No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords)

by Candace Blevins

  “I’m more than happy with the way my life has turned out. It’s you I love.”

  She abandoned the noodles and took the two steps to him so she could hug him. Again, her right hand went around his torso, and her left hand touched his leg as it rested at her side.

  “Can you be still a second, please? Promise you won’t move?”

  Ethan froze as his hands touched her back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I want to try something.”

  She knew she had the range of motion to hug him; she was just scared. Afraid he’d move and pull it the wrong way, or would lift her up and it would get trapped.

  “Okay, I’ll stay put until you tell me I can move.”

  She wrapped her left arm around his torso, rested her head on his chest, and wanted to cry. It’d been so long since she’d had him in both of her arms, she felt as if she were in heaven.

  “Oh Darlin’. That feels so good.” His hand stroked her back, but his arms didn’t move.

  “You can move your arms, but keep your body still. Okay?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She laughed back. “You’re such a smart ass.”

  His hand went to the side of her head and cradled it against his chest. “Guilty as charged. God, I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She let her arm fall back to her side, squeezed him with her other, and stepped back. “I have the range of motion to hug you if I don’t have to raise my arm, but I’m scared you’ll move and my shoulder won’t be able to move with you.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I figured it out. I’ll be still for you so you can hug me, as long and as often as you want.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “I have a few ground rules for our scene tonight.”

  Sam’s heart sped. “Yes, Sir?”

  “If I do something that hurts your shoulder, you’re to say shoulder. This isn’t a safeword; it won’t necessarily stop the scene, it will just make me aware there’s a problem so I can fix it.”

  Disappointed, Sam nodded her agreement. She’d wanted scene rules, not ways to control the scene.

  “Because I’m not sure your body is cataloging pain the way it did before, I need you tell me if I’m giving you bad pain instead of good pain. If you tell me it hurts, I’ll assume good pain. If it’s bad, you need to say bad pain.”

  Sam nodded again, and dropped her head to look at the water’s surface so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in her face.

  She felt his finger under her chin, and she schooled her expression as she allowed him to lift her chin until their gazes met.

  “This isn’t about allowing you control. It’s about my need to be sure I know where you are. You give me the information; I decide what to do with it. Understand?”

  Sam nodded again and he removed his finger. “Don’t drop your face again. I want to see your eyes.”

  Finally, an order. Sam’s insides heated and she had to draw in a shaky breath to say, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tonight is about sensation more than pain, but we’ll see how things go and I may branch out. If you want pain, you’ll ask for it. Again, there are no guarantees, but I want to know where your head is.”

  He caressed her cheek. “I’m going to restrain your arms and legs. I’ll tie your left arm so you can move it a little, because I know it hurts to keep it in the same place too long. If it bothers you, let me know and we’ll come up with something else.” He smiled and pulled her into a hug. “This is a work in progress. We’ll have to figure it out as we go. We should probably wait another couple of weeks before we try to live by our former rules but I know you’re impatient. I’m willing to indulge you, but you have to promise you’ll let me know of any problems. Okay?”

  He maneuvered them back as they were before the hug, and Sam resumed eye contact. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

  “I know you want more rules, but your most important instructions for the evening are to alert me of any issues involving your shoulder or any other bad pain, and to let me know the level of good pain, as well as what you want more of and what you wish I’d stop doing. You’ll have to keep your voice and syntax respectful but I want you to keep a running commentary for me.”

  Sam nodded, and wished she could look down because she feared her disappointment was written all over her face.

  “There’s one more thing,” he said with an almost sad smile. “You aren’t to come without permission. I want you to tell me when you’re close, but I don’t intend to give you every orgasm you ask for. Your legs will be bound apart; it’ll be easy for me to punish your pussy.”

  “So, orgasm control, watch my language and show respect, and talk a lot so you know what’s going on in my head. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” he said as he smoothed the back of his fingers down her jaw. “Trust me. Trust me to know what you need. Trust me to know what you can handle. Yes, I need feedback, but if you give me the information I’ve requested, I can make this good for both of us. Okay?”

  Sam immediately felt bad for doubting him. “I’m sorry, Sir. You’re right. Thank you.”

  “Okay. I’ll be using the rubber flogger on your pussy when you don’t follow orders. Expect a strike if you don’t address me correctly or your tone of voice is off. Expect more than one strike if you come without permission.” He took a breath, as if bracing himself. “You’ll receive one strike of the rattan cane for every five times it’s necessary for me to use the rubber flogger. If something goes wrong during the scene, it’ll happen tomorrow, or the first opportunity I feel you’re up to it. If the scene ends well, it’ll happen when I’ve untied you.”

  Sam realized it was a little crazy for her to be so happy at the threat of punishment, but her smile was so big she felt it in her cheeks. She threw her right arm around him and said, “Thank you, Master!”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome. You’re also a little demented, but I love you for it. Okay, let’s get dried off and go downstairs, shall we?”

  * * * *

  It didn’t take long for Ethan to truss Sam up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  Rope encircled her right ankle and right thigh so she couldn’t straighten her leg. Before he bent it, he’d made a loop mid-thigh, and he used this to tie her leg off to the side of the bondage table so she wouldn’t be able to pull it in and protect her pussy. Her left leg was treated the same, and lying there, spread so open, she thought she’d go crazy with desire.

  He made a loop around her stomach and tied one end off to the side of the bondage table. Her left wrist cuff was connected to the rope running between her body and the edge of the table. She could move her arm out and back in, and even bend her elbow a good bit. She experimented with her range, and discovered she could rest her arm on her stomach, but couldn’t come close to her breasts or pussy.

  He bound her right arm over her head, which she knew was primarily to keep her from attempting to sit up.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Ethan stepped into her vision. “Why are you thanking me?”

  “For finding a way to put me in bondage without hurting my shoulder and chest? For understanding how much I need this?”

  Sam drew in a breath as she watched his finger circle first her right nipple, then her left. He barely skated the surface, and she craved the feel of a clamp, something to remind her they were there.

  His finger moved to her cleavage and made a line over her abs. She sucked air in and moaned as his hand ran through her slick folds.

  “Mmmm,” he said. “You are ready for this, aren’t you?”

  She met his gaze, and the green of his eyes set her heart beating double-time.

  “Yes, Master. I’m yours.”

  He moved his hand to her face and she opened her mouth.

  Sometimes she disliked the taste of herself, but today she tasted sweet and rich. She held eye contact with him as she cleaned his fingers, and when he pulled them out he kissed her for
ehead and whispered, “Yes, you are.”

  * * * *

  Her tongue had unraveled his self-control, but he was determined to get it back. He had a lengthy scene planned and he would not start it by climbing on top of her and fucking her into the table.

  But, shit. Those eyes, and her tongue, and lips, and….

  He shook his head and reached for the bowl he’d spooned the coconut oil into earlier.

  Ethan didn’t intend to wax her feet, but he started with them anyway. Her moans told him he was doing well, and he massaged her legs as best he could with them folded and bound to the side. The most important thing was making sure she was saturated with the oil so the wax would come off easier, but he wanted to pamper her a little, too.

  He forced himself into a doctor role as he neared her pussy. If he slowed to get her off now they may never make it to the wax. Besides, he was having to exert a good bit of self-control and it wouldn’t hurt her to find her own.

  He stopped long enough to shave the strip of hair on her mound. He’d let her grow it back, but it was better to shave it than wax it off. He wanted to give her a little pain, but not that kind of pain. Not tonight, anyway.

  She gave a couple of complaining moans as he rubbed the oil around and onto her spread open pussy, and he reminded her, “No coming. You remember what happens if you come without permission?”

  “Yes, Master, but you’re driving me crazy!” He could listen to her beg him all day and never tire of it.

  “I suggest you find a way to deal with it because it’ll only get worse.”

  He had fun torturing her a little longer, and finally made his way up her torso. He made sure she was nice and slick and oily everywhere the wax might drip, but paused when he reached her breasts.

  He’d been avoiding coming near her left shoulder, but it was time he touched it for something other than replacing the bandage. He didn’t intend to massage it, as he’d done to most of her body, but he should be able to rub oil over it and make her feel good. She hadn’t needed a bandage in a while. It may not look like it, but the skin was healed with no more risk of infection.

  First though, he tweaked her nipples and had her making wonderful noises.

  When he finally moved past her breasts and up to her shoulders, he worked on her right shoulder first, and then flattened his hand and moved to her left. He didn’t knead it or work it, he just made sure it was nice and oily before he made his way down her arm and to her hand.

  “Thank you.”

  She said it so soft he almost missed it.

  He didn’t have to ask what she was thanking him for.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner, but I worried I’d hurt you.” He leaned in to kiss the tip of her adorable nose. “You belong to me and I claim all of you. There’s no place on your body I won’t touch. Nothing you can keep from me.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were watering, but he didn’t want her too emotional right now. He wanted this to be good for her. There’d been too much sadness.

  He tweaked her nipples again, and added a wooden clothespin to both. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes, her mind no longer on her shoulder. The springs weren’t too strong on these, and she could handle them for longer periods with no problem, but he’d still keep a close eye on her, just in case pain so close to her shoulder was too much.

  “Open your eyes and look at me, Samantha. No hiding.”

  Her eyelids flew up and her gaze crashed into his. So obedient, so willing to please. She didn’t hide her pain, she let him see it all. He’d worried he wouldn’t be able to give her the sensations she wanted, but her need was evident in her eyes and the words flowed from his mouth.

  “That’s it. Take it for me. Hurt for me.”

  Her nod was so infinitesimal she likely didn’t do it on purpose, and he felt his smile form involuntarily as he flicked the clothespins.

  He started at her feet and rubbed coconut oil in once more, but this time he made a quick job of it to make sure her skin was saturated. He rolled the metal cart against the side of the bondage table, double-checked the drop cloth on the floor, and eyeballed the plastic tablecloth covering the bondage table.

  He lifted the ladle from the crock-pot, poured most of the wax out, and held it high above her stomach. He took his time tilting it, and just as the wax flowed out he put his hand on her stomach so the wax hit him and not her. She rolled her eyes at him, thinking he’d done it only as a mindfuck. While it was nice it’d worked out that way, the primary reason was his need to be sure of the temperature before he used it on her.

  The warm wax felt soothing to his hand at two feet, and he lowered it to one foot, and then six inches. The second splash had an instant of pain before it cooled, the final one hurt, and kept hurting, but didn’t burn the skin.

  He peeled the wax from his hand, put it back into the crock pot to melt again, and started on her inner thighs.

  Her moans and gasps were music to his soul as he alternated hot wax and frigid ice. He’d occasionally peel the wax away, saturate her skin with coconut oil again, and start the process anew. The clothespins came off her nipples a while, and then went back on, just to be sure she remembered they were there. Occasionally he decorated her entire breasts with numerous clothespins, and he played around with the idea of opening her pussy up with them so he could drip wax directly on her clit, but feared it’d be too much. She was enjoying the sensations without him having to dip into extreme sadism.

  * * * *

  Sam couldn’t hold her orgasm back any longer, and she tried to warn him but he didn’t relent. The warm wax kept hitting her pussy, her mound, her breasts. And the clothespins, god. They weren’t too intense, merely enough to hurt a tiny bit, and combined with the wax and the way he ran his slick finger around her clit…

  “Master! I’m going to come!”

  “You don’t have permission. You know the consequences.” His voice was quiet, conversational. It should have been a warning, but she gave up fighting and let her orgasm take over.

  He stepped away from her when it started, and she only had half an orgasm, as it died before she found full release.

  “Sir!” she complained, but he only stepped to her with the rubber flogger in his hands.

  “Do you get the clit protector when you’re punished?”

  Fear struck her heart at the look in his eyes. She shook her head and he raised his right arm and brought the flogger down on her most sensitive tissues, spread wide open with no way to protect herself.

  “That was one. Now, tell me, could you have held onto your release if you’d truly wanted? Did you try as hard as you could?”

  “I don’t want to answer the question. Sir.”

  “Oh, I already know the answer, and you’re going to take twenty more strikes because I know you could’ve held onto it. I just wanted to see if you’d tell me.”

  He raised his hand as if to strike, but lowered it to say, “You didn’t lie, so thank you for that, at least.”

  His hand went up again, and when it came down this time Sam’s world splintered into pain. He gave her a few seconds between strikes, but it wasn’t enough, and by the time he finished she was screaming uncontrollably with tears streaming down the side of her head and some spilling into her ears.

  He gave her a few seconds, and rested his hands beside her rib cage. “Deep breath in and push it all the way out. Come on, Darlin’. Control your breathing for me. I know it hurts but I’m not finished with you.”

  His hands and voice brought her back, and she breathed in, pushed it out.

  “That’s it. Now, again.”

  When she was breathing okay again he took the clothespins off her nipples and immediately dribbled wax in a circle and spiraled in until the wax landed directly on them.

  She sucked air in and pressed her hips up as much as possible, still unbelievably horny.

  “If you orgasm again you’ll take thirty strokes, and you’ve already earned yourself five strokes of the rat
tan cane when we’re done.”

  “I’m sorry, Master. You were right, I could have held onto it. It was hard and I didn’t want to hold onto it anymore, so I decided to let it go.

  He kissed her forehead. “I know, but thank you for admitting it.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I saw the decision in your eyes a split second before you came.”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “Can I ask for more pain? Or, maybe not more, but…different?”

  “How about different sensations. Let’s see what we can get into your ass, shall we?”

  He didn’t tell her which stretching rings and plugs he was using, and the first was fairly easy for her to accept.

  She squealed as the second went in, but he pulled his glove off and fingered her pussy until she forgot the stretch in her ass.

  When she was close to an orgasm he swapped whatever was in her bottom out for something larger, and once again brought her close to orgasm

  He seemed determined to push her as far as possible in one day, because this time he used a slightly larger butt plug instead of a stretching ring.

  He didn’t just put it in and leave it, he fucked her with it in super slow motion — opening her over and over and over again until she thought she’d go mad. When she begged for a break he set it aside and reached for another ring.

  It took him a while to get the next ring in, and her muscles stretched and burned until she begged him to give her time, and to please go back to a smaller one, but he didn’t relent.

  “You’re going to take this one, and you’re going to wear it a while. Fighting me only makes it rougher on yourself. Accept it, Samantha. Let me spread you open and prepare you for my cock. Take it.”

  “It burns, Sir! God, it feels as if it’s going to split me open!”

  He held it in place without pressing in any farther as he said, “It isn’t. I know your body; I know what your asshole looks like when it’s truly stretched too far, and we’re not there. Relax and accept it. Stop fighting me.”

  “I’m sorry! I don’t think I’m fighting you. It hurts, Master!”