Hard Limits

by Pascal Scott

  “Come to bed,” I whispered.

  “Yes, Mistress,” she said.

  I froze. She had already realized her mistake. It was a habit she was having trouble breaking, I knew that, but I couldn’t tolerate it. I grabbed her shoulders and yanked her around. Holding the right cheek of her face with my left hand, I looked deeply into her eyes. They were hazel in color, like fall. With my right hand I gave her left cheek a hard slap.

  “Yes, Sir,” I corrected.

  Tears flooded the hazel. She blinked them away and regained her composure.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  Gently then, I stroked the cheek I had just slapped.

  “That’s better,” I said. “You’re a good girl. I know you want to be a good girl for me.”

  “Yes, Sir, I do,” she said.

  “Come to bed.”

  I had turned down the covers to the clean gray sheets beneath the champagne-colored bedspread. She stared at me, expectation on her face. Her eyes were wide. I could see the whites and the hazel, the pupils big. I put my arm behind her back and eased her down. Ripping off my clothes down to my Jockeys, I lay on top of her but not with my full weight. I kept myself up a little on one arm. I kissed her, lightly. She lifted up, pressing her mouth against mine, wanting more.

  “Don’t move,” I said.

  Skyler obeyed me. From a chest of drawers I removed a blindfold, black and lined with fleece soft as a lover’s touch. She watched as I placed it over her eyes. I adjusted the material until it was comfortable.

  “How does that feel?” I asked.

  “A little scary,” she said. “Being blindfolded always feels a little scary at first.”

  Always, I thought.

  “You trust me, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She was learning.

  “Good girl.”

  Taking her left wrist in my hand, I lifted her arm back and up toward the corner of the bed, then her right.

  “Stay like that.”

  She did. I brought out the scarves. They were black, blue and magenta, a dozen scarves of different colors and patterns. They were silk, my favorite fabric next to leather. That night I felt like using scarves, not my leather cuffs and steel chains. Back in the day I used to get teased by my Leathermen friends, kidded that I wasn’t serious because, silk scarves. I didn’t care. What I did with a girl was between me and her, just the two of us.

  I didn’t mind the teasing about bondage, but fucking was something else. I wouldn’t share my girls with men, and I was deadly serious about that. The Leathermen I knew respected me for my hard limits. I said no when a Master requested my girl for fucking as punishment for his slave. And I was just as serious when I said no again, I wouldn’t ass-fuck his boy - pegging they call it now. My rule was: I play with girls, only girls. And nobody I knew—no Leatherman or Leatherdyke—played with straight men.

  I secured a chain of scarves to the top left of the bed frame and tied the other end around her left wrist. I did the same for the right. Because she couldn’t see, her head turned blindly from side to side, following my motions.

  “Spread your legs,” I commanded.

  She obeyed. I tied the scarves to her ankles until her body formed an ‘X’. After adjusting the pillow under her head, I put another pillow under her hips. I paused to admire her pussy—a lovely, smoothly shaven yoni—before turning to my sex drawer. From inside I removed a favorite toy: nipple clamps. The clamps were metal, little pincher crabs, crustacean. They were rubber-tipped, held together by a silver chain. Her nipples were pink, the areolae light brown. I twisted the left nipple until it rose, then used my other hand to slip on a clamp. I did the same for her right breast. The chain made a lazy bridge between her breasts, links on the ocean between two perfect islands. I tightened the screws and she gasped. I moved onto the bed.

  I straddled her, pressing my hand flat on her belly, which tightened into a hollow as she sucked in a breath. I stroked her soft skin, letting my middle finger circle her navel. She had no body piercings. Like me, she had missed the tattoos and body piercings craze.

  “Breathe,” I told her.

  Skyler breathed. I took a tube of Astroglide out of the sex drawer and rubbed it onto the fingers of my right hand, up to and over the knuckles. With my left hand I stroked her breasts, playing with the nipple clamps. I tested the cove between her legs. She was wet. My hands are not small. Although my fingers are long and thin, the knuckles are wide.

  I slid my middle finger into her slit and began to stroke. On an outward stroke, I added the index finger, sliding it in with the middle. I stroked slowly, in and out, working her slick hole. Then the ring finger. Three fingers, in and out. I let my middle finger bend toward me, feeling the rough cat-tongue-like texture of her G-spot. She was moaning. I slipped in the last finger, the pinkie. With my thumb I found the swollen nub of her clit, massaging it slowly. Her moaning grew louder, more insistent.

  On the outstroke, I pressed my thumb against my little finger, bringing the other three fingers in close together. My hand became avian, a beak. I pushed my way back into her center, up to my knuckles. She made a sound, not quite a cry but something close. With my other hand, I grabbed the Astroglide and poured more lube all over my right hand. I was stroking as I lubed up, easing in and out. I stopped and held my fist still inside her.

  “Can you take me?” I asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, but she was breathless.

  “You’re mine,” I said. “You belong to me.”

  “I do,” she confirmed. “I am yours, Sir. Body, heart and soul.”

  A few more thrusts and I was in up to my wrist. I held steady as I curled my fist into a ball. She lifted her hips to accommodate me.

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  With my other hand I worked her clit, rubbing circles around the nub.

  “You like this, don’t you.” I said. A statement, not a question. “Sluts like you need to be filled.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Skyler managed between shallow breaths.

  I spread my fingers wide then closed them. Wide and closed. Wide and closed.

  “Oh God, oh God…”

  Abruptly, I pulled out completely. As her blindfolded face lifted in protest, my hand flew up and slapped each cheek, first with my juice-soaked palm, next with the back of my hand. Returning to her pussy, I reinserted my fist and begin pumping. Hard. Fast and hard.

  She was screaming now.

  “Oh God! Oh God!”

  She squirted, a rush of liquid flowing over my hand. Now it felt rubbery inside her, the texture had changed from ridged and pliant to something like the inside of a water balloon.

  “Oh my God!”

  Her arms struggled upward as if they were trying to break free of their restraints. Her face was contorted, her chest flushed, every muscle in her limbs had tensed.

  “Come for me, girl,” I commanded, and she did. She arched her back like a cat and cried out in release.

  I kept the blindfold on her longer than she needed. She hadn’t stopped shaking and was still whimpering quietly. I held her tenderly, letting her savor her submission. I gave her time to think about her promise. I am yours, Sir. Body, heart, and soul.

  The pine crackled as it burned down. After she had stopped trembling and I had removed her blindfold, I got up and put another log on the fire. She sat up, leaning against the pillows, watching me.

  “Tell me about your relationship with your Mistress,” I said, rejoining her between the sheets.

  Skyler groaned. “Must I?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve already told you almost everything.”

  “Tell me again.”

  She groaned a second time.

  “The time was confusing,” she said. “And very, very hot.”

  I leaned back, settling in.

  “Why was it confusing?”

  “Because I’d never experienced anything like that before. Like her.”

&n
bsp; “A Dominant. A D/s dynamic,” I said.

  “Yes. I was a BDSM virgin. I mean, I had been with Isabelle for twenty years.”

  “Isabelle, your partner.”

  “Yes. And for the last thirteen of those years we weren’t having sex.”

  “Thirteen, you counted,” I commented.

  She smiled.

  “I did, at the end. We talked about it but I just couldn’t get her to act. We had made such an issue of sex that after a while, the act took on more meaning than it should have.”

  “That’s not unusual in long-term lesbian relationships,” I said. “Lesbian Bed Death. I’ve never been with anyone long enough to have that problem. So, you broke up.”

  “Yes, when I found out about Vicky.”

  “Vicky.”

  “The OW. The Other Woman,” Skyler stated.

  “Ah yes, the infamous Other Woman.”

  “Isabelle had been having an affair, which was probably part of the reason she had lost interest in sex with me. I found out by accident, of course. Vicky was another medical officer at the CDC.”

  “Isabelle was a doctor?” I asked.

  “No, Isabelle was an epidemiologist like Vicky. Vicky was in a relationship, too. They were both cheating on their spouses.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Oh God, by email. Isn’t that the way now? Isabelle sent an email meant for Vicky to me.” Skyler shook her head.

  “Ouch,” I hissed.

  “I left her three days before our twentieth anniversary.”

  “I’m sorry. How long ago was that?”

  “Five years last January.”

  “Five years,” I summarized. “So, you had suddenly been betrayed by your partner of nearly twenty years. You were alone and probably a little in shock.”

  “Yes. I felt more alone than I’d ever felt in my life.”

  “And then somehow you hooked up with a Sadistic Mistress?”

  “With Lucy, yes,” she said.

  “Did you meet Lucy on Perv? Like me?”

  “Oh God no, I had never heard of Perv. I met Lucy through a dating site some friends put me on. This was about six months after Isabelle and I had broken up. They thought I was sinking into a very deep depression. And I was. I was seeing a psychiatrist who had put me on some pretty heavy pharmaceuticals. I was really quite numb on those. I’m off them now and no longer seeing that psychiatrist.”

  Skyler continued. “In any event, at the time my friends thought it might cheer me up to start dating. So, they signed me up on Lucky Strike.”

  “I’ve heard of the site. It seems to be popular with lesbians.”

  “It is,” she said. “I got on Lucky Strike and answered the questionnaire and Lucy was an eighty-five percent match for me. Her profile said she was Dominant. I thought that sounded interesting, but I didn’t really know what it meant. I had written on mine that I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I just wanted to have fun.”

  “Ah,” I said.

  “We connected on Lucky Strike and exchanged emails and then arranged to meet. I was so sex- starved by that time that I thought if we had any chemistry at all, I’d go for it.”

  “And you did.”

  “Go for it?”

  “Have chemistry,” I said.

  “Oh God, yes. In spades. We met in a café on a Friday after we both got off work. I knew as soon as I saw her that we were going to have sex. We drove back to my place and I don’t think we got out of bed all weekend.”

  “What was it about her that attracted you?” I asked.

  “Well, it wasn’t her looks so much. She isn’t much to look at, except for her breasts. She does have beautiful breasts. Lucy is about my height and a little underweight. I think what attracted me to her was her attitude. When Lucy walks into a room, it’s like she owns it and everything and everyone in it. She’s arrogant. And there was something just very appealing about that. For me anyway. My friends didn’t like the sound of her at all. They thought she was taking advantage of me. But Lucy told me they didn’t understand a power exchange relationship. They thought our relationship was abusive when it wasn’t.”

  “So, you met Lucy and started having sex with a Mistress.”

  “Yes. Lucy was my sex goddess,” Skyler whispered.

  “Indeed,” I commented. “So, you’re having wild nights of unrestrained sex. When did you get into BDSM?”

  “Oh, not right away. We didn’t even talk about it. Then one day she pulled me over her knees and spanked me. Just like that. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to think. She rewarded me by giving me one of the biggest orgasms of my life. It took a couple of days for me to appreciate what had happened and to admit to myself that I’d been aroused by pain.”

  “So, you asked her to spank you again?”

  “I did. And then it progressed from there. She introduced me to her toys slowly, one at a time. First the paddle, then the flogger, then the dragon tail. She took me to her favorite dungeon and put me naked on the Saint Andrews Cross and flogged me in front of her friends.”

  “And how did you feel about that?” I asked.

  Skyler paused to consider.

  “Embarrassed. Turned on. Confused. I felt so many things I’d never felt before. I felt like I was falling in love. I did, I fell in love with Lucy.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  “Not for a while. I told my friends before I told Lucy.”

  “And how did your friends react?” I asked.

  She exhaled a short bitter laugh.

  “Ha! You can imagine. Let me just give you the short version: I soon found myself friendless.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  “It did. But I made new friends in the Scene. And I split my life in two. There was my day life, my working life, my bland social world. And then there was my real life, with Lucy. The more she asked of me, the more my nights became my reality. I lived for my nights with her. My days became a fantasy in anticipation of when I would be with her again.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “And I’ll tell you something ironic. Lucy degraded me, calling me slut and bitch and cocksucker, words no one had ever said to me. But even as she was degrading me, she made me feel beautiful. I have never felt more beautiful in my life than I did when I was her slave. Her slave-in-training, I should say. I was never collared.”

  “And what happened when you finally told Lucy you were in love with her?”

  “Lucy said, ‘I’m very disappointed in you.’ She told me I had broken our agreement.” Skyler exhaled.

  “Your agreement that this was just a sexual relationship?” I clarified.

  “Our agreement that this was a Dominant/submissive relationship. She was my Mistress; I was her slave. I wasn’t supposed to ruin things by falling in love with her.”

  “Is that why it ended?”

  “Oh, that and a million other things I did wrong. I was always doing something wrong. She told me I was a bad submissive. She gave me books to read, she put me in groups, she told me to go to a Submissives’ Munch. I did all those things and it still didn’t help. I was just a bad submissive.”

  “When did it end?” I asked.

  “We broke up the first time after about two years,” Skyler mused.

  “Two years? That’s a long time. Relatively speaking.”

  “I suppose it is. Then we were separated for several months. Finally, I emailed her and told her I hadn’t liked the way the relationship had ended between us. I still thought we had unfinished business. So, I asked her to meet me to talk. We did, and I apologized and told her I wanted to try to have just a sexual relationship with her. Not a D/s, just sex.”

  “And what did she say?” I asked.

  “She agreed to try and we did have sex. One time. Then I told her something she didn’t like and she said, ‘You’re impossible’ and stormed out of my condo.”

  “What had you said?”

  “It was something trivial. I ha
d taken my one remaining vanilla friend to The Indulgence. Lucy acts as if The Indulgence is her dungeon, as if it belongs to her. This friend had been critical of my relationship with Lucy, and Lucy had known that because I had told her. Lucy had required me to be completely honest with her, and I was. But I thought after we broke up, what does it matter who I take to The Indulgence? But she found out, of course, because she knows the staff there and they told her I had been there with another woman. Lucy asked me who she was, and I told her. That was all. It seemed trivial to me.”

  “And how long ago was that?” I asked.

  “That was…let’s see…that was February,” Skyler recounted.

  “That’s when we met, on Perv.”

  “I guess it was,” she said.

  “Do you ever talk to her now?”

  “Lucy? Yes, I do. She’s moved since I was with her and is living in a household of several people she knows from her groups. And she’s still with Shelby, her sex slave. Shelby came into the dynamic after I’d been with Lucy about a year. After that it was always the three of us.”

  “You and Lucy and Shelby,” I said.

  “Yes, Shelby was the good submissive. She became the perfect sex slave. Shelby would do anything Mistress asked of her. I tried but I could never seem to get it right.”

  She shifted a little, as if the memory were making her uncomfortable.

  “So,” I said. “I’m curious. What exactly was the dynamic for the three of you?”

  “Well, Mistress would have the two of us service her sexually and fuck each other while she watched.”

  “Uh-huh,” I commented. “What else?”

  “Sometimes she had us put on sex shows for her friends from the groups she leads.”

  “Lesbian groups?”

  “No. Pansexual,” Skyler confirmed.

  “Of course,” I said. “Everyone is pansexual these days.”

  She missed the sarcasm and nodded her head in agreement.

  “Were there men at these sex shows?” I asked.