She fires back, “Are you going to start my punishment or just continue pleasuring me?”
I bring my fingers to my mouth to hold me over while I give her what we both want. Her sweet flavor punches my taste buds. I greedily suck every morsel of her off my fingers as I grab lube. I squirt the liquid between her cheeks and let it slide down her crack. With my hands, I expose her more to me, squeezing her ass as I spread her open. I apply more lube and help to cover her with it, drenching my finger and rimming her tight pucker.
“Any hard limits you want to mention right now?”
“No, do your worst. Punish me. Every hole in my body is yours.”
I grab a new toy from Rylan’s bag before returning to her.
Teasing a butt plug around her hole, I coat the toy with an ample amount of lube before pushing it against the hole of her ass. She lets out a soft hiss, but she doesn’t stop me. Then, when the toy is hidden within her and only the flared base can be seen, she moans and pushes against my hands, causing more pressure within.
“You like that, don’t you? I’m going to have to work hard to punish you, Little Bird.”
“Yes, hard, please!”
As I remove my clothes, I glance toward the viewing wall and find the number of people on the other side has significantly grown. They’ll witness her downfall. With my cock in my hand, I stand in front of the platform and memorize the look on Rylan’s face as she stares at my dick.
“Beg me, Little Bird. Beg me to have my cock.”
I stroke myself just out of reach of her lips. She tries to make contact with her tongue, but she fails.
“Give it to me. Give me your cock. Please, Callen.”
I grab her by the throat. “Again.” I give her neck a sharp squeeze and hold pressure.
“Please, I want your cock. I need it.” Her voice is distorted from my grip on her airway.
I squeeze harder and give her the tip of my dick. The head of my cock traces her lips, and her tongue sneaks out for a lick. Her mouth gapes open as I increase the pressure of my hands around her neck. Slowly, I fill her mouth as I loosen my hands. My fingers stroke the length of her neck as she gags, and my pelvic bone touches her nose. I hold myself inside her, unmoving, hitting the back of her throat. Quiet choking noises vibrate my dick, and I pull out just a little.
“I’m going to fuck your face. Your jaw is going to be sore tomorrow. You’re going to think of my cock hitting the back of your throat every time you swallow. Open wide for me, baby.”
She relaxes her jaw, and I sink deeper inside her wet mouth. I forcefully fuck her face while I continue to alternate the strength of my hands gripping her throat. I choke her with my hands while she’s filled with my dick. Saliva runs down her chin and hits the floor of the platform.
I pump, and she sucks.
I go harder, and she moans louder.
Repeatedly, my balls smack her chin.
I think she’s ruining me as much as I’m ruining her.
My intention is to break her, but she just might be breaking me.
With sweat running down my forehead, I pull out of her mouth completely. She looks at me with eyes that the devil himself couldn’t resist. There is a darkness within her that shines brighter, the rougher I get with her. The look of desire is clear on her face. She might be the one restrained, but I’m not sure who’s submitting to whom anymore.
I move to stand behind her once more. I unlace the ribbon going down her back to free her tits from the corset. After a few quick tugs, the material falls to the floor. I take the bits of string acting as underwear and rip them from her body. The material snaps, and the pieces fall from my grasp.
I grab a condom from the bowl in the corner of the room before heading back to her. I find her still wet as I move in behind her. The end of the plug in her ass flashes at me, and I grin. I play with it, inching the toy out and back in, while covering my dick with the condom. She rocks back and forth as much as the restraints will allow her, eager for me to make my next move. I tease her pussy, sliding myself between her legs and pushing the plug completely into her asshole once more.
“Please, fuck me. My cunt is wet and ready for you.”
“I want you to really beg for me. How much do you want it?”
I enter her with only the tip of my cock, and she squirms.
“I need you to fill me. I want you to fuck my pussy while that toy is in my ass. I’m so needy for you to fuck me. Please, I’ll do anything.”
No need, as I can’t resist any longer. I push into her opening, not stopping until I’m deep inside.
She moans, “Thank you,” and I lose control.
I thrust in hard and pull out slow, dragging my cock against the walls of her pussy. I palm her red ass while I pump inside her over and over again. She grips me every time I pull out and welcomes me with every push in.
“You’re so tight, Little Bird. Maybe you aren’t as naughty as you want me to believe.”
“No one bigger has ever been inside me.”
She strokes my ego, and I bring my hand down on her ass—her reward. Her hands ball into fists as her wrists push against her bindings. She isn’t going anywhere. Not until I’m finished fucking her.
I spread her cheeks and slide my cock in and out of her, pushing down on the plug filling her ass. She cries out as my hand slides up her spine, and my fingers sink into her hair.
“Look at them.” I jerk her head up, so she can watch the people who watch us. “Do you see how badly they want what I have?”
She moans, and I increase my pace.
“Do you like their eyes on you?”
Her cunt squeezes me.
“Do you like being double-penetrated while strangers gawk at you? They can’t take their greedy eyes off you.” I continue to hold her head up to our audience. “Answer me!” The command rips from my lungs. “You like it, don’t you?”
“Yes, I like them watching.”
I thrust harder.
“I’ve never been more turned on.”
I pinch her nipple between my fingers.
“I can’t get enough of you inside me while that plug is in my ass.”
My hands tangle tighter into her hair.
“I’m going to come.”
I was already clued in to that fact. Her body begins to shake.
“Yes, come all over my cock.”
I pump into her harder, pull her hair tighter, and demand she gives me what I want. Screams tumble from her throat as she contracts around me. I press the plug hard into her ass once more before tugging it out and throwing it across the room. She shivers beneath me from the friction. I thrust harder while she’s at the top, not relenting for a second. She comes hard and long while I continue to slam my hips against her ass. Her cries die down, and she goes slack in her restraints, hanging from the device that holds her up. As she goes limp, I let my body take over. I come inside her while she hangs below me. My eyes close, and my head falls back in complete pleasure.
I kiss down her spine before pulling out of her. Our heavy breathing fills the room as I release the binding around her wrists and ankles, and she falls into my grasp. Her swollen lips beg me for attention. I lean down and press my lips to hers gently. She kisses me back, and we just pause for a while. Our mouths move together in a lulled post-sex haze before I release her to stand on her own.
I look at the marking of my hands around her throat and the bruises encircling her wrists and ankles. The marks from the paddle against her ass are only getting more inflamed.
There is something different about my Little Bird. I set out to destroy her, but the look in her eyes tells me I didn’t even come close. She can’t be broken, and I want more.
Rylan
Aria,
Callen thought he could break me. It was obvious that was what he was trying to do. But he doesn’t know who I really am. He doesn’t know the darkness within me. There is nothing he could have done to break me because I wanted every crack of the paddle and
each harsh touch from his hands. I wanted him to dominate me, so I could prove he couldn’t hurt me.
You would have freaked if you saw me in that room, Aria. I’ve never had better sex in my life, though. It was intense. Intense isn’t even a good enough word for what it was. I’ll never be the same again after looking strangers in the eye while I got off.
Sorry, I know kinky sex isn’t your thing, but really, it was otherworldly. My next column is going to fucking rock. That’s all I’ll tell you, or you’ll have me committed. Maybe I do belong in a straitjacket, surrounded by padded walls. I wouldn’t be surprised even a little.
I miss you. I love you almost as much as ice cream.
Rylan
I close my notebook, boot up my computer, and open the file titled, “Bondage and Sex Spectators: The Thrill of Not-So-Private Orgasms.” My fingers fly across the keyboard as the words pour from my brain. I’ve always loved my job, but I’ve never been this inspired.
I don’t write about my specific experience, and I don’t give any hard advice, but I do detail the concept in a broader sense of the topic. I add in pointers, like using a safe word, and paint a colorful description of the exploration, of owning your wants and needs.
Women shouldn’t be embarrassed to ask for what they like, and they should never be shamed for it. After all, no one ridicules the men that create our sexual culture.
Within twenty minutes, I have a good first draft to work with. I’ve never accomplished that so fast in my life. I mentally give myself a pat on the back, take a sip of my coffee, and look up just in time to see Tatum walking through the door of the coffee shop.
“Put away your damn computer because we have gossip to get to,” Tatum declares.
I gently shut my laptop as Tatum takes the seat next to me.
“Gossip? What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“Are you kidding? Oh, I don’t know…maybe the man or the sex or that crazy bondage equipment he had you strapped into. No, wait…I have it. How about the fact that the people watching you practically cheered when you came?”
“Don’t you want a drink or something first?”
“No, refreshments can wait. I need details first.”
Tatum and I huddle closer to chat about my experience. She looks cautious when we talk about the high I got with his hands around my neck or the paddle against my ass. The caution flips to skepticism when I talk about the added pleasure the pain brought. Her face flushes when we discuss the plug he put in my ass and how the double penetration completely changed the sensitivity of him inside me. She flexes her jaw in sympathetic discomfort when we hit the topic of him none-too-gently fucking my mouth. I tell her about locking eyes with strangers while I was getting fucked and seeing the greed in their eyes. They wanted to be me, or they wanted to be Callen, but the experience was ours. They could look, but they couldn’t take it.
“Did he hurt you?” she asks nervously.
My friend rearranges the scarf around my neck that’s hiding the bruises, but I unwrap it to show her that I’m really okay. The marks around my neck are consensual, and I’m not afraid for her to see them.
“I can’t be hurt. At least, not like that.”
“What do you mean?” She seems unconvinced as she inspects the discoloration of my neck and wrists.
“I came to Connecticut for a new start. I’d lived in the same town my whole life. A friend of mine spent some time here and loved it. So, that’s why I picked Maplefield. Exploring my sexuality is part of that fresh start. I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to me that I wasn’t comfortable with, Tatum.”
“Okay, I’m going to go get a drink now. I’ll be right back.”
“When you come back, we’re turning the tables. It’s time for your turn in the hot seat.”
Tatum stands. “Me? What about me?”
I smile at her nervous question.
“Anything. We’re always talking about me. So, now, I want to talk about you.”
“Yes, let’s talk about me because I’m the one who porked the hot mystery man.” Sarcasm drips from her words.
“Shut up and go get your gross tea. Bring me something sweet back.”
Tatum shuffles away from our table toward the counter. I stare at the top of her head, at her headband choice of the day with the likeness of cupcake frosting attached to it, while she places her order. I’ve truly never met anyone like Tatum. It’s honestly refreshing, and it’s been a long time since there was easiness between me and someone else. I think she may have come into my life exactly when I needed her most.
“I’m ready for the inquisition. Do your worst,” she states as she returns to the seat across from me and sets chocolate-covered pretzels between us.
“You couldn’t handle my worst,” I speak through the treat in my mouth and arch my eyebrows in an evil-villain sort of way. “How’s work been?”
“Work is work. It pays the bills.”
“Do you not enjoy it?”
“I love photography. I take the good with the bad with freelance. Some jobs are better than others. The jobs through different media outlets aren’t usually too bad. It started out slow, but things have been picking up lately. During the holidays though, I do a lot of portraits to supplement the slow months, and those jobs suck.”
“What would you want to do instead?”
“Do you mean, what could I possibly do with an arts degree? Because that’s what people normally ask.” Her question is light and without annoyance.
I laugh at her self-deprecating jab. “No, I mean, what’s your dream? What did you envision when you first pursued photography?”
“One day, I’d like to have my own studio.” Tatum seems shy about her answer.
“Besides the obvious—money—what’s stopping you?”
“I grew up in Providence, Maine, and moved to Connecticut a few years ago because I felt like I needed to see more. Like you, I’d lived in the same state my whole life and barely ever traveled outside New England. My time here was supposed to be my first stop, but I somehow lost the confidence to take off again. So, I guess the answer to your question is that I am what’s stopping me.”
“That needs to stop. What do you like to take pictures of?”
“People. Not those stuffy Christmas card portraits but real stuff—people baring their emotions, the ugly parts of humanity and the beautiful parts, too. I’ve always been fascinated by people. The freelance stuff isn’t artistic, but it’s easier. I don’t have to worry if people will understand or like what I’m trying to do.”
“You shouldn’t worry about if they like it or understand it. All that matters is that you do.”
“Easier said than done. If I want my own studio, then they need to like it, too. Actually, they would need to love it in order for me to make a living.”
“Do what you love, and you’ll find your audience. You can’t let the critics hold you back before you even start. Be fearless and tell the haters to fuck off!”
“I’ll try to remember that. I wish I were more like you. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. The way you opened up in anger management and the things you’ve shared with me…”
“I wasn’t brave.” Not in the least. “I was just trying to make the best of a situation I got myself into.”
“If you say so, but I think you’re brave,” she insists with a confident tone.
“I think I’m working on it. I was losing my sanity back in Florida, and I didn’t want to live like that anymore. So, I’m doing something about it.”
I never dealt with anything, and it is all surfacing in my quarter-life crisis.
I partied my way through high school and fought my way into and through college. I worked three jobs to put myself through school and was basically a walking zombie most days. Afterward, I endlessly searched for a job I would love. Eventually, I got an internship at The Kinky. I went from coffee gofer to columnist all before my twenty-fifth birthday. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished
, but ever since, I’ve been a little lost. The goals I set out to pursue have been achieved. What now? I am stuck. I love my job, but I don’t want it to be the end of my achievements.
“You convinced me to go down on you in front of strangers. So, something tells me you’re capable of anything you put your mind to. I would love to be more like you,” Tatum shyly admits.
She wouldn’t. When I found myself in a routine, I started to spin out a little, and it was like the past had come back to haunt me. I don’t have grades to concentrate on or three jobs to work to afford tuition, and suddenly, I have a whole shitload of time for the darkness to take over my mind. The scabs have been picked off old wounds, so they are just as raw as ever.
“You don’t want to be anything like me, and I wouldn’t want you to be. I like my friend with the quirky headbands and awkward tendencies. Don’t wish to be anything like me.”
“I like you, too, with your strong appetite for adventure and acceptance for people as they are. I don’t have a lot of friends. Well, I didn’t have any before you.”
I understand not having friends. It seems Tatum and I have come into each other’s lives at the perfect time. I just hope I don’t drag her into the ugly parts of my soul that I’m hiding. She’s too good for that. I’ll make sure to shield her from the dark parts of me that could destroy her.
“We’re going to be great friends, Tatum Bennett.”
“I’d like that, Rylan Pierce. What more do you need in life than one great friend and delicious sweet, warm apple pie?”
Callen
Cortland Evans.
Five foot ten and soon-to-be six feet under.
Rylan Pierce.
Five foot two and under my skin.
Cortland didn’t go running today. In fact, he hasn’t left the house at all, not even to go out with his friends and bring home another nameless girl. He picked an unfortunate time to stay home alone because I’m extremely volatile in my current state, and I need someone to work it out on.
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