He gnawed on his lip, considering, and the grin turned into a smile, but there was a challenge to it. ‘Then let me tie you up.’
I unclenched my rectal muscles. ‘Okay.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
SLUT
We ate dinner in the kitchen, just Sebastian and me. I still wasn’t feeling very hungry, but he put out a bunch of cold cuts, some crusty bread and a salad, and I picked at them. The more I ate, the better I felt. Vodka was never a good idea on an empty stomach.
‘There are rules,’ said Sebastian, dipping a green olive into a second glass of vodka and popping it into his mouth.
‘I know. You wrote them out yesterday, remember?’ Was it only yesterday? God.’
‘No, I mean if you’re going to let me tie you up. There are rules for that too.’
‘For such an anti-authoritarian, you’re very big on rules.’
He waved my comment aside. ‘We need a safe-word.’
‘Is that like a combination, only with letters?’
Smirking, he shook his head. ‘Wow, you don’t get out much, do you? No. It’s a word you can use when you want me to stop what I’m doing.’
‘How about “stop”?’
Sebastian steepled his fingers and rested his chin on top, eyeing me across the kitchen table. ‘How many times in the last forty-eight hours have you said “stop”?’
That made me cringe. Thinking back, I’d been a bit of a whiny bitch. ‘Some, I guess.’
‘Did you mean it? Did you really want to stop?’
‘Well, kind of. Sometimes. And then . . .’
‘Sometimes not. Mostly not, true?’
‘Okay. Mostly not,’ I admitted, not very gracefully.
He got off his stool and walked up behind me, enfolding me in his arms. ‘Because, Shirakins, it’s like this,’ he whispered. Then his voice changed to a high falsetto. ‘Oh God! Stop. Fuck! Yes-ss! No! No . . . no . . . stop. Don’t stop. Harder. Like that!’ he squealed, pumping his hips against my ass.
‘I do NOT sound like that!’ I muttered. ‘I don’t!’
Soft, wet lips were at my ear, kissing it, insinuating the words that followed deep into my brain. ‘You do. It gets me rock hard, sweetheart, but you do. So you need to pick a word. Not “no” or “stop”. Something that will let me know for sure that you want me to stop what I’m doing.’
‘Uncle,’ I said reluctantly.
His face popped in front of mine. It was obvious he was trying not to laugh. ‘Uncle?’
‘Yeah, you know,’ I said sheepishly, ‘like calling “Uncle”.’
Still struggling not to smile, he pulled me off the stool. ‘Okay. Uncle it is.’
I figured I knew something about bondage because I’d seen pictures. The ball gag thing looked pretty gross, but the cuffs were sort of cool, with all the buckles. Plus, and it made me a little squirmy to admit it, I remembered seeing King Kong – the old classic – on late night TV, and the girl hanging from those ropes, waiting for Kong to come and take her away. Well, it had kind of turned me on. In fact, I’d fantasized about it occasionally while masturbating. Sebastian would definitely be better. He didn’t have all that fur.
When we got to his room, without thinking I tugged off my socks, undid my skirt, and pulled off my tee, and waited for Sebastian to get undressed too, but he didn’t.
‘Aren’t we going to do this now?’ I asked, feeling antsy, because now that I’d thought it through, I was definitely up for it.
He looked up from rummaging through a drawer beside his bed. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘Aren’t you going to get naked?’ I grinned.
‘No.’ There was no smile on his face. As if the evil-twin Sebastian had returned. ‘Get rid of those,’ he said, pointing at my panties.
‘What is . . .’
‘Get rid of them!’ It wasn’t quite a shout, but it was forceful.
I flinched and froze. Without waiting, he stalked around, grabbed me by the waist and flung me onto the bed. I bounced. Suddenly my heart was racing.
Grabbing a wrist, he yanked my arm up and I watched him bind it in a thick cuff that closed with Velcro. It had little ring on it. He clipped a tether to the ring and the other end to the head of his bedstead.
‘You’re scaring me again, Sebastian,’ I said in a small voice.
He straddled me and pulled the other wrist up, and did the same thing with it. ‘You know the word. Use it if you need to.’
‘But . . .’
He tangled his fingers in my hair, grabbed a handful and gave it a sharp tug. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it sure got my attention. Staring straight into my eyes, he said, ‘There’s no buts. There’s only the safe-word, or I go on. Don’t fuck with me. Is that clear?’ He punctuated each short sentence with a pull on my hair.
My heart felt like it was about to come out of my chest. All the hair on my skin – what was left of it anyway – stood up. I toyed with saying the word, just to see what would happen, and he must have read my mind, because he leaned down and kissed me softly.
‘You have to trust me, Shirakins. If you use the word, I’ll stop. Trust me.’
I nodded. For that one instant, the nice Sebastian was back, then – poof – he was gone. The evil one unstraddled me and yanked my panties off.
He sat on the side of the bed looking down at me. ‘Front or back? Front or back? Both so delicious, but what to do about the legs? Oh, fuck it!’ he muttered, grabbing my hips and flipping me over.
‘Ow!’ I grunted as my arms crossed over.
I tried to raise my head and look down at him, but the position I was in made it impossible. A warm hand drifted up my thigh, gliding over my ass cheek, rubbing it, and then it moved on, over to the other cheek. He caressed me, squeezed me, and then let his fingertips drift down the crack of my ass.
‘I’ve been dying to find out what these look like red,’ he whispered.
The slap made me scream. It was fast, sharp and loud.
For a moment, there was total silence in the room. It took what seemed like a very long time for my brain to register that he’d just hit me, hard, on the ass.
‘What the fuck?’ I bellowed.
The second smack fell on the other cheek. Instantly, I was about six years old and bent over my father’s bony knees, staring at the pattern on the carpet through swimming, tear-flooded eyes, feeling like I hated everyone and everything. But especially my father, for thinking that hitting me was going to make me knuckle under and say I was sorry.
King Kong never spanked Fay Wray; I was pretty sure of that. Fuck this, I thought, and opened my mouth to say the word, but he hit me again, and then again. Each time I breathed in to yell ‘uncle’, the pain took my breath away.
No! Damn it. No! I wasn’t going to say it. He wasn’t going to make me. This was Sebastian playing his games again and I’d be fucked if I’d cower for a couple of whacks on the butt. The next time he hit me, I clenched my jaw and refused to scream. I lost count of the times I congratulated myself for not giving in. Just as I had done when I was six.
Then, when I was sure that I couldn’t take another, when my ass felt like it was on fire, he slid his warm palms over my cheeks. ‘Lovely,’ he hissed.
I let out the breath I’d been holding in a long, loud groan. How could his hands feel so good after that? How could it . . .? Fingertips burned as they glided down the cleft.
‘Spread your legs.’
A whimper of defiance rose up in my throat.
‘Spread them,’ Sebastian growled
I did, inching them apart a little at a time. I was waiting for him to wrench them apart but he didn’t. Then, casually, coldly, his fingertips continued their journey downwards.
The laugh was hollow. ‘You’re fucking soaking. Your cunt is flooding.’ Fingers dipped into my hole and then drew the wetness back up over my ass. ‘And all it took was a couple of slaps. If only I’d known sooner.’
A huge tangled mess of feelings washed over me: my ass was st
ill stinging, I was angry from the pain and humiliation, and also incredibly ashamed that he was saying these things to me. But worst of all was that I didn’t care about anything else. I just wanted his fingers back in my cunt.
‘What do you want, you little slut?’
The word shocked me; I clamped my legs shut in response. ‘Shut up,’ I whispered.
‘No.’
He spanked me hard. So hard that I gave up trying to keep quiet. After the second few smacks, I just yelled each time he made contact until, eventually, it became a strange sort of rhythm, and my voice broke into sobs. They felt good somehow, as if I hadn’t cried in years, and all this stuff was emerging with every sob.
‘Spread your legs,’ he said again.
And this time I did. Because I didn’t care any more. All that mattered was to feel those big palms sliding over my stinging ass. When he obliged, I moaned. And when he drew his fingers between my crack and delved into my pussy, I moaned even louder.
‘Good girl. Very good girl.’
The bed moved as he knelt near me, straddling one of my thighs. He bent forward and brushed my hair away from my face. ‘That’s much, much better. Isn’t it?’
Fingers pushed into my cunt, slow and deep. ‘Isn’t it better, slut?’
‘Yes.’ I sobbed. Back arched, hips canted, I felt like a cat in heat.
‘Good girl,’ he cooed, stroking them in and out. ‘So wet, so fucking wet.’
I groaned. ‘Oh, fuck, Sebastian. What are you doing to me?’
‘I’m giving you what you need, sweetheart. Exactly what you need.’
Suddenly I felt the pressure of his thumb against my asshole.
‘No!’ I gasped.
‘Yes.’ The pressure grew. He stroked my face with his other hand. ‘Let me in.’
‘No-o,’ I sobbed. ‘Don’t.’ But it didn’t matter because he just kept pushing. I yelped as his thumb pressed inside.
‘Relax your muscles.’
‘I . . . I can’t.’
‘Of course you can, you just don’t want to. Let me in, just a little deeper.’
‘Stop it!’ I whined and squirmed. The sensation of having his fingers in both holes was just so strange. I felt pinned, violated.
‘Why?’ he said softly, pressing his lips against my tear-stained cheek. ‘Why do you want me to stop? You’re so wet.’
‘It’s . . . it’s . . .’ I tried to say it.
‘Dirty?’ He began to move his hand, pushing deeper inside me with each stroke. ‘Filthy. Nasty. Bad?’
My heart was pounding again, I was fighting for breath, sobbing. My body began to shudder. ‘Yes. All right? Yes!’
‘But you want me to.’ The words felt like he’d stripped my skin off my body. ‘You want me to make you come. Like this, with both your holes filled. Or . . .’
He paused. My muscles twitched around him.
‘What do you want, little girl?’ There was still a cold tease in his voice but, beneath it, I knew this was turning him on. And if that wasn’t enough, the rigid column of his erect cock pressed against my side.
I didn’t want to come this way. My body did – it was quivering and screaming and it was taking every ounce of determination I had not to allow my hips to do what they wanted to do. But my head – my head was so scared.
‘Fuck me. Please, Sebastian.’
I thought it would make him smile, but he didn’t let a shred of feeling show on his face. He just rolled over onto his back, tugging his t-shirt over his head, and undid his jeans. His cock sprang up through the breach.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, reaching for a condom, ripping it open and sliding it down onto his length.
Even the slick sound of the lube on the condom made me shudder. ‘Yes.’
He reached up and unclipped the tether furthest from him. Then, sliding one hand beneath my tummy, he pulled me onto him. His eyes were dead as he stared up at me. I pressed my face against his cheek because I was sure I looked like hell after all that crying. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked again, moving my hips with his hands, positioning me over his cock.
‘I’m sure,’ I whimpered, feeling the cockhead nudge my entrance. ‘Please.’
‘Do you remember the word?’
‘Yes. I do.’ Canting my hips, I pushed myself down, moaning as he slid inside.
He allowed himself the barest vestige of a smile, and then it was gone. He reached past my hips, clutching my ass, and pulled me down his length hard, grunting when he reached my cervix.
‘Good,’ he whispered, easing a finger into my ass.
I gasped and blinked. ‘Stop it!’ I yelled.
His hips began to grind, and he gave me a horrible smug smile. ‘You could have just had my fingers, but no – you filthy, greedy little girl. You had to have my cock as well.’
The word. What was the fucking word? Groaning, moving my hips, feeling my muscles squeeze around him. They loved it. They loved him. They loved how this felt, and I couldn’t get my mouth to say the word.
‘Shira. You feel so good,’ he panted. ‘Don’t stop moving like that.’
‘I won’t. I won’t. I promise.’ My body knew there was nowhere to go but down. Down there, to where he was waiting.
The second finger made me want to scream; the pleasure was so intense. All I could do was impale myself on him over and over. The sounds emerging from my throat were raw and bestial.
‘Oh fuck,’ I gasped, and tried to sit up, but the one wrist that was still bound had reached the end of its tether. I bent back over him, growling in frustration.
He laughed and arched his hips, rising to meet me. The buttons on his jeans dug into my thighs. Something in the cold metal streaked up my spine.
‘Oh my God! What have I been missing?’
My head snapped around. It was Jean, standing in the doorway with his hand over his mouth. He giggled and shrugged off his coat, then tossed it onto a chair. ‘Is this a two-person thing? Would you like me to go? Or can I stay and –’ his eyes traced the line of the tether to the bedstead ‘– watch?’ he asked weakly, sitting down on top of his coat.
‘No-o . . .’ I squealed, pressing my face into Sebastian’s chest. The embarrassment counted for nothing as far as my body was concerned. I was coming so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
Sebastian shuddered and arched into me. Even through the condom, I felt him ejaculate. He clutched my waist and pulled me down to him. ‘My God! Oh, yes . . . Christ,’ he gasped, his body jerking with pleasure.
Sebastian eased his fingers out of my rear and reached up to unclip the cuff. He looked up at me grinning like a madman. The evil twin was gone.
Panting, twitching, I tugged weakly at my arm. The metal clip jangled against the bedstead. ‘Let me go,’ I whined.
‘I’m sorry, Jean,’ he said, trying not to laugh and failing. ‘If you’d told me when you were getting here, I could have saved her ass for you.’
I sat up, ripping the Velcro apart on the cuffs and flinging them at Jean. ‘Shut up!’
Jean laughed and ducked as a cuff sailed by.
Something. Something about the pure insanity of the whole situation struck me as so funny I started to laugh too. I could feel Sebastian’s cock inside me moving as he laughed, which somehow made it all much funnier.
It took minutes for the laughter to subside. Sebastian pulled me down and rolled on top of me. ‘You did really well. You didn’t use the word once.’ He looked over at Jean. ‘Not once! She’s braver than you were, your first time.’
Jean came over and crawled onto the bed beside us, beaming. ‘What’s her word?’
Sebastian giggled. ‘Uncle.’
‘Uncle?’ Jean went into fits of laughter again.
‘What the fuck is wrong with “uncle”?’ I demanded, trying to be serious. ‘Well? What’s yours?’
‘Band-Aid.’ He bit his lip and snorted.
Sebastian pulled it together and pulled out of me. Painfully vivid images of the ridiculous tableau we
had presented to Jean upon his arrival began to crowd my brain. Even as the last few orgasmic aftershocks twinged at my muscles, I was grappling with the bed sheet and trying to get under it. When Sebastian stumbled into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Jean came and sat on the bed beside me, cleared his throat, and gave me a brief kiss.
‘So, can I have your ass?’
The lurid images I was still torturing myself with did not put me in the right headspace to joke about this. I was going to tell him to fuck off, but I reconsidered.
‘Only if you let Sebastian have yours.’
For what seemed like a very long time, Jean said nothing. Had I said something wrong? His face was an impassive mask. It did a good job of keeping me out.
‘You know, Shira? Enough is enough. You need to learn where the boundaries are. Some things are just none of your fucking business.’ The tone had that high, light quality that hid a sharp viciousness beneath it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
BROKEN
I caught my breath. It was as if Jean had taken a straight razor and sliced my throat open. Instantly, tears pricked at my eyes, and the anger of being cut so fast and so deep burned. At that moment, I would have done anything, paid anything to have been fully clothed. My nakedness made me so vulnerable. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, or lash out at Jean in anger or humiliation, but I knew if I didn’t move I would.
‘I love you, Jean. But I’ve got to go,’ I whispered.
I climbed out of bed with all the dignity I could manage, picked up my clothes and put them on in silence. The only thing I couldn’t find were my panties, but I wasn’t going to go hunting through the covers or under the bed for the fucking things. I couldn’t keep my cool that long.
Starting down the stairs, I could hear their raised voices – not what they were saying, but the tension in them. Jean’s was louder but, by the time I reached the landing, Sebastian had opened the door.
‘How the fuck did you expect her to react?’
There’s a lot to be said for Doc Martens, but lacing them up is a bitch and takes time. Even unlacing them enough just to get your feet back into them takes forever. Sitting on the sofa with my hands shaking, I fought to get them on as quickly as I could.
Beautiful Losers (Modern Erotic Classics) Page 13