by Adira August
Finally, a sound forced it’s way to her throat from the deepest recesses of her body, a moan so low she wasn’t sure it was audible. But he heard. His body tightened around her even more, the spasms wracking her frame built and her moans became a feral howl, her out of control body bucked against him and he fucked her harder, thrusting, slamming her burning skin and she came and came and when she thought she could bear no more she screamed because it was him, him -
“Bennnnnnnnnnnnnn!”
He would not have come. His balls had been so long tight against him, his cock filled and spilling precum, the band of fire inside him unbearable so long, but he focused on her. Holding her tightly, keeping all the energy, all the heat and ecstasy of her exquisite ordeal inside her. Knowing that even her bones thrummed with the pulses of her orgasms, one so closely following the other they were as one, minutes long as they totally consumed her.
And it made his cock impossibly harder, bigger. His balls swelled and she began to moan and he rocked his hips back without losing contact with her heated skin, just allowing himself to relax back and then driving against her again. He felt the waves of energy coursing through her as they swelled and broke and he timed each thrust to match.
Her cunt clamped down on his cock so hard he almost couldn’t pull back. He’d never felt it like this before, this tight yet perfect slick contact with her flaming insides. He’d never wanted to explode as fervently as he did now in this woman so amazingly open and accepting of all he had done.
He’d worked her over carefully with the short crop, not flicking it quickly to kiss and sting, but slapping her sharply, before pulling it away and up.
And she took it. Took it all. Her body relaxed and as still as she could manage over his thigh as her flesh quivered and colored and heated and she pleaded steadily with him for … orgasm? To up the intensity? But surely not to stop. She was far too wet, her folds deep red and so engorged they pushed her outer labia open to expose her clit, hard and proud.
She broke the rules again and again, saying “God,” and he knew she knew it and didn’t care. He would have broken them all himself to hear her call out his name, her voice thickened with arousal. But this she withheld.
She came and she came and he rode her like a bucking wild animal and thrust harder into her, spurring her on until she began to scream inside her chest, a wildcat snarling, gasping and he clamped her within his arms and legs and held her harder and slammed his cock into her, feeling her cheeks flatten and his sac slap her pussy over and over.
This was for her and he still he would not have come - but then -
“Bennnnnnnnnnnn!”
She called long and fervently for him and hot cum streamed out of his cock without a spasm. He poured into her, the impossible excitement of the pressure releasing undid him and he called to her in turn -
“Avienne!”
He felt a clenching spasm force more and more of his thick cum through his channel, keeping him open, gushing into her and into her and into her rippling core, far beyond his control.
He did it all banded about her, holding them both motionless, the vast energy overwhelming them, melding them. And in the moment he felt it begin to recede, he only had one thought.
What would I ever do without her?
Neither of them knew how long they had lain there, wrapped together. It was she who moved first. She pushed her arm up and out from under his and found the back of the blindfold. Slipping it off, she opened her eyes.
“Ben?”
His heart expanded at the sound of his name on her lips. “Yes, Avia?”
“I can’t see.”
He smiled into her shoulder. “Blindfold.”
“I took it off.”
His eyes opened. “It’s dark.” He raised his head and looked around the room. A clock face glowed. “It’s after eleven.” They’d slept for hours.
A long pause.
“How can it be so late?” She asked.
“Well, the earth rotates around the sun and spins while it’s doing that, so - ouch!” Something struck him sharply on the shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
“Crop.”
He smiled again. “It’s a bat, really. A crop is - ow! Cut that out!”
His hand found her hair and his fingers drifted through her soft waves.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“I - nevermind.”
His hand stilled. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
His hand found her shoulder and followed her arm to her hand, her fingers around the bat handle. He curled his fingers over hers and squeezed gently. Her thumb stroked his. She inhaled deeply and let out a long breath.
“You have to get up now,” she said.
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to her shoulder suppressing the powerful urge to kiss her. “Lie still and let me do this so I don’t hurt you.”
“You’d never hurt me.”
His eyes filled with sudden tears and he was very glad it was dark.
She was wearing the most amazingly soft and silky bathrobe she never imagined existed. Or could. It was gold with, not a printed pattern, but bright turquoise thread creating the most delicate floral pattern, with highlights of silver and darker gold and … it felt …
“I don’t want to know what this cost, do I?” She asked.
He’d just walked into the large dressing room with his duffel, barefoot in a gray t-shirt and sweats hanging almost off his hips. “The robe?” He asked, putting the bag on a counter next to the mirror. He extracted a jar of cream with the Hartlines logo.
“No idea. When I decided to spank you I called a guy I know in Texas who does these special women’s robes. I figured you wouldn’t have anything soothing enough for right after. Robes are nice. Comforting.”
He approached her unscrewing the jar. “You like it? He made me tell him what color your eyes were and hair and all that.” He looked over her shoulder at her reflection in the three-way mirror. “Beautiful.” He slid one hand up her arm to her shoulder.
“Why?” Avia asked him.
“I think it’s the color matching your eyes or -”
“-No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Are you being deliberately evasive? Why buy me a robe, why not just tell me to bring one?”
“Did you forget I don’t explain?”
“Did you forget you don’t give your Companions anything but food and water?”
He pulled over a pretty upholstered dressing chair, from near the shoe shelves. “You’ll need to take the robe off while I take care of your ass.” He said.
“You kidding? I’m not ever taking this off,” she said.
“I’ll tell Tom you approved. Now -” He her gave her a severe look. “Do as you’re told. Or did you also forget the Rules are in force?”
“Did you also forget you told me to speak freely?” She tried for a teasing tone. He wasn’t buying.
He noted her fingers, whitened, they were clutching the robe so tightly. “Avia? What’s wrong?” No answer. “I just want to take care of you, okay? Are you afraid of me, now?”
Tears spilled. Shit, she thought. It was going so well.
“Answer me, no more games.” He said seriously.
“I’m afraid to look,” she whispered.
“Like at my office?” He asked. She nodded. “You don’t have to. I’ll be looking. Back up here to me.”
She did as he said, looking at her triple reflection, tear-stained and wan. He stood up behind her to slide the robe off.
“Can we just lift it up?” She asked, clutching the satin lapels even more tightly.
“If you’d rather.” Bending his legs, he caught the hem of the floor-length garment and lifted, exposing her bottom. “Beautiful,” he said again, gathering the folds of silk for her to hold up.
He retrieved the cream from the chair and sat behind her, spreading the soothing, cooling aloe and moisturizer blend over her thighs and buttocks.
“H
ow does that feel?” He asked.
“Good. Really good,” she said, surprised. “Is it anesthetic?”
“A little bit. Mostly it cools and moisturizes. I should have done this right after but, we fell asleep. I’m sorry.” He capped the jar. “Now, stay like that a minute.”
He stowed the jar in one drawer, opened another, taking out a small, silky garment.
“Face me,” he said, sitting again. She did and he shook out cream-colored long-legged panties with lace edging on the outside.
“Pettipants?” She asked smiling.
“Catalogue item,” he said. “Hang on to me for balance and step in.”
She draped the robe fabric over her arms like a shawl and leaned over to place her hands flat on his broad, solid, shoulders. Her anxiety level fell and she relished the peace that settled over her, watching him so carefully slide the panties up and hold the elastic away from the places he’d spanked her.
“These are made for us, not as high quality as the robe, but nice. The legs are long to protect your thighs. Now you can drop the robe and not stain it.”
She did, feeling the loss of him when she let go. “You make spanking panties?” She asked. “I didn’t see those.”
He stood up. “It’s a big website. And we do make spanking panties, as well as the tear-away ones I gave you. These are aftercare panties.” He went to the shoe racks. “Here, try these,” he said, turning around with a pair of slippers in turquoise and gold.
“Aftercare? You need to care for me, after?” Is this a thing so common they sell products for it? She wondered.
“I need to take care of you at all times,” he said dropping to one knee as he placed the slippers on the sea green carpet at her feet.
He stood and her hand went back to his shoulder as she stepped into them. She looked up at him, so much taller than she without her shoes, her hand again on the wide flat top of his shoulder. His eyes warm and caring in his strong, beautifully masculine face. Suddenly she shrugged out of the robe and let it fall to the floor.
“Avia?” He asked, surprised.
She took a step back to the mirror and, before she could lose her nerve, pulled the pettipants carefully down, studying herself. No red. No blood. No outlines of crop keepers. She seemed to have an uneven sprinkling of dots, like pink salt had been shaken over her. It wasn’t red, but there were places that looked like she’d used a blush brush on her bottom.
“It was much prettier just after I finished,” he said, next to her, looking in the mirrors with her. “Even and deep pink and lovely. I thought my dick would explode just looking at you.”
“You are a born romantic, Mr. Hart,” she said. “What’s with the dots?”
“Bit of petechial rash. If you hadn’t been so receptive, you wouldn’t even have that.”
“I don’t understand. And before you say it, I already know you do. Now I’d like to.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to tell you that your obvious affinity for the activity and your very high level of responsiveness caused me to adjust my original estimate of the intensity needed, upward,” he said.
“You hit me harder than you were going to.” She translated, pulling the panties back up and allowing him to help her on with the robe he retrieved from the floor.
“Yes.” He agreed. “But I also spanked you longer than I anticipated, with two layers from the more intense implement, instead of two with the lesser and one with the greater.”
“Because you thought I liked it,” she said. His eyes went instantly three shades darker. Whoa - hang on … His voice thick with his desire.
“I know you loved the touch of my hands and the sting of the paddle. I know exactly what you wanted me to do to you.”
Avia took a step back, into the hard surface of the mirror. He knew ... oh, fuck ... Her nipples traitorously hardened and distended right under his gaze, poking the fine fabric, seeking his touch. She couldn’t help marvel at her body’s response to him, so strong after all they’d already done.
He leaned over her, hands flat on the mirror on either side of her head, trapping her. Eyes bright and dark and hot. He spoke from the place that seemed to vibrate the air between them, low and intimate.
“Would you like me to do that now, Avia?” He ran his nose along her cheek and over her ear, trailing the warm tip his tongue over the opening. “Would you like me to spread your legs and spank you? Make you feel the sting against your sex and your clit and all along your lovely vulva? Would you like that Avia?”
She could barely breathe for panting, barely stand for the weakness of her knees.
One hand went under her chin, his finger and thumb spanned the width of her jaw. He gently tilted her head back and lowered his mouth to the side of her neck. How can his lips be so soft and so firm at the same time, she wondered, as he sucked her and let her feel his teeth against her pulsing carotid and slid his mouth along her skin around to the other side to the hollow just above her collarbone. ... oh Ben … pressed his lips there, tasting her, sucking her and she moaned and writhed against the mirror.
His mouth moved up her neck to her ear. “Answer me, Avienne. Do you want me to paddle your cunt until you come?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“That’s what you thought about while I was spanking you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she moaned. She was hot and aching between her legs, but her ass was warming, too, and her thighs, the nerves reawakened. Her hips thrust forward but he kept his body from her.
“You thought about the paddle. And later, you thought about the crop. Feeling the harder sting, over and over. About the leather finding your clit and making you come. You thought about that, didn’t you, Avia?”
Her eyes widened, How could he know, how could he read her mind?
And both his warm strong hands slid under the robe and over her buttocks and pulled her hard into him, into his amazing solidity and his very substantial erection.
“Is your ass burning now, Avienne?” he asked close to her ear in his low, seductive voice.
“Y-yes!” She gasped. One hand kneaded her ass while the other slid firmly down the back of her thigh, fingers reaching the soft inner flesh.
“Does this hurt, Avia?”
“Oh … yes,” She gasped. “So good.”
“Tell me, don’t get lost in the feeling. Tell me, how the pain you thought before would be brutal, feels so good, now.”
She put her hands on his biceps and tried to clear her mind, to think. And she smiled. His eyes warmed.
“You have to tell me now, with that mysterious smile.” He kept stroking her, palms skating and squeezing over her panties.
She worked hard to think and speak. Control her breathing. “It’s like a mosquito bite, red and hard and itching and making you crazy. But if you use a ruler, like in school, to smack it, you feel pain, but it’s so, so good. The itch stops but comes back and you hit again and again, harder and harder and the pain feels so good and makes the tormenting itch finally stop.” She cried out a little as he pressed the head of his cock through his pants against the base of her clit.
“You stung me,” she said. “You made me want and itch and need. The more I wanted, the more it spread - further. Deeper. The pain is - I’m not sure it’s still pain, it’s so good.”
“Now you can explain it to your readers, yourself, can’t you?” He allowed himself a brief triumphant smirk. He dragged his mouth over her cheeks and neck and ears. “Shall I spank you now, then? Make you feel really good? Give you everything you wanted?” His hands slipped inside the panties, running deliberately over her sensitized skin, driving her further into a spiral of need.
“Ah … ah … oh G - … Benedict…”
The sound of his name on her lips went right to his dick, making him desperate to plunge into her, slam her into the fucking mirror …
“The crop is right here, Avia. Tell me what you want,” he breathed against her neck, searing her flesh, controlling
himself.
She pushed him back. His head came up, eyes locked on hers, glimmering with arousal. “Fuck me,” she breathed. “You were inside me. I was coming. I never felt you enter me. You were just … there. Enter me, open me, now, when I can see you. I want to pay attention.”
Yes! He closed his eyes and grabbed her shoulders, clamping down on himself before he did bodyslam her to the floor.
“Don’t move.”
He ripped off his sweats and t-shirt, kicking them aside and slung the chair over in front of the three-way mirror, angled to the side to reflect every possible view.
When he looked up, she was obediently still, but her eyes roamed greedily over his body, coming to rest on his throbbing erection, tight against his abdomen, glistening with precum. Her lips opened, her tongue darted out to wet them.
Ben grabbed her hand, pulled her with him as he backed up to the chair and sat, standing her directly in front of him, between his open legs. With no ceremony, he peeled the panties down and off her and tossed them away. He slipped the robe from her shoulders and dropped it in a silky mound next to the chair.
He ran his hands up and down her thighs, front, back, insides.
“Spread.” He ordered. With a little moan she moved her feet apart.
He glided his hands up the front of her body, over her firm abdomen and ribcage to her breasts. His fingers found her nipples. She gasped and threw her head back as his fingers tightened, squeezing and pulling.
“Ah … ah ...” she panted, her hips thrust slightly. Her hands went to his shoulders. He knew her knees were weakening from her arousal.
His hands were on her breasts, but his focus was on her pussy, in front of him. She bloomed, like flower petals, moist and pink, her clit peeking out.
Sliding down from her breasts, his hands worshipped every inch of her smooth skin as he moved them over her ribcage, around to her back and down, over her buttocks to the backs of her thighs. He drew his hands firmly up to the curve of her ass again. He squeezed her and kneaded her, to re-sensitize every square centimeter.