by Eden Bradley
“I’m going to strip you down now,” he whispered to her. “I’m going to spank you with a small leather strap until your gorgeous ass is pink, until you can’t take anymore. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
“Oh, yes…” she breathed, not entirely certain she’d actually said the words aloud until she heard his small, pleased chuckle.
In a flash he’d turned her around and had her naked, his own shirtless body pressing up behind her.
“Shaye, I—”
“Sh, now. Just follow my lead.”
Her head was spinning, sinking down and down, into that floating place where there was nothing but pleasure, despite the pain he might give her. She wanted it. Needed it.
She let him walk her into the living room, where he bent her over the end of the sofa.
“Rest your elbows on the arm of the couch to steady yourself,” he instructed. “Yes, good. You have the most delectable ass I’ve ever seen.”
He smacked her once, hard, making her jump, making her laugh.
“Oh, do you think that’s funny?”
“I…no…”
He smacked her again and another giggle came out of her.
“Shaye, I…it’s just nerves or something.”
“Yes, I know. I’m not worried. I have my ways. Head down now, little Devin, and stay here quietly until I get back. Quiet and imagining what I might do to you in a few minutes.”
“Oh…”
“Sh, quiet,” he said, a harder edge to his voice this time that made her limbs go warm, her mind buzzing.
She heard him walk away, the sweep of his bare feet. He’d left her shoes on, and she shifted from one foot to the other, heard the small squeak they made on the wood floors and tried to still herself. There was a momentary struggle to keep still, to do as he said. But she reminded herself that he had asked this of her—demanded it—and that was all it took for her body to calm of its own accord in a way that was almost meditative.
He was back in a few moments later, his hand resting at the small of her back, steadying her. Making her feel owned, somehow.
“You look so naked bent over like this,” he murmured. “I can just see the lovely seam of your pussy. Makes me want to touch you there. Like this.”
His fingertips stroked the sensitive flesh between her thighs and she went wet instantly.
“Spread a little for me. Yes, good.”
She felt wide open. Wanton. She loved it.
He grasped one hip in his big hand, pressed up against her, his erection against her buttock.
God, he was going to fuck her tonight. She could hardly wait. Her sex clenched at the thought.
His fingers found her wet slit once more, and he pushed one inside.
“Oh…”
Stay quiet, Devin. Try to be quiet, to hold still, no matter what I’m doing to you. Do you understand? You can answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Say my name.”
“I understand, Shaye.”
When he pushed a second finger inside her, causing pleasure to spill into her system like liquid heat, she had to bite her lip.
He began a slow pumping rhythm, fucking her with his hand, and at the same time he began to spank her.
It didn’t hurt at first—she was too full of pure pleasure from what he was doing to her needy pussy. But soon he began to smack harder, and it became more difficult to keep quiet. But she would do it. For him.
He kept up the spanking, raining blows over her ass, her thighs, and all the time fucking her with his thrusting fingers. She was lost in pleasure—even the pain was pleasure. Lovely.
And then he hit her with something.
She smelled the leather even as she felt the wide strap across her bottom. She was too shocked to cry out.
He hit her again with the strap, and this time she did yelp.
“Come on, Devin. You can take it.”
And she could. She felt a certain pride well within her as he smacked her ass over and over with the leather strap, as she felt the welts rising on her skin. She knew she could handle the pain. And somewhere between the hurting strap and the lovely sensation of his fingers plunging inside her, the line began to blur. Sensation became one thing—pleasure and pain—and her service to him, that she was doing this to please him, but as she’d said, it was what she craved most now, as well.
It went on and on, until she felt her pussy swell with need, felt her climax trembling in her body, waiting, waiting.
Shaye must have felt it, too.
“Hold it back,” he ordered. “Don’t come until I tell you to.”
“Yes…”
He began to fuck her harder with his hand, really slamming into her. At the same time he kept smacking her sore and stinging skin with the strap. Something about the sharp scent of the leather was driving her crazy. Needing to come was driving her crazy. Her legs began to shake.
“Oh, baby, this is beautiful,” he told her, his voice a little breathless. “You can do it. Hold it back for me.”
He hit her harder, and pleasure surged, making her pussy ache, her clitoris hardening until she could barely stand it.
“Shaye…I can’t.”
“You can. And you will. Because I need to be inside you when come, baby. I need you to come all over me.”
She groaned as he slipped his fingers from her—at the los of sensation. At the knowledge that he would fuck her now.
In moments he was behind her once more, and she felt his strong, naked thighs against hers, the slight tickle of the fine hair there. Then his sheathed cock was poised at her entrance. She surged back against him, trying to take him in.
A low, rough chuckle from him. “Little Devin, you are not the one running this show, are you?”
“No, Shaye.”
“I like that—the way you say my name. I want you to ask for it.” His voice was rough with desire. “Ask me by name, Devin.”
“Please, Shaye.”
He pressed his thick cock against her, the tip just slipping inside. She could feel the cool metal of his piercing even through the condom. “Please, what?”
She groaned. “Please fuck me.”
“Say it again. The right way.”
“Oh…please fuck me, Shaye.”
“Ah, that’s better.”
He slammed into her, filling her.
“Ah, God!”
His hand was on the small of her back, holding her down, commanding her.
“Don’t come. I can feel it, baby. I can feel your sweet pussy, soaking wet and trembling. But you’ll hold it back.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He began to move, pressing his big cock deeper inside her, sliding out, a slow, easy rhythm that was driving her mad. Her body was on fire.
He reached around with his other hand and took her hard clit between his fingers, and she thought she’d come right there, but he pinched her so hard she yelped.
“Ah!”
His fingers squeezed, and pain was like a jolt of electricity between her thighs. He let go and pleasure followed, her head filling up with it.
“Got some endorphins, my girl?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good. I’m going to just fuck you now. Have to just…
He thrust into her, hard, then again, and again. She could barely hold herself up against his pummeling hips, his cock filling her in lethal strokes, the metal ring rubbing against her g-spot with every thrust. Pleasure was a wave, threatening to drown her. He moved faster and faster, leaned down and latched onto the back of her neck with his lush, wet mouth, used his teeth to anchor himself there. She’d never been fucked like this in her life.
She heard his growl, felt his cock begin to pulse deep inside her.
“Now, Devin. Come on…come for me while I come into you. Do it.”
He pounded into her, his fingers pressing her tight clitoris, and all it took was that sensation—his permission—and she was coming so damn hard she saw stars.
Ple
asure was like a vine, endlessly coiling and uncoiling in her body. She shook with it, her pussy clenching, clenching. His cock pulsed, he cried out, slammed into her.
Finally he stopped, his head resting on her shoulder, his breath a gasping pant in her ear. He was still hard inside her.
“Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered. “Jesus, what you do to me, girl.”
She was still quivering with the last frissons of her climax when he turned her around, pushed her down on the sofa and laid his big body on top of hers. He took her mouth with his—there was no other word for it—and kissed her hard. His tongue pressed between her lips, invading her mouth. He tasted like salt and skin and sex.
He kept kissing her, making out with her in a mad rush, and her body was lighting up again.
Finally he pulled away and she felt…what? Bereft, maybe. But he was picking her up in his arms, carrying her through his house, down a long hallway, muttering to her.
“Just have to have you in my bed. Fuck you again. Spank you with my bare hands.”
“Yes, please, Shaye.”
He paused at the foot of the stairs and kissed her again.
“God damn it, Devin.”
“What? I…what did I do?”
“You make me lose control. Lose myself. But it’s all good. You’re all good. Jesus.”
She squirmed a little in his arms, pleased with herself. With his estimation of her.
He carried her into a bedroom—his bedroom—and laid her down on a low bed with a sleek black lacquer headboard.
“Lie still,” he ordered.
He slid down, spreading her legs as he pulled her to the edge of the bed, where he knelt and immediately lowered his head between her thighs.
“Ah, God, Shaye.”
“Quiet, my girl, or I’ll have to gag you.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Don’t try me, little Devin. I’m too busy with your beautiful pussy.”
“Oh…”
He bent and started licking her, his tongue flat against her heated clit. He used his fingers to work inside her, to pinch at her swollen pussy lips, to press inside her once more. And in moments she was coming, writhing, moaning.
He pulled away from her only to demand, “Again.”
She knew better than to argue.
Using hands and tongue and teeth, this time, he had her coming once more in long, shattering surges of pleasure that left her gasping for air.
He slid on top of her, kissed her throat, her breasts, tugging one nipple between his teeth.
“Got to fuck you again, baby.”
He leaned over her and pulled a condom from a table beside the bed, slipped it on, and eased his body over hers until he was resting between her thighs.
“Hands over your head.”
She did as he asked, and he held both wrists in one of his big hands, held them tight enough to hurt. To make her feel completely overpowered by him. She loved it.
He plowed right into her, and somehow she was coming again, instantly, her body clenching, her mind spinning, out of control. She went limp as he fucked her, unable to move. Soon he was coming, calling her name. And his hands came down to hold her face and he was kissing her again.
She was breathless, her body soaring. Her heart beating too fast.
Incredible, the way this man handled her. She’d never felt anything like it in her life. All she knew was that she felt amazing, needy, vulnerable as hell. And she never wanted it to stop.
* * *
It didn’t stop for two long days and nights. Shaye spanked her, took the strap to her, making her count the strokes for him, which made her feel more submissive than ever. He tied her up with rope, gorgeous, complicated knotwork over her naked torso that made her feel decorated. Cherished. Even when he left her tied up there for an hour or more at a time while he went to make business calls in his office. She didn’t understand it. She simply let it happen.
And when he fucked her, it was the same again: the furious pace of fucking and kissing. And the kissing! It was crazy, the way he kissed her, like he was going to eat her up with his mouth. That alone made her head spin. Made her soften all over.
In between they talked, lying in his bed, or sitting on the cool granite counters in his kitchen, which looked like something out of a magazine. They’d order food—Thai or Italian or Cuban, everything rich and gorgeously prepared—and he’d insist on feeding her tidbits from his fork, or with his fingers, tucking the food into her mouth almost tenderly.
They laughed a lot, and he taught her the wicked humor in BDSM practice. She loved that this was part of his ideas about kink. She loved everything that was happening between them.
All but the small, nagging voice that kept insisting something must be wrong with her. But things were good enough that she could shut the voice down. Most of the time.
She wanted to have this moment in time with him. Even it turned out to be nothing more than a moment.
At least, that was what she was telling herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It had been the longest week of Shaye’s life. He’d forced himself to take some time away from her. He’d had to do it, no matter how fucking unbelievable those days and nights with her had been. Because of it, damn it.
He’d gone to work, done his job, come home and talked to Devin on the phone late at night. But he hadn’t seen her. He knew—hell, was afraid—that if he saw her he’d tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless again, render himself senseless, and still wouldn’t be able to get the need for her out of his system. That’s what she did to him.
He could not allow himself to lose control that way. Not with her. Not with anyone.
He knew he was keeping her at a certain distance. That she was confused by it, even though he’d told her work was demanding his focus at the moment. A good enough excuse. Plausible, certainly, after the time he’d been taking off to be with her. But he was certain she felt the tension. He was hoping she was writing it off to his hectic work week.
They’d talked a lot about what would be expected of her at Sanctuary. That she had to be naked, which didn’t seem to worry her at all. No reason why it should. She had an amazing body, lithe and lean, like a dancer. Gorgeous. He’d told her that she’d be on her knees much of the time, had described to her the submissive position she must assume when kneeling at his feet. Told her to expect that others might stop to examine her, to talk to him about her.
She would be fully submissive at Sanctuary—he’d been clear with her about that. And her response had been a long pause in which all he heard through the phone was her quick, panting breath. That told him all he needed to know about whether or not she was ready to go there, to Sanctuary, to this most extreme BDSM environment. But was he?
He had never taken another woman there. Had never wanted to. His membership at Sanctuary had so far been as an observer, other than the few times he’d been invited by a fellow Dom or Domme to join a scene, to play their submissives.
Taking a sub to Sanctuary was not like going to any other BDSM club. It was more than the scening, more than the heavily charged atmosphere. If Devin accepted Sanctuary, if the members there accepted her, then their next visit would mean a collaring, that ritual which, in this community, signified as much of a commitment as marriage did in ‘normal’ society.
He hardly knew her.
He felt as though he’d known her forever the first moment he’d seen her.
This is fucking insane.
But he was taking her there. And the idea made his whole body surge with lust and an intense sense of needing to protect her, to own her, that he’d never felt before.
Oh yes, he was a control freak, no doubt about it, but owning her? What the hell was that about? He was a chip off the old block, he kept reminding himself. Just like his father, he never committed to a woman. He was his own man. He didn’t need anyone. Need equaled weakness. He’d witnessed what that kind of need could do to a person, had seen it when his moth
er had died, in the way his father had totally fallen apart for a few years. He’d also seen how his dad had regained control of his life, had hung on to that control by never loving another woman. And Shaye had learned his lesson well.
His need for Devin was frankly scaring the shit out of him.
If he was smart he’d never talk to her again, never see her. But he couldn’t do that. And tonight, he would take her to Sanctuary. He kept telling himself it was nothing more than indulging his desire to play there, in that amazing place. That Devin was merely a girl who could handle it. But that was pure bullshit, and he knew it. Taking her there was a test. But whether he was testing Devin or himself, he wasn’t really sure.
* * *
On Saturday night Devin stepped from the shower, every nerve in her body on high alert, hyper-aware of each tiny breath of sensation on her skin as she dried herself with a fluffy towel.
Shaye had told her how to prepare herself—that she should concentrate on the rite of preparation—that he wanted her to be conscious of how she was feeling as she got ready for her introduction to Sanctuary. She took her time getting ready, and was surprised to find a deep sense of ritual in bathing, smoothing lotion onto her skin, dabbing perfume behind her ears, in the hollow of her throat, behind her knees. She applied her makeup carefully, brushed out her hair in long, even strokes, making a rhythm of it.
Finally she stood before her closet, her skin alive with anticipatory heat, her system jangling with nerves and need.
How did one dress for an evening in which she knew she would be naked?
After several minutes of consideration she found a short, soft-knit black skirt that wrapped around and tied at her waist, paired it with a stretchy black lace top and left off her bra and panties. What was the point? She felt gloriously naked beneath her clothing and thought it would please Shaye, both of which made her pulse race faster.
Her high black pumps and a pair of tiny silver hoop earrings completed the outfit, which left her with a few minutes in which she had nothing to do but wait. To imagine. To focus on the tremors running through her body, a series of small jolts of desire.