“Kick back three times if you’re desperate,” I tell you, and clap out the code: long-short-short. “No false alarms. Let me concentrate on my driving.”
When you make no response, I ask, “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you say, in a whimper. And that’s good enough for me.
Slamming the trunk, I imagine how your bones must be rattling. I try to go slow, pulling out of the garage, but my lead foot kicks in as I drive the back roads in the dark. I shouldn’t go so fast. You must be aching back there in the trunk, but I’m deliriously anxious to get to our destination.
And where, exactly, are we heading?
To a secluded shed in the woods. Perfect place for a night of discipline, because you can make all the noise in the world and nobody will come knocking at our door.
When I finally have you naked in the woods, I open the trunk and find you panting, glistening with sweat. I ask what’s wrong, as if I didn’t know, and you tell you’ve been hot, you’ve been scared, you were running out of breath. You’re so relieved to hear my voice, to sense my presence, to know I’m here for you.
I’m not sure how long that relief will last.
Picking up your folded body, I carry you and a flashlight through the forest. When we arrive at my secluded shed, I set you down on a patch of moss and you gasp. You’d be gasping even harder if I’d set you down on pinecones or twigs, but I don’t mention that. I’m lost in thoughts of all the things I can do to you in this shed: bind you to the wall, spank you, fill your body with whatever I please… lots of weird and wonderful things.
“Step forward,” I instruct you, shooting my flashlight into the darkness. “Do you see the light? Follow it.”
You seem nervous. You ask, “How far?”
I challenge you. “Don’t you trust me to warn you when you’ve gone far enough?”
“Of course,” you say, and bow your head. “I’m sorry, Master. Of course I trust you.”
“Very good.”
I’m pleased with your eager submission thus far, but who’s to say how long it will last? How far can I push you? That, we will find out together.
“Be careful of spiders,” I say as you creep into the shed.
You shriek and jump off the concrete floor, shaking your hands as though the action might undo your bindings.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You don’t like little legs crawling up your skin, forming webs between your nipples?”
“Please tell me you’re teasing!” Your whole body shudders in fear as you dance in place. “There aren’t really spiders. Please tell me there aren’t.”
“Well, you won’t see them with that blindfold on,” I chuckle. “So I could tell you anything.”
“You're cruel,” you say. “You’re a cruel, cruel master.”
Would a cruel master take your shoulders firmly in his grip and plant an eager kiss on your lips? You mustn’t think me so cruel as before, because your naked body melts into mine like you’ve found your salvation.
You whimper when my lips leave yours, which is merely a sign that you don’t trust me as much as you should. Because I’ve only stopped kissing you to lick your body all over, starting at your long, beautiful neck. I lick you there and you gasp, but not as loudly as you gasp when I find your breasts with my tongue.
“Just think,” I say. “I could be anybody.”
You ask, “What do you mean?”
“If you’re blindfolded, how can you be sure it’s really ME licking you?”
“Because,” you say, “I know your voice, for starters. But more than that, I know because nobody else is as good as you. Nobody else has a tongue like yours.”
Shall I admit to being flattered? No, I’ll keep my smile to myself—not that you can see me. Gruffly, I say, “You never know. I could be anyone…”
As I step away from your vulnerable body, you shiver again and say, “This shed is so creepy.”
“Creepy?” I ask, teasingly. “It’s my secret place. I don’t bring just anybody here.”
Bowing your head, you say, “Thank you, Master, for sharing it with me.”
As I circle around you, I say, “Just think: no one knows that you’ve come here. Nobody knows where to find you. ANYTHING could happen and no one would ever hear you scream…”
“I know.” Your head is bowed, but you raise it to ask, “Are you going to make me scream, Master?”
If only you could see my sexy grin your delicious pussy would be gushing with juice. I lick my lips in anticipation. I can only imagine how your body is aching to be touched. How taunted it must feel, after I bowed to your breasts and coddled them, building your arousal, and then stepping away. How you must be craving my tongue on your flesh, craving my cock in your cunt.
But you’ll have to wait. For now, as I stand behind you, I run my short nails down your back. It’s enough that you writhe, pressing your thighs together. Oh, I know what you’re trying to achieve. Don’t think I don’t know.
Reaching around your body, I find your nipples and squeeze them. You shriek and your body becomes a board, so straight and erect I wonder if you’ll ever find your curves again. Perhaps I’ll have to find them for you.
Pressing down on your shoulders, I force you to your knees. I know you love the feel of that hard concrete, the uncovered floor. So much grit, so much dirt. You never know... you might get totally filthy.
I wander around you, giving no indication of what will come next. You’re whimpering now, poor beast. Poor dirty, filthy beast on hard concrete. Your dear knees must be aching.
My bench is close by and I turn on a drill just to shock you. It works. You scream and leap, landing hard on your knees, screaming. Oh, now look what you’ve done. Better control yourself, my dear. Don’t want to injure that poor sweet body.
“Open your mouth,” I say, though your lips are already parted. “Open up. Come on.”
“How wide?” you ask.
“Wide enough for this…”
Unzipping my jeans, I pull out my erection and place my engorged cockhead on your tongue, struggling not to let on how good it feels. The heat of your mouth finds the heat of my tip and they build together as you close your lips around it.
“Good girl.” I set a heavy hand on your head. “Very good. Just like that.”
You suck me as I thrust slowly in your mouth. You’ve done this before. It shows in your talent. Your lips create a tight seal around my shaft and I wonder how I taste, to you. I wonder if you like it. I would never ask these things, as they’d make me appear needy and weak, but they’re thoughts that cross my mind, nonetheless.
With your hands tied behind your back, you must rely on me to keep you aloft. What a frightening sensation that must be. If I were to step away right now, you’d fall flat on your face. Your breasts would meet the raw concrete first, and you could try not to land too hard, but you know you would. I can’t imagine how frightened you must feel, poor love.
But you don’t seem at all frightened as you eagerly suck my cock. You seem to enjoy it, in fact. Too much. You’ll begin to believe I brought you here for your pleasure, although that is, in fact, the truth. As much satisfaction as I derive from our time together, I do it all for you.
And I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.
When I pull my erection from between your lips, you let out a sad, slighted moan.
“You miss my cock?” I ask.
Nodding, you say, “I love when you’re rough with me. I love when you ram it down my throat.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Doesn’t mean you’ll get my cock back in your mouth, though. “You know what I want from you?” I ask. “I want you to come and come and come and never stop, even if you’re tired of coming.”
In the darkness, I see a blush spread across your cheeks. “You're awful.”
“You really think so?”
Your blush deepens. “I think you're very good at this.”
“I can let my dark side slip out a touch,” I s
ay.
You reply, “I like it. I trust you, you know. Even if I shouldn’t, I do.”
“My dark side…” I struggle against the impulse to make a joke about Darth Vader, but you wouldn’t find it funny. So I simply reply, “I can be a daunting master to serve, so if you surrender to me and my dark side comes out, there must be quite a lot of trust between us.”
“Yes,” you say, simply.
And now it’s time for me to unbind you and pull you to your feet, and tie you up with twine. I want your wrists to itch this time. Comfort is overrated.
I ease your hands over your head and hook them up. You can probably tell, as I turn you around and light grows dimmer beneath your blindfold, that you are now facing the wall.
“What are you going to do?” you ask. “Are you going to spank me? Spank me with some horrible toolshed implement?”
I chuckle deeply. “Oh no, nothing like that.”
Pulling my leather belt from its loops, I whip the air to make that cracking sound that frightens you to a quivering mess. I see you shaking, anticipating the kiss of my belt.
“Stop squirming,” I command, and you stop on a dime. “Good girl.”
But when I lift the leather into the air, you gasp. Your bottom shakes and your legs weave one around the other.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask. “You look like you need a pee.”
“No.” Your voice is high and strained. “No, I’m just afraid. I know it’s going to hurt.”
“That’s right,” I reply. “It is. And it’ll hurt all the more if I strike you where I ought not because you can’t keep your little body still.”
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’ll stop moving.”
And you do, for about three seconds. When I raise my belt, you start back up again, twisting and turning, climbing the walls—almost literally!
“Enough,” I demand, and you stop on the spot, but I know I can’t trust you to keep still. Grabbing the twine, I say, “Part your legs until the outsides of your feet meet rebar.”
You ask me what rebar is, and I tell you when you get there, you’ll know. And you do. One foot and then the other smacks the metal bars I’ve driven into the concrete flooring. They’re there for one reason and one reason only: so I can bind your ankles and keep your legs wide apart.
“This feels weird,” you tell me as you hover from the hook in the wall, both feet parted but flat on the floor. “I feel like my butt is sticking out.”
“It is,” I assure you. “It’s quite fetching, I must say.”
You whimper and whine because you know what’s coming. You know how much pain you will feel mere moments from now. You plead with me, “Don’t do it too hard. Don’t hurt me too much.”
I laugh and laugh and snap! My belt splits the air in half before landing against your skin like a demon. It all happens in slow motion, for me: I bring the leather down on your ass, and your flesh reacts by rippling outward. And when I step back to observe my masterpiece, there’s a thick red line running diagonally up your rear.
“Oh God!” you cry. “That hurts so much.”
“I know,” I say, and bring my belt down again, this time slicing your other cheek on the diagonal. A matching set! It looks quite lovely, but you seem to feel somewhat impaired. Your bones rattle beneath your skin.
You wiggle in a vain attempt to free yourself, but freedom will not be yours until I allow it. And I won’t allow it until I’m satiated.
Stretching my belt to one side, I slap it horizontally across your ass. Your pain rings out to the rafters of my compact cabin. You can scream as loudly as you wish, but no one will save you. Deliverance will come only from your Dom.
Do you trust me? Still?
“No more,” you beg. “That’s enough. That’s enough.”
“Only three?” I ask. “That was only three strikes, you know.”
“Three strikes,” you say. “I’m out.”
Pain radiates from your pores. Your flesh blazes. I will let you rest. For now.
I feel your weakness and your strength as you hang on my wall like a trophy. Being blindfolded and turned away, you can’t know what I’m about to put inside you. You can’t know, and yet you probably do.
“You’re getting excited,” I say as I tease your ass crack with my bulging cockhead.
You whimper. The words aren’t real.
“Shall I put it in you?”
Silly question. “Yes, Master. Please, Master.”
“Shall I slam it in you hard, or enter soft as silk?”
“I trust you, Master. Do as you please.”
You’re ready as ever for cock, but I won’t fulfill your lust for my hard body—not yet. Instead, I pull out the battery-powered vibrator I keep in here for just such occasions. I don’t want you hearing it, so I smack the realistic shaft between your legs before turning it on. The buzz would wake the neighbors, if we were worried about such things. But there are no neighbors out here in the woods, so I turn the vibration directly to high. No low, no medium, nothing to prepare you for the extreme nature of this powerful buzz.
When you scream, you are part animal. There’s pain in your pleasure—just the way I like it. Your knees weaken visibly. You try to pull away from the vibrations, but where can you go? Hanging from the wall, you shriek and turn like a tortured being. Your hair whips wildly around, whacking my face as I follow your body with the vibe. I haven’t put it inside you, but perhaps I should. Yes, perhaps I will.
You breathe a heavy sigh when I pull the implement away from your clit. You think the torture is over, don’t you? You think you’re off the hook, as it were. I hardly think so, pet. I leave you hanging, quite literally, as I find your glistening pink slit with the tip of the vibe. You buck forward even before I’ve inserted it. Just the sensation of its curves and ridges against your pulpy pink flesh turns your body into a wild mare.
I’m most anxious to ride you…
But first I fulfill my silent promise and thrust the vibrating cock into your willing form. Your legs tremble and you say nooo, but all I hear is yesss. Your body is shouting twice as wildly, bucking to take in more of the buzzing contraption.
“You just love getting fucked,” I say.
“Yes!”
“Doesn’t matter by whom, or indeed by what. You just love having something to fill your tight pussy. Something, anything…”
“Yes!”
Shall I whip you again? To calm you down? To build you up?
Holding the vibrator deep inside you, I reach for a length of bamboo. Without warning, I bring it down on your rear.
“No!” You scream, but your pussy tightens around the vibrator to such an extreme that I let go and back away.
“Hold that cock inside yourself,” I instruct. “Don’t let it fall. You must grip it with all your strength.”
“Yes, Master.”
Your voice is hoarse with pain and exhaustion, but you follow my orders. Suspended on the wall, you stick your rear end out and I slap it with my bamboo cane. You shriek to holy hell because a caning hurts like nothing else. My belt had burned your flesh, but bamboo? There’s nothing else that whips the skin quite like it. It sizzles. It scars. There’s good reason to fear me now.
Every time the slim cane makes contact, you fill the rafters with your screams. I keep my eyes on the prize in your pussy: the vibrator jerks every time I slap your skin. Still, you grasp it tightly enough to hold it inside, which is quite a feat considering how wet you are.
I change things up and smack your thighs, leaving horizontal streaks the backs. I’ve never heard such shrieks from you. You’ve become a banshee in response to my bamboo. But I don’t stop. I smack your thighs again, and then your ass, and you plead with me. You beg. “I don’t think I can take much more of this!”
“You don’t have a choice, now, do you?”
You whimper in a way that fills my heart, because you trust me. You trust me to ensure you can handle the pain I give. And I would do nothing to
betray your trust, so I pull out the vibrator and I slap your ass with its sopping shaft.
This time your shriek is rather more amused than pained. Is that laughter spilling from your lips? Oh, it is! Well, if that’s what I get for showing you relief, then I’ll smack you once more with this bamboo cane. I’ll smack your ass and then your thighs, tearing up your flesh, turning it red as can be.
“No!” you cry. “No more! It hurts!”
“That’s rather the point,” I say, and slash your skin again.
“No more! I mean it!”
You struggle to lift your foot. Your personal power astounds me. I’ve worn you quite down, I’ve tied your ankles to the ground, and yet still you manage to lift your foot. When you let it fall on the concrete, you tap out the code that serves as our safe word—a word with no sound, as it were—and I immediately concede.
“Oh, Master!” you say, panting hard. “Oh I can’t tell you… I can’t tell you how that feels, the pain and the… oh God…”
I set down my bamboo cane and turn off the vibrator. There’s a full bottle of tepid water on my bench. Uncapping the lid, I spill some down the small of your back and then splash it over your rear and thighs.
“Thank you,” you say, and your voice betrays your great relief. “That feels so good.”
“Tilt your head.”
You do, and I drip water across your lips. Some splashes down your chin before I spill yet more into your mouth.
“Thank you,” you repeat. “Thank you for taking care of me like this.”
I hear your heart in your voice, and it sounds every bit as full as mine.
Snapping up the flashlight, I tell you I’m going to relieve myself in the woods. It’s just an excuse to make off with the only light source, leaving you bound in three places in a darkened shed in the middle of nowhere. Blindfolded.
How must it feel, being alone in there and not knowing precisely where I am? Are you frightened? You must be, my pet. I’m taking quite a long time. Oh, the thoughts that must be flooding your mind right now: perhaps you fathom I’ve been attacked by wild animals, or wild humans, and now you’re left alone with the shed door wide open, fully exposed to any attacker that might wander by.
Caged. Captured. Confined.: The Illicit Romance Reader’s Dark BDSM Collection Page 4