Urges: Part Two

by Sky Corgan

  No one has ever built me up this slowly. It's always been a few minutes of foreplay and then straight to the sex. Trent is taking his time. Drawing me to the brink of release without so much as touching my clit. It's absolutely amazing and almost unbelievable.

  I gasp as his teeth tighten around the swollen bud, pressing and lightly crushing the sensitive nerve endings. He applies pressure until I cry out, then soothes the pain back down with skillful flicks of his tongue before moving to my other breast. Everything seems to be symmetrical with him, which I like. What he does to one side, he does to the other, so I know what to expect and can relax into it.

  After several moments of worshiping my breasts, he straightens himself and gives my ass another slap. “Are you wet for me yet?”

  I'm embarrassed to respond. When I don't reply immediately, he gives me another smack on the butt. “Yes, Sir.” My cheeks turn rosy as I confess the truth.

  “Let me see. Spread your legs.”

  I inch my thighs apart, knowing that soon I'll get to feel the pleasure of his fingers and hopefully more. Trent doesn't deny me for long. As soon as my legs are wide enough apart for his liking, he slips a hand between them, sliding a finger between my folds to tease my clit. Almost the second he hones in on my core, applies a bit of pressure, and starts vibrating his fingers back and forth, I come all over his hand, crumbling from the slow build that's kept me teetering on the edge ever since he started touching me.

  “You're so sensitive down here.” He smirks. “If you come so quickly from my mouth and my hand, then you're going to be a wreck of orgasms when I stick my dick in you.”

  The promise in his words only drives me back up the heights of pleasure again. My body is anticipating him, but I doubt I'll be fully prepared. It feels like I've been waiting forever to have him inside of me. And I still have longer to wait. How much longer, I don't know. But everything leading up to it is far better than I ever could have imagined. Being with him like this is like a little piece of heaven. No man has ever made me feel this aroused—this alive. He's fun and exciting and oh so kinky.

  “Now that I've rewarded you, it's time for a bit more punishment. Face the stairs and bend over.”

  I do as I'm told, though I don't like how I'm not able to see him anymore. Punishment can mean so many things. If I could just turn my head...

  I can hear rustling behind me. Common sense tells me he's rummaging through the duffle bag again. This time, it doesn't take as long. I try to control my breathing as I hear his footsteps approaching. They stop a few feet away from me, and I'm introduced to my first taste of his punishment.

  I'm not exactly sure what he's hitting my ass with, but it's definitely not his hand. The area it covers is much smaller, and the sting much deeper. Since I can't turn and don't know when to predict the strikes, my body is on high alert, and each lash is that much more painful, though not unbearable.

  “You will thank me for every lash. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I cry out after each strike. He alternates between ass cheeks, and he's not gentle. With each lash, it feels like my words are becoming more and more slurred. Tears come to my eyes unbidden, and I can't stop them from spilling over.

  “You're ass is turning a very pleasant shade of pink,” he informs me, and I can hear the smile in his voice. It feels more like blood red to me. The heat from each strike sears my backside, and I'm beginning to wonder how much more I can handle. “Are you enjoying this?”

  The answer is not so much. “I just want to make you happy, Sir,” is all I can think of to say that's not a lie.

  “That's not what I asked.” He puts about twice as much muscle behind the next strike, an obvious indication that my answer displeased him. “Do you want me to keep going?”

  “No, Sir.” I cringe as the muffled words leave my mouth.

  “Well, that's too bad, now isn't it,” there's a sadistic tone to his voice, and he follows it up with a slap across my backside. Despite his threatening words though, I only have to endure four more strikes before I hear whatever he was using to torture my ass fall to the floor with a thud behind me.

  Within seconds, his face comes into view as he walks up beside me. His eyes scan over my expression curiously as he reaches out a finger to brush one of my tears from my cheek. “I made you cry. I like that. It turns me on.”

  That's no joke. I can see the perfect outline of his erection. My gaze is fixed on it, my mouth watering hungrily. The pain I was feeling moments ago is nearly forgotten in the wake of thoughts of having sex with him.

  He catches me staring at his crotch and smiles in amusement. “Are you ready for me to fuck you now?”

  “Yes, Sir. Please.” My clit throbs in agreement.

  “I bet you can't wait to feel my dick inside of you. The way you're staring at it says it all.” He's so ripe with arrogance. If it was anyone else, I'd be completely repulsed. Cocky guys have always turned me off, but he has me right where he wants me, and he knows it. I'd bend over backwards, probably quite literally, to have him inside of me right now.

  “I can't wait, Sir.” I look him directly in the eyes as I say it.

  “You're such a little slut. You would have fucked me in the hotel room. And in my office. I bet if I wanted, I could get blow jobs every day from that pretty little mouth of yours.” He traces my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

  Thinking about it now, he's right. I would have slept with him in the hotel room. Hell, I was horny the second I opened the door and saw how gorgeous he was. And I would have done it in his office too, even before that day I helped him with the file cabinets. I've lusted after him since the moment that I first saw him. That doesn't make me a slut though. I hope this is just part of his role play, and he doesn't actually think that. The very thought strikes at my heart, but I know this isn't the time to launch into a serious conversation. I want to have sex with him, and arguing the usage of a word would only murder my chance for that. It will definitely be a subject we'll need to revisit later if we plan on doing this again though. For now, I simply say, “I want you to fuck me, Sir.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The handcuffs are off and I'm on my knees, uncertain of what to expect. Trent keeps me facing the stairs, and he disappears behind me again to rummage through the duffle bag. I had hoped he'd return to me with a condom. What he has in his hands instead are a pair of nipple clamps that are connected by a thin chain. He stands behind me and leans over me to clamp one nipple at a time. They're tight¸ but not unbearably so.

  “Does that hurt?” he asks when they're in place.

  “A little, Sir.”

  “You know, you're very good at calling me Sir. I honestly thought you would have slipped up by now. I think you're a natural submissive.” He smirks. “I'm not getting quite the reaction out of you that I was hoping for with these. Let's try something else.” Trent loops his finger beneath the chain and pulls up on it. The tugging at my nipples makes it feel like the clamps are digging in even more. I arch my head back into his chest and cry out from the bite of pain. “That's better.” He kisses my forehead before jiggling the chain and listening to the torrent of whimpers that come out of me as a result. My breath is ragged as I try to adjust to the torment of having my tender nipples tortured to his liking.

  Eventually, he abandons me again for the duffle bag, and I'm given a moment's reprieve from the pain, though he doesn't take the nipple clamps off. When he returns to me, it's with two sets of cuffs connected in the middle with a chain. He kneels down to put the cuffs on my ankles first, then he pulls my arms back and cuffs my wrists again. Instead of being metal, these cuffs are soft leather and lined with suede like the posture collar. The way they keep my arms held back is a bit uncomfortable, but it could be worse.

  Once they're in place, Trent stands and begins unfastening the clasp on my ball gag. “I'm going to give you something else to occupy that pretty little mouth of yours.” My jaw is aching by the time he pulls the
gag out. He doesn't remove it all the way though. Instead, he holds it precariously over my lips. “We're not quite done yet. Lick it like it's my balls.”

  It feels strange having the use of my mouth again. I smack my lips a few times before I stick my tongue out and slick it across the saliva soaked gag. It feels wet and slippery beneath my tongue. Nothing like a testicle.

  Trent watches me with interest as my tongue dances around the shinny red rubber ball, my eyes never leaving his. I want him to know that I'm skilled, that I'm ready for whatever he's going to throw at me next.

  Finally, he pulls the gag away, tossing it carelessly to the side before circling around until he's in front of me. When he grabs my face with his hands and leans down, I'm almost certain he's going to kiss me. He stops a few inches short though and probes his thumb into my mouth instead, telling me to suck on it. I do, closing my eyes and treating it as if it was his cock. The salt of his thumb is no substitute for the taste of his manhood, but I can pretend, to hope that my performance is good enough to earn me the real thing.

  It's a long game of suck and tease and be observed. I'm very aware of Trent watching me. Every move I make, his eyes are glued to my face.

  He draws his thumb from my mouth and replaces it with two of his fingers, pushing them in so deep that it triggers my gag reflex, and I try to jerk away. The collar holds me in place though, so retreating isn't an option. He lays off long enough for me to regain composure before pressing towards the back of my throat again. “If you can't handle my fingers, then you'll never be able to handle my cock.”

  My eyes drift to his crotch, and I wonder if he's just boasting. A lot of men brag about size only to fall short. It's like each man is born with the need to declare that his penis is the biggest.

  “I hope you're a swallower. Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. If I want you to be, then you will be.”

  I'm not. While I love penises, what comes out of them has never been very appealing to me. Watching a man orgasm is sexy. Having it all over you is kind of uncomfortable. Having it in your mouth is downright disgusting. I've always told myself that swallowing would be a sheer act of love for me. I don't love Trent. But if I don't swallow for him...

  When he pulls his fingers from my mouth, I'm rewarded with a kiss. It's so brief that I barely get a chance to enjoy it. Then his hands are on my face again, cradling it, and he asks if I'm ready to have his cock in my mouth.

  “Yes, Sir,” I tell him breathlessly. Judging by how slowly he's been moving with his teasing, I expect him to make me beg for it. To my surprise though, almost the moment his face leaves mine, he's unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He's commando underneath.

  I stare at his crotch as he pulls his pants down and the monster springs forth. It's not the biggest I've ever seen, but it's definitely up there among the top three. Thick and veiny and gorgeous. I still can't believe I'm seeing his cock even before I've seen him shirtless. He's so backwards, it confuses me. There's not much time for confusion though.

  He stands over me and strokes himself lazily. As I watch him, I realize I'm not the only one who waxes, and my mouth quirks into a smirk.

  “Is my cock funny to you?” There's offense in his expression.

  “No, Sir. I was just thinking about how long I've been waiting for this, Sir.” I lick my lips to show him I mean it. It seems to divert whatever unmerited insecurity he had. His dick is gorgeous. There's definitely nothing to be self-conscious about.

  “You've been waiting to have my dick in your mouth?”

  “Yes, Sir. I've been thinking about it ever since I saw you at the hotel.” Might as well add fuel to the fire. The truth of the matter is that I want it bad. I can see that there's already a bit of pre-seed leaking from his tip. What I wouldn't give to taste him. My body reacts almost on its own, leaning towards him even though it doesn't go far. The damn bondage around my ankles and wrists keeps me pretty well in place. Perhaps he anticipated that I'd do this, that I'd try to get to him.

  “Tell me how much you want this cock.” He bears down on me with his intense gaze, and all I can do is give in to his demands.

  “Please let me suck your cock, Sir. I want it buried in my throat. I want to taste your seed.” That last part might have been a mistake. It was like an open invitation for him to shoot his full load down my throat.

  “How long has it been since you've sucked a dick?”

  “About six months ago, Sir.” Which feels more like forever. It was a guy I briefly worked with at the garden center. He was a friend with benefits, and not very good benefits. Everything was all about him. The sex was vanilla and boring and sparse, and he was always wanting me to blow him.

  Trent looks contemplative for a moment. I expect him to question me more, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps forward until I can reach him. My mouth falls open instinctively, and I feel his glans brush over my bottom lip before the full weight of him slips into my mouth. Immediately, I begin sucking. My eyes close as I bob along his tip, struggling to get more of him into my mouth. I could really use my hands right now...or at least the ability to lean forward.

  “Open your eyes,” he tells me as I feel his fingers fist into my hair. In one fell swoop, he impales me on his cock to the point that my gag reflex triggers. Even though I'm choking, he doesn't let up. There's a coldness to his expression that sends a shiver down my spine. He's taking great pleasure in the fact that he's strangling me with his dick. Tears roll down my cheeks, and a soft cry leaves my throat just as he jerks me back by the hair. I gasp and suck in a few desperate breaths. “You're not ready for my cock.” He lets me go and steps away from me, looking disappointed.

  I am ready. Very ready. He's being incredibly rough though, and I'm out of practice. Apparently, a six month vacation from cock sucking can really set you back in the oral department.

  “Please let me suck your cock, Sir,” I beg shamelessly once I've caught my breath, slightly fearing the consequences of my desire. He seems pretty riled up. His dick is standing at attention, glistening from my saliva. The gleam in his eyes is all carnal lust. Whatever he does from this point on, I shouldn't expect it to be gentle.

  “I don't think you can handle it. Your gag reflex is weak,” he says almost mockingly.

  “Then help me strengthen it, Sir.”

  He seems pleased with my response. “Is that what you really want?”

  “Yes, Sir. Train me to suck your cock, Sir. I promise I won't let you down.” Never before did I think I would ever sound so desperate to suck a dick. I am desperate though, desperate to have the rest of him. And I know that this is the path I have to tread to get there.

  He watches me for a moment, his eyes scanning over the wanton look on my face. Then he kneels and starts taking off his boots. In a matter of minutes, he's naked from the waist down, and I'm marveling at the incredible definition in his thighs. The guy is built like a brick house. I can hardly wait to see the rest of him.

  As he approaches me again, I open my mouth, waiting to receive him. He doesn't disappoint, and to my surprise, he gives me free reign, putting his hands behind his back and standing at parade rest as my mouth glides up and down his cock. Even though moving is difficult, I give it everything I have, crawling around on the floor to lick his cock from all angles despite my head being stuck in the forward position. He tastes exquisite, like pure masculinity and sex and sin.

  “I think you need to work on that gag reflex.” He smirks down at me. “Why don't you do it yourself this time.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I whisper against his tip before sliding myself all the way down on him. It's hard to take him deep into my mouth, but I try my best, making sure his glans hits the back of my throat with every pass. My mouth makes crude sounds, but I don't gag.

  “You can do better than that. Maybe if I take the posture collar off,” he muses.

  “Yes, Sir. That would help, Sir,” I reply quickly. Nothing would please me more than to have the brace off. It's definitely messing with
my oral skills.

  He brushes my hair to the side and unclasps the brace from my neck. It feels like my bondage is being stripped away the further into the sexual tryst that we proceed. First the ball gag and now the collar. Hopefully, I won't earn any of them back.

  A whimper falls from my lips as he leans down to grab the chain connecting the nipple clamps together. This entire time, I've been so focused on sucking his cock that I've almost forgotten they were there. Without stimulation, my nipples have grown numb. Even the slightest tug on them has brought them screaming back to life with pain so intense it makes my eyes water.

  “Open your mouth,” he tells me. I do, looking up at him pleadingly. Maybe if I obey, he'll lay off. “Put the chain in your mouth.” He lifts it up to my lips. I fight back the pain as my teeth clamp around the chain. Now it's not him controlling my anguish. It's me. The thought is almost dumbfounding. All I'd have to do is let go, and it would go away. As if reading my mind, he says, “If you drop the chain, it's all over. I put on my clothes, and you go home. Do you want that?”

  “No, Sir,” I breathe heavily.

  He kneels down in front of me, his eyes fixing on my face. “Now, tilt your head back as far as it will go.”

  He's got to be kidding me. I can barely even sit here with the chain in my mouth. The pain is nearing unbearable.

  “I can't, Sir.”

  “You can. You can, and you will.” It's not a request.

  “It hurts way too much,” I practically whimper.

  “I'm sure it's not that bad.” He presses his index finger beneath my chin and begins to force it up, a wicked grin playing across his face the entire time. While it does hurt, it's honestly not as bad as I imagined. Still nearing unbearable, but not falling over. “See, that's not so bad,” he says when our faces are eye level. Pleased with my progress, he stands up, presenting his cock to me again. I'm not really sure what to do with it. I can't exactly suck his dick and hold onto the chain at the same time. As if to answer my question, he says, “Drop the chain over my cock.” Even though I'm a bit confused, I do as I'm told, handing control back over to him. “Now suck it.”