple across her bottom, which he could see even better when she bent over the table. He could see two other cane marks as well, barely impressions in the skin. Those would fade to invisibility in a day. He got up and traced the line of her bruise, noting that it was no longer a risen welt like it had been the day before. She shivered.
“Does that hurt?”
“Yes. Only if it pleases you.”
“It does. Does it please you?”
“It does.” It wasn’t the most impressive mark he’d ever left on a woman. He’d done “tiger stripes” with a cane—a series of evenly spaced marks all along the ass and thighs. He’d done a lot of single tail work, and hell, Carol’s bruises from Walt’s misses with the single tail probably lasted longer than Vanessa’s cane marks would. But this was special, a gift from someone who was becoming truly special to him. “Mine.”
She sighed contentedly.
He wondered now how many times he’d marked a woman and she’d wanted the marks to mean that. But this time it did.
“Mine,”
he said again. He slid his finger along the folds of her pussy, then dipped in to enjoy her wetness. His finger slid in easily.
“Yours,” she agreed. “I have a confession to make.”
“Hmm?”
“I emailed Kevin and asked if he’d like to move the caning class to my place. I can seat more people.”
He blinked. After her telling him he couldn’t even mention using her house for a party, he was surprised. “But I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
She turned her head and flashed him a mischievous grin. “Nope. But I do hope you’ll come and help me host if he says yes.”
Of course I will. All the same, she was being a bit of a brat. “I’ll consider it.” He slipped a second finger in and curled them to hit her G-spot.
Any submissive with any self-awareness and self-respect had limits. Areas they could give up control and areas they needed control over. They had pushed hers with the caning in a major way. Maybe having the demo in her house would be a step toward other things. Maybe it wouldn’t be. Either way was okay, although obviously he had a preference.
“What does it depend on?” Her voice sounded shaky, obviously distracted by what he was doing with his fingers.
“On you being a good girl in the meantime.”
“I’ll do anything you ask,” she said.
“Anything?” Hot talk but again, she had limits.
“I think I know by now you won’t ask too much of me.”
“I won’t. Spread your legs.”
“Yes, Master.” She moved her legs apart, giving him even better access to her beautiful pink pussy. But that wasn’t all he was interested in. He pulled his fingers out. He pressed one, slick with her juices, against her anus. She gulped.
He worked his finger in slowly, feeling the ring of muscles that impeded it tense, then relax. Sure he had her full attention, he slipped a condom from his pocket and tore the wrapper open with his teeth. He pulled his zipper down to free his cock and rolled the rubber over it. For a moment, he regretted not having lube available, or a butt plug. Someday I’m going to fuck you there. But he had time to get her used to the idea. However long it took. From the sound of the pleasured moans she was making, it wouldn’t take too very long.