by Lucia Jordan
This isn’t too bad, she told herself, savoring the sensations. Her feeling of powerlessness with having her wrists tied and now her ankles held up in his wrists, began to lessen. She gave in to his ministrations especially when he suddenly began to stroke the slapper of the riding crop all around her flesh. It was slightly soothing to have the sensation of woven leather running over her ass and pussy. Her lower body jumped each time the crop came in contact with her delicate cunt, left defenseless by her legs raised straight up in the air.
But then there came the loud swish of the riding crop being swung back in the air before it slammed into her ass, hard. Megan whimpered aloud in surprise and pain. He started to spank her with rough, forceful strikes, increasing the ferocity with each slap of the crop’s tongue. Megan gasped, her whole body stiffening. He held on tight to her ankles and she could not escape. Could only squirm beneath the hard spanking. The crop seemed to land in a pattern, never hitting the same spot twice yet spreading its sting all around the surface of her exposed, raised ass.
He suddenly stopped, and she let out a raspy breath, looking up pleadingly at his implacable face. She wanted to call out his name but daren’t; daren’t even beg as her whole ass tingled. It had felt so mortifying to be spanked this way, with her legs raised in the air and her rump exhibited helpless to his punishment. But there was more to come.
Megan felt his hands moving over the heated spots of her ass where the crop had been administered, his touch slow and teasing Her throat constricted as she savored the sensation of his fingers on her skin, tracing over the little raised marks there. She became highly aroused and moaned softly under her breath. That was when he let go of her ankles and told her to spread her legs.
Megan’s whole body broke out in goose bumps, not even thinking to disobey despite the sudden erratic beating of her heart.
She slowly moved her heeled feet apart, wider and wider. He tapped at either ankle with the crop to make her keep going till he had her legs open as far as he wished.
Now, her cunt was totally exposed and easily accessible to him. Megan knew this, and bit hard on her lip, wondering how much this was going to hurt.
But her imagination did not prepare her for the real thing. First he lightly traced the crop over her inner thighs, her clit, her pussy. Megan suddenly began to quiver in anticipation, not dread, as he ground the braided leather unto her clit. The slight pressure on her sensitive and erect clit distracted her for a moment as she indulged in the moment.
He suddenly said, very softly, “No matter what, do not close your legs, little pet.” Her eyes flew open at those words, and the next moment, she felt him lift the crop and then slap it with precision upon her pussy lips.
Megan cried out. An intense pain ripped through her clit as he slapped the crop into it. Once, twice, three times. Her first instinct was to close her thighs to the pain, protect her delicate mound from the punishing whip of the crop. Instead, she swallowed the pain into her system and forced it to be a part of her. Made herself one with the agony as the leather slapper bounced upon her again and again. She could feel his gaze on her face, knew he was gauging her reactions as he increased the strength of the crop play.
Her eyes were drawn to the now pink shade of her cunt as the blows to her tender flesh grew in severity. That small tongue of leather provided an exacting edge of pleasure-pain as she found herself getting wet from the repeated slap slap slap of the crop against her folds, her clit. She suddenly arched her back, her inner thighs trembling as her breathing grew all the more deep and ragged.
“I want you to keep looking at me, pet,” he said softly yet with a clear command. Megan forced her eyelids to stay open as she met his smoldering gaze.
“I wish to see everything you’re feeling,” he added, and followed his words by bringing the slapper down strongly on her exposed labia, making her scream. He put a hand to his lips, silently instructing her to be quiet. She trembled from the inside out, shocked to her soul at how aroused she had become. For the second stroke, the slapper landed upon her clit and Megan involuntarily thrust her hips up. Her pelvis rocked back and forth in rhythm with his blows that began to alternate from her pussy to her clit.
She no more tried to resist the slapper, but welcomed it, lifting to meet the pain, which she now understood. Her body arched, and then relaxed, dancing to the beat of the crop. The slapper shot down again and again, issuing different sounds on impact. The soft wet slap of her pussy and the harder thunk upon her clit.
It took a few moments for her to realize the moaning sounds were coming from her. She suddenly realized that her whole body was shaking, could feel the wetness between her thighs as she seemed to continuously drip with the juices of her excitement. Her cunt felt like it was burning and as she looked down at it, she saw it was a fierce, red color.
Her harsh breathing seized when he suddenly stopped spanking her pussy with the crop. She shivered and moaned, lost in a million tingles as different sensations rocked her defenseless body.
It was only when she opened her heavy-lidded eyes that he spoke, his tone soft and yet compelling. “You see pet, how excited your body is; suddenly it has trouble telling the difference between pain and pleasure. Now, have you learned your lesson or do you want more?”
His grey eyes were blazing, and she shivered at the hard lust in his eyes, heard for the first time his own low, raspy breathing. She could see that his cock was looking painfully erect, and she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her – now.
But somehow she knew better than to ask for it. So she clenched and unclenched her fingers within the satin ribbons, and then said softly, “Sir, I want what you want.”
Only with her eyes did she show how much she longed to be claimed by him right then. Her pussy was all aflame with an inferno only he could quench. His face darkened even further with desire and she saw him cast the crop aside.
“Good pet,” he gruffed, and she saw him put on a condom. Her whole frame trembled with want and she forgot everything that had gone before. The sweet agony of the crop bringing fire to her cunt was suddenly inconsequential compared to the marvelous prospect of being at last, taken by his cock.
He took hold of both her legs once again, raising them high up over her head with the ankles together. He knelt in position and for a moment, she felt the press of his cock head upon her pussy. And then with one hard shove of his hips, he pushed himself deep within her slit.
Legs straight up and deep, hard thrusts…this was the way he fucked her. His large hand tightened around her ankles as he pounded her wet, throbbing vaginal walls. He rammed hard again and again, sending his cock further into her clutching pussy with each successive stroke.
Megan had come to expect his brutal, powerful strokes. She was accustomed now to feeling the total extent of his strength; in the way he held her legs and flexed them back over her head. There was no teasing, no build-up in his pace – and oh, how he filled her! He slammed his cock in as profoundly as he could, his hips moving with blurred speed. It was hot, hard and fast, and every second mattered. She cried out repeatedly, her senses reeling from the sensation of her lover driving himself with passion into her pussy.
Megan had no sense of time or being; her insides flared around the rampaging cock, suctioning him as he ground against the secret fount of her bliss.
From a distance, she could hear his voice, as deep and compelling as ever even though ragged with his harsh breathing. “You are so close, pet; I can feel it,” he observed. His groin smacked into her ass as he drove the next plunge with more power than ever. Megan moaned, shocked by the strange, animalistic sound coming from her throat.
“Tell me what you want,” she heard him rasp, and her half-lidded eyes held his as he jolted her body with those masterfully deep thrusts of his. She’d never seen his eyes burn so brightly, never felt his passion more keenly. Her senses swum and she just managed to gather the needed words to form her reply.
“Please Sir…I need to cum.
Please make me cum!” Megan sobbed, not recognizing the needy, hungry woman desperately yearning for the release she knew was just around the corner, waiting to be let off its leash by her dominant lover.
He grunted, “Soon, my pet. Not long now. This time, we’ll do it…together.” The last word ended on a hissed breath passing through his clenched teeth. She felt his raging, rising tension; it burned through her like a spider’s web against a candle flame.
And just like the last time he’d fucked her, she didn’t even realize she had tears running down her cheeks till it was all over. Not till the very last, monumental thrust that drew a primitive growl from his throat…when he brought them both to a heaving, bucking climax.
Book 4: Eternal Proposition
Chapter One
His domination was a controlled, persistent and detailed seduction.
He drew her in, tempting her in bits and pieces. Showed her different little ways in which her body could belong to her and still be controlled totally by him. Dipped his hand past her glistening folds and lifted his soaked fingers to her eyes to show her each time, how her cunt could not hide how much it loved what he did to her.
Megan felt like she was being tossed about in an aggressive storm. The ravenous requirements of her lover astounding her at every turn.
She did remember Heath had warned her that it wasn’t going to be easy. He’d asked her again and again if she thought she could handle him. If she was ready. And at the start, Megan had truly believed she was.
Once the bedroom door closed behind them, perhaps after some fancy private outing or elegant social function…whenever they were alone within the four walls of their hotel suite, there was unleashed a blanket of lust so dark and consuming that it threatened to engulf her every time.
He liked to see her brought to her knees, literally. Loved to make her crawl on all fours to where he sat waiting, legs spread as he instructed her to pleasure his ready, throbbing cock. Sometimes, he let her touch him, use her hands to wank him as her tongue lapped adoringly over his length. Other times, he had her with her arms tied securely behind her back, instructing her to deep-throat him as far as she could, his hips moving forward as he stood above her, pushing her past her imagined limits.
At first, she welcomed the unique thrills that came with submitting to him in every way. To let herself be bound and gagged and sometimes even blindfolded as he used her body for his pleasure. His desires were sensually afflictive, exacting the total involvement of both her impressions of pain and pleasure. Afterwards he would mount her with feral force, sometimes with her knee thrown over his shoulder making his penetration sink deep to her foundations.
Yes, once he was inside her, she always found her way back from the subspace of whatever torment had passed before. Such as the smack of his paddle upon her raised ass…or the flog of his cat-o’-nine-tails on her breasts, abdomen or upper thighs – or even the vicious little slaps of his hand on her pussy.
Always, he still managed to leave her wet and trembling and practically panting for him to finish her off with his cock buried deep within her pulsing walls.
Megan began to feel disturbed by how much she enjoyed those moments of total submission, when she could simply give in to his demands without thought to her own.
She soon began to know more about the things he found sexually stimulating.
He loved to hear her scream, to know that she felt the sensations he wanted her to feel. Those couldn’t be faked, he told her; no matter what else a woman could pretend to feel during sex. He loved to take her while she felt powerless, unable to do anything but let him use her body. He loved the sound of his hand slapping against her naked skin, loved to see the way her flesh colored and welted slightly when whipped, slapped or paddled.
Not listening to him had its consequences; forgetting any of his instructions or displeasing him in any way had its aftermaths. Bright red, painful aftermaths, such as the feel of his cane whipping her bottom while she was lying on her belly, spread-eagled by the under-the-bed restraints. These had her wrists and legs splayed out, leaving her helpless and completely at his mercy. He caned her till her ass cheeks were purple and pink. And while her ass was burning, he’d shove his fingers into her sopping pussy. She’d moan with shame thinking how much her body liked to be treated rough, to be made to feel every edgy thump and smack.
He would take her from the back, pumping his hips faster and faster against her raised ass, spanking it repeatedly. His hand would tug hard on her hair, dragging her head back as he drove into her to the balls, tripping the wire holding her belly-cramping release.
Or he would take her from the side, his hand around her slender throat, her leg raised high so that his cock could slam in and out of her waiting pussy with merciless precision. His grip on her neck was never truly suffocating, but she did always have the sense of choking, of his use of power while he fucked her. The hair-pulling, the face-slapping, the nipple pinching - the rough language…He was so good at incorporating these into every one of their sexual encounters till she wasn’t sure how she could have made love before without these blood-pumping components.
But then, they weren’t “making love”, were they? This went far deeper, far beyond that. Yes, he fucked her, and yes, he even used her, making her feel more like a sex toy than anything else. And yet, it still went further than even that. There was the psychological element involved, a kind of power exchange where she switched off every thought of “me” and focused only on thoughts of “him”, how to please him, how to keep him satisfied, how to make him sure he had control at all times – no exceptions.
Him. Her. Rough sex. Every time.
There was never a soft, leisure moment, not while they were in “play”. Whether he was twisting on the nipple clamps, or spilling little drops of wax upon her naked body while she lay on her back writhing within her bonds, it was all about the rough.
And Megan realized she wouldn’t want it any other way, not with him.
That evening, before they left for the party they were to attend, he made her lift up her skirt. His fingers pulled the panel of her panties to the side and then he slipped an egg-shaped object into her pussy. It was an egg vibrator, wirelessly connected to some kind of remote control that would be in his possession – of course.
Throughout the time they were out, it became an effort to keep her reactions from the people around her. At some point or the other she knew he activated the remote in his hand, which resembled some kind of car or TV remote. There would be a low “whirring” sound, thankfully indiscernible due to the noise from the music and people around them. Sometimes he was beside her or a little farther away, talking to someone or just sitting across from her, watching. He’d know exactly how she felt because he would see it in her eyes, saw the way her lips would part in a small gasp and her body would jerk forward just slightly. She knew he could sense her narrowed breathing, or the soft moan she tried to stifle inside the glass wine she’d raise to her lips with shaking hands.
That thing vibrating inside her…she’d never felt anything like that before. She’d never really been into sex toys and had never owned any. But with the egg buried deep in her pussy, she got to feel a myriad of sensations depending on which level of speed he used. It stimulated every hidden corner of her inner walls as well as her g-spot, with its different patterns of vibrations. Sometimes it beat within her like short pulses, or escalated in motion, or surged and throbbed with a force that made her head spin. The vibrations were never uniform and this greatly enhanced the pleasure she experienced whenever he chose to press the button.
The sensations became relentless, triggering her juices to pool inside her panties. Her pussy felt swollen, her clit hardened and throbbed in response to the pulsation taking place within her vagina. She felt her cheeks flush and she heard someone beside her ask if she was OK. It was a woman, her eyes worried as she looked at Megan’s expression. Maintaining her composure, Megan shook her head and said quickly that she
was fine.
She couldn’t see Heath but she knew he was somewhere at a close distance, monitoring her every reaction. Soon he returned with a cocktail, placing it in her hand and smiling at her in that devilish way of his. She was melting, finding it hard to sit upright in her chair without sliding off her seat. He must have increased the speed because now the tremors became more intense, making her part her lips as she stared into his narrowed, molten gaze. The crowd seemed to shift and fade beyond him, and she blinked her eyes widely as she resisted the urge to moan out loud and just implode.
Whatever setting he used to manipulate her, she was once more given a sense of how much he liked his control. It was just a toy, a simple playful thing of pleasure that would have made her giggle at the very idea behind it. To tease a partner, torment her with vibrations that made her aware of every part of her sensitive vaginal walls.
Megan never knew when exactly he would turn it on, or for how long. He gave her no warning and that in itself was torture. To be constantly on her guard, conscious of the thing inside her. Knowing that just when she put her mind off it was the moment he could easily surprise her and make her jump a foot from the sudden sensation.
Such games of course worked better when done in a public gathering, where her discomfort became magnified by the chance of anyone guessing she had a toy pulsing inside her pussy. She understood this, and was sure he did too. She was conscious of why he’d chosen to use it on her during this party, where the loud noise would drown out any tell-tale buzzing sounds from the vibrator.
In addition, the risk of her reactions being noticed by someone definitely intensified the element of being “pleasured”. Anyone watching her closely would notice that something was up, but apart from the inquisitive woman, Megan felt sure she’d managed to keep her emotions under control, just barely.