by Trent Evans
“N-no. Sir.”
His gave her a quick smile, a flash of teeth, then he brought his other hand down onto her breast, the sound of the slap shocking her more than the pain.
“Now?”
“A little.”
Truthfully, had he done that the first couple weeks after conception, she’d have shrieked. Her breasts had been so sore, even putting on a bra had hurt. Now, there was some soreness under the areolas, but other than that she just had slightly tingly nipples. Oh, and the fact that they were almost constantly hard.
His palm cracked down again, harder, and she grunted, pain flaring now.
“Got your attention with that one, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Her clit felt like it was about ten times its normal size, each throb of pain in her breast seemingly directly connected to that sensitive bundle of nerves.
He spanked her breast twice more, the blows thuddy and stinging, then dropped her now throbbing breast, only to lift the other, and subject it to the same treatment.
She jerked as he spanked it three times in quick succession, then sat back, his gaze appraising his handiwork.
“Not too bad,” he said, seemingly to himself, as if Kirsten’s opinion or even acknowledgment weren’t even important. “I’d punish them more, but I need to make sure what’s safe. Still… “
He leaned forward again, and slapped her breasts side to side, left to right, then back again, and she turned her head, eyes closed. Those definitely hurt, as the heavy globes swayed and bounced under the blows, the aching flaring within them again.
“Hurting?”
“Yes, Sir.” She bit off a quiet sob. It confused her that despite the pain, her nipples had tightened to hard little bullets, as if begging for more attention.
His palm cracked against each breast in turn with a loud slap, lifting each one on the blow to bounce and sway on her chest. She moaned loudly, her eyes burning, the tears threatening now. What was happening to her?
“Hurting a lot?”
“Yes… Sir.” A tear escaped then, running down her cheek, and she broke position to flick it away with her thumb.
She didn’t understand what was going on. Yes, Keihl was slapping her breasts around, but he wasn’t hurting her that badly, and though she tried mightily to ignore it, each painful throb of her spanked breasts made her clit swell even larger, made the lips of her sex slicken with moisture. Even now she could tell he was going very easy on her. Judging by the desperate bulge she saw between his thighs, even doing that was testing his self-control. So why was she crying?
He frowned, then slid down to a knee between her and the bed. “Give me your hands.”
She clasped them in his, grateful not to have them behind her back anymore, the position making her feel impossibly vulnerable.
He noted the hard nipples, circling them with agile fingertips. “I’m surprised. I thought they’d hide from your punishment. They’re doing anything but, aren’t they?”
She dropped her head, the heat blazing across her cheeks.
“Does being punished… turn you on? Do you like having your breasts punished?”
No! Yes! Fuck.
“Answer me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, a warning.
“I don’t know, Sir.” She looked up at him through the fringe of her hair, needing that illusion of being hidden from his gaze. “Maybe.”
His hand dropped between her thighs, and she gasped as his fingers stroked through the soft, wet lips of her sex.
“I’d call this a whole lot more than ‘maybe’, Kirsten.” He held up glistening fingers, her scent strong on the air. “You’re almost dripping.”
Her gaze slid down once more, looking at the carpet between the slopes of breasts flushed a mottled pink from his slaps.
“You forgot something, girl.”
She glanced up.
His wet fingers tapped at her lower lip. The hot blush spread to the roots of her hair as she took those fingers into her mouth, sucking the tangy juices from his skin, the scent of her own sex filling her nostrils.
“Do you like pain, Kirsten?”
Averting his eyes, but still licking his fingers, she shook her head.
“But you like being forced to endure it, don’t you?”
How does he know? Are you that fucking transparent?
Reluctantly, she nodded, not letting his fingers go when he moved to pull them away.
He smiled at her indulgently, letting her continue her oral ministrations.
“You don’t like the pain, but you like that I give it to you, hmm?” He leaned close, his hot breath on her ear. “I don’t see much of a distinction there, bad girl.”
But there was! There… had to be. A woman knows her own self-image, it’s intimately connected to everything, to every experience, every emotion. A map to what makes her tick. So how was it possible to stumble upon such a revelation? Had she just kept it buried? Afraid to take that truth out and really look at it, wonder what it might mean? It wasn’t possible, was it? No, it couldn’t be.
Nothing’s impossible, Kirsten.
She should’ve said no, shaken her head. Anything. But instead she went right on licking those long fingers, gazing at him, knowing he could see the truth in her eyes, the truth she didn’t have the courage yet to speak.
Keihl rose, pulling his fingers from her mouth, giving her cheek a little caress. He sat on the mattress once more, spreading his legs. Her eye immediately went to the bulge there, no doubt aching by now. She glanced up at him.
“I could take care of that for you.”
“I like that idea.” His fingers submerged into the hair at the back of her head, taking a firm grip. “Take it out.”
The eagerness with which her hands set to the task had another blush heating her face. She kept her eyes down, on his cock, as she pulled it from his fly. A shudder ran through the hard muscles of his thighs as her small hand closed on the thick, veined shaft. She squeezed it and he let out a groan, giving her a dark look.
Smiling at him winningly, she did it again, stroking down to the base, then back up to the head, her grip firm the whole time, the veins congested, the heat of him in her palm almost burning.
“Jesus,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Are you kidding?” He gave her hair a squeeze. “Keep going. Fuck, keep going.”
Up and down she stroked, marveling at the feeling of power it gave her to hold him in her hands, each firm stroke wearing down his aloofness just a little bit more. The slit at the tip wept fluid as her strokes increased in pace, and she darted forward, licking the salty liquid from him. His sharp intake of breath made her smile. She cupped the heavy testicles, giving them a gentle squeeze, and he growled at her, his head leaning back.
“Sorry, Sir,” she murmured, watching the way the cords of his neck stood out as she stroked him even faster. His thighs trembled now, his hand squeezing her hair then loosening, even his fingers trembling. He looked down at her, his jaw clenched, eyes glazed with lust.
“Kneel up. I want to see those tits while you do it.”
“Yes, Sir.” She rose enough to give him a good view of her breasts. She stopped stroking a moment, the big penis lolling, twitching with his heartbeat, and took her breast in hand. She ran the hard nipple under the head of his cock, back and forth, a whispering caress, and Keihl cursed under his breath.
“Yes,” he said. “More. Do it.”
She knew what he liked — and what she liked doing — so she knelt forward, squeezing the blazing hot shaft between her breasts, stroking him with the soft curves, the broad head brushing the hollow of her throat on each down stroke. She looked down, fascinated at the way the shaft nearly disappeared, then surged up from between the pale mounds of her breasts, the almost purple cock inflamed even more with each stroke.
“I can’t wait to see … how they feel.” He leaned forward, his hand tightening in her
hair, forcing her to look up at him. “When they’re full and aching with your milk, you’ll be doing this again.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the image. The idea that that would be a turn-on for her, had never occurred to her. She’d heard the stories of the husbands who seemed to shut down, seemed to want to treat their women with kid gloves, not even touch them.
Apparently, that wasn’t an issue with her husband. She gave him a smile, suddenly wishing she could kiss those soft lips of his again.
He pulled himself from the clutch of her breasts, giving her a head a little shake as he held his cock in a fist. “Now, your mouth.”
His hand helped her as she took the hot shaft between her lips, the incredible male scent of him making her eyes close in delight, her moan coming from deep in her chest.
She grasped his thighs, but he gave her a shake again, pulling her off his cock.
“Hands clasped behind your back. Keep them there or I’ll do it for you.”
“Yes, S—”
He pulled her onto him again, pushing her down further with each stroke, the head tickling her gag reflex. She stiffened each time, but he didn’t let up.
“Just relax it. I’ll go slow, but I want you to take all of it.”
All of it!
He was big, and he knew her gag reflex was insanely strong. He hadn’t made her try to deep throat him since they were first dating. Her gaze met his though, and he gave her a little nod, a little grin curving his lips.
“Do it, girl. Be good.”
She closed her eyes, clenched her hands tightly and willed her throat to relax. Slowly, he pushed her down the shaft, the heavy head seeming to block her throat. Then he pulled her back, just a little, the heavy cock pulsing on her tongue, the corners of her mouth wet now as she took him again.
“That’s it. Good girl,” he cooed, stroking her cheek as she managed the last inch, her nose brushing the wiry pubic hair. He held her there a moment, the vein in her neck pounding, her eyes shut as she concentrated. Mercifully, he let her up, and she took a breath, licking at the glistening head he held to her lips.
“We’ll get you plenty more practice,” he said, winking at her.
She dipped her head, intending to take him in again, her mouth watering, but he held her fast by the hair, giving her a little shake of his head and a mischievous quirk of his lips.
“Not now. There’s something else I want first.” He stood, his fist pulling on her hair, the truncheon of his thick cock waving over her. “Get your ass up on that bed.”
* * *
Her eyes went wide when he wrapped the first leather cuff around her wrist, securing it by the rope to the wrought iron of the headboard. He still remembered her blush when he’d whispered to her that there were plenty of interesting uses for that iron headboard. She’d colored a deep red as she stood on that showroom floor at the mattress store, Keihl trying and failing to stifle a laugh. He thought she’d never looked more beautiful than when she blushed like that, something so girlish, when Kirsten was every bit the strong, modern woman.
“Why?”
“Because I want to, bad girl.” He kissed her palm above the leather. “And when you see what I’m about to do, you’ll thank me for it.”
He tied off the other hand, slipping a finger under the leather at each wrist. Snug — the way he knew she liked, but would never admit — but safe for the circulation. She wasn’t going anywhere for a while, so he needed her as comfortable as he could get her.
He stood up then, looking her over, his erection jutting from his open fly. He ignored it, taking in the sight of his beautiful, helpless wife. Her body was one long, gorgeous line of naked, trembling flesh, her thighs pressed tightly together below the plump mound of her cunt, the dark curls trimmed to a neat V that he longed to run his fingers through.
“What are you going to do… to me?”
She couldn’t quite hide the trembling of her soft, pink lips.
“Whatever I want, of course. The Game, remember?”
Kirsten swallowed, giving him a small nod.
He sat down next to her, taking the opportunity to explore her while those hands were nicely out of the way. His palms eased down the slim muscles of her arms, his fingertip tickling the silky smooth underarm, making her squirm and frown at him.
“Not fair,” she murmured, pulling at the cuffs.
“Not fair is precisely the point.” He leaned close, giving her a little kiss on the tip of her nose. “And that’s just how you like it.”
“You mean how you like it.”
“Do I?” He walked fingers down her chest, tapping a rock hard nipple, its twin reaching for the sky, the broad coral areolas tight. He flicked each one. “Exhibit A and Exhibit B, these two aching hard nipples, both say you’re lying.”
“It’s cold in here.” She bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth turned up.
He grasped one of her nipples in his fingers, pinching hard. She sucked air through her teeth, her gaze snapping to his, lust flashing in her eyes.
“Remember? You don’t like it, but you like that I give it.” He leaned over her, laving that freshly pinched nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Did I get that right?”
Her gaze slid away, but he caught the smile she tried to hide.
“I asked you a question, girl.” He slapped her breast, the generous mound wobbling enticingly.
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s better.” His hands caught the heavy breasts in his palms, and he squeezed them firmly, then again, harder, his cock jumping as she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth falling open. “Now, let’s try again. Tell me, are those big, hard nipples of yours standing at attention because it’s cold? Or is it… something else?”
“Keihl—”
“What was that?” He gave her soft breasts an admonishing shake.
“Sir. They’re… sensitive.”
Shit.
He should’ve thought of that before he pinched her nipples so hard. Pregnancy.
Might remember to go a little easier on her. Jackass.
“Is it your nipples or your breasts?”
She normally had sensitive nipples anyway, and he knew she could come just from having them played with roughly. But he’d remembered the warning about first trimester, when her body would be bathed in new hormones.
“The… nipples. Soft is okay, but… “
“What about this?” He squeezed her breasts again, more gently now, knowing she loved it.
Her eyes wouldn’t raise to his, but her breathing was coming faster now.
“Kirsten, answer the question.” He leaned over her, giving each nipple a hard suck, savoring the salt on her skin. “I’ve got all the time in the world, bad girl. I can play with these tits all night long. Would you like that?”
“It’s… so good. Sir.”
“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She moaned, dropping her head back as his hands gave her another slow, deep squeeze, kneading those soft, vulnerable breasts he couldn’t wait to see swollen heavy with milk. He could already imagine the tracery of bluish veins, the bright welling drops at those dark, swollen nipples as he made her wait just that little bit longer before relieving her.
You’re an evil fuck, you know that?
He smiled to himself, fondling her some more, leaning close to her ear, whispering promises and threats, until he heard her breathe his name, her voice trembling.
Sitting up again, he ran his hands down her still smooth, flat belly, anticipating watching it swell, month by month. He’d never realized how much he enjoyed the prospect of her body changing, transforming as a result of what he’d done, what they’d done. The power of it filled him with a primal exhilaration, making him want to roar triumphantly. It was absurd of course, but now he really did understand that secret, selfish male pride at planting that seed in the woman you loved, and protecting her, loving her while that new life grew inside her.
His hand
smoothed over her mound, the silken fur of her luxurious pubic hair against his palm. He curled his fingers over that plump sex, giving it a gentle squeeze, making her gasp. Her sex was seething, moisture already slickening the swollen lips. Her thighs clenched tighter, as if she might trap his hand, but he tsked, giving each thigh a harsh slap.
“Open them.”
She didn’t budge, so instead of slapping her thighs, he brought his hand down on her mound. Her shocked eyes flew open, her jaw dropping.
“Do you want more?” He chuckled, dipping a finger between soft inner lips, stirring up the moisture there, his fingertip finding the already swelling clit, then wiping a glistening trail of juices up into her pubic hair. He grinned at her, holding up the soaked finger. “What am I saying? Of course, you want more.”
He held his palm against her pussy, threatening.
Her thighs opened, slowly at first, then faster when he smacked each one hard, the loud slaps making her cry out. The hand marks had melded into ruddy smudges across her pale skin by the time she’d spread them fully.
Keihl stood, walking around to the foot of the bed, Kirsten’s hunted gaze following him.
He lay down over the foot of the bed, Kirsten’s fragrant pussy inches from his mouth. He looked up over her mound, and caught her eyes.
“Wider, Kirsten.”
“Keihl, I can’t.”
“I’ve watched you do yoga — which you’re still going to be doing, by the way. I know you can stretch more than this.”
He laid a palm over the blazing, splotchy red hand prints staining the white of her inner thigh, glaring at her.
She grunted, stretching yet farther, her face as red as the hand prints across her thighs as her sex spread obscenely wide, the swollen, red lips sticky with her juices.
“There we go,” he said. She shuddered as he pressed a soft kiss to the tender flesh at the join of thigh, the moist labia brushing his cheek.
“Please…”
“Please, what?” He grinned up at her, his fingers combing through the soft curls atop her mound. “Tell me.”
“I… need you.”