She whined as another, bizarrely intense orgasm coursed from her clit and stormed outward. Her arms strained in their bonds, and her hips moved in rhythm with Jonathan’s thrusts. With a deep groan, he bottomed out in her throat, jerking his hips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered. “Holy fuck.”
She went still, receiving him, letting him thrust as deep as he wanted, even as she choked for breath. He pulled away, and she would have collapsed, but he caught her.
“Shit,” he said. “I wanted to come on your face, but your noisy fucking mouth felt too fucking good.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry?
She’d never been that into facials, but somehow the idea of Jonathan doing it sounded just right. Maybe next time. If there was a next time. For now, she was about to die from orgasm overdose.
“Please, can I close my mouth?” she asked. “Can you turn off the—”
He smiled and shut off the wand, and while it was a relief, her clit felt a little bereft too. He took off the belt and wand and helped her lie down. Everything else stayed on as he stared at her from above, taking off his condom.
“Rest there a little while,” he said. “Then we’ll start act two.”
4.
Ruby rested on her side, her hands still bound behind her, her legs sprawled and weak from too much pleasure. She could feel the collar and nipple disks like Jonathan’s own hands on her. Act two?
Of course Jonathan Gold was a two-act lover. Hell, he was probably a three-act lover. Maybe he’d go for the five-act Shakespearean model, but she probably ought to write out a will before that, because it would kill her.
“I can’t come anymore,” she told him, as he pulled up a chair and placed it beside her.
“Hush. You’ll come as many times as I want.”
That was probably true. At this point, she figured he could make her do anything, and she’d hold her mouth open, panting for more. She closed her eyes a few moments, daydreaming about more.
When she opened them, Jonathan held a violin. It wasn’t the one he played with the quartet. As he tuned it, she noticed it had a grittier sound, a more visceral tonal quality. Wow, she thought. He has a violin he uses just for kink.
As she lay at his feet and watched, he started to play the Rachmaninoff she’d messed up during rehearsal. He stared down, watching her, playing her part instead of his own, going back over the measures where she’d lagged.
“I get it. You’re a better violinist than me.”
“That’s not the point. The point is you could do better. Just listen.”
He began the piece again, interspersing his parts and hers when the fancy struck him. That was the fun of being a musical genius; you could play anything and make it sound effortless and awesome.
For the rest of her life, whenever she played this piece, it would bring her right back here to this moment, lying exhausted and sexually satiated on Jonathan’s dungeon floor. The wood was hard and uncomfortable, and her ass still ached, but she’d happily come back to this memory every time this work was played. That was probably why he was doing this.
“You got it?” he asked her when he finished, like they were in rehearsal, and not in the midst of an intense sexual encounter. Like his broad chest and thick, limp cock weren’t hanging out in the open to rile her up.
“I’ve got it.”
He nodded and watched her a moment, then played a couple other pieces, ones he knew from past experience that she liked. Even here, naked and horny, his playing was meticulous and free of mistakes. Her nipples hardened and started to throb again. She rubbed her fingertips over a couple of the strap welts on her ass cheeks.
“Was it too much?” he asked.
She’d thought she was being subtle, horny-touching her kink welts. “No, it wasn’t too much,” she told him. “It was just right.”
“I’m going to do more to you in a minute. I’m going to fuck you some more.”
Did he expect her to take umbrage with that? Her clit, dead and numb from so many orgasms, flared to life at the dominant tone in his husky voice. He put the violin away, and she could tell by the way he moved that he knew in exact detail everything he was about to do to her body, as well as her mind.
“Let’s get you up off the floor,” he said. He undid the clip holding the cuffs behind her back, but he didn’t take them off. “Stand up and do a good stretch, Ruby. And think about if you really want more, because this will be your last chance to get away for a while.”
She tried not to smile, couldn’t quite help it. While she stretched her arms, Jonathan gathered more gear, setting it all on the bed. She didn’t look at what he collected; it would only make her nervous. Instead she studied the dark wood of the bed frame, which rose in four solid posts and had a lattice of beams across the top. A romantic might use those beams as a trellis, add flowers and ivy.
A kinky person would add eye hooks and chains.
“Ready?” he asked.
He took her hands and led her to the bed with crisp authority. She hadn’t felt her nakedness in a while, but she felt it now, with his tall, muscular body beside hers. He positioned her facing the side of the bed.
“Hands up,” he ordered, and he produced a pair of chains with hooks, finely wrought, silver and strong, with carabiners on each end. Soon he had the rings on her cuffs hooked to the beam over her head, using attachment points that pulled her arms wide. Her back was to the room, her nakedness on display for him.
She tensed her arms, brimming with erotic energy. Had she claimed she couldn’t come again? That was a lie. When he told her to spread her legs, and bent to cuff her ankles, she almost came right then and there. Arms spread, legs spread, chained open in spread-eagle position with her back to him so she couldn’t see the expression on his face… He had all the power in the world, and she had none, only a safe word she had no intention of using.
He was silent a moment. The room was so silent, when there was usually either music or chatter between them, Steve, Ethan, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, but now there was only his silent stillness and her squirming impatience as she waited for him to do something to her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly. “You like what I’m doing to you, yes?”
“You know I do.”
He was on her in a second, pulling her head back by her hair. “Don’t be a smartass, little girl. Just say Yes, Sir or No, Sir like a good kinky maso pervert. I bet you’re wet as fuck, aren’t you?”
I have been for the last hour, she wanted to say, but she wasn’t supposed to be a smartass. She understood why. That was a coping tactic, a way of lessening the tension, and he wanted her to feel every iota of tension, just like when he played his violin. She didn’t need to answer him anyway.
His other hand slid down her front and probed between her legs, roughly, asserting possession as he slid two thick fingers into her pussy. She went up on her toes, moaning. How well she knew those fingers, how many times she’d watched them dance across violin strings, but this…now…
“Oh God, Jonathan,” she whispered. “What are you doing to me?”
He pulled her hair harder, his cheek against hers, and nipped her ear lobe. His cock brushed her ass cheeks, a hot, hard tease of more power. His fingers twisted in her hair as he kissed her neck and the curve of her jaw. She wanted the vibrator again. She had nothing to buck against, nothing to assuage the growing pressure in her clit.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said, pulling away from her. Haha, a joke. She was four-points bound, without a lot of slack to move around. She glanced over her shoulder, then kind of wished she hadn’t. He was holding a scary, thick, ridged sex toy.
“That won’t fit in my ass, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “There’s no way.”
“It’s not going in your ass. Your ass is for me, later.” He reached around the front of her and parted her pussy lips, and started inserting the ridged toy, notch by widening notch. “Any other top
ping from the bottom that you want to get out of your system before we go any further?”
She lowered her head. “No, Sir.”
She squirmed as he worked the dildo home. The last, thickest ridge narrowed to a flange, so it stayed wedged inside her, even when she arched her hips. It was a lovely weapon of dominance, as she could feel every inch of it inside her, filling her up. It stretched her too, not to the point of pain, but to the point of discomfort. It almost—almost—distracted her from what he’d said to her so lackadaisically. Your ass is for me, later. Jonathan planned to fuck her ass. Oh God.
So fucking hot. Scary but hot.
“How are you doing?” he asked her, stepping back. “Feeling nice and full?”
“I wish you would fuck me.”
That was her horniness talking, the bondage and the stretching torture in her pussy, and the wish that he was pounding her with his dick.
“I’ll fuck you soon. Once I’ve got you worked up and crying, and wanting to be let go.”
She sucked in a breath. There was a flogger on the bed, as well as the whip and the strap he’d used earlier. He picked up the flogger and held it to her nose so she could smell the leather.
“I’ve dreamed of punishing you, Ruby, so many times. You naughty girl. You remember your safe word?”
She nodded as he stared at her lips.
“Use it if you have to, because I don’t want to be careful. I don’t think you want me to be careful and sweet.”
She shook her head, beyond words at his closeness, and the dark, scary implement held inches from her nose. He disappeared behind her, and she turned her head to follow him, but she couldn’t turn her body, couldn’t evade anything he chose to do to her.
He started on her still-sore ass, flicking the flogger’s tails against it, not hard yet, just warming up. He flogged up her back, then down to the backs of her thighs, and it was impact more than anything. Impact, and her helplessness to get away from it.
After that, though, his blows changed, became more focused. The edges of the tails stung now when he hit her, leaving behind pinpricks of pain. She started to move, to jerk away, even though she never knew where the next blow was landing. No matter how she moved, he didn’t let up. Soon her entire back side was warm and sting-y. Her nipples tightened, still stimulated by the disks, and her pussy clenched on the dildo within her, sending waves of arousal to fight with the pain.
“Now that you’re warmed up…” He threw the flogger on the bed and picked up the strap. She saw now that it was slightly different than the one before, heavier and more supple. How many of these did he have? Judging by his perversity thus far, probably too many. She could feel the difference in the straps as soon as he landed the first blow across her ass.
“Ow, ow.” She went up on her toes, tensing her thighs. “That hurts.”
“Not too much for you, though.”
No, it wasn’t too much. He knew she liked pain. With him, she was discovering just how much pain she liked, and it kept on surprising her. The next blow was a little harder, leaving behind an increasing burn. It was the real estate of the thing. The strap was wide and brutal. He caught her under the ass cheeks and she jumped.
“Ow, that really hurts!”
“No more commentary,” he scolded. “I know it fucking hurts. You need this, Ruby, for the Rachmaninoff if nothing else. He would have beat your ass for how you slaughtered his work today.”
“I didn’t slaughter it,” she protested, but he only answered with a volley of five strokes in a row. Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap. Her moan of complaint rose to a cry as she pulled at her bonds. He moved to the backs of her thighs, until they burned as hot as her ass cheeks.
“Ow, please!”
“Use your safe word or shut your fucking mouth.”
She clenched her lips shut and sucked in air through her nose, processing the pain. When Ethan spanked her, there was always a point of loosening, of letting go, but Ethan had never gone at her this hard. She wanted this, but it was new territory. At last, Jonathan stopped and stepped closer to her, stroking her flaming butt, letting her catch her breath.
“I love watching you struggle,” he said beside her ear. “I love it, Ruby.”
She shocked herself by letting out a sob. She hadn’t known the tears were there, and then they were spilling out of her eyes, soaking her cheeks. She couldn’t even wipe them away.
“It hurts,” she whimpered. “When you don’t stop between blows, the pain gets worse and worse, and it’s scary.”
“It is scary, I know,” he continued in his level voice. “Do you want me to stop?”
She thought about it a moment, just a moment. “I don’t want you to stop.” She squirmed, pushing her ass back against his palm. “I want you to fuck me.” Her pussy was dripping, clenching on the dildo, filled, but not filled in the way she liked.
“What a naughty, dirty mouth you have,” he said. He parted her ass cheeks, making her flinch, then spanked her on each cheek and moved away. Soft, sweet, whisper-in-her-ear time was over. She thought he probably paused like that and made her adore him so he could hurt her more when he picked back up again.
The strap landed hard, just as it had before he left off, leaving pain and agony in its wake. No matter how she flailed, no matter how she clenched, a fiery stroke came again until her whole ass was an aching expanse and felt four times its usual size. Not only that, but since he’d parted her ass cheeks in his bold, possessive way, she’d started thinking about what was next. An assfucking. That was why he wanted to break her down…
“That’s good, let it out,” he said when she kept crying. Now each stroke was accompanied by her sobbing moans. He put down the strap and picked up the whip. “You won’t need much of this, now. That strap was really hard for you, wasn’t it?”
She agreed, with messy crying. Her nose was starting to run and she sniffled the snot back up. He used the whip over the same areas as the strap, and instead of encompassing swathes of pain, the whip delivered thin stripes of fire. It was official. She’d never felt this much pain, not at any time in her life. Crying helped her process, but it didn’t take any of the stinging and throbbing away. She screamed when he flicked the insides of her thighs. He patted her ass to calm her.
“Okay, good girl. I think you’ve had enough.”
The weird thing was, as soon as he put down the whip, the final implement, she wasn’t sure she’d had enough. She could have taken more. She thought about saying so, but she was still crying too hard. He came with a tissue and held it to her nose.
“Blow,” he ordered.
She lowered her eyes as she complied, because he was staring at her, and it was Jonathan, and she’d never imagined kinky shit could get as intense as this. He’d warned her. He’d taken away so much of her power, she couldn’t blow her own nose.
“Better now?” He dabbed away her tears, knowing she wasn’t better, that there couldn’t really be a better, not yet. There was one more act to come.
“Here, baby. Give me your hands.”
He unhooked her cuffs from the top beam and brought them behind her head. She’d forgotten she even had the collar on, and stood with docile obedience as her wrists were clipped on short tethers to the ring at the back of her neck.
“Bend over.”
He pushed her down with light pressure between her shoulders, then harder pressure as she resisted. She didn’t mean to. It was her body still trying to fight him, not her mind. Settle down, she thought. Bend over. He’s the one in charge.
Her ankles were still cuffed, her legs spread, so when he bent her over the bed, she felt more exposed than ever. Her pussy was soaked for all her fears, and her legs trembled.
“You can rest against the bed,” he told her. He rubbed her shoulders and she moaned at how good his fingers felt digging into her tense muscles. He massaged down her bent arms and gave a little squeeze to the back of her neck. Her bottom and thighs still throbbed from her punishment, mostly from t
he strap, and her eyes were still wet with tears.
“That’s a good girl,” he said. “A good, obedient girl.”
He left her, and she tried to relax until he came back, but it was useless. She knew what was coming. She wanted it, but she was afraid. She heard him open a condom and peeked beneath her arms to see him rolling it onto his cock. Oh Jesus. Oh God. She closed her eyes when she heard the click of a cap. He parted her ass cheeks, giving her a small spank when she jumped.
“Relax, girl. You can’t get away, can you? You’re chained to the bed and your arms are bound, so you don’t have any way to push me away or stop me.”
She let out a sob. It seemed like the right time.
“That’s right,” he said, like her sob had been some answer. “I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to let me, and that’s how it’s going to be.”
As he said this, he slid a finger into her asshole, lubing her up. She tried not to clench, not to be that slut, but her pussy clenched anyway. With the sex toy still lodged in her pussy, his finger felt tight inside her. His cock would never fit. She stirred as he pulled his finger out and smoothed more lube around her hole. Her sensitized nipples slid across the sheets, making her shiver.
“Please,” she said.
“Please fuck you?”
She nodded. Yes, that was what she wanted.
“Say it. Please fuck my ass, Jonathan.”
“Please fuck my ass, Jonathan.”
He gave a low growl of satisfaction as he positioned his cock at her ass. “I’ve wanted to do this to you forever, Ruby. So I’m going to make it slow, so slow. I’m going to make it last.”
She’d never really stopped crying from her spread-eagle beating, and now the tears came again, harder, as his cock pushed her asshole open with a stretching, scary sensation. Her pussy was already so full, and now he was forcing his cock into her ass. Yes, forcing it. She wanted to think of it that way, and she cried and said ow, ow, ow, and begged him to stop, please, no, and he did, waiting for her to say Stravinsky, or even Stra, but that wasn’t why she was saying no. She didn’t mean no at all. She arched her hips toward him so he would know for sure that her no’s meant yes.
A Quartet of Pleasures Page 8
