Wilt

by Rae, Nikki

  “Of course not,” he said, lips brushing across my skin, damp and hot. “Haven’t I always made it clear when you’re in trouble?”

  “Yes, sir.” I relaxed as much as I could. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Shh.” He rubbed my back, releasing my hair so it lay neatly over one shoulder.

  Through my eyelids, I could tell that he had turned down the lights. When he came back to me, he trailed kisses down neck and back, massaging my muscles. After being so scared for so long, I wanted to be close to him like this. I wanted more memories to draw upon when I needed them.

  “Men like me,” he said after a length of time, “like to break a girl slowly. We like to earn it.”

  “Earn what, sir?”

  His fingers worked my lower back, releasing knots I hadn’t realized had been formed. “The right to hurt you,” he explained. “The right to own your pain. To use that pain to fuel…something else.”

  “I thought I wasn’t in trouble, sir,” I said, confused. “Pain is punishment, is it not?”

  His hands circled my waist, moving me backwards so my backside was against his front. “Not with me,” he said. “Not now.”

  I didn’t know what he wanted from me; what to expect. My limbs shook as anticipation and fear competed with each other for the most attention.

  “Relax,” he whispered against my back and I did the best I could to do so. When he was sure I’d stopped shaking and calmed myself, he asked, “Ready?”

  I could stop him if I wanted to, but if I did, I felt like I would be missing some sort of lesson—at the very least a memory of him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I waited for the sound of his belt clearing the loops, chains or clasps jingling. I even thought of one scenario where he would beat me with the dress I’d worn, diamonds cutting into skin each time they kissed it.

  “I want you to open your eyes for this part,” he said.

  I did so carefully, finding the overhead light dimmed to almost nothing. It gave the room a cozier vibe; there wasn’t as much space this way. And it was easier to be hurt without harsh light punctuating each blow. Like this, I could fade into a dream, convince myself it might not have happened.

  “You can always prepare yourself for pain by paying attention.” In one swift movement, I felt a hard slap to the right side of my bottom. It didn’t hurt, but the skin quickly grew hot. “What did you notice first?”

  I cleared my throat, regaining my composure. “I…”

  “You weren’t paying attention,” he finished for me, though his voice was light. “Try again.”

  I nodded more to myself as I stared ahead at the plush black leather and waited, listening to the disturbance of the still air as his arm sailed towards the same spot, harder this time. I felt the wind the movement had caused blowing through my hair and across my back. It smelled faintly of cloves and cigarettes.

  “Now?” he asked.

  He’d only hit me twice, and though the second time was worse, he wasn’t using his full strength. He wanted me to learn; he wasn’t punishing me.

  “I can hear your hand moving,” I said, breathless for some reason.

  Master Lyon soothed the stinging skin with his palm. “Good.” Most of the pain had left me, replaced by something I couldn’t quite place.

  Then he hit me again, this time so hard it sucked the breath from my lungs and I nearly toppled over.

  “What else?” He hadn’t hit me to make me talk; he wanted me to absorb each blow. Take something away from every one.

  “You inhale before you start,” I blurted out. “And…and—”

  “Pay attention to my hand,” he said before he repeated the action with the same intensity as the one before it.

  My fingers curled slightly in the cushion. “It…hurts more when your fingertips hit me first,” I gasped. “It hurts…differently when your palm makes contact.”

  I braced myself for another blow, but he gently rubbed what felt like red skin. The pain was still there, but the more his careful touch explored me, the more it morphed into a sudden heat flooding upward and inward. I didn’t know what it was.

  Instead, he walked around the chair so he was standing in front of me and my head followed him the entire way. He bent slightly and moved me over so he could sit. His knees balanced on the opposite armrest, my head in his lap. For a while, he let me catch my breath there while he stroked my hair as if he’d hurt me far worse. It was now that I heard his belt leave his pants.

  This time, the whip-like sound of leather against air collided with the slash of pain I’d felt many times before. I was more prepared for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make me yelp into his pants. It took me longer to regain my breath and the sting swelled into my shoulders, down my back and only slightly grazing where he’d previously hit me. He repeated it again and I felt tears in my eyes and tried to move away, but he held my head against him, and now I could feel him growing hard against my mouth, the only thing between us a few inches of fabric.

  It was silent as I heard him place the belt to the side so he could rub my back, take the sting away, and replace it with hot blood. Slowly, one hand caressed my ribs and then my breast, pinching the nipple only enough to steal my breath. What I hadn’t expected was the sudden surge of need it sent through my belly and between my still-parted legs.

  “Do you want to continue?” he asked.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, wishing I was more unsure than I actually felt. Truth was, I wanted him to keep going. Whether he went on hurting me or made me feel good, I needed the connection to him after tonight; before I faced many more like them.

  I nodded, and he allowed me to turn my head in his lap so I could stare up at him. His expression was relaxed, waiting for my answer as he searched my face. “Yes.” I licked my dry lips. “Yes, please sir.”

  He smiled wide down at me before he turned my head back to where it had been against him. I could imagine how silky he was underneath. How warm. “I think you’re beginning to understand.” His fingers toyed with me, gentle this time and making me lean into his touch for more. He pinched me again and I jolted forward instead of back. “Aren’t you, Doe?”

  I could only nod against him, breathing heavily for a different reason now.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispered, still squeezing my breast with one hand and stroking my hair with the other.

  I struggled to move my right hand between my legs, the other supporting my weight and ignoring the twinge in my collarbone. I wasn’t sure what to do except move slowly, trying to mimic the way he’d touched me in the same spot. He continued to stroke my hair, now with both hands, until he could tell it had begun to feel good. Though it was embarrassing, something about being like this with him made even that fade to the background. Right now, I would have done anything he asked of me, and I didn’t care if it made me weak or strong as long as I had this moment where there was only us. No Order, no transfer, no wife.

  I had barely registered the sound of the belt being picked up before I heard it in the air and it made contact with the left side of my back end. I hissed into his pants, every part of me tensing.

  “Keep rubbing,” he remind me and I did, eyes watering. Now when he touched my breast, it was more sensitive than before, as if he’d hit me there instead. He slowly bent more, further pushing me into him and his hardness as his hand traveled from my breast, down my stomach, and settled on my own fingers, gently guiding them in circular motions that turned the spark I had ignited into flames.

  With his sex against me, he helped me explore mine, fingertips in areas that became slick and sensitive. He applied more pressure, and my hips met him. Heat traveled through me the same way it had when he hit me with his hand or the belt, and it was now I understood how pain and pleasure could be connected. It seemed so obvious now.

  “You like this.” He said it as a fact, no question in his voice.

  I turned my head to the side so I could get more air without breaking contact. “Yes
, sir,” I gasped.

  “Keep going.”

  Still nervous, I tried to take over what he’d shown me to do without speaking. He paused, moving away and leaving me on my own as he placed my head all the way back down on the arm of the chair. It was uncomfortable, one arm under me and the other near my face as I lay even more exposed to him than before.

  He sighed, but it was exaggerated; an act. “I don’t think you’re trying hard enough, Doe,” he teased from somewhere behind me. A single finger slid up the sensitive flesh between my legs, spreading the moisture that had accumulated there. “You aren’t nearly wet enough for what I need to show you,” he said in the same tone.

  He repositioned me so he could stand and move behind me. One at a time, he moved my knees further apart so I was more open; I could feel his breath on me and my face turned red. Then he whipped the belt against my inner thigh so hard it felt like it had broken skin. I closed my eyes solely as a reaction but he tapped my knees and they automatically resumed their original position.

  “Make yourself wetter or I will do it again.” His voice was still soft, and again I felt his finger gently slide down the same path, making me shiver.

  My legs shook as I tried to take a deep breath. I tried again, mimicking exactly the way he’d shown me. Both hands squeezed and kneaded my inner thighs, sending a jolt through me that culminated in a pool of heat in my abdomen.

  “Take your time,” he whispered as a finger ever so slightly trailed the line up from my entrance to between my buttocks.

  I carried on for minutes, feeling that same spark here and there, but ultimately wanting more and becoming frustrated each time it faded. I could tell it was working, the warmth between my legs growing and the slick sound that now accompanied his touch. Unbidden, my hips rocked, anxious for more.

  “That’s better,” he nearly growled.

  My breathing had become strained, a fine sheen of sweat breaking across my forehead.

  “Stay still, he said, “but keep going.”

  The command was confusing until he spread me, making me involuntarily cry out a second before I felt his tongue taking the same path his fingers had.

  I felt my face growing even redder with embarrassment but combined with what I was doing to myself, it felt good. I craved it.

  My Owner pulled away and I hadn’t noticed I’d stopped what I was doing until he hit me again with the belt, this time not as hard as he could have, but it was enough of a reminder. I resumed before I fully recovered. Behind me, I heard his zipper slide down and I froze again.

  “You’re doing well, Doe,” he said, always intuitively knowing when I needed more encouragement. “Close your eyes if it helps.”

  I did just that, imagining him as he undressed. I pictured his bare chest with its storybook of scars and the black ink traveling from his ankle to mid-thigh, morphing into plant life that matched his opposite arm.

  “Better?” he asked after I’d taken a few breaths.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  His hand returned to the spot between my legs and I continued rubbing this sensitive little bit of flesh I had found.

  “Keep breathing.” I felt his hot, silky length against my backside.

  My next exhale was between a sigh and a gasp, but I didn’t have long enough to think further than that before I felt his hand back in my hair, jerking my head backward with so much force that I was up on my knees, lower half pressed against his hardness as his arms supported my weight. His other hand joined mine again, palm covering my fingers as he traveled lower, touching even more sensitive areas.

  I tried to move, to give him better access, but he moved with me, refusing to give me what my body begged for. His erection branded my skin as he leaned more of my weight into him. He took my hand away and I was shocked by the ache it left within me, but it wasn’t long before his fingers replaced mine, now working harder and sending me further towards that cliff I knew was up ahead. He tugged on my hair just painful enough to send ripples of tension through my muscles and when they released, I let go.

  I was only partly aware of the soft sigh that escaped my lips as the intense wave washed over me. My nipples hardened against the fabric of the chair and my head became light.

  He leaned me back down on my elbows, allowing me to rest my forehead against the cushion. “Stay completely still,” he whispered. Just as I thought I’d float or crash alongside my fading orgasm, a single finger ventured deeper than before. The sensation shocked me as if he’d poured a bucket of ice over my head.

  His hand stilled. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  It felt so much bigger than it was, yet I could tell he could have gone much deeper; he hadn’t “damaged” me in any way.

  “No one has ever touched you here, have they, Doe?”

  Neither of us moved, and he pressed the smallest amount, where I felt that first promise of pain that told me if he chose, he could claim this piece of me before anyone else. Perhaps this was why he’d done it. This was the closest we could get without ruining his plans.

  I wasn’t dumb enough to believe I could somehow seduce him into rendering the transfer void, but I wished more than anything that I was dumb enough to try. I wanted him to take this otherwise meaningless piece of me, transform it from something borne of duty and status into something strong, something that had meaning.

  “I am your first,” he whispered before he removed his finger, taking his time and care in sliding up and down in a smooth, languid motion. “You didn’t answer me.” He gave me a small jerk of the head. “Has anyone ever touched you like this, Doe?”

  “No, sir.” My cheeks flamed even hotter when I heard how heavy my voice had become.

  Master Lyon pushed my head into the cushion more, arching my back so I was as open to him as possible. As I gripped the cushion for stability, the warmth between my legs cooled and my attention was more drawn to his open gaze, aware of my sore buttocks as if he’d lit them on fire.

  “Good,” he praised, and my fingers relaxed the tiniest bit. I heard him take one step closer, two. “You’re quite wet, Doe.”

  I locked my lips shut, unsure whether I was suppressing laughter, tears, or a scream.

  Then his tongue was against me, tracing down the seam of my backside and lower, warm and pressing hard. I moaned as he continued, flicking his tongue along the same path. Then he reached around me, toying with that sensitive bundle of nerves just enough to make the idea of begging cross my mind. At first, it tickled and a strangled laugh escaped my throat, which was met by his muffled sound of amusement as he kept going. Both hands roamed between my legs as he deepened his efforts, biting into me just enough to dance on the edge of pain.

  I couldn’t tell how long he did this, just that I didn’t want it to end. Once again, he moved fully behind me so he could grab my hair and I whimpered as he stood, pulling me up with him.

  “I am your first everything.” He let go of my hair and his fingers wrapped around my throat, leaning me even more into him.

  It was odd, having his hand close enough to cut off oxygen while the other sent electric currents through my stomach, stroking me, teasing me.

  “Do you understand?” he asked.

  I gulped, head spinning. “I’m…I’m not sure I do, sir.” I wanted to understand so badly. I wanted him to know I was paying attention; I wouldn’t let a single detail go unnoticed.

  Slowly, he brought his hand behind me, kneading my lower thigh until he traveled to my buttock. For a second, I was scared he would start hitting me again, distract me from how good this felt, but instead I felt him gently coaxing my wetness upward, to places I’d certainly never been touched like this.

  “So far,” he said, lingering on the tight ring of muscles behind me as his lips traced the curve of my neck, “I’ve claimed many parts of you.” He nipped at my jaw. “Your mouth, your pussy…”

  His fingers made slow, even circles the same it had between my legs, but it felt altogether different. Not unp
leasant, just different.

  “I understand, sir.” I tried to sound brave, but failed. I knew he wasn’t trying to scare me, but I was still terrified.

  He must have sensed this. “Do you want me to continue?”

  “Will it hurt?”

  He kissed my neck again. “Not if you listen to me,” he whispered, rubbing the same spot behind me, more tentatively this time. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you afraid?”

  I nodded again as I noticed the slight tremor in my legs.

  “Do you want me to stop, Doe?” He was serious. He needed to make sure this was something I wanted—another choice that would soon be taken from me.

  “No, sir.” I took a deep breath and willed my tense nerves to unwind themselves. “I’m only scared.”

  It could have been far worse, and even the fear was something tiny, brought about by the suspicious instinct I’d developed.

  “Nothing to be scared of.” His hand left my throat as he lay my head back down so I only felt his finger behind me pressing deeper.

  I tensed again, inhaling through my teeth.

  “Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

  I concentrated on only this instruction as I adjusted to the new intrusion as his other hand squeezed my breast, rolling the hardened tip between his fingers and setting my spine on fire. Unconsciously, I found myself pressing against him, pushing him in more.

  I stopped as soon as I realized this, mortified, but he steadied me by the shoulder. “No,” he said, “that’s good.”

  My cheeks reddened again, the blush touching the back of my neck so I was sure he could see it. The fingers of his free hand were back between my legs, quickly making me lose myself again.

  I felt his lips trailing my neck, down the back of my shoulders and awakening nerves I’d never been aware of. He growled against my skin as he made his way back to my throat, straining to reach the farthest he could.

  “A man like Jäger,” he said, “will want to take your ass.” His finger slipped in more, but I was better prepared for it this time. “He’ll enjoy giving others permission to fuck you.”