“Yessss,” she hissed. “More. Please, harder.”
This was the woman deep down inside the controlling, type A side she showed to the rest of the world. Macy loved being dominated. And he was the man for the job.
*****
I couldn’t get enough of his hard smacks. Pressing my bottom higher, I begged him for more. I did have a kinky side after all. It invigorated me.
When he lifted me to my feet, I couldn’t help but groan out loud.
“I’m nowhere near finished with you, baby.” He laughed. “Put your hands over the chair. He directed me so my naked breasts rested over the back of the chair. My hands lay flat on the seat, my ass high and oh so vulnerable.
The whooshing sound of his belt coming through his loops titillated me. A flush took over my body, and my pussy wept even more. “Are you going to smack me with that?” I turned to see his dark, focused, gaze.
“No. I’m going to whip you with it. And then I’m going to fuck you so hard you cry.”
Yes! I gripped the chair edges, and waited for the first strike, for my whipping to commence. The belt whistled through the air before making contact on the roundest part of my bottom. I screamed. He lashed me again, and I rose on my toes with a grunt. Again and again he whipped me hard, as I trembled and shrieked. Closing my eyes didn’t help. I could hear the whoosh right before the loud thud on my bare flesh. I was raw, aching, vulnerable to his every whim. It was pure agony, pure delight as he whipped every part of my ass, all the way down to my upper thighs, until I couldn’t take any more. I reached my hands back to protect my poor throbbing cheeks, and he grabbed them.
“Two more. You can take it. Be my good girl.”
His words filled me. I wanted to be his good girl more than anything. His throbbing-assed, crying-pitifully, well-whipped good girl. “Whip me, sir.” I raised my bottom for him.
The last two strokes came hard and fast on the lowest part of my bottom, where it met my thighs, and I screamed in agony.
He entered my pussy with one finger, followed quickly by two. I heard his slaps against my wet clit. He stroked as he finger fucked me once, twice, three times, followed by a savage pinch.
I came right there. A loud keening wail released from my lips like never before, as the pressure built bubbled right out of me. No. It exploded. My whole body was one tight string that snapped as my orgasm went on and on. My body shook and shivered as he milked every last drop of my orgasm from me. Finally sagging over the chair, spent, I realized something. “I thought...” I still couldn’t get a full breath as I stood up to tease the man who had whipped and finger fucked me to the best orgasm of my life. “I thought you were going to fuck me until I cried.”
“Dear little subbie, we’ve only begun.” He advanced on me with a leer. “Get some water and stretch out your muscles. You’re going to be quite sore by the time I am through with you.”
My breath whooshed out. Yes, sir.
Chapter Four
Buyer’s remorse.
That’s what I was calling it. What we did yesterday—no, what I did yesterday... Oh my God, I danced for him. For three men. One with a camera rolling. I showed them parts of my body that hadn’t seen the light of day in such a long time, they might as well have been made of marble.
I slathered some more of my favorite lavender soap into my palms and scrubbed my body. Harder. I couldn’t get clean enough. I felt so dirty and ashamed. I was already on my third lather /rinse cycle. Wash, rinse, look at fat stomach, wince, repeat.
It wasn’t the sex. That had been amazing. I couldn’t believe the things we had done, the way I reacted, the words I said. I had never used the “S” word before. It had always seemed so dirty. But yesterday, when Dane played me like a well-oiled instrument, I said those words. And I meant them. I wanted to be his naughty slut. His dirty slut. His slut. I remembered the salty taste of his cum, sliding down my throat as he fucked my mouth. And his thick cock had filled my pussy so completely, so beautifully, while he pumped his fingers in and out of my swollen, hot, just-whipped, ass. I’d never come harder or screamed louder than I did yesterday with him.
The sex and the kinky stuff and foreplay weren’t the issue.
It was the lack of control. My control. Did I really dance for those men? I lost all control. I showed them the most horrible parts of my body. The fat, grotesque parts even my ex-husband hadn’t liked. I burlesqued my way into a lap dance on my partner. And don’t even get me started on that dollar bill. Holy shit! Did I even bother to think about where the money had been before I shoved it into my panties? No.
I shuddered and slathered up for another extra special washing of my intimate parts. My poor lady bits might have ink on them. Good old George Washington probably had a huge grin on his face—not that I had inspected the bill after wiping my juices all over it.
Germs. So many germs.
I know what my stomach and ass must have looked like when I moved. I bounced up and down, and watched my soapy flesh jiggle—unending wiggling. Ugh. Maybe one more scrub/rinse cycle. I turned the water hotter.
Why had I acted like that yesterday? Why the sudden loss of control? Where did the horny porn star thing come from? This was my retribution for not staying in control of myself. Those poor men must have had to rinse their eyes with bleach after they left. Thankfully, they hadn’t laughed. Oh God, I wondered if they laughed. This sucked.
Turning off the water—thankfully, I had finished my final rinse before it ran cold—I stepped out onto the freezing tile floor, and wrapped my favorite orange towel around my wrinkled, overweight body.
Buyer’s remorse. That’s what I had.
After throwing on my jeans and pulling my hair into a ponytail, I started on my list.
Okay, first things first. Coffee. Then make a list for what to do today, including groceries, a french fry run, and which lists to make next week.
Peppermint-mocha creamer made things seem a little better. I sat down on my old leather couch and pulled my knees up to my chest. The couch was the only thing I give up during the settlement. This was my mom’s old couch. I didn’t want the house, or the pictures, or any of the other furniture. But this couch. It smelled like my mom. Lavender, cinnamon, with little tiny pieces of yarn. No matter how many times I vacuumed, I still found more pieces from her old knitting days. This was my couch.
I snuggled up with my second cup of coffee and finished my list. Okay. Now I needed to clean up the kitchen. It wouldn’t take too long. This tiny apartment didn’t have much in the way of kitchen and living space. It made it easy to keep clean.
After tidying up the kitchen and living room and bathroom, I realized I had been waltzing while vacuuming. Jeesh. I couldn’t get the music out of my head. The beats moved faster, and I started swaying. My hips liked this kind of movement. They liked to sway. So did my ass. I was about to Mary Poppins my way into a provocative salsa with the hose of my Kirby when I realized what I was doing.
Damn it! Scolding myself to stay in control of my freakishly horny body, I goose-stepped my way through the dusting. Mmm, but a feather duster did have the whole French maid kind of appeal to it. I could see myself coyly grinning while reaching for the top shelf. I would wear nothing except my apron.
Oops, got a little dust on my tits. Maybe I should wipe them off. Or my handsome partner could. I stroked my nipples. I moaned.
Stop right there! This was insane. I had become a lunatic who got off with a feather duster and kinky thoughts of well-chiseled dancing Doms. What happened to my self-control? Tomorrow, I was going to see my doctor. My hormones were probably fluctuating. Maybe some medication would help.
I snuggled up onto my couch and checked off my list. Thirty more items to do before I could cross a black Sharpie mark through Saturday.
The buzzer rang for my door. Looking at the small monitor, I saw the dark, tousled hair, strong lines, chiseled jaw, dangerous eyes. It was him. My dancing Dom. “I thought we were taking today off.” I released the
intercom button.
“May I come up?”
Did I want him to come up? It created a new level of intimacy to bring him into my home—tiny as it was. If he had come to laugh at me, or, even worse, apologize about yesterday, I would die. I couldn’t take him rejecting me. And I had already gone through four bars of lavender and lemon soaps.
“I brought something for you.” Dane held up a bag with the beautiful yellow arches over the bright shining M.
“Come right up.” I buzzed him in.
*****
She was beautiful. Flushed from exertion, a bead of sweat along her brow, pink in her cheeks. Her jeans hugged her perfect curves, and a loose fitting, cream T-shirt left nothing to the imagination. She was braless and excited to see him. Or it was chilly. He preferred to think the former.
Handing her the hot bag and the cold cup, she thanked him and shut the door behind him.
“Thank you so much,” she said, licking her lips, eying the bag almost lustfully. Those lips had been on him yesterday. Luscious firm lips that sucked and slurped and kissed their way into the best memories. And his dreams last night—continuing their exploration of each other... It was a miracle he could stand straight today. Watching her prepare to deep throat a french fry while moaning made him hard. He wished he was that french fry.
“Mmm.” She chewed slowly, her chin moving up and down, as she swallowed. “You do not know how much I love these things. Especially when they’re hot like this.” She motioned for him to follow her to the couch. “The perfect amount of salt.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back with a smile. “They are so hot they almost burn the roof of my mouth. And the salt sends my taste buds into overdrive.” She shuddered a little and took a sip from the cup. “Ice cold, refreshing Coke. It surprises my mouth, tingles, and explodes down my throat.” She took another fry, followed by a long sip, before leaning back again with a deep sigh. “Perfection. Oh, sorry, do you want some?” She held both items toward him, eyes twinkling sheepishly.
“No, little girl, I want to watch you. Your pleasure gives me pleasure.”
A blush ran up her cheeks, and she laid the almost-empty box and cup on the coffee table in front of them. “About that...pleasure.”
“Are you all right? With what we did yesterday?”
Her expression tightened and she clenched her fists, wrapping her arms around her chest, as if trying to protect herself from him.
“I won’t hurt you, Macy. I want to talk about yesterday and make sure you don’t have any questions or regrets.”
“Why?”
“It’s my job as your Dominant to ensure you’re cared for.” He opened her fists and kissed one palm followed by the other. “If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, then I won’t know how to best care for you. How to pleasure you. How to protect you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking about. How do you feel about yesterday?”
Fiddling with her long auburn hair, she furrowed her brow. “I’ve never lost control like that. It made me feel so wonderful. But it...” Her shoulders sagged, and she released a soft, pitiful exhale, seeming more fragile, more vulnerable than when she had fallen on stage during her tryout.
“It scared you?” he prompted.
She nodded with a sniffle.
Holding his arms open, he invited her to come to him, and she did. She climbed onto his lap and leaned her head against his chest. Stroking her, he cuddled her close and smelled her fragrance of lavender.
She was warm and soft, shuddering in his arms for a few moments before regaining her composure. “I loved what we did together. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before.” She met his gaze and continued. “I enjoyed performing for all of you. I think I might even like the idea of doing it again. You know. Dancing in front of other people.”
“You have an exhibitionist side. I could tell from our first meeting.” He smiled and swept a lock of hair from her cheek.
“Yeah. But it’s wrong. I shouldn’t get so turned on by doing these dirty things. And I, of all people...” She grimaced. “I shouldn’t be doing things like that.”
“What do you mean? You of all people?”
Standing up, she fisted her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Fat women like me should not be showing off our goods—for anyone. We shouldn’t be doing lap dances. We shouldn’t get off with a fricking dollar bill—on camera! And we shouldn’t let our dance partners see our gargantuan asses, let alone beat on them!” She shook her head and turned away to rub at her eyes. “This confuses me.” Her voice warbled pitifully. “I shouldn’t want this. But I do. Which means I lose even more control. I need to be in charge of my emotions and my actions. And when I am dancing naked for strange men, and getting off while dusting my blinds...”
He cleared his throat, trying not to laugh.
“I need to be in control, and I’m not. My body and my mind are in complete disagreement. Does that make any sense?” She sat back down with a hard thunk.
He didn’t ask for permission. He yanked her onto his lap and kissed her lips hard. They were salty with tears and sweet from the soda. He commanded her to yield as he plunged inside her mouth, giving her no chance to deny him.
When her lips were swollen and wet, and he couldn’t breathe anymore, he finally let her go.
She sagged against him with a groan.
“Tell me how that made you feel, sweet subbie. How did it feel to yield to my mouth and give in for a moment?” He searched her glassy eyes.
“It felt good,” she whispered, slightly dazed and out of breath.
“Then it was good. Can you try to let go of your thoughts for a while? Let your body take over. And not over think everything afterwards?
“I don’t know how.” She frowned down at her plump belly and sucked it in, pulling away from him.
He held her in place. “No. You don’t get to hide your beautiful curves from me.”
“I don’t want you to get disgusted. If you made the face he made, I would die.”
“Your ex?”
She bit her lip, nodding.
He could kill the idiot. “Your ex doesn’t know what true beauty is.” He knelt down and lifted her shirt exposing her white skin and belly button.
She flinched, but stilled when he gripped her leg in warning.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” Leaning forward, he stroked her stomach with his lips. Soft flesh met his mouth. It moved as he moved. He covered every inch of her middle, from her panty line, to her rounded hips, up to right below her breasts. “Not many years ago, your body type was revered. A well-rounded woman with glorious hips and breasts was the most cherished, the most exquisite.” He tickled the soft skin around her naval, lapping at her with his tongue as she moaned. “I love your body, and can’t seem to get enough of it. See what you do to me?”
She smiled and ran her fingers lightly over his cock, the denim bulging over it.
“I am attracted to you. All of you. Will you let me in? Let me make love to you the way a woman should be made love to?”
She nodded.
“Will you let go of your mind, for a little while, and submit to me? Submit to yourself?”
He grazed his teeth across the flesh below her belly button, and she groaned and tugged his hair.
“But I’m type A, a control freak. Y-you should see my lists.” She pointed to the coffee table full of notes.
“Sweet woman, submitting to your pleasure doesn’t mean you are weak, or that you’re losing control. You will always be in control. You’re the submissive. I’m asking you to let go of your fears and submit to your desires. If you get scared or start over thinking, give me your word to slow down. Remember?”
“Yellow.”
“Can you do that? For yourself?”
She nodded and gave him a lopsided grin. “Wait here. I want to try something out with a feather duster and an apron. I’ll be right back.�
� She sprinted out of the room.
Chapter Five
God, I was nervous. The past month had flown by, and it was time to dance for real. In front of a live studio audience and more than one camera. Lots and lots of cameras. This was Dane’s one chance to save the small cable station. No pressure, eh?
One peek from behind the curtains to see all the bright lights and the studio audience had been enough to turn me from a calm, in-control, list follower, to a lunatic with bug eyes. I didn’t even get my french fries. I had taken the week off—grease rationing, so I wouldn’t have zits popping up all over when introduced to the stress of a live TV show.
A live, four hour, freaking television show! Okay, some parts weren’t live, like the footage from the past two months. From everyday working heroes to dancing legends. Dancing legends. That’s what we were all about to become. Constant publicity for the show had galvanized the public. The conservative viewers were poised after the past two weeks of commercials—they wanted Ronald, the wounded veteran to win. Man, I wanted him to win.
The first time I had seen myself on the screen, I had cried. Holy crap, the camera really does add twenty pounds to you. In my case, it seemed more like fifty. My face was always contorted in this weird cross between a grimace and an “I am going to kill a mofo” glare. But for some reason, the viewers had taken a liking to me. The station website had been overwhelmed, their social media full of chatter. The overweight, greasy-foreheaded, homemaker from the suburbs. Even watching me step on my partner’s feet a million times, followed by another “Sorry”—yeah, I became the queen of sorries—they still became intrigued by me. The short clips on the website had gotten more hits than last month’s YouTube sensation—kitty dancing in a tutu—hey, that’s saying something. And Dane and I had the second most likes and shares, a few hundred less than Ronald and his pro.
Dane had made good on his promises. He never shared the footage from my kinky dollar bill wielding day in the studio. But we watched it at his place. Holy cow, nothing got me turned on quicker than watching myself fondle and air screw my way through jungle music. I wondered if the conservative crowd would like me very much if they saw me dance like that.
Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories Page 64