“All this can end right now. Just say, 'Thank you, sir,'” he explained. A rush of recognition surged past the mindless lust in my head. He was trying to break me. All this teasing wasn't to satisfy him it was to crush me. He’d told me to resist just so he could watch me crumble.
In the end, he’d get what he wanted. He always did.
I didn't respond for a few seconds, and he chuckled again. The warm breath left me, and so did the finger. For a few short moments, I felt nothing. I couldn't tell if it was better or worse this way. His touch was... it was amazing. Somehow or other, I had to fight not to fall into his rhythm. Yet, this silence was worse.
Fortunately, or not, it didn't last long. I felt the breath again, this time nowhere near my face. Something wet and soft began to slide up and down between my legs, and again, I jerked away from it, fearing how abrupt and intense it was. His... tongue? Powerful hands grabbed my tied ass and forced me forward into the waiting wetness of his mouth. He licked at me like a dog, letting his entire face rub and play against my sensitive folds as he devoured me with a ferocity I’d never felt.
This time, when I moaned, I moaned loudly. The gag vibrated between my teeth, and I didn't care. This was what he wanted, right? Let him have it; let him have whatever he wanted. The feeling, the sensation... it was too much; how could I do anything but give in?
I tried to say thank you, but all that came out were more moans. He ignored them and began to bite at my lower lips, to pull at them with his mouth, to tongue my clitoris, to lick my wetness clean. I began to buck into his mouth with what little room I had to move as his fingers curled into the skin of my ass. I felt pain, remote and faraway, and it mixed as well with the pleasure as a splash of vodka mixes with cranberry. I felt myself stir inside. My toes began to curl; my back began to arch. I strained against the ropes, which only grew tighter against me. I felt my breasts squeeze between two thick strands, and I could feel the blood trap in them. I didn't care. My body began to rock in orgasm, and he ignored it.
His hands left my ass to spread me apart. His tongue hit parts of me that no man before him ever even thought to notice. My orgasm peaked, and I found myself literally shaking under his touch—spasming more like. It came hard, and I writhed, bucked, and screamed into the gag. He let me go, and I could only assume he watched me with a horrible look of triumph on his face as I tired myself out against the ropes.
Tears rolled down my face. I wasn’t crying; at least I don't think I was. It was just so intense. He kissed my tears away, licking the salty trails up my face. He wasn't done with me yet, I could tell. But he spoke gently.
“You have ten minutes. I'll be back.”
I couldn’t tell whether he kept to his timeline. It didn’t matter. As soon as he was back, I felt his hands trail down my thigh. I was still so charged with nervous energy that I immediately started to whine. The touch was so cruelly light that I almost couldn’t handle it. Calvin had told me that some women enjoyed being tied up to feel more comfortable during rough play, almost like a security blanket for a child. That wasn’t the case for me. I felt bound, restricted. It was a sweet torture, a prolonging of release despite the orgasm. I wanted to touch him, to run my nails over his back, slam my hips over his cock, and feel my nipples slide over his solid chest as I rode him. I wanted to be wrapped up by him, not some ropes. I wanted to be taken by him, used by him, consumed by him, liberated by him. Every touch in this state was some gorgeous species of pain, a pain I knew would make freedom all the sweeter. Until I was free, however…
His hand sloped over my knee and raced down my calf. With a twist, his palm slipped under my heel and lifted my lower leg. I jumped when he kissed the bottom of my foot. He moaned, sliding his lips gently over the ticklish skin as I gasped and twitched. Until I’d met Calvin, I had no idea how sensual tickling could be. Now, I couldn’t be tickled without feeling that telltale warmth between my legs, especially when my feet were involved. The master had trained me to respond as he liked, and when he slid his tongue between my toes, I, too, moaned lustily.
“Look at you, getting so excited,” he teased. I wanted to tell him it was his fault, but I could only moan. It made me sound so pitiful. I knew how much he loved that. Knowing I turned him on so made me even more aroused.
My foot dropped to the floor. A strong hand curled over my throat. I felt it push up against me, gripping tight. My body screamed at me to respond. I ignored it. I felt fear mingle with excitement in the pit of my stomach.
“We’re going to move now,” he said. “Don’t struggle.”
I felt the chair lean back on its hind legs. I was off balance and clearly held back from falling only by the tight grip on my neck. His hand pushed up against my jaw, and I began to feel the blood trap in my veins as he began to pull the entire chair backward using only me as his grip. When I was where he wanted me, he dipped my head back farther, leading it to rest on the ground. I felt the chair press awkwardly into my shoulders. I had no idea why he’d tipped the chair on its back. I caught my breath and relaxed my muscles. Whatever was going to come next, I knew I’d enjoy it. Calvin had never put me through an ordeal I hadn’t come to love.
“There’s a place you go when you feel so wild and heedless that the world turns off—when you embrace all the gifts I give your skin and ignore the distractions of the world,” he said. He must have been kneeling next to me, because his hand swept the strands of hair away from my face.
“It’s a special place not many people can find. It’s a place where time goes away, where worry goes away. It’s a place in your mind of raw experience.”
Under the blindfold, my eyes widened in shock. He was talking about—
Suddenly, I was twitching. Something had happened to my foot. It was electric. Literally. I felt as though I’d been shocked. It happened so fast, as though an electrified brush had been swiped over my toes. I had no idea what to make of it. It was totally unlike all the times when I’d felt aroused or nervous. This felt as if I’d stuck my finger (or my toe, in this case) in an electric socket.
“It’s a place you are so overwhelmed, you forget sadness and death. I’m going to take you to a place you become immortal.”
Again, the jolt blasted up my toes. They curled and spread apart desperately. I cried out from behind my gag. I realized I could hear a dull humming coming from near my feet. Was there some sort of machine doing this to me? Did I care? It felt so good.
“Listen to my voice. Feel the electricity flow into your body. Turn off everything else,” he continued. He sent another charge of electricity through me. I felt myself stirring between my legs. I felt lust overcoming me. I was so happy to be teased and tortured like this that I forgot to consider even why I felt so excited.
“It’s just you and I, Sabrina.”
I let his voice flood over my senses. It wasn’t difficult to obey. I had no sight; I couldn’t speak. I felt like half a person to begin with. My breath grew deep and slow, only quickened when my master sent the needle-like sparks sweeping over my legs. I whined, sure. I begged into the rubber ball gag. But I was only half there. I was slipping—I could feel it—into the place he wanted me to go. What little fear I had melted away. What little hesitation I felt vanished. I threw myself headlong into the sensation of it all. I let my inhibitions fly away. I was his, and he would take care of me.
Electricity ran up my thighs and into my hips. I felt my muscles spasm, but nothing hurt. The entire human body is regulated by electricity. What better way to dominate me, to steal away my power to resist, than by controlling me with his electricity? I was in awe of him. It wasn’t just that he looked like Michelangelo’s David made out of skin and muscle—he was a savant at robbing a person of her power, of making her weak, pliable, and soft before him. It took everything I had not to just stroke his ego every time I saw him. It was a constant struggle to remember that, despite his being my master, he was still just a mortal man. Or maybe he wasn’t.
“It feels good, doesn�
�t it?” he asked, brushing his lightning over my inner thigh. The arousal hit me like a hammer. I was out of breath, out of control, out of my very mind. His voice just felt like another lick of the thunderbolt to me, a sting of sweet venom that infected me with an uncontrollable need to be taken hard. I shivered for him.
“I know,” he whispered, as one would to a whining dog.
“Maybe one day, if you’re very good, I’ll use this here.” He said touching his finger to my clit. Even the little push against it sent fire coursing through my veins.
“Now, let’s get you out of those ropes.” I could have burst out of them myself; I was so excited—or at least I felt that way. As it turned out, I did need his help. Once the blindfold was off, I realized what he’d been using—a wand-like instrument that clearly delivered the static shock I’d felt. It looked like something out of a science fiction show. I hadn’t realized quite how much my jaw ached until the ball gag was out of it. The red sphere was riddled with tooth marks from where I’d unconsciously clenched it.
When I looked up at Calvin, I realized he was stark naked and hard as could be. Seeing the huge length of his manhood sent a chill down my spine better than the most powerful electricity. I dropped to my knees as though he’d commanded me and took it in my hand. I nearly had it in my mouth before I stopped, looked up, and gave him the most pleading expression I could manage.
“Please?”
“Go on,” he said. It felt so good to have him inside my mouth. The warmth radiating off him was like a warm shot of rum down my throat. I felt my insides tingle from his girth, and I threw myself headlong into the task of pleasuring him. Would I make him cum? I doubted it. But I could make him so horny that he would throw me down and fuck me. He’d had his fun teasing me. Now, it was my turn.
I massaged his balls with a hand for a while, then switched. I let my hand stroke the underside of his cock while I slid my tongue up and down the soft skin of his sack. He tensed. I licked faster, gently nipping at the skin and pulling each tender oval into my mouth in turn. It didn’t take long for him to lose that stoic composure. One buck of his hips nearly sent me gagging with surprise. I felt the head of his manhood flare deep down my throat, and I struggled to contain the fullness of his erection in me. I wanted him between my legs so badly. I wanted to feel him part my lower lips so badly. I moaned loudly into his shaft, and he fucked my throat harder for it. Clearly, I was doing a good job.
His hands clasped the sides of my face and pulled me off him roughly. I was on my back before I could catch my breath. He bent my leg until the knee almost touched my breast and began to nip at my thigh.
“Please, master…,” I begged. He knew what I wanted. He’d spread my legs so lewdly, I couldn’t let him get away with only touching my feet. Still, I didn’t want to be too assertive. I pointed my foot at him and let him worship each toe in turn. It did feel so good to have his tongue slide over my skin. He didn’t dote on it for too long, though. Still holding my foot in his hand, he spread my leg farther to reveal my pink, wet pussy. I leaned back, letting him brush the tip against my lips as he positioned himself. My fingers spread over the wooden floor of the old shed. I braced myself. He thrust inside me.
Lying there, taking all the force of his hips, sent me hurtling back into the trancelike state I’d been eased into before. I was overwhelmed by the pleasure of being filled by him. He could hit so deep, spread me so wide—I’d never encountered anything half so arousing. I became an animal, crying and writhing under his touch. I begged for more; I screamed for him to go harder. I felt so used and so useful. I knew this had to feel good for him; I was so tight around him.
As he continued to rail into me, I felt his hand grab at my neck. I tilted my chin up to let him. I was pinned down. He began to move faster, faster than I had ever felt him go. I looked up at him and saw a drop of sweat trickle down his face. His lips were thin, his brows flared, giving him an almost furious look. I began to wince with each thrust, my body reacting to stress I couldn’t even feel. I was entirely in his sway. I was immune to any pain he could inflict. Between us was a mutual bond of pure pleasure. I felt so connected, so beautifully united with him as he thrust his thick cock in me repeatedly. Between us were warmth and wetness and the vicious pounding of hips. I was catching breaths whenever I could.
My eyes began to roll into the back of my head as I felt the sensation of orgasm creep up on me. The sensation poised like a hunting cat, then pounced. Suddenly, I grabbed at his thick arm desperately. I snapped back to focus and stared into his eyes as wave after wave of orgasm hit me. He didn’t stop. My lips were so sensitive, but he pounded away. I began to feel faint; I began to feel the friction between us increase. I felt the oddest sensation, almost as though his cock were flexing inside me. His pace slowed, but each thrust was harder. He let his manhood rest inside me for a brief second after each powerful stroke. I felt the head flaring wildly, the muscles under his skin tensing and relaxing.
I looked at him again, finally recovered from my powerful orgasm. He wasn’t crushing my throat, but that amazing strength he held in check felt as though it were on the very precipice of release. I wasn’t afraid. I couldn’t be afraid around my master. I was only eager. I squeezed him inside me as hard as I could. I could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to let loose. I wanted him to. I wanted to see whatever it was that hid on the other side of his trembling restraint. I wanted him to trust me as I trusted him, to ravage me and use me to whatever ends he needed to satisfy his flawless body.
“Do it, Calvin,” I said, though my voice sounded far away and eerily calm “I’m ready.”
He stopped moving then and stared down at me. His eyes narrowed in concentration, as though a titanic battle was raging inside his head. I could see the will and the want tearing at each other like fighting cats. He pulled out of me, nearly shaking. I watched his slick manhood hang between his legs as he stood. From the floor, he looked like a god.
“Turn over,” he said. My eyes widened.
“You’re not going to—”
“Turn over,” he hissed. I obeyed him immediately.
He knelt and slid his hand over my ass. His soft touch felt as ominous as any rough touch ever could. It curled between my legs, stroking the lips of my pussy. He then grabbed my hips and pulled my ass up. I felt something wet and warm touch between my legs, something that slithered delightfully over my lips, poking at them and teasing the sensitive skin. I couldn’t help moaning.
“Oh, God…” Something about being eaten out with my face crushed against the soft pillows felt so surprising. I didn’t think that was even something I could feel anymore. It was such a welcome surprise. His tongue was soothing, intrusive, and quick to jump from one sensitive spot to the next. It pushed against my ass, tried to snake its way inside my dirty hole. I wanted it. I opened my mouth to say so, when it disappeared. Before I could as much as whine, I felt a sharp, quick sting on my ass. I cried in surprise.
Then, he slapped my ass again—and again after that. In contrast to the licking, it felt so sharp. It was painful where his tongue had been so soft and gentle. He was punishing me for being forward. I knew that. Even his punishment felt so right. Each slap made my skin numb with that perfect cocktail of pain and pleasure. The lesson sank home. When he wanted to let loose, he would. I wouldn’t try to force it. It had been the rude, desperate attempt of a greedy woman. But it was difficult not to be greedy around Calvin.
“I’m sorry, master!” I cried out. He slapped my ass again. I felt the sting shoot up my thighs. The pain reached my pussy, and I felt wet all over again. I half-wanted him to keep spanking me, and I half-wanted to be fucked again. I certainly wasn’t going to ask for sex, though.
The spanking continued for ten slaps. By the time he’d finished, my ass felt a constant sting, and I was firmly in that loopy mood where I felt less pain and more devotion. Spanking was such an instinctual experience; I really even felt sorry. Yet, there he let me sit, my raw ass feeling ever
y little shift of air in the room.
Soon afterward, I felt his manhood press against my pussy. The light brush was enough to make me jump, but I didn’t move away. I was gushing for him at that point, with long tendrils of wetness spread down my thighs by rogue droplet. I wanted him to cover himself in my juices again, to push himself so deep inside me that I never needed to beg him again. He was up to the challenge. The first stroke was a rough push that landed him up to the hilt inside me. I gasped in delight. My hands pushed me back, forcing me to meet him halfway when he thrust into me a second time. I felt the walls inside me clench against him desperately, and I heard him fail to stifle a moan as I delivered more friction than he had accounted for. He spread one hand over the small of my back and gripped tight on my hip. On each thrust, he pulled my hips toward him, and I pushed. Together, we made every wet movement feel explosively arousing.
My ass was still warm with the fiery-feeling tingle left by my spanking. It didn’t take long for his hips slapping against it to bring me to another orgasm. Soon, I was clawing the floor like a cat. Soon, I was whining and begging to be forced to cum. I knew it was on its way, but hearing him quietly whisper, “Do it, servant,” from my master made the experience so much better. Though he managed to hold himself back from orgasming easily, I felt myself explode in sensation, still stretched tightly over his massive manhood. Each surge of arousal and release bent my spine more and sent me into fits of shivers. Every time he made me cum, it was harder than the last.
I didn’t remember going inside. I was in my world of intensity. We walked—I vaguely recall that—to his living room where he laid me down and put my head in his lap. It was very comfortable. I felt very safe. We ate snacks, but didn’t talk very much. Nothing came to mind for me to say. I was content only to feel his hands brush through my hair and to feel the strength of his powerful leg muscles coiled into the cross-legged position I rested my head on.
Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 Page 27