by Zoey Parker
I’d make it through this weekend no matter what.
He put up the bar. Offering a tense smile, he reached for a collection of leather straps that were connected by metal rings. “This is a harness. It starts at your neck, just like a collar. From there, it goes down to your breasts, but as you can see, there isn’t any cover there. It surrounds them, but doesn’t hide them, then continues down your belly to your hips. There it’ll outline your pretty little pussy, just like it does to your breasts, and when it dips between your legs, it’ll come back up the other side. It’ll stripe either ass cheek, but your ass will be exposed.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the rings where the straps are linked together. They also let me attach other things. Chains to control you with. Or hooks to hang you by. I can even attach them to restraints at your wrists and ankles, though I prefer something else for that. Would you like to see it?”
I almost shook my head. I wanted to, but then I saw Bree’s face. Smiling, laughing. No, I had to keep going. I could do this. I would. Steeling myself, I managed a weak nod.
He hesitated half a second, then he put the harness back and traded it for another long leather strap. This one I couldn’t make out where exactly it went – until he started to explain it.
“The thigh sling spreader. This part goes over your shoulders and crosses in the back.” He motioned toward a part of it that looked kind of like a shoulder gun holster, but without the holster part. “This strap stops just above your lovely tits. At the center of the cross in the back are two cuffs, as you can see. These are so I can bend your arms back and restrain them there. You wouldn’t be able to move them at all.” Turning it again to the front, he smiled at me. “These straps here extend from the shoulders and attach just above your knees at your thighs. You can see they aren’t very long, so you’d be bent at the perfect angle for me to slide into your pussy.”
I could imagine it. I could see him wrapping me up in this little leather package and putting me on the bed – or maybe he’d take me on the floor – before climbing on top of me. He’d slide inside and I’d be done. Lost. Torn between a need for him to stop and for him to continue.
Or maybe I wouldn’t want him to stop.
He let me look at that for a long time before putting it up. “I have other things, too. Gags for that pretty little mouth. Tiny vibrators that’ll make you come so often you’ll be exhausted and whimpering at my feet. Anal beads for that pretty little ass of yours – would you like that? I have various sizing and you might find you enjoy them. I know I like feeling them while I ram into a wet, hot pussy.”
I swallowed. I’d obviously never done anal before and wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to try. Christel, one of my very limited sources of sexual experience, had said that it hurt. But what was I supposed to say? No? That it scared me? If I did, he’d say that he’d been right earlier and that he needed me to go home.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
So I lowered my gaze and said the only thing I could: “I’ll do whatever you want, sir.”
Then I waited. I wasn’t sure how he would respond. Maybe he’d tell me to go anyway. But I laid all of my cards out there on the table and now it was up to him to do with them as he saw fit. I was practically trembling with nervousness, my naked body on high alert. He’d shown me a lot of things today and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for any of them, but damnit, I wouldn’t give up so easily.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he said, “Lay down on the bed. I know what I’ll do with you.”
I shivered, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Without looking up at him, because I was afraid of what he might see in my eyes, I moved over to the bed. I hesitated at the edge, then bent forward to plant my hands on it. Then I crawled the rest of the way so that I was lying in the middle of the black, silky sheets. I stared up at the cuffs hanging from the ceiling, vibrating with nervous energy and worry that he was going to test me. And that I was going to fail.
I listened as he took something down from his wall, then heard his heavy footsteps approach. I swallowed, waiting for him to come to me and show me just what I’d signed up for. There was a rustling of clothing and I was pretty sure that he was undressing, though I didn’t dare look up. I didn’t want him to think that I wasn’t obeying, because I was already getting the sense that disobedience was a serious problem for him. And I’d sort of done a lot of that already, given my refusal to leave.
Eventually, the bed dipped down as his body weight joined mine. I waited, listening to my own hammering heartbeat, as the bed shifted with his movements. He crawled up the mattress to join me. I felt his hands first, large and just as gentle as the first time he’d touched me.
“I’ve picked something for you, pet,” he cooed to me.
I didn’t ask him what it was.
“Sit up so I can put it on you.”
That sent a tendril of fear through my system. Whatever he had for me, it was something I had to wear. And I didn’t think it was going to be as simple as a collar.
Sitting up, I couldn’t help it as my eyes dropped immediately to the leather straps in his hands. I recognized them; the thigh sling spreader.
Oh god. What have I gotten myself into?
He started by slipping it over my shoulders. I felt the cross at my back and remembered that it had cuffs attached. For my wrists. I didn’t resist though as he fasted it around the front just above my bare breasts. Nor did I so much as squirm as he folded my legs up so that he could wrap the other cuffs around my thighs, just above my knees.
The position was a little uncomfortable, stretching my legs while forcing my stomach to fold in on itself. I had enough room that my breasts weren’t pressed against my thighs, but it wasn’t by much. When the front was done, he grabbed my left wrist. “Are you ready?”
I nodded.
“Answer me. I want to know that you are ready for this.”
Despite my dry throat, I coughed and said, “Yes, sir. I’m ready.”
“Good.”
He pulled my arm around my back, latching one of the leather restraints around the wrist. Then he pulled my other hand around so that both were fasted to the harness. I couldn’t really move. I was wrapped up and restrained and my first reaction was panic.
Then I felt his breath at my ear. “Shh, pet. I won’t do anything you don’t want, remember? Use your safe word if things go too far. Otherwise, relax. Give yourself to me completely. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t.”
I wasn’t sure if his words really should have been comforting, but strangely enough, they were. My body eased into the new position and while it wasn’t exactly comfortable, I acknowledged that it wasn’t uncomfortable. And I also admitted that it was… sexy.
I was completely naked except for the apparatus and because of the way it fit over me, my legs were spread open and my breasts were visible to Jules’s gaze.
And he was hungry.
As I began to relax, I also let myself look at him again. His well-muscled, tattooed chest. His bronzed skin and those tiny golden hairs trailing down his navel. His member was already hard, jutting out from his pelvis eagerly, waiting to plunge into me.
My body answered that desire with wetness and warmth growing steadily between my legs.
His hands started by caressing my body. They smoothed up along my legs, stroking my rear tenderly before smacking it ever so slightly. It wasn’t the same as the punishment I’d received earlier. This was softer, barely a love tap, and it had the effect of sending desire straight through my body.
I moaned.
He let his hand wander inward until I felt it at my inner thigh. He caressed my leg there, then grabbed it, massaging it with his hands. I felt an achy need at the apex of my thighs and desperately wanted him there. I was trying my damnedest not to say anything so I wouldn’t disappoint him, but I couldn’t resist.
“Please, sir. Touch me.”
I heard the smile in his voice as he answe
red, “I am touching you. Be more specific.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat, my need winning out over any embarrassment I might have had. “T-touch my… my womanhood.”
“Say pussy,” he ordered.
I bit my lip, almost not obeying, but then he gave my rear a harder slap. “I gave you an order. Obey, or I’ll punish you.”
“Pussy,” I breathed out. Then I managed, “Please, sir, touch my pussy.”
He obliged immediately. I felt two thick fingers plunge into my wetness and I moaned loudly. It didn’t give me relief exactly, because my body only responded to this by drawing up more pressure, more desire. But I felt better. It took the edge off.
“Good girl,” he told me. “I want you to refer to it as pussy. And I want you to call your breasts tits. I want you to call that tight little hole in your rear, your ass. If you call them anything else, I’ll punish you. The only time you may refer to them as other things is if we are in public. Here, with me, I expect a dirty whore mouth. Are we clear?”
I groaned, but managed to get out, “Yes, sir.” His demands served to make me hotter, wetter, and more turned on than ever. I wasn’t sure if that made me a little messed up or what, but I didn’t care.
“I want you to taste yourself,” he told me and my eyes went wide.
I looked up at him, surprise written across my face. But he was serious. He was still slipping his fingers inside of me, wetness spilling over his digits, and I suddenly knew what was coming.
“Open your mouth, pet.”
I obeyed. My lips parted and I let my tongue slip out just enough to wet my lower lip. He grinned wickedly at me, then pulled out his fingers. I actually whimpered at the loss, but then he presented them to me.
“Lick them clean,” he told me, then he pushed them into my mouth.
I closed my mouth around the two fingers and sucked. The taste was… tangy. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but definitely not something I was used to. It was almost sour, but a little sweet with a kind of kick to it that I expected with blackberries or lemons. Tart, almost.
“That’s it, pet,” he groaned, getting off on it more than I was. When his fingers were cleaned, he pulled them away. “You make the perfect dirty girl,” he said to me, his smile telling me it was praise.
I felt… accomplished. I couldn’t say why, but there was something about the pleased tone to his voice that made me feel some sort of pride. Like the best thing I could have done was taste myself for him.
I expected him to put his fingers back into my core, but he didn’t. Instead, I watched as his hand went to his own hardness. He wrapped his large hand around himself and stroked several times, his body tense and straining. After only a few strokes more, he settled himself between my legs.
My body flushed as I realized he was getting ready. My already aching core seemed to all but scream for him to push inside me already. To build up this pressure inside of me until it was finally ready to explode. I craved it so badly that I almost begged him, asked him to do whatever he wanted so long as he did it now.
I felt the head of him press against my opening and sucked in a harsh breath.
Oh god, please!
He rubbed himself along my swollen lips, collecting the moisture there and smoothing it over his bulbous head. “I love how wet you are. Tell me this is all for me,” he all but growled at me.
“Yes, sir. It’s all for you, sir. Please, I need you.”
He continued to rub himself along my opening. “I told you. Be specific. What do you need?”
I let out a stuttering breath, but managed to get out the words. “I w-want you… I want you to… to be inside me.” Biting my lip, I had to force myself to be more specific, to be dirtier. “I want your cock inside my pussy.”
“That’s a good submissive,” he praised. “I like you dirty. But only for me. Understand?”
I whimpered, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Then he thrust. It was long and hard and unceremonious. If last night he’d been kind and gentle, tonight he was demanding and rough. I found I enjoyed it just the same. A swell of a scream filling my chest and spilled out of my throat as he hit the very back of me. Once again, I was filled and stretched until there was no more room left.
I was still sore from the night before, but the soreness was nothing compared to the pleasure. It was chased away by it. I was consumed by it.
Above me, Jules groaned. “Fuck, you’re still tight.”
His hands gripped my hips, keeping me from rocking around too much due to the sling wrapped around my body. Thanks to the straps holding my legs open, he had easy access to my body and he took full advantage of that now.
He began to move within me, his hard erection sliding within my wet channel as he took a hard, furious pace.
“I want you to know you’re mine,” he growled at me, his hands gripping my hips so hard that I thought there might be bruising later. “I want you to know that this body is mine to do with however I please. That I can shove my cock inside your pussy whenever I feel like it. Do you understand?”
Amidst my cries of pleasure, I managed to find some coherent words. “Yes, sir! Yes!”
I didn’t even care what I was saying yes to.
My body was on fire, my core so filled by him that something inside of me felt complete. Like this was how it was supposed to be. The leather straps wrapped around my body, keeping me from moving or touching him only heightened my sense of pleasure. I was completely at the mercy of this strong, virile man, and I loved it. I didn’t understand it, but I loved it.
He pounded into me as fast and as hard as he could until his body began to shake with the effort. I saw his shoulders tense and his face contort into a pleasure so exquisite it was nearly pain.
With a roar of victory, he spilled himself inside of me once again. I felt spurt after spurt of hot liquid fill my insides, his hips pressed tightly against mine as his member twitched inside of me.
I don’t know how long it took before he’d emptied himself, but I knew when he was done because he began to soften within me. I waited as he panted above me. Although I hadn’t found my own release, I did have satisfaction. Satisfaction from knowing that my body had brought him to his own undoing. It was almost better than actually reaching an orgasm of my own.
Almost.
When his softening cock finally slipped out of me, he pulled away from my body, careful to lay me back so that I didn’t rock onto my arms. I was aware of the warmth that was leaking from my center, soaking the sheets beneath me.
“That was satisfying,” Jules told me mildly, like he’d just had a good meal. “I’m going to clean up now. You, will wait here. Just as you are. I want you to think about what we just did. About what is slowly slipping out of your pussy. When I come back, I’ll finish you.”
My eyes widened. Finish me? The promise of that pleasure sent a shiver through me and I watched him go, hungrier than I was when he’d first begun to touch me. I couldn’t wait for him to return.
I did as he said, mostly because I didn’t have much other choice. I thought of how he’d been inside of me. Of how he’d tied up my body and ordered me around and made me suck off my own taste. It served the purpose of making me even hornier.
It seemed like I lay there for ages, images of what we’d just done lingering in my mind, my body slowly growing sore and stiff thanks to the straps still wrapped around my body.
Just when I felt like I’d reached the moment where I needed to beg him to come back to me, he returned.
He’d found a pair of low slung leather pants, though he remained shirtless. His hair was a little tousled, but in a sexy way that a lot of people strove for. He approached me calmly, taking his time. It made me squirm, needing him to just get over here and finish me, just like he’d said. Hell, I’d finish myself if only he’d release at the very least my hands.
But he just looked me over casually, walking around the edges of the bed, like he was ex
amining a car before buying it or judging a piece of modern art.
It should have embarrassed me to be trussed up like I was and naked, while he just looked over every inch of me. But I wasn’t. I was turned on and bothered and desperate for anything he might be willing to give me.
Finally, he came to the side of the bed and sat down. I felt the dip of the mattress and sensed where he was; close, but not close enough that we were touching.
Which was a goddamned shame, because that was what I needed. “Please, sir,” I heard myself whimper, my voice pleading and pathetic. But I didn’t care.
“Please what?” he asked me calmly, letting his eyes slip over me without urgency or care.