Trent Evans

by What She's Looking For

  He kept at her, alternating those deep plunges with one, then two fingers, with dexterous circles of the calloused tips over the throbbing flesh of her clit. Soon she was spreading her thighs wider, bucking her hips.

  “Calm down, girl.” He wiped the juices coating his fingers onto the flesh of her inner thighs. “We aren’t even close to done.”

  Damn him! Just a few more strokes and she would have been there. It had been way too long (not counting the gift of “self-love” as Tara liked to call it). But it was apparently not in the cards.

  “Something you want to say?”

  She tried to look back at him, but her hair surrounded her head in a dark shroud. “You could have let me come, you know.”

  He chuckled. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  His hand resumed her punishment, the pace quicker, the blows harsh. She grunted at the first few, reflexively pulling on the cuffs despite the vise-like grip his hands had on both her wrists. Very soon, the pain was too much to endure stoically. She felt his hand tighten on her pinioned hands. “Don’t pull at them. You’ll scrape your wrists.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have used them, damn it!”

  His hand came down harder with a loud crack in the center of her ass cheek.

  “Ahh, please!” she yelled, surprised at the sting of a particularly hard slap on the fleshiest part of her cheek. She was mortified at the jiggle of her flesh at each blow, but the pain was so harsh that she just didn’t have time to think about what she must look like. He’d lit a fire in her ass, and his relentless strokes continued to stoke it higher and higher.

  “Ashley?”

  “Yes … ahh. Damn it!”

  “Do you have anything to say?”

  What the fuck was he talking about? “How about, stop! You’re killing me!”

  His hand stopped the merciless spanking to soothe her blazing flesh with his fingers. He stroked the swollen blotches left by his palm, and she moaned at the pain. She hissed as he gently pinched one particularly throbbing welt between finger and thumb.

  “You’re doing just fine. Breathe through it. You’ll be getting a lot worse than this if you stay with me, so you’d better get used to it.”

  Her traitorous pussy leaked juices down her thigh at his words. She didn’t want to like this. She hated the pain, the embarrassment of her exposure to his gaze and his roving fingers. But she loved it as well, deep down in the place she’d hidden those shameful little girl fantasies that scared her playmates. The place that was the real Ashley.

  “A few more girl, then we’ll be done for now. Be brave.”

  His hand laid down rapid-fire smacks up and down each cheek, methodically blasting every inch of skin with burning blows. He cracked a few particularly searching shots along the tender skin of her thighs, and she screamed. The sound of her screams startled her almost as much as the realization that that pain shot like an arrow right into her belly, her clit throbbing as insistently as the roasted flesh of her tortured bottom.

  Finally, he was done. He stroked the sweat soaked flesh of her lower back, as she blew great breaths of air from her lungs. He murmured to her, his other hand releasing her wrists to finger the strands of hair away from her face, tucking some of the stray locks behind her ear.

  Her eyes stung with tears, but she found herself inordinately proud that she hadn’t cried. She was honest enough with herself to know that it would only have been a matter of time though, had he continued to spank her. His hand would win every time. The dark pleasure she felt at that thought disturbed her.

  The cuffs were released from one, then the other wrist, and she felt Parker’s hand tracing the abraded flesh. “Damn, this might bruise a little.”

  “My wrists or my ass?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they’d probably earn her another punishment.

  But his soft laugh set her at ease. “Both —though it’s your wrists I was talking about.”

  She moved to get off his lap, and his hand clamped down on her hip. “Not yet. You don’t get up until I give you permission.”

  Ashley whimpered, hiding her head under the veil of her hair. His hands stroked her hips, the gentleness of his touch at such odds with the pain they’d inflicted on her now rather sore ass.

  She lay over his hard thighs, willing her breathing to slow, trying not to think about what her big, red ass must look like splayed out under his gaze.

  His fingers again found her pussy, the tips gently tracing the swollen outer labia. She inhaled as he spread her lips wide, and she could feel his avid gaze boring into the core of her. Again, the clever fingers frictioned her clit, insistent, knowing, finally leaving her groaning. Two long fingers slid up into her, and she bucked at the sudden invasion.

  Oh fuck, that’s good.

  Her ass throbbed, but the pressure and almost painful sensation of her clit was even more insistent. His thrusting fingers filled the quiet room with the wet sounds of her sex welcoming its repeated invasion. He pistoned the digits more quickly, while he rubbed her swollen clit in faster and faster circles. He buried his fingers particularly deeply into her cunt, the tips playing with her cervix, making her womb clench, and more juice coat his hand.

  “God, that smells so fucking good, Ashley,” he said, his voice thick.

  She could hear his deep inhalation as he sampled it, her scent that filled the room. She knew she should be mortified, but all she wanted was to come. So close.

  His fingers quit her clit for a moment, only to smack her sore ass, leaving wetness on her skin. The blow was relatively gentle, but against her already sore flesh, fresh pain bloomed, and she cried out.

  “Ah God, Parker. Yes!”

  His fingers were back at the swollen clit, rubbing it harder, almost painfully. She groaned again, as she felt a third finger added to the two already plundering her slit. The stretching sensation, while almost painful, just fanned the flames higher, her hips swirling over his lap. She wanted his cock, she wanted him to spank her more. It hurt, but that pain, his control of her pain was doing something to her. Something dark, and shameful — but she no longer cared.

  He slapped her again, harder. “Come now, Ashley. Let me feel it.”

  The fingers pounded into her faster, and at the clever, knowing touch to her burning clit, she climaxed. Moaning, she dug her fingers into his muscular calves. “Oh god, Oh GOD!”

  For a moment, her vision blacked, her whole world the molten, spasming heaven of her sex clenching around those fingers. She came back to Earth with those clever digits continuing to play at her clit; the thrusts within her slower, but still plunging deeply into her drenched, quivering sex. Her clit felt like it was going to explode, the post-orgasmic sensitivity threatening to spill over into pain.

  “Oh Jesus, Parker. Stop—”

  “You’re not done, yet.”

  Then she screamed, as his fingers resumed their sublime and cruel dance, playing her cunt and clit like instruments. Another orgasm hit her, her lower abdomen clenching in concert with her pussy. She cried out again, her voice breaking somewhat, her hands scratching at his legs, pushing at him. She couldn’t take the overload of sensation, her nerves maxed out, frayed. Finally, she came back down, laying limp over his lap, her hands resting on the floor. Her buttocks trembled and her thighs shook with exhaustion.

  “That was a good start, girl. You needed that didn’t you?” His fingers were still, but remained firmly ensconced within her wet pussy. His thumb circled the sensitive flesh of her anus, and she clenched her buttocks together.

  “Stop,” she whispered, pushing at the floor, trying to extricate herself.

  “You aren’t going anywhere. Unclench those cheeks.” His thumb lay trapped between the hot, throbbing buttocks, moving against her secret opening. “I’m going to be touching you anywhere I want. Get used to it.”

  “Okay, just not there. Please!”

  “Why not, Ashley? Haven’t you been touched there before?”

  Oh God, she
didn’t want to go there with him. Oh God!

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely audible, and she was glad of the protective shroud of her hair to hide her shame. Being touched there elicited sensations, feelings that she didn’t know how to process. It made her feel the most vulnerable, the most out of control. Like pain, she wasn’t supposed to like it. She wasn’t supposed to but …

  “I said relax them, Ashley. We can sit here all night if we need to until you do.”

  Reluctantly, she complied, feeling as if her asshole had a spotlight on it, when in reality it just had the calloused pad of Parker’s thumb on it, stroking it.

  He pulled his fingers from her sex with a mortifying slick sound, and then wiped her juices over the sore curve of one of her buttocks. He patted her ass, then she felt the fingers of both hands ease between her cheeks.

  She whimpered as he firmly parted the cheeks of her ass as wide as they would go, the air of the room cool against the sweat slicked flesh of her cleft. She wanted to sink into the floor, as she felt his gaze on her most private of areas.

  “Very nice,” he murmured. “So pretty.”

  His finger traced the crinkled flesh, the tip worrying the opening. She felt her anus clench tighter in fear.

  “You shouldn’t worry, girl. I may like to look at it, but this is not the opening I most enjoy. Now Drake on the other hand … “

  She gasped. “What?”

  He laughed. “Drake likes asses; he’s going to love yours.”

  What the fuck did he mean by that? Was Drake really interested in her?

  You’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t be stupid.

  The real question was what she thought about that possibility — and what she thought Parker would think if she was honest about it.

  “Parker. What do you mean?”

  He allowed her cheeks to close and patted her sore globes. “We’ll take about that when it’s time, girl.”

  He bent and placed a kiss on the crest of each buttock, his cool lips heavenly against the blazing heat of her skin.

  “Okay, up you go,” he said, his strong hands at her hips. He placed a pillow on the floor, much like their first encounter. “Kneel there.”

  “It’s like I’m back in church,” she said, dropping to her knees.

  Parker chuckled. “I rather like that analogy, Ashley.”

  She knelt, sighing at the coolness of her bare heels against her burning buttocks. She kept her eyes down, not wanting to meet his gaze, knowing what she must look like.

  His hand burrowed into her hair, grasping it in a fist. He turned her head up, moving the locks away from her eyes so he could see her face. “I want you to look at me, Ashley. This is our talk time. No hiding allowed.”

  His smile lessened the tension in her shoulders. Parker’s eyes sparkled as they searched her face, the depth of their color momentarily making her forget her embarrassment at her exposure.

  “Talk time is about honesty, Ashley. It’s your time to ask — and say — whatever you want. No consequences.”

  “What was all that for?” She knew it would probably get her into trouble. The molten heat of her cunt seemed to be thriving on trouble though, lately. The corners of his mouth lifted.

  “Your spanking?”

  Willing herself not to blush further, her hands fidgeted in her lap. He reached out and clasped them in his. “Just lay them here, girl” He pressed them palm down to her thighs. She clenched her legs with her fingers.

  “Are you nervous? Mad?”

  She nodded. “How about both? That hurt, Parker.”

  “It was supposed to. Why do it otherwise?”

  She could think of a few reasons otherwise. In her fantasies, she’d always dreamt of a lover who gave her playful spankings before — and during — sex. A lark, no real pain.

  So why did her body respond the way it did to the harshness of Parker’s hand? She didn’t think she was ready to think about that.

  “Well, you didn’t have to do it so hard, Parker.”

  His gaze cooled. She was struck by how alive his eyes always looked under the prominent, dark eyebrows. Alive … and cold.

  “Sir”, she added quickly. “I mean, I’ve always … liked a little of that during sex, but … “

  “This is talk time Ashley, not argument time.”

  She swallowed, hoping the defiance she felt surge within her didn’t make it to her face. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “You know you protest at the pain, but your body wasn’t protesting at all.”

  “Parker, I don’t like pain.”

  “Yes, you do, Ashley. You practically flew apart when I spanked you at the end.”

  He’s right.

  She glared up at him, her jaw clenched.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that you know.” Parker lowered his strong chin. “I happen to like giving pain. I think our needs mesh quite well, in that regard.”

  She laughed, trying to mask her nervousness. Then she sobered.

  He wasn’t joking.

  “You mean … you like hurting me?”

  He nodded slowly. “Does that surprise you? Think less of me?”

  She knew she should say yes. Should wonder if he was a psycho, a different brand of monster than Terry. But it would be a lie. Her dripping pussy told her everything she needed to know about his little revelation.

  “I don’t think less of you,” she murmured, glancing down. Then she locked her gaze with his. “Parker, I‘m afraid though.”

  “Nothing wrong with being afraid. That can be nice sometimes too, can’t it?”

  She looked away, the humiliating heat back at her cheeks. How could he know?

  “Ashley, it’s okay. Nothing you say will scare me away, or make me think less of you.”

  He leaned toward her and rubbed his chin, looking over her shoulder. “Believe me, you don’t have the market cornered on deep, dark urges.”

  “Yes, Sir.” It felt so odd just … talking. She realized that she and Terry had hardly ever talked. Sure, they’d communicated about everyday, meaningless things. The bullshit. But they’d never actually talked like this. With honesty; without hiding. It was a revelation to her, at once terrifying and exciting. To have someone care was something she’d missed, more than she’d realized.

  “That’s why we do this. Why you’ll need to do it.”

  “I don’t understand.” She gazed up at him again, trying to make out what was going on behind those cruel, gray eyes.

  “You need to understand something, girl. About what I’m looking for with this. With us.”

  She ran a hand along the top of her thigh, nodding. She watched his lips, wanting to kiss them, feel their fullness with her fingertips. He had a graceful, long countenance with a strong chin. She remembered the rough feel of his stubble on her buttocks as he kissed her, and a frisson of pleasure shuddered through her.

  He continued. “I don’t want games. Playing.”

  She tilted her head. “I’m not saying we’re playing games.”

  “Aren’t we though? You let me spank you, didn’t you?”

  Blushing, she nodded.

  “I’m looking for true submission, not role-playing, Ashley. Someone who will truly be mine. All mine. Do you know what that means?”

  “I … I don’t know, Parker.” This was uncharted territory. She’d thought of submission as spreading her legs or bending over whenever Terry felt like fucking her. Though the dirty, shameful part of her enjoyed his use of her body in that way, she’d always felt it was … incomplete.

  Ashley knew that yielding her body to the use of her man wasn’t really the issue, even at those times she didn’t particularly feel “in the mood”; that yielding actually had always held a dark attraction to her — though she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that to anyone. The problem was that it was missing something. It was too easy, too casual. She had no idea what that might actually mean though.

  “You are a submissive. There is a deep core of it in yo
u, but you spend so much time and effort suppressing it. Why?”

  She knew why. Did she want to tell him? Tell him all of it?

  “Because I’m … afraid.”

  He leaned forward, his palms up. “What happened with him? Why won’t you tell me? Do you think I’ll just write you off as damaged goods? Defective?”

  She felt like he’d shot an arrow through her heart. “Yes. I think maybe — a man, you, wouldn’t want to deal with my shit.”

  He smiled at her with a warmth she’d never seen from him before, and it made the tears well in her eyes. “Ashley, I’ve seen a lot of terrible things. I know what man is capable of. Trust me when I tell you, there is nothing, nothing, that would chase me away. Try me.”

  Maybe he would understand. Maybe it was possible to pick up the pieces and find someone else? Someone she could be herself with?

  Ashley took a deep, ragged breath. “Terry didn’t take no for an answer — ever.” She firmed her chin, meeting his gaze. “It’s why I left him. I was afraid someday even that wouldn’t be enough for him.”

  “Jesus.” Parker’s jaw clenched, but his eyes never left hers. He didn’t put on that faux concerned affect people manufacture when they don’t know how to deal with the unpleasant. He didn’t treat her like a victim, and she was thankful for it.

  Shivering, she suddenly felt cold and exposed, her fingers clamped painfully onto her thighs. “It’s worse than that though. Sometimes, I … liked it. It freaked me out, and I ran from it.”

  Parker was still for several moments, not even his eyes moving. They were the longest moments of her life, for this was the part she thought would send him running for the hills. She waited for the look of disgust to twist his features, the veil of revulsion to fall over his gaze. But she saw nothing. He just regarded her, as if she hadn’t just puked up her most vile inner thoughts. Why the hell was she even telling him this anyway?

  “You ran because you were afraid of him, Ashley,” he said, his expression softening. “Even if you did like it, it doesn’t make what he did to you right. You know that don’t you?”

  She nodded, looking down.

  Don’t cry damn you. Don’t fucking cry!