by Selena Kitt
Again the whip slapped against her breasts, and still his fingers slid against her, forcing her to respond. April was torn between the outrage and indignity of having her sweet and tender breasts slapped with the evil leather crop, and the rapturous pleasure of having her pussy stroked and played with by a hand that seemed to know her most secret needs. It was almost more than she could bear, and she twisted in her bonds, her hands opening and closing, fingers spread wide, then clenching into tight little fists of impotent excitement and humiliation. Her entire body was on fire: the orgasm she needed so desperately was there, just barely out of reach, and coming closer with each slap of the whip against her burning flesh.
It was so right. She knew instinctively in some deep, unexplored part of herself that this was what she deserved, to be tied up and whipped even as her deepest sexual desires were satisfied by the obscene touch of his hand. In her female soul the pleasure and the pain, the shame and the triumph were inextricably bound up and tangled together, and she only had to glance at the feral gleam in the Doctor’s eyes to know why she was being beaten. She was too beautiful, too desirable, too sexual, and so she had to suffer.
But the suffering was glorious. He began to hit her harder, so that each slap made her breasts bounce and jiggle on her chest. She groaned with shame as her body betrayed her, pressing up off the wall looking for more of this delicious punishment. He changed the target from her red and aching nipples to the soft undersides, and as he slapped her he licked and sucked the nipples he had just whipped, playing his tongue around them and nipping them softly with his teeth, setting off fireworks in her body.
The effect was electric. April howled and her hips began to make the most lewd and obscene humping actions against the Doctor’s plundering hand, the soft skin of her belly clenching in spasms of raw feminine hunger. In one part of her mind she knew she was making a shameful spectacle of herself, but with the other she felt the blessed relief of her orgasm thundering down upon her like a herd of wild horses, not far now. All this tension of these last weeks and months was all coming to a head, blossoming within her, ready to burst forth, and she knew that the Doctor was right: there was a sexual animal inside of her, a shameless and wanton whore who longed for the worst and most shameful things to be done to her. She knew it now, and her shame was like an exalted thing, something that lifted her up and out of herself into a realm of pure sexual lust, brilliant and almost cleansing in its ferocity.
It was the whip, the terrible indignity of being tied to the wall and beaten and loving it, the way the pain melded into the maddening pleasure of his fingers working at her cunt, driving everything else from her mind. He was demanding she let go, demanding she give in to her most obscene and salacious desires and show him the whore she was within, and she didn’t care any longer. Her dignity, her self-respect, none of that mattered any longer.
“Fuck me!” The words burst out of her, and she hardly knew what she was saying in her sudden delirium. “Yes! Whip me and touch me there, Doctor! Hurt me! Make me come! Please! Make me come!”
The Doctor smiled, the look of intense sexual hunger on his face giving his grin a wild and evil cast.
“Show me what a slut you are,” he hissed at her as his fingers poked and probed at her through her sopping panties. “Let me see how a little whore comes from having her tits whipped and her pussy played with. Because you are that whore, April, and I want you to let her out. Give it to me. Give me all your hot come, bitch.”
His words were horrible, and yet they inflamed her blood. She opened her mouth to cry out in protest, to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t take any more, but just then his fingers pushed the soaked crotch band of her panties to the side and he opened her up with his fingers, spread her pussy apart and exposed the soft and tender flesh inside to the humid air of his sexual torture chamber. His thumb slid upwards till he found the engorged bud of her clitoris and slid in greasy circles around it, pushing it this way and that while his middle finger slid into her virginal pussy, touching her just where she needed it most and easing the terrible congestion she felt there with its savage insistence.
April slammed her head back against the wall, clenched her eyes shut and screamed. Her orgasm seemed to come boiling up from the very soles of her feet, shooting sparks along her legs and her body convulsed in a wracking spasm of release, her hips jerking upwards towards his punishing fingers in a savage lurching motion. She yanked hard against the chains as her belly flexed so tight with each wave of savage trembling joy that she thought she might snap her own bones like twigs.
The Doctor shoved two fingers up inside her, stretching her cruelly, but the pain was delicious relief to her aching emptiness, and she felt her own internal muscles grabbing at him in return in their selfish orgasmic greed, trying to draw him inside into her aching emptiness.
He kissed her then, eager to taste her pleasure in her breath, and she panted through her nostrils like a wild and desperate animal, her eyes rolling up sightless into her head as her body convulsed again and again in waves of furious sexual release.
When at last the spasms subsided, she seemed to fall apart, all the strength leaving her limbs like sand from an hourglass, and like a marionette with the strings suddenly cut, her legs gave out and she would have fallen had not the Doctor put his strong arm around her waist and held her up, pressing her body to his as the last twitches and quakes of her mighty orgasm shot through her body.
He quickly and quietly unfastened her wrists and picked her up in his arms as though she were a child. He carried her to the bed and laid her down upon it, then climbed onto the bed next to her and pulled the thin blanket over them. He took the trembling girl in his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed against his shoulder with the overwhelming relief she felt.
He knew that soon there would be questions, reproaches and recriminations as she fought through her shock and bewilderment to try and understand what had happened to her. But he knew too that the flood of sexual feelings he had unleashed was just a mere turning of the tap. This woman’s feelings ran deep, deeper than he had ever seen, and he almost shuddered as he realized the preciousness of the woman he now held in his arms, her tears wetting his chest.
One other thought he had: In a woman of this ardent a temperament, what other depths of feeling might she be capable of? He had only toyed with her. What would happen when he unleashed his full passion upon her, his entire panoply of techniques, the fruits of his years of laborious research?
He did not know. His erection throbbed painfully against her body. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be calm, buried his face in her sweet smelling hair and held her all the more tightly.
About Elliott Mabeuse
Dr. Mabeuse is an award-winning author with four books published by Ellora’s Cave, including Overcoming Abigail, nominated for a 2005 Cupid and Psyche Award for BDSM from the Romance Studio and A Game of Dress-Up, winner of a 2006 EcataRomance Critic’s Choice Award. He’s also published with Renaissance, eXtasy, and makes his debut with Harlequin in May of this year.
Links to his novels may be found on his webpage and he maintains an open Yahoo group. He also publishes extensively at Literotica.com, where he can often be found hanging around instead of writing.
Write him at [email protected]. He likes getting mail and does his best to answer.
Of his biography, Dr. Mabeuse says: “Everyone connects to the world in some way, and I seem to connect through sex. I’m drawn to the extreme and the extraordinary in all things, and I like to explore the farther edges of passion and desire in what I write. What interests me now is not so much the things people do, but how they feel about what they do—male and female dynamics, how we connect to ourselves and each other and to the world at large. I tend to be intense and my writing shows that, but I really value my sense of humor above all, and I expect it to sustain me should the fires of sexual passion ever burn out.”
Office Games
By J. E. Taylor
“Getting ready to head home, why?”
“Just wanted to give you some grief.” I chuckled. “Besides I’ve got another stinkin’ hour to burn before I head to a late meeting. I’m the only one down here and it’s really creepy.”
My office was one of thirty high walled cubicles in the dead center of the building. Marble hallways lined the room on all four sides, creating an almost sound proof area leaving it unearthly quiet. Mornings alone in this closed off space never bothered me, but then again I knew eventually someone would come in. But after the last of the staff went home, this room took on an eerie, morgue-like quality, silent air, broken only by the constant cool flow from the air-conditioning vent above.
I shivered.
“Perfect opportunity for you to come scare the hell out of me.”
His laugh traversed the phone line. “I’ll be right down.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
Relief washed over me when Jake stepped into the room and crossed to my desk looking around. “You were right, it is kind of creepy.”
I spun my chair in his direction and waved to the seat lining my back wall and he parked there. Only a foot separated the distance between our knees and I was aware of every last inch of that space and I swiveled nervously in the chair. Utterly alone, we were utterly alone and just a few inches from trouble.
My concentration crumbled and I rambled, talking a mile a minute about everything but what was really going through my mind, talking about everything but the desire flooding my veins. Having him this close was as intoxicating as a dozen shots of tequila and equally as hot.
Conversation tapered off and he smiled a knowing smile, the one that sent shivers from my toes to the tip of my head, tripling my heart rate and the temperature in the little cubicle skyrocketed. Hell, if there was a sprinkler system, the current between us would have tripped it.
“I should be going.”
I returned his smile, a little disappointed. This situation, no one in the office, secluded, cut off from everyone, didn’t happen, not in the place we worked. It was like all the stars aligning for that brief span of time, the weather patterns falling into place to form the perfect storm. Exactly the situation we both dreamt of and yet all I could muster was a lame “Ok.”
He paused, getting ready to stand but not quite. “You surprised me.”
My eyebrows rose in response. “How so?”
He waived his hand, a silent comment on the sheer emptiness surrounding us and then flashed that smile again.
Oh my god, he thought I’d make the first move. That’s why he shot downstairs so fast. I almost laughed out loud but I kept the question in my eyes.
“You’re all talk, aren’t you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not.”
He nodded, settling back in the chair.
“What we need is some conference to go to, a couple drinks . . .” I let the rest go unsaid, our imaginations wandering.
“That would be particularly dangerous.”
My turn. I cocked my head and teased with a bite of my lower lip before I spoke. “How so?”
“A hotel room . . .” A single eyebrow rose, the insinuation complete. Jake let that hang in the air for a moment, glancing around the empty office. “You’re all talk.” He grinned. “No one’s here and yet you didn’t even broach the subject.”
My smile faded. “That’s because you’ve been putting distance between us lately. On purpose.” It was something I inherently knew, just like I knew he felt the same things I did. That miracle sixth sense of mine, yippee, and he was nodding confirming what I already knew, studying his hands, the wedding band catching the light just so.
“Sorry about that.”
I nodded, shooting a quick glance at the diamond gracing my hand before raising my eyes back to his. “I’m not all talk like you think I am. I’m not about to make the first move here, not after the conversation we had last fall. You made it clear you weren’t comfortable with stepping over the line and I would never put you in that position.” The playful flirting, the dirty references, the innuendo, all part of the game we played, thrilling but safe and that’s the way he said he wanted it. “Soooo, maybe you should be going.”
He lingered, his grin infectious. “Maybe I should.” Yet he didn’t move a muscle.
“Besides, if anything IS to happen, you have to be the instigator.”
“Really?” His grin widened.
I nodded, even as the wheels turned in his head, his eyes making the slow scan of my body before returning to meet my gaze. Slowly he put his notepad on my desk and leaned forward. Stopping a foot or so short.
“And if I did this?”
I played the game, my heart pounding, my hands slightly shaking from the electricity between us, the thrill of it engulfing all sensibilities. I moved forward, stopping just shy of his lips and smiled. “Then I’d probably do this.” Our eyes met for a fraction of a second then in the same instant we closed the distance.
He tasted like peppermint, and the kiss, ah, god, the kiss was the kind that made my knees melt, made me feel seventeen all over again, first love kind of kiss. Sweet and slow, hot, controlled . . . mesmerizing. I didn’t dare move closer, the kiss lingering even though he was just as wired as I was. My heart leapt in my chest, throbbing with the need now burning my veins. I wanted much more than just the kiss, but we pulled away, both of us taking a deep breath before settling back in our chairs.
I am so completely screwed! I leaned back in the chair pressing my hand to my forehead. Instead of just satisfying my curiosity, that kiss set the small fire in my abdomen to a blazing all consuming inferno. “Oh man.”
His expression fell, but before he could speak, I piped up. “No, I’m, I’m not upset. I’m just so, so screwed because . . . because that was so much better than I imagined.” I stuttered through trying to voice the flurry of thoughts in my head. A nervous laugh escaped. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a good kisser.”
The smile was back. “Neither were you.”
I shrugged, shaking my head and dropping my hand back to the armrest. The Billy Idol song Rebel Yell popped into my head . . . I want more, more, more! “At least my curiosity’s satisfied, but I’m not sure what good that’ll do me now.” I joked, trying to lighten up the profound, overwhelming current between us.
“Yeah, but mine wasn’t.”
Ah yes, the conversation from last fall flooded back, he was a breast man and wanted a feel. I nodded my consent, might as well get another taste of his lips while he satisfied his curiosity. Sweet again, and his hand tender, lightly caressing through my shirt, enough to fuel my imagination and crave his hands on my naked flesh. Neither of us attempted to move closer, knowing that if one or both breached the space between the chairs, clothing would start to come off and an office cubicle was not the place for that.
When he pulled back, his smile was reward enough.
We stared, silent and I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. Me, I just wanted to jump the distance and say screw the consequences while Jake just smiled in that holy-crap-sizzling way he had.
“Do you,” he started, swallowing and beginning again. “Do you think this will change things?” Only when he finished the question did his gaze find mine.
“God I hope not.” I sat back. His friendship meant a great deal to me, which was why I backed off last fall, letting him be the one to take the lead into the hotter topics most of the time. I didn’t always adhere to that, but I tried, because, while I was more than willing to take the chance, he wasn’t.
Until today.
And for the briefest of moments, I thought I shot myself in the foot. All I could imagine was him running for the hills and my heart actually stopped beating for a second.
He rolled his bright eyes and twirled his finger, meaning the room. “
No I meant do you think they’ll figure it out?”
My heart resumed, lighter than a moment ago, relieved. I shook my head. “As long as we don’t stop behaving like normal, I don’t think anyone will be the wiser.” And normal for us was always on the side of politically incorrect.
He was glancing at the ceiling. “Think there are cameras?”
That made me laugh. “No just the damn air conditioning vent blowing arctic air on my desk.” I tilted my head. “You know, this is the first time I haven’t been freezing at my desk. I’m kind of grateful for that cold flow right now.”
The slow grin formed again, smoothing out the worry lines in his forehead.
“You know what else I’d actually like?”
“What’s that?”
“A hug.” Yes, a very sappy request, but I wanted to know what it felt like to be in his arms. I stood, breaching the distance and leaned in to hug him. When his arms wrapped around me, damn, it felt like coming home and at the same time, I was acutely aware of the extra weight I gained over the holidays hovering on my hips and ass. I sighed and straightened, almost at eye level with him, my arms still resting on his broad shoulders. His hands slid down, giving my ass a squeeze. I felt the hot rush in my cheeks and I rolled my eyes. Grudgingly, I stepped away, sliding back to my chair.
“I should go,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Yes you should.”
A slight rosy hue crept into his cheeks accompanied by a crooked playful smile as his eyes went from the clock to me. “I should go,” he repeated.
“You don’t really want to, do you?”