Blackestnights

by Cindy Jacks

  Black hooked one of my legs over his shoulder and turned his face against it. He sucked and bit at my thigh. Heat radiated out from the bite marks, claiming my pussy. I wanted him to break the skin, maybe even draw blood.

  “Harder,” I moaned.

  Shoving a hand against my face, he held my head to the side. “Shut up. Don’t tell me how to fuck you.”

  “But I want you to bite me harder.”

  He smacked my ass, leaving a warm sting in his wake. “Do not tell me what you want. You’ll take what I give you.”

  I moaned, thrusting my hips upward. I knew if I reacted enough, he’d have to punish me somehow, but instead of biting me again, he put a hand around my neck. “Be still.”

  Though the pressure wasn’t so hard I couldn’t breathe, his firm grip kept me immobile. He hammered at my cunt, his cock slamming home with every forward thrust. I let myself go limp. Maybe, just maybe if I gave him what he wanted, he’d do what I’d asked.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he buried himself inside me, his cock twitching. He’d come already, which meant no orgasm for me. When he released me, I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

  He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “If you want more pleasure, you need to write. A thousand words, just something to get you started.”

  I nodded but refused to make eye contact.

  “Come on.” He slapped my thigh. “Don’t be petulant. If you’re trying to get a punishment out of me it won’t work.”

  Right. That’s what he said now, but I was sure if I pushed him far enough, he’d have to respond. Wouldn’t he?

  “Okay,” I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

  Searing pain shot across my scalp as he gripped my hair and pulled me off the table. I tumbled to the floor onto my hands and knees, but he yanked me up and pulled me by my hair then forced me to sit at the table.

  Fingertips digging into my face, he squeezed my cheeks. “Don’t be a brat. You’re better than that. Do what I told you to do and then you’ll get your reward.”

  Embarrassment at the scolding doused the last residue of desire. He’d seen right through my ruse and still refused to punish me for it.

  “Write.” He stabbed the air with his forefinger then stalked away.

  For several minutes, I sat, my arms folded over my chest. My cunt, sticky with his cum, pressed to the chair seat. Once I’d gotten up and retrieved my pants, I resumed my defiant position.

  Then it happened.

  I touched my fingertips to the keys and began to write and I wrote about Black…

  It was a crisp autumn day like any other, but not like any other because he walked into my life. The cut of his suit, the swagger in his walk, the cocky expression he wore told me all I needed to know. This was the man who would change my life forever.

  An hour later, I had chronicled how we met and detailed our first play session. A satisfied grin on my face, I clicked the Save button and closed the laptop. Stretching, I rose from the chair and went in search of Black.

  The door to his study was closed and I hesitated before knocking on it. Worst case scenario he’d punish me for interrupting him, and wasn’t that what I wanted anyway? I tapped softly, bracing myself for his reaction.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Dammit. Oh well, at least I’d get to see more of his work.

  Opening the heavy oak door, I discovered that his study was more than that. It was a full-fledged photography studio, replete with lighting fixtures, tripods, backdrops, etc.

  “Wow.” I exhaled the word more than said it.

  “You haven’t seen my workspace yet, have you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Come.” He rose from his chair and took me by the hand.

  The studio was outfitted with old-fashioned print developing equipment as well as a serious computer system, presumably for manipulating digital imagery.

  “And here,” he motioned to a large open space, “is where I’ll take pictures of you.”

  “Oh no.” I shook my head.

  “Oh yes.” He nodded. “I’m going to tie you up so really you’ll have no choice.”

  “I could always use the stop word.”

  He shrugged. “You could, but you won’t.”

  My pulse quickened. Would he bind me in the contorted, explicit poses he’d bound Mika? Ropes cutting into my breasts and cunt, arms behind me or overhead?

  “Look at you. You’re all flushed just thinking about it. Your cheeks are the most beautiful shade of red.” He caressed my face.

  I met his gaze, my pulse hammering away between my thighs. “I like the idea.”

  He picked up a pile of natural fiber rope. “Then let’s get started.”

  Black stripped me naked and had me kneel on a large pillow.

  “This can take some time and I don’t want you to get too uncomfortable…at least not before I’m finished binding you.”

  Though he’d restrained me in other ways this weekend, nothing prepared me for how tightly he would pull the ropes. He began by securing my wrists behind my back, then he tied a series of complicated knots around my arms, working his way up to my breasts. Crisscrossing the rope, he squeezed my breasts into two mounds of bulging flesh. Once he put me on my side, tying one knee to my shoulder and attaching my other ankle to my bound wrists, I could no longer tell what he was doing. All I knew was that the ropes cut into my breasts, my ass, my cunt, just as he’d said they would during our first dinner together.

  The process was excruciating and took nearly an hour to finish, presumably because of the time and artistry he put into each knot. The finishing touch—he wrapped my tongue in a silk scarf, tying a slipknot, the ends of which he secured around my head. I had no choice but to open up and say ahh.

  Slowly he circled me, muttering his approval of his work. Then he set up the tripod and lighting and snapped several pictures.

  “So beautiful. You should see yourself right now.” He looked at the camera’s display screen, knelt and then turned it so I could see.

  A jolt of electricity coursed through me. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t me. Sensual, helpless, auburn hair spread out across the black floor, milky skin tinged pink by the irritation of the ropes, nipples tight nubs, cunt splayed open by the ropes, milky thighs in contrast with the burgundy pillow he’d propped under me.

  “You see it now. You are beautiful. Erotic. Special.” He punctuated the word with a kiss to my thigh. Then his teeth sank into my flesh. He bit me harder than he had in the dining room. I groaned, unable to stem the tide of pain and pleasure. My throbbing pussy clenched, eager for him to fill me.

  He bit his way to my cunt, careful not to bear down too hard. His tongue flicked over my clit, sending ripples of ecstasy through me. I trembled, unable to do anything else. The ropes sliced into my rib cage as I panted. I could hardly draw in enough air.

  Black laved at my pussy using long, languid strokes, tongue dipping in and out of me. I felt myself get wetter and wetter, the cool air in the studio licking at my dripping slit.

  Without warning, he stood and I prayed he wouldn’t leave. I needed him now, more than ever, to fuck me, bound and motionless like this, completely at his mercy. His plaything. My mound pulsed and I watched helplessly as he walked out of the studio.

  I pulled against the restraints, but there was no way in hell for me to get out of this bondage without him setting me free. My wrists chafed, my breasts and ass were on fire from the taut ropes.

  When he returned, he was naked, carrying a small bottle of fluid. I’d never seen this much of his body before and I took a moment to drink him in. Exquisite musculature, tight abdomen, rippling shoulders and that ocean of caramel skin, marked only with a few well-placed tattoos. He was stunning.

  Setting aside the bottle, he knelt in front of me and rolled me onto my back. My legs poised in midair, my arms behind my back, I was immobile, the ropes between my thighs cutting into my
vulva even more.

  Rubbing the head of his cock along my slit, he slid into me. Immediately my pussy clenched his shaft. Throbbing need coursed through me. Unable to speak or move, I could only take what he gave me, but I knew he’d give me the pleasure I longed for. I’d been a good sub, I’d withstood the pain of this extreme bondage and now I’d get my reward.

  As he pounded my cunt, the ropes rubbed against my skin, the agony only adding to my pleasure. Not only would my pussy be raw, my whole body would be as well. I panted, unable to do much else to manage the overwhelming sensations. Each powerful slap of his pelvis against my ass sent waves of ecstasy through me.

  Brushing his thumb over my clit, he took me to another level of bliss. I floated along on the rush of pleasure and pain. Overcome with arousal, I strained against the bonds. I needed to touch him, I needed to buck wildly, I needed to come, but all I could do was wait for him to give me release.

  Beads of sweat dotted my brow, my whole body trembled, my muscles tightened. Tears flooded my eyes and I sucked in gulps of air as best I could, the rope slicing into my ribs. I caught his gaze, silently pleading with him.

  He increased the pressure of his thumb against my clit. More intense pleasure rippled through me. My cunt sucked at his cock, the smacking sound ringing in my ears. I loved how he fucked me, how he gave me sweet pain in return for my submission. He owned every inch of my body.

  Finally, the skyrocketing ecstasy reached its pinnacle and I shook, crying out. Juices wet my thighs, my pussy contracted over and over. Tears leaked down my face, my body simultaneously enraptured and in agony. I sobbed harder as the orgasm increased in intensity.

  Before I’d finished climaxing, Black jerked out of my cunt and straddled my face, shoving his cock to the back of my throat. Unable to close my mouth, I pulsed my tongue against his velvety head, my pussy still spasming. I wanted him to climax as I gulped down ropes of his cum.

  He held my cheeks together, fucking my face, the rope tugging harder at my tongue. I struggled to breathe, but when I felt his sac tighten, I knew it wouldn’t be long that I’d have to manage his pace. A few thrusts more and he exploded, filling my mouth. I swallowed down his cream, my lungs straining for air.

  Chest heaving, Black carefully climbed off. He slid to the floor, hand to forehead. Though I could hardly make out his expression out of the corner of my eye, I got the sense he was choked up.

  As if the world came back to him in one sudden burst, he jolted upright, reached for a pair of scissors and set about cutting me free. Once he’d freed a limb, he would rub it down with the salve from the bottle he’d brought earlier. Immediately it soothed the burning sting left in the wake of the ropes. When he finally freed my mouth, he gathered me in his arms, smoothing my hair and pressing me to his chest. My body ached from holding such an unnatural pose for so long and I was glad for the comfort and shelter of his embrace.

  After several minutes passed, I looked up at him. Tears glittered in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  He shook his head, but offered no explanation.

  Finally, he released me. “Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

  I nodded.

  As he had the night before, he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. Glad to have the help, I was unsure I could even walk at this point. And just as he had the past two nights, he brought a warm washcloth and some over-the-counter painkillers. I gulped them down, the cold water icy against my dry, raw throat.

  Only when he curled up with me did I have the courage to ask, “Is that what you used to do with Mika?”

  He nodded.

  Unsure how I felt about this revelation, I studied his face, his expression. Features tight, lips pressed together, he for once broadcast his emotions clearly.

  “You miss her.” Not a question, a statement.

  “Every day.”

  Tears welled in my eyes and I wanted to flee the house. Was that all I was? A substitute for a dead woman? But I didn’t run. I curled up in a ball, putting distance between me and Black.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, reaching for me, he said, “I’ve upset you.”

  “It’s fine,” I lied.

  “It’s not fine.” Brushing a thumb over my lips, he moved in for a gentle kiss.

  I wanted to reject him, I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but somehow—faced with the only real emotion I’d seen from him—I was powerless to act.

  As we parted, I drew in my lips, tucking them between my teeth. If I couldn’t reject his kisses outright, I could prevent him from tasting me again.

  “Don’t be like that.” He caressed my face. “We shared something special tonight.”

  Had we shared it? Or had he shared it with the ghost of a dead woman? And there was that word “special” again. He liked to toss it around, but never put it in any context. Emotion gripped at my throat, but I would not allow myself to cry.

  “Little Red, I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to share Kinbaku with you because it means something to me. Surely you understand that.”

  I didn’t understand. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow in the light of day…

  Sighing, I rolled over. “I’m just tired.”

  “I’m sure you are.” He stroked my hair and shoulders, planting little kisses where his hand alighted.

  Confused and worn out, I gave over to his tenderness. I couldn’t reconcile the man who’d forced me to my knees in a public restroom or the man who’d rammed his cock down my throat, gagging me repeatedly until he came, with the man cuddling with me in bed. If indeed he was cuddling with me and not the memory of his lost lover.

  He kissed my forehead. “Get some rest. You have to write more tomorrow.”

  Though most of our relationship was predicated on doing as he said, it irked me that he thought he could dictate my actions outside of playtime or my training.

  “Tomorrow? I work tomorrow.”

  “We’ll discuss that in the morning.”

  He draped an arm over me. Little by little, his body relaxed, his breathing evened out, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t sleep. This was all moving so fast and I wasn’t sure how much further I wanted to go.

  Sexually we were compatible, no doubt about that, but emotionally… Well, I thought we’d connected, but now too many doubts crept in. Was I a substitute for Mika? Did I even want to stay here with Black? And that was another thing. I didn’t even know his real name. He didn’t know mine.

  Granted he was the most intoxicating man I’d ever met and I was blossoming under his tutelage. I felt different already—more confident, more desirable than ever. For the first time in years, I considered quitting my job and devoting myself to writing full time. But by the same token, everything in Black’s world had this darkness about it.

  Even here in his bedroom, the lights out and curtains drawn, I felt as though the pitch black would swallow me. Question was—did I want it to consume me or did I want to be free of it?

  Too tired to come to any conclusion, I gave over to the pull of fitful sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Monday morning, I woke early. I had to get ready for work and to be honest I was looking forward to a little normalcy, a little time to sort out how I felt about Black and about, well, everything.

  As I dressed, he entered the room, carrying a cup of coffee, which he set on the dresser. Apparently he’d brought it for me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. Well, to work, then home.”

  “We discussed this. You shouldn’t be wasting your time at that menial job.”

  “It’s my menial job.” I tucked my shirt into my skirt. “It pays the bills.”

  “I can pay your bills.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I struggled to ascertain whether he was serious. “Black, I have to go.”

  He grabbed me by the arm and pushed me back onto the bed. “Not if I don’t let you go.”

  A real burst of fear shot through me. He was so much stronger th
an I was. Rough sex was one thing, but manhandling me in this situation wasn’t acceptable.

  “Midnight!” I jerked my arm free. “This isn’t playtime. I have to go.”

  He backed off, crossing his arms over his chest. As he watched me finish dressing, I could feel him smoldering beneath his silent exterior.

  Did he really expect me to quit my job and stay with him? And the ghost of his dead lover? Three days did not a commitment make.

  Finally he spoke. “When we discussed this arrangement, I told you if we fit together, I’d allow you to stay.”

  “Yes.” I smoothed my skirt. “But I haven’t made up my mind if this is the right fit for me. I need some time to think about it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I picked up the cup of coffee and headed into the kitchen.

  He followed hot on my heels. “What’s there to think about? Haven’t I given you everything you’ve asked for? At this point in our lives, what sense does it make to prolong a courtship if the end result will be the same?”

  “Is that what this is? A ‘courtship’?” I put air quotes around the word “courtship”. Who even used the term courtship these days?

  “I thought I made myself clear the night we negotiated this arrangement.”

  “So now it’s an arrangement?”

  He set his jaw, staring at me as though I’d sprouted a second head.

  “I can’t just move in with you. We just met. We just started getting to know each other. I don’t even know your real name.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t feel the connection?”

  “I do and to be honest, it scares me a little. I don’t know that I want to live like this every day. Sexually I find the whole BDSM thing very intriguing, but I don’t want you to tell me what to do, day in and day out.”

  For the first time since we’d met, true anger flashed across his face and he barked at me, “Who says that’s what I want from you? I’ve told you all along I admire your strength.”