by Cindy Jacks
“I said be still,” he said, his voice deep and firm, but never louder than a normal speaking tone.
“I’m sorry.” Tears prickled her eyes, stinging heat radiating from what she knew must be red handprints on her buttocks. How she longed to turn and inspect them in the mirror, but she didn’t dare.
He hooked a finger in the bindings that ran between her breasts and pulled her to the floor. Her knees smacked against the hard wood. She yelped, her cunt throbbing in time with her pounding heart.
With a pair of wrist cuffs made of metal covered in velvet, he secured her forearms. A similar set clamped onto her ankles, but he didn’t fasten them together. He picked up a bar about two feet wide with clips on either end, spread her legs, and attached the rod between her ankles. Now she understood the purpose of the contraption. It would keep her splayed open, pussy and asshole bared for his pleasure.
Tipping her forward, he gave her a light kiss then eased her all the way down. Bent before him in a pose of worship, elbows and knees crouched against the floor, she awaited his next move. A glance at the mirrored wall showed that she looked as glorious as she felt. Her hair spilled across the floor in shining ribbons of gold. Rounded buttocks created a heart-shaped swell behind her. Fiona smiled—she wanted to look gorgeous for her master, and the hunger in his gaze showed he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. His dark eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Ah, ah, ah, no peeking,” he said and pushed her head down, tying a black silk blindfold over her eyes.
She sensed his movements around the room. Little clues helped her track him around the room― The sound of a cabinet opening, the brush of his linen pants as he passed her, his muffled footfalls, the scent of leather. Hushed preparations kept her guessing as to what he had in store.
Then, she heard the clap of a paddle against his hand or perhaps his thigh. Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself for the impending strike…but none came. Instead, something tickled her thighs, and soft strands slid over her back. She shivered. The strokes licked across her face and down each arm.
“What are you touching me with?” she asked. But no answer came.
He took a tight hold of the harness around her abdomen and drew the supple material between her legs. He repeated the stroke, teasing her clit. As much as she struggled to control her reaction, she quaked beneath the torment of his touch. Raw desire claimed her, she could feel her own juices wetting her thighs, her cunt aching to be invaded.
She thrust her pelvis upward. Then nothing. Perhaps as a form of punishment, he withdrew his attentions. Fiona waited. Not a sound, not a step. What did he have up his sleeve? And still the silence stretched on.
Fiona wanted to call to him, but a loud whoosh broke the stillness.
Crack!
A hard blow crashed against her backside. She sucked in a breath of surprise. Warmth spread over her stinging rear. As much as the pain incensed her, it also excited her. Crack! Another hit came before she had recovered from the first. Fiona moaned.
“Do you want me to stop, preciosa?” he asked and ran a hand over her heated ass.
“Yes.”
“Then you know what you have to say.”
The safe word, strangelove. And then she understood. He was going to test her limits and try to push her beyond. In defiance, she held her tongue.
Excitement darted through her. His willingness to realize her every request, in her mind, showed a sort of tenderness in the twisted world of their creation. La cosa nuestra, he called it, this thing of ours. No other phrase existed to categorize what they had together. A relationship? Not in the traditional sense. A grand love affair? Definitely not. But they had become kindred spirits in the dark world they created.
Another strike with the paddle, then another and another. She cried out and tensed, ready for the next hit, but Marcelo released her. He soothed her throbbing skin with a chilled lotion. The fluid leaked between her legs, and a hard, cool shaft pressed against her wet slit. He pushed it inside her and whisked away the blindfold.
Mirrors positioned around the room her allowed her to see herself at all angles. The strands of a flogger hung between her legs, the handle buried within her. The sight quickened her pulse, set her insides on fire. Her pussy throbbed, aching for the pounding he would eventually give it. The anticipation tightened her already painfully hard nipples.
Marcelo stripped off his pants, his cock stiff and arrow straight. He lifted her head and put the tip against her lips. Without hesitation, she ran her tongue over it, then along the underside. It twitched in response as if eager to enter her mouth, but he simply smeared a bit of pre-cum on her lips and then approached the bench where he had laid out all his toys.
Gripping her harness again, he gave her a good smack with a leather-covered board. It left a welt in the shape of a heart on her rear. Her inner walls gripped the flogger. She moaned, but not in discomfort. The sting of the spanking gave over to the pleasure jolting through her. She tensed her cunt against the flogger handle again to experience the sensation a second time.
“Oh, you like that?” he asked, but she didn’t answer.
As he continued to spank her, she struggled to manage the sensations flooding her core. Part of her wanted to tell him stop, she wanted relief from the hurt. But she also loved the pain; it took her to a place where she could lose all control. A sheen of perspiration covered her skin as she struggled to bear the increasing power of his strikes. One final thunderous clap, and he let loose of her bindings. Again, he rubbed salve on her welts.
Casting the paddle aside, he fell to his knees behind her. His massage of her buttocks led to strokes at the cleft in her backside. Pushing an oiled finger into her asshole, he eased it past the muscles tensing against invasion. Fiona gasped. He knew she had never been entered this way before. It was something they had discussed but hadn’t yet explored.
“Do you need me to stop?” he asked.
She sighed, relishing the sensation of being stretched and filled in a new way. “No. I feel good.”
At first, he did nothing but caress her and plant kisses along her back. Little by little, Marcelo began to move the finger inside her. Her asshole clenched and her cunt gripped the flogger. Entire body buzzing, she watched him finger-fuck her ass. The tendrils of the flogger brushed against her thighs. A delicious shiver preceded goose bumps pebbling her arms.
His actions became bolder. He loosened her puckered hole by curling and twisting the finger, then slipped another inside her. She whimpered, the sweet bite of pain spreading heat from her asshole to aching mound. Panting and moaning, she struggled to remain still. She longed to sit back and drive his fingers and the flogger as deep into her body as possible.
Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and she wanted to object, but knew better lest he break out the paddle again. A few drops of liquid dripped between her buttocks. Clutching onto her hips, he slipped the head of his cock into her ass.
Fiona panted and fought against the sensation that she had been cleaved in two. His shaft slipped deeper, his abdomen pressed against her buttocks. A cry escaped her, and she writhed against her restraints. He retreated then delved in to her again. Pain and pleasure overwhelmed her until she was unsure where one sensation stopped and the other began.
Writhing, she was desperate to free herself and yet she needed him to force her to take more. Sweat streamed down her torso, her breath grew ragged. She needed to come, but she couldn’t bear the stinging ache much longer. Faster and harder, he pounded into her ass until agony won out over her enjoyment.
Her lips quivered and her voice cracked, but she forced herself to utter the word. A whisper at first, then a demand, “Strangelove. Strangelove.”
Immediately, he stopped and withdrew, pulling the flogger from her as well. He freed her ankles and came around front to take the cuffs from her arms. His hands cupped her face, and he helped her to sit back on her haunches. “Are you okay, preciosa?”
Anger set her jaw, and tears f
looded her eyes, not because he had hurt her, but because he had found her breaking point. Before she thought better of it, she slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side; a handprint glowed red on his cheek. He shook with mocking laughter. Furious at his reaction, she shoved him backward and climbed on top of him. Clutching at his cock, she tried to guide him into her sodden folds, but clearly he found this behavior less amusing.
Marcelo caught her by the throat, flipping her onto her back. “If you want to play rough, we can play rough. You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
Tears still stung her eyes as he mounted her and shoved open her legs. Heart pounding, cunt raw and aching for release, she continued to struggle against him though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she needed him to overwhelm her, overpower her.
Fingers still clenched around her throat, he buried his cock inside her and then pinned her wrists over her head with his other hand. She uttered a strangled cry, meeting his gaze. His eyes glowed, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, his jaw slack. He looked like a man possessed. Inner walls gripping his shaft, she ceased all resistance, her body now his to do with as he pleased.
Harder and faster than he had fucked her ass, he hammered into her cunt. The slick smack of their bodies colliding echoed around the room, the musk of sex heavy in the air. Ecstasy flooded her core, each thrust taking her higher. This was how he mastered her, he ruled all of her senses, seeped into her pores and her veins, she had no choice but to submit. Legs trembling, she spread wider to take him deeper.
Releasing his grip on her neck, he wrapped one of her legs around his hips and slowed his savage pace. Clit pressed against his pelvis, she rubbed against his muscular abdomen. Closing her eyes, she focused on the agonizing tension tugging at her soaking wet cunt. She moaned and panted, desperate to come.
“Open your eyes,” he murmured and she did as told.
The fire in is gaze had mellowed to smoldering embers. A whisper of a smile played across his lips. Rocking against her, he ground his pubis against her clit as he whispered in his native Spanish. Fiona caught only a few words: dulce, bella, mojado. Sweet, beautiful…wet.
Brushing his mouth over hers, he teased her lips apart. She breathed in his scent, both of them lost in the kiss, her body awash with pleasure, the ghost of earlier pain still warming her ass. Hands gliding down her body, he grasped her knees, pinning her open. His muscular back flexed with each forward stroke. Legs shaking, she knew she would come any second.
She broke free of his mouth and gasped for air. Pure ecstasy claimed her, a powerful climax racking her body. Unable to contain the waves of tremors, she hung onto Marcelo as if she feared she might wash away. His back arched and his shudders mirrored hers. Her cunt contracted, milking his spewing cock. A few final spasms and then…peace. Profound peace filled her.
They melted into a puddle on the floor. Marcelo withdrew, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks and smoothing her hair away from her face. She drank in the glow of his dusky skin and the affection in his expression. Sticky cum leaked from her throbbing slit, but she relished the sensation of having been wrung out.
“You lost control a bit.” He stroked her hair.
The temper tantrum flashed through her mind. “Sorry I slapped you. I was so frustrated that I couldn’t take what you were giving me.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. That’s what the safe word is for,” he said, rubbing her swollen asshole. “Are you sore?”
“I am. You have no idea how badly that hurt.”
“Sorry, preciosa, but it’s all preparation for our next game.”
The same defiance she had felt earlier flared. Fiona rolled him onto his back and propped her chin on one hand, leaning against his chest. A wicked smile twisted her lips. “I thought it was my choice what we do next. Or have you thrown out your own set of rules?”
Marcelo’s chest shook with a satisfied chuckle. “Claro, mi amor. You’re right. The choice is always yours.”
She moved up, covering his mouth with hers, tongue toying with his. Just what she would ask for next, she hadn’t yet decided, but when she did, Marcelo would fulfill her every need. Of this Fiona had no doubt.
Fantasy Three
Free Love
A waiter carrying champagne passed by the couple. Marcelo plucked two glasses from the tray and handed one to Fiona.
“See anything you like?” Marcelo asked.
She looked around the room at the sea of attractive young men. So many to choose from. Tall blonds. Others sleek and swarthy. Stocky, solid bodies. Fiona felt a bit like a kid in a candy store, and she wanted to pick the perfect confection. On the threshold of her first ménageà trois, electricity crackled in the pit of her stomach, her cunt already aching with need. Goose bumps dotted her shoulders and forearms, nipples tight buttons brushing against her silken bra.
Would two men using her body for pleasure be everything she had fantasized about? She trusted Marcelo would do all he could to fulfill her desires. His attention to detail ensured each exploration had been nothing short of perfection.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Come, preciosa,” he said. “I want to introduce you to some of my friends.”
They walked across the red carpeted floor of the exclusive club. She looked around at the extravagant décor. Cornices cascaded in a frozen tide of carved plaster leading the eye down to wainscoting that framed the perimeter of the expansive room. A deep shade of plum covered the section of wall between the architectural details. Oil paintings of tasteful nudes hung in gilded frames.
Loveseats and divans covered in buttery leather formed intimate seating arrangements. Couples, threesomes and other combinations of would-be lovers huddled together in flirtatious conversation.
Marcelo walked up to a willowy man with golden hair. His sculpted neck arched into a chiseled jaw line. A small cleft marked the center of his chin. His mouth turned up in a grin.
“Chelo, how have you been?” he asked.
“Good, thanks, and you?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Tyler, I’d like you to meet Fiona.”
She held out a hand to the young man. “Hi, Tyler.”
“Lovely to meet you, Fiona.” He kissed her hand. “If I may say so, you are a beautiful woman.”
Unaccustomed to compliments, though Marcelo often told her the same thing, heat raced over her chest and up to her ears. “Thank you.”
“What do you think?” Her lover whispered in her ear.
Fiona lifted her shoulders, flustered that she had to answer in front of the man. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Nice to see you again, Tyler,” Chelo said.
The young man wiggled his fingers in a flirtatious wave and turned back to his group of friends.
Marcelo hooked his arm in Fiona’s and planted a kiss on her cheek, leading her across the room again. “Let’s see if you like Jonas better.”
“I liked Tyler all right.”
“‘All right’ won’t do. I want you to love him almost as much as you love me.”
Love? Fiona wondered if what she had with Marcelo could be classified with such a pedestrian word, but she had also learned not to take the man too literally either. Honeyed words dripped off his tongue, but the veracity of those words had never been tested in the light of day. She doubted they ever would be.
A blond with Nordic facial features strolled up and shook Marcelo’s hand. “Chelo, where have you been hiding, man?”
“With this angelic lady here. Fiona, this is Magnus.”
Magnus cocked his head; his eyes roamed over her body. Fiona’s cheeks suffused with heat; the tips of her ears burned, the warmth racing down her torso and pulling at her cunt.
“N-nice to meet you,” she put out her hand.
With a handshake cold like a dead fish, he returned the salutation. “Likewise.”
During the time they had spent together, Marcelo had become in tune with Fiona
’s emotions and moods. He seemed to pick up on her unease.
“Thank you, Magnus, that will be all,” he dismissed the man. An expression of relief lightened Fiona’s features.
“Sorry to be so picky,” she said.
“Be as picky as you like. We will find the right one if it takes all night.” He looked around the room again and his eyes flashed with a glint of delight. “I think I know to whom I should introduce you.”
With that, he took her arm again and escorted her to a far corner where a man of singular beauty stood, making his own survey of the room. Curls the color of cinnamon, framed his high cheekbones. Full, rosy lips pressed to his glass and parted to take in a sip of amber liquid. A crowd had gathered around him and he tried to keep up with the various threads of conversation, all directed at him. Marcelo cut through the crowd and greeted his friend. The men hugged and braced their arms against each other.
Chelo introduced the young man as Angelito. Indeed, he appeared to be an angel. Taken aback by his gray-green eyes, she almost forgot to extend her hand. Fiona’s arm went rigid, fingers stiff as she offered a perfunctory greeting. Perhaps in reaction to her flustered state or maybe tenderness marked all of his gestures, Angel took her proffered hand in his raised it to his lips. The warmth of the kiss sent a shiver darting through her, flames licking at her wet cunt, nipple painfully tight.
Marcelo watched the interaction with a smile. “I believe we have found the third member of our trio.”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured.
Angel bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Bueno. Let’s adjourn to a more private place,” said Marcelo.
In the limo, Marcelo opened a bottle of champagne and passed around glasses. While Marcelo drained his glass, Angel took small sips. The young man’s gaze searched out Fiona’s, but she pretended not to notice, looking at the floor or at Marcelo. An unspoken transaction passed between the two men, a language of arched eyebrows and head nods. Angelito slid into the seat next to Fiona. Finally, she looked at him and gave him a self-conscious smile.