Darkest Fantasies

by Raines, Kimberley

  'What, fed up already?' he said, his light words betraying faint irritation. The damn girl was ripe for chastising, damn her. Except there was no way he was going to get it up for a while now. Hell, he'd get her ready and she could damn well wait for him.

  He advanced on her with the leg-stretcher, and she instantly flew into action, kicking with a force which would have downed him had he not been expecting it. He thrust her onto the bed again so he could sit on her bum while he efficiently strapped the implement to her ankles before stretching her legs accommodatingly wide and securing them there.

  Going back to the chest he pulled out another stretcher, and once again sitting astride her managed, with very few scratches, to get her wrists untied and secured to the bar. Then he lifted her bodily and carried her to the beam where the electric pulley was waiting, and attached its hook to the centre of the wrist-stretcher before walking over to the electric pulley to wind the contraption up until she stood on tiptoe.

  'That good, darling?' he said.

  'Could be better,' she snapped. 'Not very original, is it?'

  'Patience, dear girl,' he replied. 'We've got plenty of time. Now, just let me slip this nice little hood on for you. Anticipation is a marvellous aphrodisiac.'

  'I don't like hoods,' she snarled.

  'Getting a little fainthearted, are we?'

  Her eyes darted daggers at him and she tried to lash out with her feet, but the stretcher made it impossible for her to achieve any level of accuracy or strength. Kevin advanced with the rubber hood stretched between his hands. 'Open wide, my dear. This one has a nice pump-up gag, which is just up your street.'

  He made a fist and stuck a single finger up at her. 'This is your fail-safe sign, d'you understand? You do this to me and I'll stop whatever I'm doing, instantly. But if you do that, I'll go home and that will be the end of it. Now, let's see what you're made of, you rich-bitch cow.'

  'What the hell do I need a fail-safe for?' she challenged aggressively. 'I've never needed one before, arsehole.'

  'I doubt anyone's ever given you the thrashing you deserve, either, bitch.'

  She quivered with excitement. 'You're going to thrash me?'

  'I'm going to do what daddy should have done ages ago. I'm going to mark this lovely white bottom with red lines that criss-cross each other, and I'm going to do lots of other things I will thoroughly enjoy. Then when you're really sore I'm going to have sex with you any way which pleases me, and I don't care if you never come. Do you understand?'

  He could see she did from the way her eyes began to glaze.

  He forced the hood over her head, pushed the gag into her mouth, and pulled the laces tightly down the back, trapping her into darkness and silence. He ran a hand up beneath her skirt, feeling the dampness of his previous loving between her legs, and felt her quiver with anticipation. She was certainly a nubile sexpot. He moved between her accommodating legs and rubbed himself against her, just for the pleasure of being able to do so.

  'Right, let's get you naked, Louise, and have a good gander at what you've got to offer.' Discovering a pair of scissors lying on her dressing table, he began slowly, and with great enjoyment, to remove her clothes. She was distinctly unhappy about this arrangement, and made it clear by the grunting noises of discontent that she didn't approve of her designer-ripped clothes being mutilated by the hand of an amateur. However, she did not give him the finger, so he carried on until she was standing there stretched into a wide St Andrew's cross, wearing nothing but her creamy-white birthday suit, with her firm buttocks and ample breasts jutting enticingly.

  He cupped those breasts in his hands, weighing them with enjoyment, then slid to the nipples and began to roll them between thumb and forefinger. She moved slightly in time with him, her hips echoing the speed, then jerked as the pressure increased. He noticed her stomach pull in, her chest rise as he carried on twisting, harder and harder, turning the brown teats into barley sugar sticks, one way, then the other way. When he finally let go they were almost twice the size they had been initially, infused with blood.

  He ran a finger down her side, from armpit to thigh, and as he stroked her skin seemed to crawl before him, sensitised beyond anything he had ever seen before. From the way she was moving, the way her hands clenched and stretched, he realised she was ready for sex, that her body was in the throes of heightened enjoyment. Not that he was ready to play again. It was easy for a woman; she just had to be a receptacle. The man, however, had to manage an erection, and that was just not possible so soon after shooting his load. But he knew confidently that it would come back. He wasn't too bothered about the wait, and she, after all, had no choice.

  He slipped away from her and deftly removed his own clothes. He now knew what Louise wanted, for whatever reason: domination and pain, pure and simple. That anyone could actually desire or be aroused by pain was a new concept for him. It was something he had always fervently believed only existed between the pages of books and in his own twisted imagination, yet here it was, in the flesh. His own experience with his fantasy woman, so real he could almost taste it, had confirmed this exciting knowledge to his own flesh. Pain and lack of physical control over its delivery were stimulating to the nth degree. Though Kevin was already stimulated simply by the excitement of the situation, he didn't want to hurry. He wanted to linger and wallow in pleasure while he hurt her, for only in his darkest dreams had he ever expected to find a woman in need of this kind of domination. He had never, in his whole and varied sexual career to date, expected to be presented with one in the flesh. Even the thought sent a small and pleasing signal to his prick, making him shiver with exhilaration.

  She waited, hanging there, for him to use. He could sense her tension, her expectation, though he had not touched her again. He wandered over to the window, let the blinds up a bit, and sipped his drink, watching the sun highlight her body as life went on in ignorant bliss outside. He knew she listened to the sound of his movements, and was absolutely aware of herself and him, and their intertwined roles.

  When ready he carefully put his empty glass down and, moving silently like a prowling animal, chose from her chest a whippy riding crop. He bent it between his hands as he imagined her going into a shop to purchase it, secretly excited, while on the surface appearing bland and unconcerned and the owner of recalcitrant horses.

  He reached out, touched her between the legs with the tip of the crop. She jolted ferociously. His lips drew back in a wolfish smile. He pulled his wrist back and aimed not for the buttocks as she would be anticipating, but for the tip of one breast. The crop hit the bloated nipple with a crack, instantly leaving a fine red line on either side. Louise jerked with a cry of astonishment, her body leaping upward in a co-ordinated movement which would have made a gymnast happy. Then her feet regained the floor, and she stood, tensed, waiting for the next slash, panting heavily behind the mask. Kevin smiled and waited, watching her head tilt slightly as she struggled to hear. Only when she began to fidget with unrest did he draw back his wrist to aim another shot, this time on the inside of one white thigh.

  Again she lurched with a shot of pleasure which was almost equalled by a response from his own body. So soon? he thought. Well, well. Now his prick attained a pendulous appearance, and to assist in his own enjoyment he wrapped a cord around his balls and tied it off. Almost instantly little signals of desire flashed through to his brain, matched with the pulsing spasms of his own sexual constriction. He raised his arm and the crop flashed again and again until her breasts were crossed with fine red lines and she was scrabbling round and round in a circle to escape the instrument wreaking torment upon her body.

  Yet although her hands were working and flexing, still she did not give him the finger.

  He moved close, held her against his nakedness, and felt the tip of his prick touch the warmth of her vagina. He groaned with the flooding sensation that accompanied it, and pressed his face to her heaving breasts. 'Had enough, Louise?' he grunted. 'You want me to go a
way?'

  A stifled groan came from behind the black mask and she shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to mount him in spite of her bonds. He held her still with his hands around her ribcage, and bent slightly to suck at one sore teat, his tongue rasping over the ridges and circling the lump of flesh around and around. Then he took a deep breath, sucked as much of the delightful mammary into his mouth as hard as he could, milking it with his lips until he was gasping for breath, and then released it with a plop.

  This action satisfactory, he repeated it on the other breast, sensing her grow more and more tense as the pressure built up in his mouth, enjoying the way her whole body echoed the explosive release of tension.

  Moving behind her, Kevin then began to rub up and down, knowing he was nearly ready. He knew what he wanted. He stuffed his finger up inside her where the juices flowed, hot and strong, then using her own lubricant he inserted his finger into her anus. She jolted with shock, tightened around his finger with incredible force. But he sensed that was what she wanted. He repeated the action several times until his finger glided in and out easily, then lifted her up and back until her arse was almost sitting on him.

  Now his cock was proudly rampant, hard as a rock, and if he had been looking he would have seen his balls as fiery red suns, separated by the string that was constricting them. All he knew was that it felt wonderful - second to nothing at all. With his hands around her thighs he held her there and gradually let her weight drop onto his prick. Her arse felt the heat of him, and pulsed as her own body weight gradually, inexorably, sank her down onto that ready shaft, her spread legs allowing him total access.

  When she was fully impaled he began to move, just slightly. He pulled her body back into his and rubbed her breasts, her thighs, letting her hang there, her ring pulsing against the fullness of him. He groaned and bit into her shoulder, and he heard her gasping with flooding sensations over which she had no control. Very, very gently, he began to masturbate her.

  She shuddered with uncontrollable urges as he rubbed faster and faster, until eventually he felt the tiny fluctuation that was the onset of her orgasm. He held his finger still, feeling the heat radiate through her from the core of her body.

  Surprised at the sheer ferocity of that orgasm Kevin could hold back no longer. He bent his knees and began to grind up and down the tight constriction of her bottom until the heat became a burning fire in his balls which exploded upward like a geyser inside her. Then with a sigh of satisfaction and sheer exhaustion he pulled out and flopped onto his back on the bed.

  He turned his head. Louise hung there, shifting faintly with discomfort, the marks on her body flaming against her white skin, still not crying pax. Putting his hands behind his head, Kevin just lay and watched her with enjoyment, she was so incredibly beautiful.

  When he was sufficiently rested he went and examined her chest of wonderful toys once more. To his delight he found things he had only ever seen in catalogues, and over the next couple of hours managed to bring himself to orgasm twice more until he collapsed, exhausted.

  After showering he released Louise from her bonds and lifted the rubber hood from her flushed face. She looked disorientated, spaced out, and as tired as he was. He smacked her bum, making her wince. 'Bed,' he said, and she went obediently without a word, burned out by the internal fires he had stoked.

  He awoke in the morning refreshed enough to thrust himself into her with little finesse, before leaving.

  Looking forward to Esther's tender ministrations once more, Kevin laboured under the happy knowledge that what he had done was for all for her. She was a lady, not like Louise, and it was far far better that he kept his more animal instincts and his dark desires where they belonged - out of her sight.

  Chapter 8

  When Kevin got home, his clothes infused with the smoky scent of josticks, Esther said nothing, although she noticed the tiredness in his face and heard the lies in his voice. Yet she was not as upset as she would have been a few months ago. She played the dutiful wife for the rest of the day, lulling him into complacency and stroking his ego. She plied him with wine and rubbed his feet with massage oils, amused by the fact that this erotic action engendered not the slightest bit of interest in her husband. Oh, had he been having himself a good time.

  Later that night, once she heard Kevin's breathing subside to a slow and laborious snore she climbed out of bed and turned on the light. He wouldn't wake. She was euphoric. She was walking on air. Until you experience it, Madam had said, you will not understand. Experience what? she had asked, confused, thinking Madam meant some kinky kind of sexual act.

  Madam meant self-confidence, and with it the glorious freedom to enjoy life with uninhibited pleasure. Esther discovered this elusive thing had not arrived in a blinding flash, but grew inside her so slowly and insidiously she had not even noticed its arrival, but once she did, she knew it was with her forever. It was that indefinable thing which separated people into leaders and followers, doers and whiners. It blossomed deep inside the psyche, and was enhanced only by the realisation that to be interested in self was not selfishness so much as awareness.

  She learned that lesson more fully than she realised on the night of the business dinner. That evening changed her perception of self more fully than Madam or Kevin could know, for nothing was visible to the eye. Yet she thrived on the memory. For the first time in her life she had walked into a crowded room and every eye there turned to her. The deliberate sexual magnetism of her attire had made her feel wonderful; the women stared with an admiration born of jealousy, the men with lust. There was power! She had enjoyed every moment. Even to the jealousy in her husband's eyes. Especially that.

  He had not displayed jealousy since before their marriage. It seemed a very long time, yet within an hour she had men grovelling for her attention, and their wives, perforce, were begging for her favours. She knew those who had pitied her before were jealous now, but if there was a sex symbol orbiting in their vicinity, they wanted to control access. She had wanted to laugh out loud!

  How Kevin had revelled in those long-awaited invitations. And how she had enjoyed being the catalyst that finally made it happen. The truth was awesome. Now she knew what they meant by behind every powerful man is a powerful woman. Men were so driven by their pricks, by their inherent superiority, they didn't realise women were just as strong, but in a more devious fashion, and they just couldn't accept that women had the same force driving them when it was disguised by femininity. The only difference Esther could see was that women had the strength to manipulate that sexual drive instead of allowing it to dictate to them.

  She hummed to herself as she wrapped the thick leather straps around her husband's wrists. She saw him smile through his drugged sleep as she trussed him, and she loved him more than she had in a long time. Then she pushed him onto his back and climbed over him. 'Enjoy,' she whispered, holding his hands above his head, and felt his sex move feebly in response to her slow kiss. It was nice to be in charge.

  Then she went to sleep.

  Some time later Kevin awoke to the feel of leather restraints around his wrist and ankles. He tested their strength happily. Oh, boy, he thought as he found them immovable. Oh, boy. As his head began to pound with the expected hangover he realised he was stretched between two points, wrists crossed above his head, ankles spread wide and trussed tightly.

  He wriggled experimentally. He was racked tightly on a soft surface. A bed. Yes, that made sense. The confinement and the connotations immediately sent signals to his sexual awareness, and he wallowed in the lonely enjoyment of his predicament. He wanted to touch himself, and it was unbelievably erotic not to be able to do so. He waited, knowing that she was behind it; that she would arrive at some stage and do wonderful things to him - things he had barely hoped could ever happen. He was undeniably out of control of his present situation, and though he writhed and tested the bonds again and again, escape was very far from his present desires.

  The confinement was ex
quisite.

  Welcome, dream woman, he thought, afraid to open his eyes in case this sexual euphoria disappeared.

  And suddenly she was there. A waft of exotic scent, the sensuous touch of a fingertip upon his bare skin. He moaned in anticipation.

  'What shall I do, I wonder?' she whispered.

  'Fuck me,' Kevin replied hopefully, eyes tightly shut in case she disappeared with awakening. 'Fuck the pants off of me.'

  'Tut-tut, such a lack of finesse. Fucking undoubtedly will happen, but what shall I do first? Shall I gag you? Shall I beat you? Shall I give you a massage? Tell me, slave. What shall it be?'

  'Beat me,' he said softly, feeling the exquisite shiver of excitement fill him at the thought. 'Please beat me, mistress. I've had thoughts about you beating me which have been driving me to distraction because I thought I'd never see you again.'

  'You're not seeing me now, slave. Do you mind?'

  Her voice was soft, sensuous, and oh so sexy. 'No, mistress,' he croaked. He felt the soft touch of leather around his eyes and knew he was safely blindfolded. He tried to open his eyes, and could not. The relief! 'Chastise me, goddess,' he whispered, and writhed in the darkness of his fantasy.

  'What did you call me?' She was astonished.

  'Goddess,' he repeated urgently. 'Queen of my darkest fantasies, chastise me!'

  Blimey, thought Esther, staring at her bound and erect husband. Now what? She took the new leather bondage straps she had bought and wrapped them about his body. Around his chest, middle, thighs, and knees, not adding to his confinement, for he could not move, but binding him more deeply into his own sexual awareness.

  Then she sat and watched while he writhed, enjoying his confinement, locked into some private eroticism the bondage alone stimulated. His penis pulsed, and she had to do nothing, for he was pleasing himself with his thoughts. 'You dirty old man,' she said to herself in amusement, and began to knead her own flesh in response to a sudden overpowering urge from within.