Forbidden - A Story of Love, BDSM and Infidelity

by Andi Madden

  “Spread those legs,” he said, slapping my inner thighs with the crop. “Don’t get up from this position until I tell you to. If you ever feel the need to scream, you can muffle the sound by biting into the pillow.”

  He laughed, a truly dark sound that had my nipples hardening into aching points. I rubbed against the pillow until a tug at the leash had me gasping. “Stop that,” he said. “You will not touch yourself or bring yourself pleasure in any way.”

  He tugged harder at the leash, putting pressure on my throat, making me gasp for breath. I wanted to rise to ease the strain but couldn’t.

  He hadn’t allowed me to move, and obeying him was more pleasurable than getting oxygen.

  When I stopped rubbing against the pillow, the pressure of the choker against my throat eased.

  The riding crop traveled up my inner thigh. “Spread more so I can spank your cunt.” He dealt my ass another slap, softer this time.

  A hard shiver gripped my body, fear rising to the surface like the blush surely blossoming on my face.

  I arched my back, pushing up my ass, and spread my legs more for him. I couldn’t see him standing behind me, I kept my face buried in the soft pillow, but I felt his hot gaze until my entire body burned with lust.

  Would he be able to see my shaved cunt, how wet I was? Wasn’t he tempted to run his hand through my folds? I rocked my hips, stopped when he smacked me. Heat bloomed beneath my skin and I bit into the pillow, desperate for release.

  When he stroked the tip of the crop over the slick folds of my cunt, I cried out with relief.

  He grazed the crop up and down my bare lips. “You like spreading your legs for me, making me see how wet you are, don’t you?”

  When I didn’t answer, he flicked the crop against my clit. The touch raced along my body like a current, enflaming every nerve.

  I bit into the pillow because the moan I let out was one of pure lust and I didn’t want him to know for fear he would stop punishing me this way.

  “Answer.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I want you to see me spread open.”

  “Why?”

  This time, I controlled my hips, controlled my urge to jump up and hump the pillow if need be to find my orgasm. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to fuck you,” he said quietly. “What I want is to see you writhe on the floor, until all you can think of is how you can please me.” He slipped the crop’s small leather paddle between my folds and turned it, spreading me open. “You do want to please me, don’t you?”

  My throat was too tight to speak.

  Shame crept up my spine, leaving me breathless. And so aroused and needy for some form of release, I’d do anything for him to get it.

  “Answer.” He dealt my ass another slap, softer this time, ignoring my question. “You do want to please me, don’t you?”

  “You know I do,” I whispered.

  “Yes, I do know what you crave; know exactly what you need too.” He slapped the crop down on the small of my back. “Close your eyes.”

  They already were.

  I sensed rather than heard him walking through the room. When he came back, his hand settled on my shoulder.

  Then he slipped something in front of my eyes, blindfolding me. He smacked me, nothing more than a light tap. “Push your ass higher.”

  I arched my back, biting back a sob when he said, “Not good enough.” Air went into my lungs in a sharp hiss as a series of rapid smacks landed on my cheeks, each stroke a little harder.

  I felt flushed and swollen and I breathed out with a sob that turned into a high-pitched cry every time the riding crop smacked my ass.

  Pain and lust clouded my mind until I only heard his harsh breath and my own moans of pleasure.

  Stars exploded before my eyes when a slap landed between my legs, the small paddle hitting my clit. Then a hand slipped between my legs, rubbing my throbbing cunt.

  I bit down on the pillow as a sudden orgasm rocked through my body in quick convulsions.

  My inner thighs were still quivering when I opened my eyes behind the blindfold, and I rested the side of my face against the pillow.

  “Did I give you permission?” He gave my cunt another surprisingly gentle slap, but it still felt as if I had touched a bolt of lightning.

  “No,” I whispered, fearing he’d stop playing with me. “Let me please you. Let me show you I can be good.”

  He made a rough sound in his throat. “Fine. We’ll see if you can make it up to me.”

  The crop hit the floor, and I heard him walking through the room and opening something with sliding hinges.

  I knew he would come back with something to punish me for climaxing without permission, and I scrambled to wrap my mind around what it might be.

  “I’ll be enjoying this.” He gathered my wrists behind my back, wrapped something that felt like a rope around them.

  His groin pressed against my ass as if he were about to fuck me from behind. I could only wish. My orgasm had left me wetter than before.

  When he pulled the ropes tight, securing my wrists behind my back, the material warmed against my skin.

  “I’ll take my pleasure with you now.”

  I couldn’t suppress a yelp as he grabbed me by the rope around my wrists and yanked me up and off the bed.

  On the floor, I sat up on my heels, aware that my entire body trembled.

  I tensed as a hand closed around my breast and twisted my nipple, and another hand came to rest on top of my head.

  I heard how fabric slid to the floor, and I imagined him taking off his pants, imagined his erect cock resting against his stomach.

  I licked my lips, anticipating, knowing what he would make me do.

  I was wound so tight I thought I might burst, when the thick head of a cock pushed at my mouth. Then a hand fisted into my hair, pulled me forward.

  “Open your mouth,” he said quietly from above my head.

  For him, I did, and he pushed his cock between my lips. I sucked him in and out of my mouth, my eyes watering behind the blindfold as he shoved his erection deeper.

  “Deeper,” he growled, withdrew when I began to gag, gave me a moment to concentrate and then pushed his cock in even farther. “Take me, take me all in.”

  He fucked my mouth, his thrusts growing faster and brutal, his hoarse groans arousing me.

  I could feel him swell against my tongue, knew he was about to come in my mouth, welcomed it too when he pulled out.

  I made a noise of protest when I felt him stepping away from me. My heart beat faster, my breath leaving my lungs in hard gasps when a hand stroked my cheek tenderly.

  His hands wrapped around me from behind, covering my breasts in his palms, kneading and teasing, while I rocked my hips, wishing I had my hands free to make myself come.

  He gave me a push against my shoulder, not hard, but I fell against the edge of the bed because it was difficult to keep my balance with my arms bound.

  “Get back on the bed, same position as before.”

  I came up on my knees, my heart racing as I leaned myself onto the pillows again.

  I fully realized that I had stopped fighting his dominance, but wondered what it meant for my relationship with my husband when a flat palm spanked the right cheek of my ass.

  My ability to analyze vanished when the pain from his slap wrapped around my senses.

  “I think I’ll have that tight tail of yours now.”

  He reached between my legs, finding my wetness, spreading it.

  His slick finger traced lightly over my anus, slowly pushing harder and harder until I relaxed enough to allow its entry, making me shiver in anticipation.

  “How do you feel about that? Do you want me to fuck your ass?”

  “If…if it pleases you.” I thought of my husband, who’d never ask me a question like that.

  I moaned, rocking my hips, the need to be filled increasing with every move of his finger.

  “Yes,” h
e said, “you please me.” He ran his other hand up and down my back, stroking me, giving me chills. “There was a wound here, once.” He sounded oddly detached, as if he were only thinking out loud.

  Once more, he ran the tips of his fingers along my back, crisscrossing back and forth. “Are those scars?”

  I swallowed, the gentle touch of his fingers throwing me for a loop. But I knew what he meant of course. I had paid good money to have a clinic reduce the appearance of the scars.

  “Who did that?” he asked, getting up and moving away from me, which was absolutely frustrating.

  “A man I used to…date. I was very young and long before I met my husband.” I kept my voice neutral while I fought to control my emotions. “He cut me.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I can feel that.” I heard the snap of the leather crop as if he had flicked it against his palm, and then felt how he traced the crop down my back. “How? Why?”

  “He did it because I agreed to, agreed to…” I shut my mouth. The memory wasn’t as hurtful anymore, yet I didn’t like to think back to the evening where I had agreed to let this guy tie me up. It had excited me, I had longed for it. I had longed to submit to him. I should have stayed in a chat room with him, but I had wanted the real deal.

  And paid for it.

  It was long ago—what girl had never made an error in judgment when it came to trusting a man?

  But here I was, trusting a man again.

  My throat closed and my limbs started to shake the longer I thought about it.

  The guy had eventually stopped torturing me. And I had gone straight to the police. Knowing the guy was locked up had never quite soothed me. I had moved cities and changed jobs. And eventually moved on from that nightmare.

  But here I was again, bound and helpless on the bed of a male a hundred times more intimidating than the bastard who had used the knife on me.

  A sharp slap from the crop landed on my ass that made me scream out.

  Pain blurred my mind, blurred the images and the memory of the night where I had thought I would die. Another slap landed on my other buttock, softer this time, and he made a hushing sound as if I were an animal he was trying to soothe.

  If he had said, “You can trust me,” I probably would have started to cry.

  But he didn’t say those words. Instead, he trailed the crop from my neck down my ass, tickling me.

  And when he knelt behind me, his hands wrapping around my middle, I felt only need cursing through my veins, not fear.

  He already knew what I wanted, what I craved. And I wasn’t sure anymore if that was reason to fear or to trust him.

  His hands slipped between my legs, finding my cunt, and he plunged his fingers inside me. “I want you wet and ready and begging for me. Do you understand? Please me.”

  I let out a strangled cry, aroused at his demanding touch, but it was his words that got to me most.

  I wanted to please him.

  My breath came hard as his cock slipped between my legs, rubbing over my clit. I

  rocked myself against the hard ridge as he pushed his knee between my legs, spreading me wider.

  He guided the thick head of his cock into me, but the sudden invasion left me desperate for more.

  “Do it,” I pressed through my teeth, my body shaking with suppressed need. “Fuck me.”

  His low laugh sent shivers down my spine as he raked his fingernails across my back.

  It hurt, and fear clouded my senses. I barely sensed him getting up, but what I felt when he returned had me holding my breath. Cold metal pressed against my back, the tip of a knife.

  I bowed away from the bed, instinctively. The rope holding my wrists dug into my skin as I tried to break free.

  Grabbing me by the neck as if I were a cat, he pressed me into the mattress.

  It was as if all my senses increased tenfold as fear slammed into my body. He ran the metal tip up and down my back, and it was so terribly familiar, I knew that any moment now he would use the knife to slice my skin open.

  It took me another second or two to get what he was doing. He cut the rope holding my wrists. When my hands came free, he reminded me with a tug at the leash that I was still wearing his choker.

  “On the floor,” he said, and I obeyed without thinking. Sliding from the bed, coming up on hands and knees on the floor. He took off the blindfold.

  I lifted my head, looked at him towering over me, the crop in his hand. He flicked it against his leg in steady rhythm.

  “Bow your head to the ground.”

  I did, rested my forehead against the smooth, cold floor. A light slap landed against my flank.

  “Raise your ass.”

  I wanted to spread my legs but didn’t in fear he would notice how desperately I wanted his touch, wanted the release of tension, fear and sexual arousal.

  He stepped behind me, lowered himself to one knee, pushed my legs farther apart.

  He thrust the length of his cock into my wet heat in one hard stroke. Making sure he filled me completely, he pulled me hard against his groin.

  Everything inside me coiled tight as he began to fuck me in raw and hard strokes. I heard myself say his name, even if I hadn’t meant to.

  He reached forward and wrapped his arms around me, covering my breasts in his hands.

  He rolled my nipples in his fingers while he pumped his cock into my cunt. And with each stroke he twisted my breasts a little harder, and the pain twisted my lust into an unbearable need for release.

  He fucked me almost brutally, as I so wanted him to. When he pinched my nipple again, I groaned out, my internal muscles clenching around him while he worked his cock deep into me.

  Helplessly, I surrendered to his thrusts and pinches and the twisted way he played with my lust.

  The way he played with my fear. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feeling of his thick cock pounding into me.

  His hand closed around my neck, grasping the collar, reminding me that he had put it around my neck, and that I had let him.

  That I was his.

  I was close, so close, but he pulled out of me, rose to his feet while I rested my cheek against the cool floor, cursing him, thanking him for his cruelty of not giving me satisfaction.

  Slowly, my heartbeat calmed, my breathing too. I glanced up at him. His skin glowed, his cock rested hard against his stomach, glistened from my juices.

  He hadn’t come inside me, and I had the sudden fear that I hadn’t pleased him enough.

  “I know what you need, know what you fear too,” he said quietly.

  He reached down, brushed his hand against my cheek, removed the leash from the choker. “I’ll push you to the edge, but I’ll never let you fall. Do you understand?”

  I lowered my gaze. “Yes.”

  I couldn’t see his smile, but I heard it in his voice. “That will do—for tonight.”

  * * * * *

  I walked into my home, sought out the shower. Christopher wasn’t at home yet, was working late tonight as I knew he would.

  I undressed, stepped into the shower. I let ice-cold water come down on me until I shivered, my skin pebbling with chills. I scrubbed my skin with a brush and soap.

  I felt I deserved this kind of punishment for the pleasures I had just received from another man. Deserved to be punished for it even more.

  I went to bed. After another hour of staring into the dark, I heard my husband come home. And then after a while, he slipped into bed with me. I let him draw me into his arms while I pretended to be asleep, and drowned in the love and affection we had for each other.

  I could never do it again.

  And yet, I knew that Tom knew that I would be back.

  That I would go back to him for more.

  Chapter Seven

  Tom

  I am not a vanilla kind of guy.

  I like it rough, and I like women who like to be tied up, spanked, brought down to their hands and knees, dominated.

  Who find their pleasu
re in pleasing me.

  Women who do as I say.

  A woman like Jules, who hides her raw sexuality behind modest clothing, shy smiles and a simple life.

  A woman unaware that with every step she makes, every shake of her hips, men stare at her perfect ass, her full mouth and her round shoulders.

  I dream about holding her by her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh, hearing her cry out.

  Jules, who craves a hard touch, a cruel smile, a dominant hand and sweet pain.

  Jules.

  I couldn’t get her out of my head.

  Ever since I had her that one night. That night she submitted to me, despite her being ashamed and humiliated.

  Despite her being married.

  She gave herself to me.

  And I would never betray a gift like that.

  I would never complicate her life by threatening her with romantic feelings, threatening her marriage and security.

  But I want her again, want her again kneeling in front of me, looking up at me, eyes dark with lust.

  Does she know how much I want her?

  It has been almost a month when I last saw her, when I let a riding crop kiss her skin. I remember to vividly the tight fit when I thrust inside her. Remember the unsure tone of her voice, her downcast eyes.

  The way she came, the needy sounds she made, the taste of her pussy.

  I needed her back in my control, needed her like a junkie needing their fix.

  In my most violent fantasies, I make her my whore and take her by force while she cries out my name.

  Since I was nineteen, I haven’t been this hard for a woman.

  And what does she do?

  Nothing.

  It’s been a month.

  A month without a word from her. A month she let pass by without showing up on my doorstep.

  But I know she wants me again, know that she thinks about me as much as I think about her. How could she not? We are each other’s match.

  We complete each other, sexually.

  And I will have her again, will have her on her hands and knees. Will have her naked, for my taking. I will hear her sob with need again. I will bring her pain and so much shame.