Safeword: Davenport

by Candace Blevins

  A wide belt was fastened around her waist, and it, too, had attachment points going off to the sides, keeping her from twisting sideways to avoid the lash.

  There were smaller statues spread around the play area, and as Dana looked around now she saw mostly women on them, with the majority of the statuary out in the open, not in a cell. A woman thirty feet in front of her was mounted by her pussy, facing the statue, arms and legs wrapped around the metal as a man vigorously fucked her ass from behind.

  Her focus shifted from the woman to the hood in Max's hands and she shook her head, not able to get the words out for the adrenaline spiking through her veins.

  "Hear me out; if you don't want it we'll do something else.” His hands splayed it open. “It's not a traditional full face hood, there's one large hole for the nose and mouth, see? It fastens under your chin, and will fit snug across the back of your head."

  He rotated it. “I can use these four attachment points to secure it to the poles, to keep you looking forward. There are holes for your eyes and ears—this isn't about sensory dep; I need to ensure your head stays away from the floggers. I've got a posture collar we can use instead, but I'm told this is more comfortable."

  "Can you put it on me and let me decide? I know what a posture collar feels like; let me see how this compares."

  He nodded and worked it onto her head, careful to keep her hair smoothed back. It didn't close her off from the room, and made her feel secure in its bondage without being claustrophobic.

  Max looked at her, a question in his gaze and she let him know it was okay. He finished tying it off to the poles, and she couldn't turn her head from side to side, but Jacob was at about two o'clock to her and she could see him by shifting her eyes. He was still straining to hold himself up by his arms, struggling to keep his weight off the phallus. Dana wondered if Zach would want to mount her on a statue, let her be his own dramatic art piece.

  The first strike of the flogger landed on her right shoulder blade as the thought went through her mind, chasing it away.

  Max quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm using a moderate flogger with restrained strength to warm her up. He gauged her comfort level well, gradually upping the intensity, staying just ahead of her endorphins and thoroughly thrashed shoulders, back, ass, and thighs before moving to her front and flogging breasts, stomach, pussy, and thighs. When her front was on fire he switched to her back, changing floggers as he stepped around her. The world went hazy and her body began trying to move into the strikes instead of away. She wanted more, forgot she could ask.

  The rhythm stopped and he circled to her front again—her breasts hot and swollen, as if they'd grown twice their size, but she couldn't wait for the first strike to fall. She was lost without the relentless pounding of the flogger, a ship on the sea with no wind.

  The music changed to nineties techno, an insistent beat coming through the drumless instrumental, and her world erupted in wind and sensation. The hits came to the beat of the music—a strike to her left shoulder blade and left breast at the same time, quickly followed on the other side. Right-Left-Right-Left. A continuous loop. Her body tried to react, even though her mind welcomed it, but she was restrained in so many places she couldn't move away from, or towards, the constant sensation of impact. She tried to keep up with it but with four floggers moving so rapidly all she could do was let go and feel.

  She felt her consciousness grow bigger than her body, at one with The Universe; and sensed the delineation between soul and body, could see them as two separate units.

  Her body was being flogged, not her soul.

  The wind stopped and she opened her eyes and howled as her spirit merged back into her body, the sounds and smells of the club assaulting her.

  Max was in front of her, his face inches away. He moved in, his lips on hers, giving her another anchor. Not the leather of the floggers, not the wind, but his presence, his warmth. He pulled back and she opened her eyes again, still in her comfortable fog, but more aware of her surroundings. Brent was walking towards the cage, and Jacob had finally stopped holding himself up. His elbows were slack, head resting back against the statue, eyes closed. Dana thought he must be in that beautiful millimeter of space sandwiched between heavenly bliss and excruciating torment, where you could simultaneously experience both.

  She heard the snap of a single tail, didn't feel the pain. He hadn't hit her. She tried to relax, realized she hadn't tensed.

  The snap and the pain hit her brain at the same time as the center of her right ass cheek blossomed in delicious agony. Her body strained, tried to run, struggled to move; her muscles writhed under her skin as her heart slammed in her chest, and the throbbing between her thighs became more insistent.

  Left ass cheek. Not a blossom, but a pinpoint of magnificent anguish. She heard herself say, “Yes,” very low, and opened her eyes in shock at the sound of her voice.

  Her right shoulder and then her left, only seconds apart, and both were on fire. The inferno always raged more on her back, the focused strikes going from skin to bone without the muscles in the ass to absorb the impact, and she needed that intensity. She remembered she was supposed to tell him, it wasn't Topping from the bottom. Not today.

  She licked her lips, tried to make her tongue work. Finally got her brain firing the right way and said, “Yes, more up there."

  A voice repeated what she'd said, and then Max was behind her, his hands lightly resting on her upper arms. “Talk to me. What do you need?"

  She struggled to put it into words, into a sentence. “Shoulders, where you hit... more intense. Need that. Stay there."

  "I'm going to keep moving around, to draw this out for you. Do you not want more on your ass, or are you saying you want the level of pain your shoulders are getting?"

  "Need the intensity. Feel it more. Want to hurt. Please."

  "Okay. I'm going to move back and forth so I can make it last, but I'll give you plenty on your shoulders, okay?"

  She tried to nod her head, wasn't sure there was enough movement for him to see, and said, “Yes."

  She wasn't expecting the floggers, but he began the relentless Florentine pattern on her shoulder blades, striking over the single-tail marks, and Dana heard herself howling, the merciless pleasure/pain of the continuous blows pulsing through her body, catapulting her to dizzying heights.

  The flogging stopped and she moaned in disappointment, but soon felt the single-tail on her ass again, the most violent strike yet to her right ass cheek. She finally screamed, shocking herself with the sound. Max was behind her again, his hands stroking her arms, sides, hips—coaxing her into taking deep breaths, reminding her to relax and not fight the restraints. She hadn't realized she was struggling. She didn't want to be let loose.

  "Good girl. Stay relaxed, it's time for the next."

  Her left ass cheek received the same intensity, and she was screaming again, felt herself fighting the restraints as the adrenaline spiked through her body.

  Max's voice was back, and his hands. The mask was wet, she hadn't known she was crying. When she could breathe enough to talk she said, “More. Oh god, please more."

  "You'll get more. Do you trust me to draw this out and make it last another thirty minutes? Or would you rather I make it super intense for the next five minutes and not have a spot left to hit?"

  In a moment of clarity, her mind put a full sentence together, though her lips had a hard time saying it. “Make it last, but I want the intense five minutes at the end."

  He chuckled. “I'll see what I can do."

  She felt him move away, waited for the next strike, but he returned with a bottle of water and a straw, holding the straw to her mouth. “Drink."

  She did, realizing her lips weren't working because they'd been stuck to her teeth. She drank slowly, wetting her mouth without putting too much into her stomach. “Thank you."

  "You're very welcome.” He smiled softly, caressed her cheek over the top of the hood. “Ready for more
on your shoulders?"

  "God yes."

  Sir Max went back and forth from flogger to bullwhip to single tail. She opened her eyes once to see Brent doing something that made Jacob struggle and fight his bonds. The next time she looked, he was gone.

  Dana lost all sense of time—there were only the whips, the pain, the pleasure, Dana's screams, and Max's voice and hands.

  Max was behind her again, his hands on her hips below the waist strap. “You know this can't last forever. I'm running out of blank canvas, so this'll be your final couple of minutes."

  "Will you draw blood? I want... feel the whip, break skin? Shoulder blades. Please?"

  "I'm sorry, but no. I'll make it hurt worse than I have, but I won't tear you open with the bullwhip on top of what I've already done."

  "Do it. All of them.” His hands disappeared and then he was in front of her, holding her gaze until she fell into it. His eyes were intense, analyzing her, feeling her out.

  "Make it hurt,” she said. “Like you're drawing blood. I like asking, thank you."

  "Okay, but you'll get a few on your ass in between the ones on your back.” He finally released her from his gaze and kissed her on the forehead, over the leather. “Enjoy it while it lasts, we're just about done."

  The next two lashes were on her back, not too far below the previous strikes, and came as a one-two punch. Her ass blossomed in pain again not long afterwards, and then he returned to her upper back. The hits were coming fast and furious, without much time to deal with the heat and torment of one set before the next arrived.

  She could see the pain in layers around her, the most recent strikes purple, the ones before that red, then orange, and yellow. She was so close to an orgasm, she kept thinking she just needed a little more to push her over the edge, but it never came.

  There were two sets of hands on her. One taking off her hood, another removing the spreader bars. As more of her attachments came loose, strong arms held her up, and when the last chain dropped, she was lifted into Brent's arms.

  "Sorry, Brent,” she said, her voice slurring, as if she were drunk. “Not you I need right now—want to come; don't think you can help."

  He chuckled. “You'd be surprised what I can arrange. Jacob needs to come pretty bad, too. What if I sit you on his cock, will that work for you?"

  "Mmmmm."

  She heard Max laughing softly beside her and reached her hand out. “Max, oh God, that was incredible. Are you gonna have orgasms with us, too?"

  She felt Max's hand on her, warm and comforting, and Brent stopped walking. Max's face floated in front of hers. “Is that an invitation? What do you want, Dana?"

  "I want... we're not done yet. The grand finale, right? Want you in it."

  Max glanced at Brent and back to her. “Do you want Jacob in your pussy and me in your ass?"

  "Mmmmm, fantasy come true. Lots of lube."

  He laughed. “Yes, lots of lube."

  Brent walked with her again and she saw Jacob in the big leather swing, cuffs securing him. Brent set her down across him, her legs straddling his hips as if she was riding a horse.

  Max's voice didn't sound so much like it was in a tunnel anymore. “I'll lift her up, you put him in, then we can get her cuffs attached, make sure she doesn't fall."

  She felt hands at her hips and groaned in ecstasy as she sank onto Jacob's cock, her body shuddering as she wrapped around his heat. He stirred below her, opening his eyes, giving her a tired smile. She tried to move up and down, but couldn't get leverage and only succeeded in swaying them forward and back, and worried she'd go stark raving mad with him inside and no way to move.

  Jacob looked up at her, eyes not quite focusing, and she leaned down and brought her lips to his, giving him tongue, sloppy but passionate. Someone fastened her wrists to the swing as she kissed him, and she felt something at her ass. She moaned as a slippery finger made its way inside.

  Dana lifted up, her back arching, face towards the ceiling in reflex. She couldn't hold the position long, didn't want to. Sinking down, her lips met Jacob's again. He kissed her back this time, their tongues doing an intimate dance as the swing was rearranged, the winch above them pulling their wrists up until they were sitting, facing each other, a perfect fit as their bodies molded together. She wished her arms were free; she wanted to touch him, caress his face, run her fingers through his hair, but was turned on when she couldn't, her need wrapping around her arousal, feeding it.

  Jacob gasped and jerked as Brent entered him, and two seconds later her body reacted the same as Max pushed into her, and Jacob's cock was forced deeper in her pussy.

  Her clit pressed into Jacob's pubic bone as Max slowly sank into her ass, giving her time to deal with the intrusion. She felt his arms around her torso, holding her, as her kiss with Jacob took on a higher intensity—her mouth more demanding, and his frantic with need. Her system screamed for release, and she arched to give Max better access.

  Dana went into sensory overload as her breasts, swollen and on fire, pressed against Jacob's chest. Her upper back throbbed, her ass was a sensitive mass of nerves, and ripples swelled to the surface as Max drove deeper. She moved her head, resting it on Jacob's shoulder, and let the orgasm have control of her body—waves slowly moving through her, each one a little faster than the one before, until they finally began overtaking themselves and the waves became spasms.

  Brent and Max found a rhythm, pushing her and Jacob together on their thrusts, pulling them apart on withdrawal. Dana's breathing grew ragged as her climax intensified, the knot of it growing until she almost feared the final release. She felt the vibrations of Jacob's moan under her cheek, and turned her face to kiss the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

  Max pounded into her ruthlessly as lust took over, and her world was the slap of flesh meeting flesh, the overwhelming friction between her legs, her heart hammering against her chest, and muscles fighting her restraints in futility as she tried to find equilibrium in the tempest.

  Agony blazed across her consciousness when Max leaned in, his chest pressing and abrading her so recently whipped back as he found his own release. She pushed into him, giving herself more pain, more sensation, and screamed through her orgasm, the waves undulating from her vocal cords all the way to her toes, gripping the cocks in her ass and pussy, shooting through her body and coming out the top of her head as she felt herself passing out from the pleasure.

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  Chapter Seventeen

  * * * *

  Dana gradually came back to herself, smooth paper crinkling under her as she opened her eyes to the club's clinic area. Her heart soared as she looked around for Garnet, she'd missed him so, and he always took such good care of her in here.

  The face peering down at her wasn't Garnet, had he brought the club's nurse in? She took a quick inventory, cataloging the aches, and it all came rushing back. Max was looking down at her. Garnet was gone, never coming back.

  She pushed up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, and felt a hand on her arm gently restraining her so she couldn't slide off. The fuzziness of subspace lifted away, like a blast of cold air that sobers you.

  "I'm okay. I can't be in this room. Please, I need to go somewhere else."

  "You're safe. I'm here, and Brent's got Jacob just outside the door, holding him while I take care of you."

  She launched herself off the table, using all the strength she could muster to power past Max's hand. “You don't understand. I can't be in here."

  She focused on the door as she walked, a wave of dizziness threatening to derail her, so she walked faster. She threw open the door, stepping into a quiet room, cringing as it slammed into the wall. Brent was up and to her before she could get through the area and make her escape.

  "Dana, it's me, you're okay. And here's Max, let him take care of you. You're safe—"

  She interrupted. “I can't be here. I was fine out there, everything's different, but it's the same
in here. I woke up with the paper under me and thought...” A sob escaped and she gasped air in, knowing if she didn't pull herself together, she'd hyperventilate. “I can't be here."

  "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'll get Max to walk you out; you can stretch out in my back seat. I'll need another five or ten minutes with Jacob before he'll be ready to leave, I think."

  She didn't speak, just kept walking, heading towards the front door. Max stopped her as she made it to the social area, stepping ahead of her and gently touching her arm.

  "Your clothes, Dana. Let's get your dress on you. I didn't break the skin, so you won't mess it up, but I'm afraid it's going to hurt. You can't go outside without it, though."

  Finally stopping, she looked down and realized she was still naked, raised her eyes and saw concern on Max's face. He must think she was terribly unstable. She dropped her head and took a few breaths, blocking the sounds around her, and willed her emotions to back off enough to look reasonably sane, or at least to be able to fake it.

  Meeting his gaze, she forced herself to talk slow, try to explain. “I'm sorry; the clinic had too many memories. Waking up on the paper, like I have countless times before, I thought he was with me for a few seconds before I remembered he's not.” She wiped her eyes, determined she wouldn't cry. “It was too much. I'm okay, I just need to slow down and get my bearings, apparently.” She smiled, hoped it was convincing. “Thanks for taking care of me, watching out for me. Brent gave you his keys?"

  He held the dress for her to put her arms into. “Yeah. This dress was a smart idea; it goes on kind of like a robe."

  She grinned, realized it probably looked more sad than happy, and attempted a genuine smile. “It's not my first time at the rodeo. You're very good, by the way. I wasn't ready for you to stop, but the way I feel right now, I think it was a good call."

  "I wouldn't normally take someone so far, but I've seen you pushed a lot farther, and you seemed to need it. I'm glad I had Brent as backup though, I knew he'd stop me if he thought I was giving you too much."