I swallowed the saliva pooling at the back of my throat, which served to make my throat ripple around his cock. He groaned and thrust again, making me gag. The sound aroused us both. I braced my hands on his thighs to control the depth while he put both hands on the back of my head and pulled me closer. It wasn’t a struggle; he let me control it. But his hands on my head served to remind me who was in charge – if I wanted him to be. And I did. Oh, God, how I did.
‘Suck it, baby,’ he murmured. ‘Suck me. God, your mouth is so fucking warm and wet.’
I sucked him like I meant it – intent on getting him to come as quickly as I could. It was part of the game, part of the power struggle. My submissive streak was a mile wide, but I also enjoyed pushing his buttons and seeing if I could turn the tables on him. He knew that and fought against it.
I reached up to fondle his balls, intent on making him come in my mouth. He might – it had been at least a week since we’d done anything sexual at all and since he hadn’t known this was what I was planning for our night, there was no reason he would have masturbated beforehand to make sure he’d last. But just as I felt his cock swell, a sure sign that he was moments away from orgasm, he pulled me away by my hair.
‘Bad girl,’ he said sternly. ‘You’re not in charge here, I am.’
I giggled and licked my wet lips. They already felt tender and swollen. ‘Then you’re going to have to work harder,’ I said defiantly.
He moved so fast that I didn’t have time to do anything but gasp. One minute he was standing in front of me, cock waving in my face, the next he’d sat down on the bed and pulled me over his lap. He tried to get my jeans unfastened, but I was squirming too hard. So he gave up and just stared smacking my ass with the flat of his palm. A good old-fashioned spanking, the likes of which I hadn’t had in three years. After the first couple of wallops that left my ass sore, I settled into the heat and sting of it and kind of wished I’d let him get my jeans off so I could really feel it.
‘You will do what I say,’ he said, smacking me hard and fast. There was no rubbing in-between smacks to soothe me, just the unrelenting slap of his hand on my jean-clad ass. ‘Do you understand me?’
I didn’t respond. I just kept trying to squirm away. He anchored me across his lap, his erection pressed to my stomach, his size and strength too much for me to fight against. Not that I didn’t try. I wiggled forward, my head almost on the ground. But my ass was still within striking distance and he took advantage of it.
After over a dozen hard, quick smacks, I whimpered and squirmed. ‘OK, OK, I’ll do what you want!’
With one more slap across my sore ass, he let me go. ‘Good girl.’.
I felt an irrational pride for having earned his praise. That’s what being in sub space does for me – and I’d gotten there a hell of a lot quicker than I would have expected after so long away. I’d missed it, a lot. Knowing I could stay immersed in it and not have to shift to mommy mode probably had a lot to do with my mental state.
I slipped bonelessly to the floor, flushed and panting. And we hadn’t even fucked yet. He helped me to my feet. Despite trembling hands, I got my jeans unfastened and pulled them, and my damp panties, down to my hips. I was feeling a little shaky – that endorphin rush of pain and pleasure messing with my balance – so I sat on the edge of the bed to take them the rest of the way off, followed by my socks. Still sitting on the bed, I pulled my T-shirt over my head, then unfastened my bra and added it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Then I sat there naked, looking at Aidan expectantly. He was still dressed, his cock as hard as ever and poking from his jeans.
Much to my disappointment, he tucked his erection back in his pants and zipped up. ‘First things first,’ he said. ‘Where is the rope?’
‘In my closet,’ I whispered.
‘Go get it.’
Our bag of bondage rope had been relegated to the back of my closet, behind a box of maternity clothes. He knew where it was, too, but this was part of the game. Making me work for my own punishment and ultimate pleasure. Prolonging my release until I would be begging for it. And I would be begging. I knew that before we even began.
I retrieved the bag of rope and presented it to him. Without a word, he pointed to the bed. I knew what to do. Face down, spread-eagled, I waited. He quickly bound my wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed. Despite the fact that it had been nearly three years, he moved quickly and his knots were effective. Idly, I mused that maybe he had missed this as much as I had, after all.
Firmly tied and helpless, I already felt like I was floating even before I heard the swoosh of him pulling his belt through the loops on his jeans and the metal clack of his buckle as he doubled it in his hand. I tensed, waiting. Remembering. Knowing how it would feel before the first strike. Knowing it would hurt, knowing I would yelp from the sting of it, knowing I would tingle in that spot for a minute before the heat diffused throughout my tender ass. I knew all of it, remembered all of it, and I wanted it so badly I was making little whimpering noises in the back of my throat.
He said one word. ‘Beg.’
Oh, how it wounds my stubborn ego to have to beg for what I want! Which is exactly why he does it. Aidan does everything for my pleasure, as he will remind me if I disobey in any way. Dare I rebel again, after the beating he just gave my ass? I wanted to play the brat, but his spanking had taken some of the rebellion out of me. Still, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
‘You know I want it,’ I said, which was true enough – he did know. But it also wasn’t what he’d demanded.
I felt the edge of the belt glide down the small of my back. He rested the end in the cleft of my cheeks. ‘Beg, or I will leave you here and go take a nap in the guest room until you’re ready to beg.’
He wouldn’t. Would he? I didn’t think he would – it wasn’t like the old days when we had all the time in the world on the weekend. On the other hand, we did have until the next afternoon and he might very well take a nap and come back to me in two or three hours. I wasn’t willing to risk it.
‘Please,’ I whispered.
‘Again.’
‘Please.’
He stroked my ass with the belt. ‘Louder.’
‘Please,’ I said, though my voice was still soft. I had gotten used to keeping my voice low during sex. ‘Please, Aidan.’
He rewarded me with a slap of the belt across my ass. It was hardly anything at all – more noise than sting – but it made me gasp anyway. Oh, that sound. How I had missed it.
‘Please, Aidan,’ I said, louder this time. I wiggled my ass in invitation, knowing it was already pinking up from the spanking. ‘I need it.’
The second stroke was harder, across both cheeks. I whimpered and squirmed some more. He moved around the bed to the other side. The belt whistled through the air and in that instant before it struck me I knew this one was really going to hurt. I wasn’t wrong. It caught me across the sensitive skin of my upper thigh, the belt curling inward to just tease the furled lips of my pussy. I yelped, bucking up from the bed as far as my restraints would allow.
‘Oh, you liked that, did you?’ he said, his voice amused. ‘Does your pussy need a good whipping?’
Oh, God. It had been far too long since that particular torment and I wasn’t sure I could take it in my current state. How was I supposed to answer? I shook my head. ‘Not this time,’ I whispered. ‘Please.’
‘OK. I guess your ass hasn’t had enough yet,’ he said, the belt whistling through the air for the fourth strike. ‘You let me know when it has and maybe I’ll stop. Maybe.’
Before I could even catch my breath from the soft scream I couldn’t contain, he whipped me again. One, two, three more strikes in quick succession. My ass was on fire, my pussy was trickling wetness down to the sheets. I was rubbing against the bed, trying to get off that way even though I knew he’d never allow it. I was already so hot for it, so ready – I didn’t know how much longer I could wait to come. Until he wanted me to come
was the answer, of course, but I was too caught up in my own need to care.
‘Stop moving,’ he said, ‘or I will stop everything.’
That was all it took for me to go completely still. Until the next stroke of the belt, of course. And then I was arching my back, trying to wiggle away from the next stroke. I couldn’t get away from him, though, couldn’t escape the next two, three, four slaps of the belt. He’d gentled the force – I couldn’t take too many full-on strokes – but they were still hard enough to make me cry out, enough to make my ass throb. Enough to bring me to the brink of orgasm, clinging to the ropes and willing him to give me what I needed so desperately.
‘Tell me what you want,’ he said, moving around the bed as he struck me with the doubled belt. ‘Tell me now.’
I opened my mouth to speak just as the edge of the belt caught me full across my wet, swollen pussy. All I could do was wail, a high-pitched sound that I didn’t even recognise as my own voice. I wasn’t sure he meant to hit me so squarely or so hard, but I knew he wouldn’t say anything until afterwards. We were in this moment together and all I had to say was ‘Enough’ and he would stop. I knew that I was safe with him, always. And so I thrust my ass up to him, meeting the next stroke of the belt.
‘Yes!’ I cried out as leather came down on me, unapologetic and unrelenting. ‘Yes!’
‘Tell me,’ he said again, his voice firm but gentle. ‘Say it, Hannah.’
This time, I was done. My limit had been reached and he knew it.
‘Fuck me,’ I whispered, my throat rough and hoarse from my cries, though I didn’t remember making that much noise. ‘Please fuck me.’
I heard him drop the belt, followed by the rustle of his clothing joining mine on the floor. I was more ready for him than I had ever been as he knelt between my spread thighs and rubbed my fevered flesh with his hands.
‘God, your ass is so gorgeous,’ he murmured, squeezing and pinching the cheeks until I whimpered and wiggled. ‘You should see the stripes the belt made. They won’t go away anytime soon.’
That thought – knowing he’d marked me for a few days or even a week – was almost enough to make me come. I’d always loved that about our playtime, knowing that I would carry the memory of it not only in my imagination but on my body. In the shower I would lovingly finger every bruise and welt, touchstones of the passion we shared.
‘Oh, good,’ I breathed. ‘I’m glad.’
I felt his cock probing my entrance and then, in one hard stroke, he was buried as far inside me as he could go. I didn’t have to touch my pussy to know I was as wet as I had ever been. His groan of delight let me know it was a good thing.
‘Damn, baby, your pussy is positively drooling for my cock,’ he marvelled. ‘You are a hot little slut for me, aren’t you?’
I felt my face flush with embarrassment. It was true, all of it, but to hear him put it so crudely did something to my psyche. I wasn’t Hannah the mommy or Hannah the teacher. I wasn’t even Hannah the wife. I was Hannah, Aidan’s slut. And God, how I had missed it.
He sat there, fully seated in my wetness, until I impatiently pushed back against him. My pussy was clenching around his cock, but I was so wet there was hardly any friction.
He chuckled. ‘I might need to lick up all that wetness before I fuck you.’
The idea of him teasing and tormenting me with his mouth made me groan out loud. ‘Fuck me, please,’ I whimpered. ‘I just need you to fuck me hard.’
He slapped my thigh hard. ‘You’re not in charge, sweetheart. I am.’
I made a sound of protest when I felt him withdraw, my pussy empty and achy without his cock to fill me. But then his tongue swept across my engorged labia and I cried out with the pleasure of it. He wasn’t quiet about licking me – he slurped and sucked as if he were drinking a milkshake and had to get every last drop. I was blushing furiously, embarrassed by my out-of-control body and unladylike responses to such perverse pleasures. But I knew that was what he loved best about me in this situation – that I loved the kinky stuff and couldn’t control my body’s reaction.
He licked me from clit to asshole, until I was a quivering mass of nerve endings. I strained at my bindings, longing for him to flip me over so I could grab his cock and pull him into me. But I remained helpless to his whims. And that knowledge, along with the sensation of him sucking every inch of my pussy into his mouth before roughly stroking me with his fingers, was all it took for me to come. I writhed on the bed as he finger-fucked me, screaming and crying as I came.
‘Fuck me,’ I cried out again, all of my need in my plea. ‘Please!’
And then he was in me again, feeling bigger now that there was less lubrication and my pussy was contracting in orgasm. He gripped my well-beaten ass in his hands as he thrust into me, driving me up inch by inch on the bed until I was nearly bumping against the headboard. I braced my hands against the wood and pushed back, giving as much as I could in this position, tightening my muscles around him, clenching my cheeks and thighs to drive him wild. I felt his thumb circling my asshole, massaging it, pressing just enough to make me squirm in remembrance of how it felt to have him inside me there. I nearly begged him to fuck my ass, but he felt too damned good in my pussy to stop now.
He groaned, thrusting into me as my undulations stroked his cock from every direction. ‘Baby, you feel too damned good,’ he said by way of apology as he flooded me, coming as he gripped my hips in his hands and bucked into me.
I tilted my hips up and back, the head of his cock angling down to my G-spot so that those long, rough strokes hit me just right. And then I was coming again too, adding to the flood. I cried out, gripping the ropes in my hands until my knuckles went white, riding his cock even as his orgasm crested. For several long moments, there was only wetness and tightness and cries and heavy breathing. My world. Right here, right now. With Aidan.
Slowly, I loosened my grip on the ropes at my wrists and sank back onto the bed, feeling the spread of moisture beneath me. Aidan was still kneeling behind me, though his erection had softened and slipped from my body. I was feeling relaxed and drowsy and wanted him to untie me and cuddle up on the bed.
Instead, he smacked my ass. Hard. I yelped, jerking at my bonds.
‘What the hell was that for?’ I asked, straining to see him over my shoulder.
He laughed. ‘We have all night and you don’t want to watch movies. You don’t think I’m going to stop with just one round, do you?’
Despite my post-orgasmic bliss, I felt a shudder dance along my spine. ‘Um, no?’
He moved from between my legs and stood up. I watched as he pulled on his jeans and tucked his damp cock into his pants. ‘“Um, no” is right,’ he said, sounding very, very sure of himself. ‘I’m not even close to being finished with you. I might have to call Catherine and see if she’ll keep the boys tomorrow night, too.’
I knew he wouldn’t do that. At least, I didn’t think he would.
‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’ I asked, as he moved towards the door. My muscles strained as I twisted to see him, but he was just out of my line of sight.
‘To finish making dinner for you,’ he said. ‘You’re going to need your strength later. I promise.’
I groaned, and it was almost pure anticipatory pleasure. I’d unleashed a beast. I had no doubt he would make me regret it for just a little while before he let me revel in it.
Starting Over
‘Shit, shit, shit!’
I couldn’t see the person who was screaming, but I could hear her. Hell, everyone could hear her. It was a Friday night and the coffee shop was crowded and the line was out the door. No one was at the counter, but I assumed the voice belonged to the only person working.
‘Have you been waiting long?’
I turned to the man behind me and shrugged. ‘Not terribly. But I haven’t seen anyone yet.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ he muttered, though I didn’t think he
was talking to me. ‘I have a date.’
So did I, I thought, as he stalked around the growing line and out into the night. The woman who had been behind him just shrugged and we shared a commiserating smile.
‘I’m sorry, can I take your order?’
The voice belonged to a young woman who looked as frustrated as she sounded. ‘We’re extremely short-staffed tonight.’
‘I see. Don’t worry about it, it happens.’
She nodded absently as she noted my order and rang me up. ‘Yeah, and it keeps happening to me. We had one girl just take off for Florida a few weeks ago and, instead of firing her, the manager said he’d pick up her extra hours but then he got the flu or pneumonia or something and no one wants to work on Friday night …’
She kept talking as she walked the length of the counter to the espresso machine, then talked through the making of my drink even though I couldn’t hear her over the sound of the machine or the impatient crowd behind me. I wondered if the manager had any idea that his lone Friday-night employee was losing her mind.
I collected my drink from the end of the counter and found a seat at one of the tall tables along the bank of windows. I’d be able to see him coming – which sounded more ominous than it really was. But I was nervous as hell and needed the advance warning to collect myself.
Full dark had fallen while I’d waited for my coffee. Now I sat looking out at the streetlights and the headlights going by, my face reflected back to me. I wondered what others thought when they looked at me, what they saw that I didn’t see. Long dark-blonde hair pulled back at the nape of my neck, my mother’s high cheekbones and aquiline nose, my father’s piercing blue eyes and long, lanky body. The only people who ever told me I was beautiful were the ones who had loved me – others said I was statuesque or striking. When I was in college, still awkward and coltish in my body, I’d been told by a photographer that I could be a model. But I think he’d only said that to get in my pants. It hadn’t worked. I was many things, but I wasn’t vain or easy. No, I was incredibly self-critical and stubborn.
Seduce Me Tonight (Mischief Books) Page 16