No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords)

by Candace Blevins

  “Step onto the stool, lean into the web, and find a comfortable position. I’ll be back in a sec with rope.”

  She did as he said and ended up with her hands holding rope not too far from her shoulders and just a little below.

  Ethan wound the rope around her limbs and the spiderweb until she was a part of it — a permanent fixture. He pulled her right leg a little farther away from her left before binding it, but she was still quite comfortable. She knew he’d probably want to fuck her here, so it made sense.

  Slick fingers probed her ass and she pushed towards him as something invaded her bottom. It wasn’t too big and she moaned in pleasure as it settled inside her, and then jerked as something pressed into her pussy.

  More rope, this time around her waist and the webbing, and then through her crotch to be sure everything stayed inside her.

  Both toys came alive at the same time, and she jerked and gasped, and then writhed on the rope.

  Ethan slid the stool out from under her and she panicked for only a brief moment before realizing the rope held her.

  She calmed and became one with the web. Trusting it. Trusting Ethan.

  Her master wanted her here — bound, restricted. Trusting the ropes was the same as trusting him, believing in his knots, his ropework. She was as safe in the rope’s embrace as she was when wrapped in his arms.

  The first swipe of the flogger was more of a brush. A caress.

  She moaned and squirmed as the soft leather slowly heated her skin. He moved from flogger to flogger, and added intensity until the slow burn was a raging inferno, and still, she wanted more.

  The rope web rippled and flowed around her, shifting in waves as she moved, and practically pulsing as the flogger fell again, and again, and again.

  Her Master occasionally turned one or the other vibrator off, and partway through he gave her permission to come as often as she wanted.

  And she did.

  Sam knew something was about to change when he walked to her front and untied the crotch strap, but she hung limp on the rope and caught her breath while she had the chance.

  He removed the vibrator in her pussy but left the plug in her bottom.

  Sam thought she might orgasm again at the mere touch of his cock pressing into her, but she breathed through it, wanting to feel him inside of her before she flew into the stratosphere again.

  However, when his arms slid through the rope and cradled her to him, it was too much and she only hoped she still had permission to come at will because she hit the summit and sailed into ecstasy with no warning — all she could do was scream and beg as it engulfed her in pleasure.

  “Fuck yes,” he growled, “come on my cock. Let me make love to you a little while before I hurt you again.”

  Her eyes opened and she took a stuttering breath when hit with the feral power of his brilliant green gaze.

  At times he watched as a lover, and at times as a predator on the savannah, eyeing prey. Today, it was a combination of the two, and she had to close her eyes because the intensity was just too much.

  Ethan took his time fucking her, sliding in and out in long, slow, smooth strokes. Sam moaned in ecstasy with each entrance, and whined in complaint when he pulled out and stepped away.

  He caressed her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “As much as I’ve loved making you fly and giving you the kind of pain I know you like, it’s time for me to get rough.”

  “I know, Master. I love you.”

  Fear and adrenaline flooded her veins, but it wasn’t fear of being hurt. This was the apprehension you feel while watching a horror movie, when you’re choosing to be there because you want the thrill of being terrified.

  Sam wasn’t sure if he meant for her to see the tawse, but she did, and her heart beat against her rib cage as heat flooded her clit.

  Her body braced for the first strike, but as soon as she realized she’d tensed, she forced herself to relax. He wanted her to accept this, submit to it.

  She hadn’t even noticed the music until he turned it off, and then the silence was so loud. Her ragged breath, her heartbeat, Ethan’s footsteps as he walked back to her. The sounds distorted as if they’d gone through a funhouse mirror, and — suspended in mid-air — Sam couldn’t get grounded, couldn’t find her center.

  The first strike of the tawse seemed to echo in the room, but a half second later her scream drowned out all other sounds.

  Pain can be something you float on top of, or it can be a physical force that smothers you. She’d had plenty of the smothering kind when she was shot, and then later while recovering. However, this pain, given lovingly from her Master? She never wanted it to end.

  Ethan gave her enough time between strikes to climb on top of the pain and then fear the next while she floated.

  A particularly hard strike had her fighting to pull air into her lungs, and if there’d been anything in her bladder she’d have lost it.

  The pain centered her as her body convulsed in a delirious frenzy on the dancing spiderweb of rope and chain. She craved the feel of the tawse and wanted it harder, and faster.

  She wanted the pain to consume her until there was nothing else.

  With effort, she managed to verbalize, “More, Master.”

  Several seconds passed and she didn’t think he’d heard, but then the tawse struck again, and again, without time between. The rope shifted with and around her as she alternated pushing her bottom towards him with trying to escape the merciless leather.

  Her vocal chords engaged with her ragged breathing and she made noises she’d never heard before, but she didn’t want it to stop. She’d become the pain, and she needed more, and more, or she might cease to exist.

  When the tawse hit the floor she screamed in protest, but then pushed her bottom towards him again when his fingers wrapped around the outside portion of the plug in her ass.

  He pulled it out and pressed his slick cock into her, and she moaned in pleasure and bliss as he spread her wider than she was prepared to handle. He’d used one of their smaller plugs, so the burn as he pushed in was exquisitely painful.

  Ethan was only halfway in when he grabbed her hips and jerked her body towards him as he shoved, and she screamed as he went all the way in, all at once.

  He yanked out, thrust back in, and then her world turned inside-out as he fucked her without mercy.

  She was helpless to control the speed or depth, much less the force and intensity as he hammered in and out of her.

  Nothing existed except his cock inside her body. Fucking her. Owning her. Ravaging her.

  There was no gravity, no logical thought, no rope web. Her senses could only process his hands on her hips, his cock in her ass, and the heat on her backside as he took her.

  It could have lasted five minutes or thirty, she didn’t know and didn’t care. When he finally went in and held, and she felt his warmth flooding her insides, he reached to her front, pressed her clit, and ordered her to come — she came unglued.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When Ethan left for London, it was just her and Miguel in the huge house.

  They awoke early and Miguel generally rode his bike while she ran. With both coaches present they’d taken turns accompanying the couple for the morning run, but now Miguel had to awaken every morning.

  She didn’t feel sorry for him.

  The final days of training were rough, as they should be, which helped take her mind off how much she missed Ethan.

  Nights and mornings without him in bed were still hard, though.

  As she drove to the airport, the trunk loaded with their luggage, she asked, “Am I ready for this? Or am I going to get my ass kicked?”

  “You’re ready,” he assured her. “I’m not saying Clemente won’t do a little ass kicking, because you need to be prepared for it, but I have every confidence you’ll end up the winner.”

  The flight to London was uneventful, and she texted Jerrod they’d landed safely as the plane pulled into the gate.
Ethan’s phone would be in his bag while he trained, but Jerrod would have his on him.

  Dave’s assistant found them as they collected their bags. She had a luggage cart, and helped pile suitcases onto it as she told them Ethan’s schedule for the rest of the day and reminded them of a few appearances Sam would be required to make later in the evening.

  “I have a cab waiting for us. We’ll get you settled into your rooms and I can take you to the training area.”

  * * * *

  The media frenzy at the hotel was too much, but there was no way to escape. People walked up to her and knew her name when she had no idea who they were. Most were bloggers or reporters, but some were fans who wanted to see her fight and weren’t shy about telling her.

  More than a few women wanted to know what sex with Ethan was like. Her standard response was, “Private. My sex life is private.”

  “Are you and Ethan having regular sex?” one reporter asked. “How is the training schedule affecting your marriage?”

  “I will never publicly discuss my sex life, so you may as well stop asking. As for our marriage, it’s stronger than ever and if anything, preparing for our fights has strengthened it. Training is hard, but it’s supposed to be, and having him by my side makes it a lot easier.” She looked at Miguel and back to the reporter. “We have two incredible coaches working with us, and we’re both ready to fight.”

  “Do you really think you can beat Jose Clemente?”

  “I wouldn’t step into the cage if I didn’t think I could win. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t seen my husband in a few days.”

  She hated having to boast and swagger, but she’d found a few statements she could make without making her feel creepy. She just hoped her pre-planned answers lasted until the fight, because Miguel had told her it was best not to repeat them.

  Dave had given her a few things to say, but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell the cameras she was going to pummel Clemente’s pretty face into the mat. Though, she did kind of like Dave’s idea of saying she was going to redefine what it meant to fight like a girl, and hoped she managed enough nerve to use it at some point.

  They finally made it to their floor, and she and Miguel went to their separate rooms. Ethan’s things were once again already in their suite, and she once again wished she’d been able to get away from work to come with him, but she’d had a big case to tie up before leaving.

  It only took a few minutes to change into workout clothes, and Dave’s assistant walked her and Miguel to the training facility.

  He was busy with Jarrod when Sam approached, and didn’t see her for several minutes as she watched. Jerrod saw her first and motioned so Ethan would see her, and he came out to pull her into a giant bear hug before bending her backwards in a kiss.

  “I always worry when you’re in the air. Thanks for texting Jerrod.”

  Her assigned training area was next to Ethan’s, but both coaches kept them busy and she didn’t get to see him much. Miguel brought a string of people in to spar with her, and she appreciated the diverse, varied practice. Fighting someone her own size was so different from fighting Ethan, and she’d grown accustomed to sparring with Miguel. While she was better than the men he brought in, she still learned a lot from the experience.

  “Why haven’t you brought any of the bantam women in to spar with me?” she asked during a break.

  He shrugged. “Dave doesn’t want to muddy the waters. He wants the media focused on you fighting men.”

  The cameras seemed to roll while she sparred with anyone, but the cellphones came out as well when she and Ethan stepped into a cage.

  Honestly, she wanted to keep her spars with him private, as they once were, but they’d turned into a circus act.

  Jerrod and Dave both told her to tune out the cameras and spectators, but they didn’t get it. Ethan did, and told her she didn’t have to fight in public if she’d rather not, but she understood why Dave wanted the extra attention, so she did.

  Tara arrived a few days later, and Sam hugged her when Dave’s assistant brought her from the airport. It was nice to have her friend around.

  Sam laughed when, the next time the reporters had a chance to ask questions, the first one was, “Did Ethan require you have a female doctor? Did he not want a male doctor examining you anymore?”

  “Tara is a friend, and she looked after me when I was shot, and looked after Ethan when we returned home from his previous fights. With two fighters, our teams decided we needed two medical people, and Tara was the logical choice.” Sam grinned and added, “Plus, she knows how to French braid my hair. Now, how about a serious question?”

  “Are you aware Jose Clemente called you a whore and a cunt this morning? What is your response?”

  Without missing a beat, she answered, “Nope, haven’t heard anything about it, so I can’t really comment. How do I know you aren’t trying to get me to trash talk? I find it hard to believe he’d say—”

  Someone handed her a tablet with video already playing, and the crowd quieted so she could watch and listen.

  “We all know the whore wouldn’t have been offered a fight at this level if she wasn’t married to that giant of a husband.” His face snarled and he added, “I don’t care what anyone says, it’s a sanctioned fight and she’s put herself in the cage. I’ll pound the little cunt until she begs for mercy. If you can’t deal with that, don’t fucking watch.”

  Sam handed the cellphone back and looked to the cameras. “Wow, he has some anger issues, doesn’t he? Well, I’ve been called worse. I’m an attorney, after all.” The crowd laughed as she smiled, and she added, “I’m not one for talking trash, that’s my husband’s forte. I’ll just let my actions in the ring show whether I deserve the slot or not.”

  Sam, Miguel, and Tara made their way to the training facility, but she didn’t get a chance to talk to Ethan before they broke for a late dinner. The reporters were waiting for them again, and Ethan told them, “I’ll have my own words with Jose Clemente if he doesn’t fight clean, or if my wife isn’t returned to me in one piece.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d undermined her, and all she could do was stare at him, furious. She started to let him have it, but the cameras and microphones came back into focus so she turned and walked away with as much poise as she could muster.

  She didn’t slow until they reached their floor, where she promptly burst into tears.

  Miguel unlocked the conference room and ushered her in as she exclaimed, “How could he? I’m trying to be Jose Clemente’s equal!”

  Ethan wasn’t far behind her. She’d managed to get to the elevator before him, but he must have caught another only a few seconds later.

  He walked in and Sam practically screamed, “How could you?”

  “Nothing wrong with demanding a clean fight. Why are you mad?” He was calm, relaxed, and it pissed her off even more.

  “The other fighters don’t have their wives and girlfriends threatening their opponents! How the hell is anyone supposed to take me seriously when I have this huge caveman following me around changing the rules for me?”

  “So, I can’t demand a clean fight?”

  “No! It’s my fight! And the promoters and officials are the ones with the authority to demand no one fights dirty!”

  “I didn’t tell him he can’t hit you; I just called for a clean fight.”

  “And that he return me to you in one piece, like I’m your fucking property.”

  “You are mine.” No longer laid back and relaxed, now his eyes dared her to say otherwise.

  Sam glared and was ready to lay into him verbally when he quickly added, “You aren’t my property outside of…but you’re my wife. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s the deal, right?”

  Still the challenge in his eyes.

  She wasn’t ready to agree with him about any-fucking-thing, so she changed direction.

  “Did I go after the assholes who practically took you apart at the tournament? Did I e
ven hint there would be repercussions after the dude nailed you in the nuts? Wouldn’t you think I should have something to say about that? But, no. I kept my damned mouth shut because it wasn’t fucking appropriate to threaten your opponents with bodily injury if they hurt you in a fucking sanctioned fight!”

  Sam was screaming now, and Ethan apparently thought he needed to calm her down. He used his Dom voice to say, “Samantha, calm down and think it through.”

  “Oh no. Don’t you fucking Samantha me.” She looked to Miguel. “I’m too pissed to even talk to him right now. Can I hang out in your room a while?”

  He motioned towards the door and touched her back, and their audience parted to let them through. She didn’t realize Tara had followed her to Miguel’s room until the door closed behind them.

  “You okay?” Miguel asked.

  She shook her head and leaned against the wall as the tears she’d been holding back finally burst free. “No. I’m so pissed off I’m fucking crying. Damn him!”

  Tara pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back. “Ya’ll will work this out. You know he’s protective of you, and knew he’d have a problem watching you fight a man when he can’t intervene.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him. He fucked up.”

  Miguel spoke from behind her. “What do you need? Time alone, or time with a heavy bag? If you want to wash your face and put your hair up, I’ll take you downstairs and we can work your ass out a while, burn some of your anger off.”

  “It’s seven o’clock at night,” Sam said, wiping her eyes. She hated crying in front of people.

  “I have a key to the training facility,” he said. “It’ll be nice to have some coaching time without people around.”

  “I’ll need to fix my make-up before I go where cameras can see me, and I’ll be damned if I go into our room right now.”

  “I can fix your make-up,” Tara said. “Sit tight and I’ll get you fixed up.”

  She sat and let Tara work on her face, and said, “I may go down to the lobby and see about getting a room for myself tonight. I’m not up to arguing with him right now.”