Wild Licks

by Cecilia Tan

  Yes, I’ve been on the receiving end of the knife, too. That’s how I learned.

  I traced imaginary whorls of smoke across her pale white back, then yanked her skirt down. Now I let the point snag her fishnets a bit as I traced up and down her thighs until I was ready to cut a hole big enough for my dick.

  “Step out of the skirt,” I commanded, “and spread your legs as wide as you can go.”

  She did. Yes, thank you, divine fate, for delivering this biddable gift into my life.

  I slid the knife carefully through the fishnets at the wettest place and then tore them with a backward slash of the blade, leaving her gasping…

  …and me amazed. Her tattoos suddenly visible to me now: Love. Pain. Excrucia.

  Fate, now you are just fucking with me. Thrill at having the very woman I was obsessed with delivered into my hands warred with the thought that she must have tricked her way in here. Or had she? Had Aurora found her? Did she know I was looking for her?

  I shoved a finger into her and she groaned eagerly, so wet and slippery and ready for me that it had none of the punishing effect I was hoping for.

  “Either you’re a massive coincidence, or you’re the woman I fucked at the Forum,” I said.

  She nodded but stayed silent, an intriguingly submissive choice.

  “Did you hear I was looking for you?”

  A more vigorous nod this time. Sweet angels. My cock strained against my fly as if it wanted to teleport into her. She came back.

  She came back for more.

  I decided to string her along a bit. “Do you know my rule?”

  She shook her head vigorously no. I finger-fucked her hard a few times.

  “I find that hard to believe and your disguise makes me think you know quite well. It’s common knowledge I don’t do repeat engagements.” I jiggled my finger inside her and provoked a gasp. Knowing that she had returned to me even after the previous taste of my depravity emboldened me to push her further. “But as you must have guessed, I was searching for you for a reason. And it wasn’t so I could return your panties.”

  She pushed back against my finger now, showing how eager she was to be fucked. I added a second and she moaned.

  All this chatter wasn’t merely building anticipation in her. It was stoking the Need in myself to furnace pitch. “It takes a very special woman to take what I dish out. Something about you made me think I could push you further, though. So I thought perhaps I could satisfy the rule another way. After all, I haven’t fucked your other hole yet.”

  It was patently obvious I was playing fast and loose with the rule, but within the lust-logic of the Need it sent a surge of hunger through me—through both of us. She clenched around my fingers when I said that. I took the opportunity to jam them in deeper and pull out a good load of her lubrication, which I then spread up and down her asshole. I pushed one finger in and nearly swore.

  “The truth, pet. Have you ever had anal sex?”

  She shook her head.

  By all ye gods and monsters. A virgin. This knowledge only sharpened my appetite for ravishing her, the beast in me roaring with approval. “Don’t move.”

  I looked for my road bag and found it under the table. I carried it back to her, then paused to strip off every stitch of my show clothes. She was trying to catch a look at me through the long strands of her black wig hanging down. I wondered if her real hair was red. At the time I’d thought it was a dye job but maybe it had been a wig and I hadn’t noticed.

  I dug out the small bottle of lube, a strip of condoms, and the leather belt I’d taken off to do the show. If you don’t take your belt off, or at least turn it to the side, the buckle scratches the back of the guitar.

  “You test me, Excrucia,” I said. “You test me, so I’m going to test you.” I trailed the doubled belt over her ass and she stiffened. “Keep those legs spread wide. I’m going to whip you with this belt. I’m going to whip you until every inch of flesh exposed is red. In fact…” I tore away more of her stockings, exposing the full globes of her butt cheeks. “Your ass, your thighs, your cunt.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  I did as I promised, flailing her with the leather until my arm was tired and her entire genital region was inflamed. Some women can’t withstand pain directly to the cunny. But she never buckled, never begged me to stop, never crumpled or curled into a ball.

  Which only made my desire to have her burn even hotter. What a prize. What an incredible prize. I’d known there was something about her that intrigued me, but I hadn’t expected this…perfection. I brushed my fingers over her swollen clit and she shuddered. LOVE PAIN her tattoo read. I believed it now.

  I found myself contemplating whether next time I could make her come with the belt and nearly came myself from the mere thought. And then the thought: Next time? You’ve already decided there’ll be a next time?

  Think about that later. Right now, think about where you want to put that cock of yours and what it’ll take to get it in there.

  So many possibilities. Use the belt to secure her hands behind her back and have her service me with her mouth for a while? No. I had no patience for that right now and I needed no assistance at all in the rigidity department.

  Lube, fingers, preparing her, stretching her. That was next.

  She stifled a soft cry, plaintive and hungry, when I drilled her ass with one well-lubed finger. This was going to take some time, but it was one of those tasks in which thoroughness would be rewarded and haste would mean ruin.

  I was good at being thorough because I was good at denying myself temporarily. It took long enough to work in a second finger that I began to wonder if her arms were growing tired of her position, then decided to let that be another test.

  Perhaps there was not as much weight on her arms as I thought. She began pushing back against me as I filled and stretched her. Very encouraging.

  A third finger was difficult but inevitable with patience. My hands are large. But so is my cock.

  “Time to take me, darling,” I said when the amount of lube in the bottle was beginning to dwindle and my hand was moving easily at last. “You remember how big I am?”

  She nodded. This silence thing was interesting. I would have to ask her about it…assuming she didn’t run off this time.

  I took my time tearing open the condom package and rolling it on. Her legs trembled with anticipation.

  I drizzled lube up and down my length and then rubbed the head against her now supple and sloppy hole. I still had to push to get it in but sweet angels and demons it was worth the effort. Two inches of me were buried in her and it felt like my entire body was throbbing with pleasure.

  I pushed another two inches in with a snap of my hips and she flung a hand back, trying to slow me. I allowed her that, taking the rest gradually—never letting up my weight but slowing the penetration, filling her bit by bit until there was no more to give.

  “You have me,” I whispered, and she shook. What beauty, what beauty in her obedience, her submission. It spurred such strange and sudden feelings in me, an urge to reward her, to glut her with pleasure, as well as to guard her jealously against those who would misuse or exploit that biddable nature of hers.

  These were unhealthy thoughts for me to be having about a strange girl I knew nothing about, a mystery woman who could be anyone, have any motive. But I could not stop having them with my cock buried as it was.

  Enjoy the moment, isn’t that what they say? I seized her by the hips then and force-fucked her hard five or six times, making her use her voice at last. She cried out wordlessly and I froze with the echo of her cry in my ears.

  I had just played a show and my hearing might have been off. But I knew Gwen’s voice when I heard it.

  Gwen.

  I had to be hallucinating. I had been obsessed with Gwen and with Excrucia and my lust-addled mind had decided they were the same person. Right?

  I fucked her hard, trying to clear my head, but the cries only s
ounded more and more like Gwen.

  Enough. “You sound like you’re not being satisfied,” I taunted. “Shall I put another beer bottle in your cunny?”

  Angels and devils, she nodded. Fine. I pulled out abruptly, went to the tiny fridge on the wall, pulled out a beer, and popped the top off. I drank a deep draught and poured the rest down the sink, then barked at her. “Turn over. On your back.” Now, I thought, I’ll see it’s not Gwen.

  It was Gwen. Heavily made up with black lips and false eyelashes and a black wig but it was Gwen. I could see why Nick had been fooled, but knowing her as I did now, there was no mistaking her. I pushed her knees up to her chest, stuffed my cock into her ass again, and teased at her slit with the beer bottle. She shuddered and wriggled until I realized she was trying to get her clit against the glass. This exquisite creature, for whom pain was pleasure, was the same woman who had sat prim and proper beside me at that banquet and had tittered amusedly in the theater at the sexual innuendos in band names? But she was also the one who had admitted that the works of Ariadne Wood turned her on, who had brazenly propositioned me in the limo, and who had tormented me with her tongue, a spoon, and chocolate.

  She had been wanting this all along.

  “You wanton thing.” I rubbed the lip of the bottle up and down against her clit and was rewarded with a wail from deep inside her as she came, the throbbing around my cock almost intense enough to make me come, too. I pushed the bottle aside and went after her clit with my thumb, wanting another orgasm from her almost as much as I wanted my own, pursuing it relentlessly.

  She screamed again, and then I thrust my thumb into her, fucking her in both holes at once, and any plans I may have been making to delay my own gratification further were shredded by an orgasm so intense I lost my vision, my breath, and probably my mind.

  * * *

  GWEN

  People throw around the phrase best sex of my life a lot when what I think they mean is “most recent sex in my life.” Like “best pizza I ever ate.” It wasn’t the best; it was just the most recent.

  Well, this was the best sex of my life up to that point. I’d never come so hard or that many times in quick succession. Because it was anal? Or because it was Mal? More likely Mal—his style, his technique, the way he made me feel—it all added up.

  When we were done, he moved to the small sink to clean up a little and I saw the tattoo on his back for the first time. Had I really not seen Mal shirtless from behind before? Perhaps I’d had a quick glance that time at the Forum, but his hair was so long it could hide the sinuous blackwork dragon that coiled up his spine and spread its wings across his shoulders. Right now his hair was in front, though, giving me a full view of the tattoo.

  He returned and lay down with me side by side on the narrow couch, slipping one hand between my legs immediately. That made me feel really weird—warm and wanted and possessed. I was used to withdrawing into my own body after sex and it was like Mal was holding the door open.

  I liked that feeling.

  “That was great,” I said, because someone ought to fill the silence.

  He grunted in agreement. “I must reluctantly concur.”

  “Reluctantly?”

  “Only in that you have forced me to reevaluate my rule.”

  How did he have the ability to speak like an English professor right after knee-buckling sex? I tried to engage my brain. “Did that rule exist because the second time is never as good?”

  His chuckle was low, dry. “You could say that.” He reached up to stroke my wig affectionately.

  What was he being so cagey about? That wasn’t a yes or no. I tried asking another way. “Is the problem that you get bored?” When he didn’t answer right away, I figured I had hit a nerve. “Because you’ll never get bored of me. I can be a different woman every time.”

  “Can you?”

  “Sure.” If I was looking for a test of my acting abilities, this would certainly be one. “You tell me what you want, or let me surprise you.”

  He slipped a finger inside me and I clung to his shoulders with my hands. He murmured into my ear. “You’ll find that I’m very difficult to satisfy.”

  I couldn’t answer for a few seconds, as his finger triggered waves of aftershocks through my body. Which gave me my answer. “So am I.”

  “And the reason I don’t do repeats is I become increasingly difficult to satisfy.” He chuckled again and I felt certain this was just more dirty talk, not the real reason for Mal’s rule. That was probably still fear of intimacy after all—which was why my proposal that I could be a different woman for him every time was perfect. The thrill of victory surged through me as he said, “If we’re going to do this, you need to understand I’m going to push you hard.”

  All I heard was we’re going to do this. Yes! “What do you mean by that?”

  He jammed a second finger in alongside the first. “I am first and foremost a sadist. I like pain. I like suffering—your suffering especially. Sexual suffering most especially. To me the purpose of bondage isn’t to look pretty or to tweak your leather fetish. It’s to make sure you can’t escape while I’m torturing you.”

  My throat tightened at the same time as I squeezed his fingers inside me. The words he was saying had stoked the fire between my legs to raging, even as my brain was thinking: Is he just playing around, or does he mean it?

  I really hoped he wasn’t just playing around.

  I tried to get back into character. “I don’t have a tattoo that says Love Pain by accident,” I snarled.

  With the hand that wasn’t deep in my snatch, he yanked my hair (thank you, wig clips!) and forced me to look into his eyes. “Why are you here?”

  “For the sex,” I said quickly.

  “Why me?”

  “Because your reputation says you’re the roughest of The Rough.”

  He searched my eyes. “A beautiful woman like you could surely have her pick of bedmates.”

  I nodded as best I could with his grip at the back of my neck. “And I pick you.” I tried to sound just as confident when I confessed the thing I hadn’t been able to say aloud, even while Chuck had been tattooing me: “Because it’s not just sex I need. I need pain, too.”

  “Perhaps this arrangement can be mutually satisfying, then,” he said, sliding his fingers in and out of me. “I promise no permanent damage, no scars. Beyond that, my dear, here is my pledge. Accept any pain I dish out, any command I give, and you will never take your leave of me unsatisfied. But refuse me and I will send you away unfulfilled.”

  “That seems fair,” I said, my hips starting to move in time with his thrusts.

  “I cannot promise that our trysts will be frequent,” he added. “Though I confess I would dearly like to see you next week.”

  Maybe it was just his accent but phrases like dearly like to see you sent my heart racing. “N-next week would be fine.”

  “I’ll secure a hotel suite. How will I contact you?”

  “I’ll give you my e-mail address.”

  “Excellent. Then I will send you not only the location but also instructions on who to be.”

  “How much time will you give me to prepare? If I need a costume or—”

  “Two days, at least. Now tell me honestly, Excrucia, do you want to come again?”

  I tried to close my legs around his hand but he blocked me with his elbow, his thumb working up and down my clit. “You’ve been fingering me. Of course I—”

  “A simple yes or no would suffice.”

  “Yes.”

  “The coin is pain, the return is pleasure,” he said. “Tell me what pain you’ll give me in exchange for this pleasure.”

  My heart beat in double time while I racked my brain. What pain? Did he mean what part of me I wanted him to hurt, or what way I wanted to be hurt? I was paralyzed by the possibilities.

  But I suddenly realized what the only right answer was. “I’ll give you whatever pain you want to inflict.”

  His grin w
as feral. “That’s right. You will.” With that, he bit down on one of my nipples and did not let up until I was screaming—from orgasm.

  * * *

  MAL

  Sweet mother of angels, what was I getting myself into? I left her in the trailer, well fucked and sated, while I fled to the refuge of my car in the outer parking lot. I managed to escape without running into anyone else from the band, which was fortunate because the thing I needed most at that moment was to be alone to think.

  It was already madness to have decided to go down this road with a groupie, but Gwen! I was full-on certifiably insane. I was putting myself on a collision course with everything I knew I should avoid. How long would it be before she came to realize that what I did to her was leaving unseen scars? How long before she renounced me and reviled me? How long before her self-esteem crumbled under the weight of submission? Risa had led me on for months before biting the hand that fed her. Risa, the woman I would have married despite my father’s approval, despite the issues, despite everything, had she not broken every promise and recanted every moment she had spent as my supposed slave.

  But Gwen is not Risa, I told myself.

  No, in fact, Gwen is not even Gwen, technically, having come to me twice now under a disguise. Did she know that I knew? She was certainly playing it cool if she did.

  I pulled onto the highway, letting my brain drive on autopilot while I thought. Either she had no idea that I recognized her or she was such a good actress that she didn’t let on the slightest bit. Both were possible, I decided. Maybe what she wanted most was to get away from her prim and proper heiress life and this charade allowed her to? I could certainly sympathize with that.

  If that was her strategy, it made a certain amount of sense. That way we could still be seen in public for PR purposes. She could pretend all we had was an arranged thing and so could I. We could keep all the rest locked away in our trysts.

  There was a kind of safety in pretending. I wondered if it allowed her more resilience, feeling that a scene was happening to a character instead of to her true self. Role-play seemed to ramp up the intensity while simultaneously allowing a kind of emotional buffer.