by Selena Kitt
There was a long pause.
What’s next? Tilly wondered. She breathed shallowly in expectation.
He moved around, a shuffling sound coming from the direct of the corner table again.
Whap!
She’d memorized all the equipment, and this one was unmistakable.
The soft pelt of a cat o’nine tails across her ass.
Tilly yelped lightly, more in surprise than in pain. There was another blow, harder than the last, then another. Her body responded without her permission. Her pussy was so swollen and moist, she felt wetness on her thighs. The flogging wasn’t hard—it wasn’t like being whipped in punishment, exactly—but with each lash, something broke loose inside her. She couldn’t have explained it, even if he’d given her permission to talk.
Her ass stung, and so did her eyes—with tears. She let them fall, something bursting in her chest. It wasn’t from pain. It was more from—relief, maybe? She shuddered and sobbed. The whipping continued. She didn’t know how red her ass must be by now. It burned with feeling. Her whole body felt singed, alive, on fire. Her breath came faster, her blindfold wet with her tears, her moans coming from deep in her throat, unbidden.
Then the whipping stopped.
In one, smooth, expert gesture, the leather strap around her arms was unfastened and Tilly’s arms fell to her sides. The strap and the whip were gone, and for a moment, so was he. But he had just moved to the corner of the room. Tilly moaned, feeling her shoulders aching. She hesitated to move her arms, not sure she had the authority to do even that.
The hands moved her, confident, powerful. He turned and lifted her, forcing her to lie down on her back on the table. The surface was hard and unforgiving. The hands pushed her legs up and back, knees bent. The dom placed Tilly’s hands on her knees to hold her legs in place, keeping her open.
Then he left.
Not again.
This was like when he’d entered the room and then didn’t close the door, except now there was even more anticipation. Tilly was afraid, completely open and vulnerable, exposed. What was he doing? What was he waiting for? How long would he be? Did he simply have something better to do, or was this part of the mind game?
Tilly was highly aroused. Her pussy pulsed with anticipation, so wet her skin felt cold, exposed to the air. But everything between her legs felt swollen, too hot. Her dom was gone, and she thought about reaching down to touch herself. Just a little. He’d left her hands free, after all. And he would never know…
But she didn’t dare.
Then the door opened again, and closed. Tilly heard the electronic lock. She felt increasingly cold and naked and vulnerable. Her legs began to tremble from being in the same position for so long.
Hands touched her then. Oh, God, he touched her all over. This time, his hands were less demanding, more tender. They caressed her, teased her hard, aching nipples, cupped her full, heavy breasts. That air of assessment and judgment was gone—these were soft, gentle caresses. She trembled, trying to hold her position, trying not to cry out, although sometimes she couldn’t help it.
Fingers brushed hair from her sweaty face, running lightly down the sides of her neck. A hand touched her trembling belly, kneading the soft flesh there, and then moved slowly down to the red fur of her pussy. Fingers slid through her pubic hair, a palm moving to cup her mound. She moaned at that, the sound more animal than human.
The hand stroked her flesh, just teasing the tender skin of her now-bare labia, and then she felt the heat of his breath between her legs. Her thighs trembled in anticipation. Then the hand disappeared, leaving her cold and exposed again, and she heard a low, buzzing sound.
She knew what that was—what it must be. She both dreaded and longed for its touch. But again there was a pause. Was he inwardly laughing? Did he want to hear her beg for mercy, plea with him to fuck her with the vibrator? How big was it? What did it look like?
Maybe he wasn’t playing games at all, only getting ready in a methodical way, as any workman might with his tools.
The anticipation made Tilly gasp, and she was wondered how long she could hold out without breaking the rules and asking what was happening, when something, ever so lightly, touched her clit—but it was like a lightning bolt.
It was a vibrator—but a small, concentrated one, and Tilly did her best not to writhe out of the way. She moaned, shaking her head, as if to say it was too much, stop. The intensity of her reaction was far more humiliating than the spanking. She felt her pussy drooling shamelessly all over the table. Waves of buzzing pleasure hummed through her, shattering her from the inside out.
One hand touched her breast, gently tweaking a nipple as Tilly grew closer and closer to orgasm. She felt the unmistakable express train of her climax thundering towards her, and she knew, suddenly, she didn’t want to do this in front of Mark. Spanking, flogging, that was different. This—this was too intimate.
She was barely capable of deciding anything at that moment, but she knew that one thing. This wasn’t for him. This part of her belonged to someone else.
Something in her rebelled, wanting to come for Beast, and for Beast alone.
Tilly couldn’t stand it. She began to beg him to stop. The closer and closer she came to an orgasm, the more desperate she became for it all to end.
“No,” she pleaded, shaking her head from side to side on the table. “Stop. Please stop.”
The vibrator continued, relentless, remorseless. It was scarcely inside her at all. The sheer power of it touching Tilly’s clit drove her mad.
“No!” she cried. Why didn’t he stop? Tilly was on the very edge of a maniacal orgasm she truly didn’t want to have. Not for him. Not for Mark.
Then she remembered.
The safe word.
“Tequila!”
The vibrator withdrew, shut down. Hands retreated from her. Tilly struggled to sit up, gasping, trembling all over. Her legs shook from being in the same position so long. She quickly pulled off the blindfold.
Standing before her, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of black khakis, was Beast.
“Why did you stop me?” He cocked his head at her, brow furrowed.
“I didn’t know it was you,” she whispered, staring at him, dumbfounded. “I thought you were Mark.”
They stared at each other, breathless, unblinking.
“What else was I supposed to think?” she asked. “What else...”
Feelings began to flood in.
“Tequila,” she gasped, the realization hitting her like a blow, hard, in the gut. “Was that it? Was I supposed to guess... last night...?”
He couldn’t have known that she had been drinking tequila with Mark. All this time, she thought it was Mark touching her, igniting a fire within her, and some part of her had balked, rebelled, wanting it to be…
Beast.
Tilly’s body shook all over as she began to sob. He moved in toward her, enveloping her in his big arms, holding her close as she cried, wetting his bare chest with her tears.
“Shh,” he murmured, kissing her temple, her hair, her cheek.
Her body realized what had happened long before her mind wrapped itself around the situation. She turned her tear-stained face up to his for a kiss, moaning when his full, soft lips touched hers. Snaking her arms around his thick, corded neck, she clung to him, tasting her own tears as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
“I thought you were Mark,” she gasped when they parted, but his mouth didn’t stop moving, trailing over her jaw, down her neck. “And the closer I got… to… to coming… I knew… oh God, I knew I couldn’t. Not with him. Not with anyone…”
He lifted his head to look at her when she paused. Those eyes. Those dark, searching eyes on her. She gave a little cry, cupping his face.
“Not with anyone but you,” she whispered, voice hoarse, feeling tears slipping down her cheeks, unable to stop them. “I want you, Beast. I want...”
Beast picked her up effortlessly from the t
able and took the two steps to the futon and lay her down there. She grabbed his face eagerly and began to kiss him, terrified he would think of another stupid excuse to put an end to what clearly existed between them, but he took her wrists firmly and pressed her arms down to her sides.
Then he kissed her all over, starting at her face and working down her neck to her breasts, and then her belly. She trembled there as he kissed and bit her. Her arms struggled in vain against him, but exhilaratingly—it was no use. He had them pinned firmly to her sides.
His kisses weren’t soft and tender anymore. He covered her body with them, seemingly overcome with a kind of desperate greed. Kiss after rapid kiss, his breath hot on her skin, kisses that turned to bites, his teeth raking over her skin while Tilly squirmed and writhed with delight.
Then Beast moved down to her pussy, settling himself between her legs. He ordered her to spread them and she let her knees fall fully open, moaning when he began to explore her there with his mouth. Oh God. Oh my fucking God. She cried out and bucked her hips up, but he grabbed them and pressed her to the futon, keeping her still.
He was licking her for his pleasure, she realized. Tasting her, devouring her, tongue trailing up and down her slit, finding its way through the labyrinth of her flesh. Tilly gasped when his tongue flicked her clit. His head came up, eyes narrowing as she looked down at him.
“You’re not allowed to come unless I tell you to,” he ordered.
She gaped at him, nodding her agreement as he went back to licking and sucking between her thighs. He didn’t leave any inch of her untasted, front to back, and Tilly flushed with embarrassment when she felt his tongue touch the tight rosebud of her ass. But her humiliation didn’t stop him. He cupped her ass in his big hands and lifted her to his hungry mouth.
Then his tongue slipped up to the top of her cleft, nudging her aching, throbbing little clit. He had taken her nearly to climax with the vibrator, and he was taking her there again. His tongue was strong, powerful, his whole mouth fastened over her mound, hands on her hips now to keep her still, dark eyes watching her closely.
“Oh God,” she whispered, looking down at him through half-closed eyes. “Oh Beast. I… ohhh… fuckkk… please…”
He didn’t stop licking. He made his tongue hard, flicking back and forth. Then he flattened it, mashing it against her flesh, around and around. Tilly whimpered. There was no way she could stop herself from coming if he kept it up. But he’d told her not to come! Her body tensed and she fought it, head going back and forth, a low, growly sound escaping her throat.
She was so close. So very close.
Beast withdrew, his face glistening wet with her juices, turning her over onto her stomach. She trembled as he twisted one arm behind her back like a chicken wing, but not enough that it hurt. She was hardly free, however, to resist. Placing his other hand under Tilly’s lower belly, Beast soundlessly raised her hips and ass until she was resting on her knees.
“Spread them. More.” he said. Tilly obeyed. “Tilt your ass up in the air. Way up. That’s it.”
Beast was behind her now, still holding one arm twisted behind her back. At some point, he’d taken off his pants and, when Tilly looked over her shoulder, she saw he was tremendously hard. His piercing glinted in the light and made her mouth water, but he had other ideas.
He massaged her hip in one big hand, a proprietary motion, kneading her flesh.
“Now,” he said, “I’m going to enter you. Don’t come until I say you can.”
“Okay,” she gulped, breathing hard, cheek resting against the futon. She was helpless, ass waving in the air, completely exposed to him. She felt his hand move from her hip, sliding down between her legs. He cupped her mound and slowly stroked it. Two fingers slid between her slit, forking her clit, squeezing gently. She shuddered, turning her face and burying it in the futon’s mattress to let it drown out her cries.
She wanted to come so badly, her body trembled all over.
Then the hand withdrew and she whimpered at the loss. His cock slid up and down, spreading her wetness, and then stopped, poised at her entrance. His hips shifted forward, pushing the head in, and Tilly gripped the futon in her fists. He was so fucking big! Even as wet as she was, he stretched her. He pressed in, deeper, forcing her open.
And she submitted herself to it, to him, reveled in presenting her ass and pussy to him fully, without reservation. She was his, had always been his, and always would be. He was touching her, taking her. Making her his.
“You’re breathing too fast. Slow down,” he commanded.
“Okay,” she gasped.
“Okay?” Beast snorted and a hand came down to smack her ass, eliciting a shocked yelp from her. “Did Mark teach you nothing?”
“I mean, yes sir.” Her ass clenched when she said those words and she felt his cock twitch inside her. It seemed they both liked it.
“Better,” he praised. “Get a hold of yourself, or you’re going to come without my permission.”
“Yes sir.”
Those words. Why did saying them thrill her so much? She felt herself surrender to him. Not just her body, but her mind, too. All of her, every part of her, was attuned, listening to him.
“I want you to match my rhythm,” he instructed. He began to withdraw, easing back, and then pushed in again. “That’s it. Good girl… Easy. Slow down. It’s not a race… Better.”
They settled into a rhythm, something that pushed and pulled, well-coordinated. Her pussy hummed, buzzing with feeling. Her clit ached to be touched and she wanted to, but she knew better. Besides, she only had one hand—the other was still twisted behind her back—and he’d told her she couldn’t come. Not until he commanded.
That excited her beyond words. Strange, how something to constrictive felt freeing. She was free to feel him, enjoy his taking what he wanted, how he wanted. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because, since he’d been home, it had been Tilly pursuing him, practically begging and pleading him to take her. And now, it was all up to him.
She moaned when he began pumping her harder and harder, encouraging her with his body to match him. She did her best, pushing back with the full strength and weight of her haunches. Tilly couldn’t help gasping and crying out with each glorious thrust, but Beast was silent. Still, his intensity increased. She reveled in it.
Her pussy swelled, its grip on his cock tightening. The speed of his strokes increased even more, hard, short thrusts, filling the room with the hot, sweaty sound of their bodies slapping together. Then he let go of her arm, grabbing her hips with both hands, driving furiously in and out of her wetness. His fingers dug deep into her flesh and she yelped, but she didn’t protest. She wanted it—she wanted him, hot and raw and fierce like this.
Just like this. If she could have stretched this moment out until the end of time, she would have, but there was no way. Her body shuddered and pitched and she knew if he didn’t stop, she would come.
Then, he set her free.
“Rub your clit,” he growled, words rumbling up from deep in his chest. “Make yourself come for me, baby.”
Tilly sighed in relief, her fingers exploring, delighting in the feel of his heavy balls swaying, slapping against her caressing hand. She wanted to cup them, tug on them, feel their weight, but she didn’t have his permission. So she found and circled her humming little clit, the intensity of the feeling jolting a low cry from her throat.
She was so close to climax, she knew that if he stopped now and told her to do something else, she would be lost. She simply wouldn’t be able to do it.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask.
“Come, Tilly,” he commanded, slamming into her so hard she could barely keep her balance, but it didn’t matter—he had her hips. He was in control. “Come for me! Now!”
“Ohhh God!” she moaned, her pussy clamping down on his thundering length. Her orgasm shook her whole body and, at the same time, she felt the first white-hot eruption roaring up his shaft, exploding deep insi
de of her.
They came together with a force that united them and threatened to tear them apart at the same time. Tilly thought she would have flown right off the futon if he hadn’t been holding her hips so hard. She shrieked with the ferocity of her climax, letting it cycle through her, belly contracting, pussy clenching his pulsing shaft. At last, Beast cried out, collapsing onto her, covering her completely.
She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. His big, sweaty body trembled on hers, and his ragged breath panted in her ear—and she reveled in every moment. When he moved off her, she cried out, turning to clutch at him. He shushed her, gathering her into his arms, pulling her onto him, so no part of her touched the mattress. He cradled her on top of him, one arm following the curve of her spine, hand cupping her ass. The other hand slipped easily, comfortably, between her legs, cupping her mound, a sign of ownership that thrilled her so deeply she wanted to cry.