Blue Persuasion

by Blakely Bennett

  “Very funny, silly girl. It turns you on because you’re a very naughty, kinky woman and you need to be used appropriately.”

  “Appropriately, huh?”

  “Let me show you.” He untied the sash and slipped my robe off my shoulders. He led me to the bedroom that had a king-size, blond wood, sleigh bed against the back wall. The dim light shrouded the brown walls in shadow. He set me on my back in the center of the bed and shed his jeans and shirt, revealing an astonishing portrait of masculinity.

  I never imagined being so drawn to a man who towered over me and yet, when he wrapped me in his arms, I never wanted to leave. My body trembled, waiting for what he would do to me.

  “Put your arms above your head,” he ordered, lifting a piece of rope from the nightstand. He wrapped my wrists together and tied it off at the base of the headboard. His large, firm hands ran down my arms, neck, and stomach, following the curve of my hip. They didn’t soothe me but instead, awoke every nerve ending on the surface. “Spread your legs wide.”

  When he lifted another piece of rope, I uttered, “Uh ... Tate?”

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “Please don’t lie on—”

  “I have other plans for you. Relax.” He ran his hand down the center of my chest, across my stomach to my left leg. Then he rendered me helpless, tying my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed.

  I tried to regulate my breathing but failed as I started to pant. My adrenaline fired, causing my nipples to harden into tight peaks and sending moisture to my pussy.

  “I love it, you’re nipples are ready for me.” His warm mouth descended over my right bud, suckling and yanking on it, his teeth grazing back and forth. He kept at it until I tried to move away from him, the sensation so intense. The ropes allowed me no such escape. His mouth moved to the other side as his blessed hands began exploring my body. They modeled my flesh, leaving their heat behind. He avoided the one spot that needed the most attention.

  I groaned heavily, lifting my pelvis, praying for a single touch on my clit.

  “You’re a very naughty girl.” He ran a finger through my wetness and continued, “Not only do you let strange men tie you up, but it makes you so wet, you drip onto the bed.” He stalked around to the other side and asked, “What should I do with you?”

  My body vibrated and shook with anticipation.

  His back faced me, and I saw a flash of light reflected off the dresser mirror. When he turned around, I gasped. He held a lit, long-stem candle and his incredible phallus jutted out toward me.

  I shook my head back and forth, and he nodded in response. He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed me, taunting me further by making me wait. His taste infiltrated me, inciting deep arousal while melting my resistance. I had never experienced wax, and the idea stirred and scared me.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. The first drop of wax fell between my breasts.

  “Ohhh!” I called out. It stung momentarily and then faded into raw heat. My eyes widened.

  “I knew you’d like it.” He tilted the candle so another drop fell on my right breast. Then he created a circle around my areola and I knew where he was headed.

  I wiggled, “I don’t think—”

  “Exactly, don’t think. Trust me and just feel.” The hot wax landed directly on my nipple, but he didn’t stop until it was fully covered.

  “Holy fuck!” I cried, pulling on the rope that held my arms above my head.

  “Let’s see how you really feel about this.” His fingers strummed against my labia, dipping into my entrance. Parting his fingers, the gossamer veil of wetness spread between his fingers. Then he sucked on them, moaning. “So good.” He stalked back to the top of the bed and said, “Should I stop?”

  I shook my head “no.”

  “I didn’t think so. However, I need to hear it. Tell me what you want, tell me what you are.”

  So aroused, I wasn’t sure I could get the words out. “I ... I ... please more wax.”

  “And what are you, Blue?”

  “I’m a libidinous woman ... that needs...”

  “Nice word. Come on dirty, lustful, Blue, tell me what you need.”

  I took a deep breath and forced the words out. “I need you to use me ... fuck me ... make me cum so hard I can’t see straight.”

  “Good girl,” he praised, pouring the wax across my other breast, covering the hardened peak.

  I tugged against the restraints, groaning in sexual torment.

  Then he trailed the wax down my soft stomach and filled my bellybutton.

  “Oh, oh, oh, that’s intense.”

  “Just wait,” he said.

  “No, no, no,” I uttered. But that didn’t stop him. My spread legs left my pussy completely vulnerable.

  “Not yet.” He set the candle in a holder on the dresser. On the bed, between my legs, he fingered my sopping wet pussy and spread the moisture over my clit. “I’m going to cover this clit soon, too, but first I need to get it really big and swollen. He circled my arousal, slowly teasing.

  My head thrashed back and forth, the stimulation rousing.

  “Before I let you cum, you need to tell me your dirtiest fantasy.”

  “That’s not fair!” I whined.

  “I don’t have to be fair, my sexy vixen. You are tied to my bed.”

  I tried to think of something that wouldn’t be mortifying: Double penetration, be a voyeur at a sex club, anal sex, being cropped in front of an audience. They were all too personal.

  “Oh to be in your mind, I can see you sorting through the options. Why don’t you tell me all of them? That way I can fulfill each one.”

  “Come on, Tate!”

  “Is this what you want?” He applied pressure on my clit and then removed his hand. “Just spit it out, and I’ll continue to fondle you.”

  “Ummm...” I decided on anal sex, since his cock would never fit. I thought the other ideas might put him off. “Anal sex.”

  He lay next to my side, resumed the massage, and asked, “Have you done that with Bond?”

  “No,” I moaned, his touch bringing me closer to the edge.

  “Have you ever done it?” His free hand lightly floated over my belly and thighs, heightening the climb.

  “No.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’m not ... doing ... doing it with you. With that,” I forced out, tilting my head in the direction of his hard heat lying against my thigh.

  “Of course you will. Not tonight, but soon.” He increased the tempo and pressure of his fingers. “You’re close.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I murmured. “Ohhh, very. Please!”

  “Okay, naughty girl, but the payment comes next.”

  “Holy hell, I’m cumming!” My body bucked against the restraints, the contractions thrumming my core.

  “Let it go, Blue.”

  I screamed out my release, my body arching up, my orgasm saturating Tate’s hand and then I collapsed.

  He shifted up and kissed me gently. “You’re incredible.” He held me as I floated back to reality and then asked, “Do you need some water?”

  “Please. Was I loud? My throat feels like I yelled.”

  “Very.” He bestowed a slight smile upon me and left the room. When he came back, he tilted my head and fed me water.

  “Thank you.”

  “How do you feel?” he asked after he took the candle out of its holder once again.

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “No, I’m checking in.”

  “Euphoric and nervous.”

  “Exactly what I was going for. Ready?” he asked, only he didn’t wait for an answer. He spread my labia and filled my folds with wax. Then he covered my mound with the hot lava and drizzled it over my clit.

  “Oh god, oh fuck, please!” My body shook of its own accord.

  “Please what?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Yes, you do. Tell me.”

  “Please fuck me
. Hard. I need you inside me.”

  “Yes, you do, just not yet.”

  My hearted drummed in my ears as I wondered what came next.

  He poured more wax over my nipples, the previous layer keeping the intense heat from my sensitive bits. Next, he untied my arms and massaged my shoulders.

  “Oh, that feels good,” I breathed out. I felt relaxed for about a minute, until he untied my legs.

  “Stand at the end of the bed in front of the mirror, legs wide and hands behind your neck, elbows out.”

  He followed me over and after I got in position, he placed his hand behind my head and kissed me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine. He sufficiently stole my breath, my common sense leaking out with it. “Remember Geronimo if it gets to be too much.” Then he rummaged in a drawer in front of me and pulled out a flogger, but nothing like the ones Bond used.

  The black leather held by Tate looked mean, each strand of the whip was braided with a knot on the tip, instead of broad strips of soft leather.

  “Naughty girls must be punished,” he stated, his dark brown eyes penetrating mine.

  “I’m scared,” I whispered.

  “You’re in control.”

  I nodded.

  He circled behind me and struck me a few times on the back. “See, that’s not so bad.” Once in front of me again, he directed, “Keep your eyes on me the whole time.”

  “Okay.” My heart pounded in my chest, my breathing erratic. I so wanted to please him but before he started on my front, I folded in my elbows in fear.

  “A punishment for a punishment ill received will be far worse. Stand up straight and push those gorgeous globes out for me.”

  I complied, struggling to stay still.

  The first strike on my right breast forced the breath out of me. “Holy shit!”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” The whip knocked off the wax around my right areola, strike after strike.

  The impact to my nipple caused my juices to drip down my thighs. The acute sensation rode my threshold of tolerance. “Ahhh,” I yelled out. I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat as I struggled to remain standing.

  “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, Blue. Your submission is so very hard to resist.”

  I logged both of his comments for later as I grappled with all the feelings eddying around in my mind and body.

  “Ready for more?”

  “Yesss,” I hissed.

  Then his whip struck my left breast repeatedly, removing all the wax that had hardened there. He reached between my legs to scoop up my cum and then fed it to me. I dipped my tongue into his palm and lapped at it. Gathering more, he rubbed the wetness across my nipples and then licked it off. He murmured against my boob, then gave me a steamy kiss, sharing my taste on our lips.

  “I have to be inside you now.” He quickly rid my pussy of the rest of the wax and drew my torso over the dresser. I heard him rip open a condom. “I’m going to fuck you from behind, hard.”

  His steely cock slid in about halfway with his first thrust. As wet as I was, my body still had to relearn that I could accommodate his length and girth. Through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes locked on mine, claiming me.

  Do not fall in love, do not fall in love, echoed in my head as I grunted each time the head of his cock hit my cervix and forced my hips against the dresser.

  I had convinced myself that no other man could handle my dark needs, and with each moment I spent with Tate, I found out I was wrong.

  Don’t fall in love!

  Don’t fall in love!

  A master of self-deception and denial, I believed I could avoid love’s trap.

  Tate’s body heat covered my back, his hands tugging on my nipples. His left arm trailed down to my pussy and found my sweet spot. “You’re going to cum with me,” he growled as all the ridges of his phallus exquisitely stretched my insides. He took long strokes, in and out of me, slamming his cock in fast and drawing back out slowly.

  Our voices resounded off the mirror in front of us.

  His hands mastered me yet again and I cried out with him, his orgasm quickly following.

  Breathing heavily, we remained connected as we both struggled to recover.

  “Are you still hard?”

  “I am,” he said, the heat of his words rippling against my throat.

  “You came, right?”

  “I can barely stand from it.”

  “But you’re still hard?” I asked, astonished.

  “It happens sometimes when I’ve been hard for a while.”

  “Can you cum again?”

  “Yes.” He tilted his head up and gazed at me through the mirror.

  “Wow. That’s a mighty fine feature. God granted you the goods in that department.”

  He shrugged. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

  “I believe in your cock.”

  He smiled over my shoulder. “Are you hungry now?”

  “I am. As long as you promise that I can play with your cock before I go.”

  “You’re spending the night.”

  “I’m not.”

  He stood up, his cock slipping out of my body. “I thought you said you had tomorrow off.”

  I walked out through the living room, and he followed me to the bathroom.

  He tossed the condom in the trash and loomed over me, leaning against the doorjamb.

  With the towel from my shower, I dried my sopping pussy and thighs, and brushed at the remaining wax on my chest.

  I left the bathroom, retrieved my robe, and tied the sash. “No sleepovers. There will probably be other stipulations to this ... this thing between us, but I haven’t figured them out yet.” I stood my ground with my hands on my hips.

  “I’ll change your mind.”

  “Doubtful and definitely not tonight. This can’t all be on your terms.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It’s not, because I won’t allow it to be. Otherwise, you’ll chew me up and spit me out. I won’t have it.”

  His stern expression was back, and I couldn’t fathom what it meant. After a moment, he said, “I have no intention of doing that. Come here.” He held his arms out to me.

  I let him wrap me up in his energy. A sigh escaped me as I settled against his chest.

  He smoothed my hair and rested his chin on my head. “Sooo ... food?”

  “Anything desserty?”

  “I have a slice of chocolate torte.”

  “Just one slice? Okay, I’m willing to share it.” I laughed.

  That granted me a slight chuckle. “Outside?” he asked.

  “That would be great.”

  “Grab the torte, and I’ll throw on a robe.”

  “Deal.” I padded, barefoot, into the kitchen on the dark, shiny, wood floor. The cabinets were beige and the backsplash had small square tiles in various shades of brown. I loved the dark, granite countertops. One of those fancy coffee-making machines sat on the counter. I opened the stainless steel refrigerator and took in the contents. He clearly ate out a lot. There were various takeout containers. Once I located the torte, I searched around for forks and filled two glasses with water. I sat in one of the white beach chairs out on the deck, placing the dessert container, forks, and glasses on the table between the chairs.

  “You eat out a lot,” I said when Tate sauntered outside wearing a navy robe that came down past his knees, loosely tied, leaving his defined chest exposed. “Do you eat alone?”

  He ignored my question and stabbed the torte with a fork, holding out the bite toward me.

  The torte tasted great, but his lack of response to my question left a sour taste in my mouth. I took a sip of water and held the glass in my lap.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  I knew what he meant. “Doubtful,” I said. Just a few minutes before I felt so connected to him and now, we were back to the fortress of steel.

  He brushed the hair a
way from the side of my face and looped it behind my ear. “Just give it time.”

  Time, I knew for sure, was not on my side. I listened to the waves of the ocean cresting on the shore, trying to let it settle me.

  He took a bite of the dessert and then fed me another. “How was that for you?”

  Shaking off my disappointment, I said, “Good.”

  “Just good?” In a quick maneuver, he moved the table from between us and dragged my chair next to his. He took my left leg and draped it over his.

  “Very good?” I said with a shrug.

  “Are you going to punish me?” he asked as he ran the tip of his finger up my inner thigh. That one finger had more power over me than my entire self-respect. My lips parted and a moan escaped.

  “If you really want to know what it was like for me, share something and I’ll do the same.”

  “That’s not the deal.” His forehead creased, but he continued to touch me, moving under the hem of my robe.

  My body’s constant betrayal flabbergasted me as it blushed in need. Trying not to give in to the power of his hands, I said, “I guess you’ll have to ask me ... next time you have ... ahhh ... me tied down.”

  He sighed. “I sometimes eat with friends, other times I call in takeout.”

  “Was that so hard? Will I meet your friends?”

  “No. Now answer my question.” His fingers had migrated to the juncture between my leg and my radiant core.

  I stroked the hair on his forearm and then looked up. “Better than I imagined it could be.”

  “Better than with Bond?” His fingers crawled across my mound and played in my ever-growing wetness.

  “Ohhh ... I’m not sure how to answer that.”

  “Truthfully.” He forced two fingers past my labia.

  “I can’t think,” I groaned. I held his forearm as he drove into me, his thumb shimmying over my clit. “My orgasms ... best, so good.”

  “But?”

  “And ... so exciting. New. Unexpected, but...”

  “But?”

  “So close. Oh, Tate ... yes ... so fast ... fierce ... so, so good.”

  He stopped moving and said, “Not yet.”

  I pouted.

  “And Bond?”

  “He knows me better than anyone, even better than Cat.”

  He resumed his manipulations and brought me right up to the edge again. “I want to know you.”