Hard Lessons

by Jasmin Quinn

  But Jack, he seemed to understand her, her limits, her needs, and she wanted him to bend her to his will. She wanted him to take the power from her so she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to decide anything. Not always, but when she needed it or when he did. He knew this. He gave her back her power this morning, let her decide whether she would stay or go. Let her have her anger, own her moments, yesterday and this morning.

  She inhaled shakily. “I’m not ready for you. For this.”

  Jack smiled. “I know.” His eyes darkened as he stood up. “Your hour’s up, Mira.”

  A chill swept through her as Jack took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

  Fifteen

  Mira stood in a room, against a wall. She didn’t know where she was. Jack had blindfolded her. The air was cool. Soft sexy bluesy jazz filled the room. She was wearing a corset, matching panties and silky lace stay-ups. No shoes. Her hands were held in front of her, padded cuffs on her wrists, linked together. He’d restrained the cuffs loosely overhead, but she could easily draw them down from the hook. Which she did.

  Before, in his bedroom, Jack had presented her with three different corsets and told her to choose one and put it and the accessories on. He gave her 10-minutes and left. It was an easy choice for Mira. All the corsets were beautiful, the fabric exquisite, the lines fluid and firm. She chose the very light pink overbust satin corset with a delicate ruffle trim. The matching panties were full, soft and satiny, also fringed at the legs. As she fingered the fabric, she knew this was the one Jack wanted her to wear. It was all she was, a little innocent, a little reticent. It whispered submission. She was getting warm thinking about it on her. She’d rid herself of her kimono and put it on. She’d never done this before, worn a corset and as she stared at herself in Jack’s mirror, she decided she might never want to take it off.

  The front was hooked and easily joined, but the back had ties that she couldn’t reach. Then Jack came in. She heard him, but she didn’t turn towards him. Just watched his reflection in the mirror as he approached her. He stopped as he reached her and cradled her waist in his hands, staring at her in the mirror. Then he kissed her neck, his lips warm and soft as he stroked her skin and caused her to shiver. “You are so beautiful, Mira,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her ear.

  “I couldn’t tie it,” Mira said. The air was thick with sexual tension and she was practically vibrating with need. Jack stepped back and worked the laces, tightening each one, then tying it at the top.

  “How does it feel?” He asked softly. “Not too tight?”

  Mira shook her head. “No.”

  He ran his hands up her neck to her head and then splayed his fingers and ran them through her hair like a comb. “I’m going to braid it, Mira. Just to keep it out of the way.”

  Mira’s heart juddered at his words. “Out of the way of what?”

  He grinned and looked up from his attention to her hair. “The blindfold, of course.”

  He finished the braid and tied it off with a small band. He kissed her neck again, his hands caressing her shoulders as he stared at her reflection in the mirror. His lips quirked upward when she shivered in response.

  He cuffed her hands, then slipped a lace-trimmed black blindfold over her eyes and led her from his room, her small hands safely tucked into his strong sure grip. To where she was now, where he left her and told her not to move from the spot, not to touch her blindfold. To be a good girl and wait for him. Wait until he got back. And she did, at first tense, straining her ears for his return, and then as the minutes stretched, feeling her anticipation grow to a critical point. She was overwhelmed. He didn’t tell her she couldn’t touch herself and so she did, drawing the cuffs out of the hook over her head, and sliding her hands over her neck, to her chest and her belly, touching the cool satin, remembering how it looked on her. How Jack looked at her. She slid higher, to her breasts and then back to her neck. She held the palm of one hand over the back of the other and rubbed her neck, imagining it was Jack, his sensual lips brushing feathery soft on her skin, the warmth and softness of them. Kissing her, then bringing his hand to her neck, stroking the ridges of her jaw with his fingers, wrapping them around her throat, gently squeezing it, showing him her strength.

  A shaky sigh slipped from her lips as her nipples hardened and she dropped her fingers to her breasts, touching them. She cupped her hands under the mounds, squeezing them through the satiny ridges of the corset, imagining they were Jack’s hands, imagining him squeezing them as he kissed her. A hand on her breast and one on her neck. She knew her body was moving in concert with her caresses, a soft slow dance that fused with the jazzy music filtering through the room. She groaned as she ran the palms of her hands down her stomach to the tops of her thighs, pressing her fingers to her vulva through the fabric of her panties. Where was Jack? She crossed her hands together creating pressure on her clit, pushing at it, touching her wetness, her desire.

  Then he was there. She smelled him first, his maleness, musk, the soft spice of cologne. She felt his breath on her hair, heard the rasp of it as he pulled her hands away from her pussy, pressing her against the wall and kissing her. She brought her hands to his face, her fingers caressing his cheeks as he explored her mouth, his tongue gliding inside hers, his lips sucking at her tongue, teeth pulling at her lower lip. She flattened her hands against his shoulders, running them over the hard muscles of his chest, through the hair to his strong stomach. He was naked, and as her hand grazed his hard, erect penis, she heard him sigh. He dropped his hand to her pussy, inside her panties, his fingers stroking her, tenderly at first, grazing her folds, her clitoris. Then sliding a finger into her, thrusting gently, his thumb caressing her clit.

  She moaned and took his cock in her hands, wrapping her fingers tightly around its shaft, pulling at it, stroking it as he stroked her. He fucked her with his fingers and she cried her pleasure as he fingered her mercilessly. Then he pulled away and his hands were on her hips, sliding the panties over her ass, down her legs to her feet. His lips grazed her pussy as he lifted each foot and pulled her free of them. He was on his knees, inhaling her, his mouth on her clit sucking her as his finger pumped into her. Harder and faster.

  Mira felt herself climbing, but he knew how to make her wait, easing off on her clit, while fingering her, then back again once her breathing evened. She didn’t know if she was allowed to talk, but couldn’t suppress a passioned, “Yes.” And as she said it, repeatedly, Jack withdrew from her, turned her and pushed her chest against the wall, her hands pressing up to keep herself balanced.

  She tried to stay steady. She didn’t know what he was going to do with her, but he brought his finger to vagina, slid it inside her, and fucked her, his mouth still on her pussy, bringing her higher. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out, her yeses, his name, her pleasure. Her legs buckled and he helped her to the floor, to her knees, but he didn’t stop. She brought her hands to his chest as she came, her fingernails digging into him, her cry muffled against his shoulder, her teeth biting at his flesh as her orgasm rocketed through her.

  He eased her closer, brought his hand from her pussy to her face, his lips to hers as he kissed her. She scrabbled at him, at his face as she clung to him. Then he stood up, leaving her on her knees, guiding her lips to her penis. She wrapped her hands around his cock as she drew it into her mouth, guiding him deeper. She had an overwhelming urge to please him. Wanted to please him, like no woman had ever done. Give him anything, everything. She hung on to him, her fingers holding the base of his cock as she took him deep, as deep as she could, sucking him. As she choked, she felt his hand on her head, the other on his penis, wrapping his fingers around hers. Keeping her steady, stroking with her, not too deep. She understood, he didn’t want to come yet.

  He groaned as she sucked, as she slid her lips along his length, over and over, his breathing increasing. Then he pulled out of her mouth and she stilled, her face up, waiting for him. She felt his arms on hers pul
ling her up to her feet, then turning her again, leading her a few steps, then bending her over, placing her hands on a chair, making sure she was steady, then moving behind her, pushing into her with his cock. One hand on her hip, one on her back as he moved inside her. His big hands cradled her and her breath hitched as he thrust, little mews escaping her. He was bringing her up again, not even touching her clit, the pressure was growing. His hand traced her spine, then grabbed her braid, pulling on it as he rode her, fast and hard. He slid out, dropped to his knees, and brought his mouth to her pussy from behind, running his tongue through her folds, licking at her, then up on his feet again and thrusting into her until their breathing mingled, their groans echoed.

  She was going to come, but then he pulled out of her and she cried out from his desertion.

  “Shh,” he said as he turned her, turned with her and sat down on the chair, his hands holding her waist, opening his thighs and capturing her between them, slowly lowering her onto him, easing himself into her, pressing her back against his chest, his arm wrapped around her belly. He filled her, so deep, so thick, her pussy clenched around him, welcoming him. His hands moved to her arms controlling her thrusting, her hands on her knees, then to her pussy as she grabbed at her clit while he drove into her. It was exquisite, his cock buried so deeply, her fingers working her clit. His breath deepening, his hold on her tightening. She came with a cry, and then he did, his groans loud as he clutched her to him.

  After, he held her, still inside her, still on his lap, her hands cuffed and locked together but he pulled the blindfold away from her eyes. They were in an unfurnished room. Four walls, heavy curtains, a closet and soft carpet. He kissed her neck, nibbled it, took her chin in his hand, drew her face to his, kissing her lips, softly at first, then greedy. He helped her to her feet, then turned her to him, drawing his arms around her waist, hugging her to him desperately.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Later, much later, after showering together, laying together on the couch in each other’s arms, talking nonsense. After a simple lunch, he took her to his bedroom, dropping the robe from her shoulders, lowering her to the bed, laying next to her, his hands caressing her body, his mouth exploring her curves, his eyes memorizing her, knowing her. As his touches became urgent, Mira shifted away from him, out of reach. He arched his eyebrow and pushed himself up on one elbow.

  “Are you thinking of saying no?”

  Mira stood up on the other side of the bed, out of his reach. She felt her shyness, uncertainty and she saw Jack’s regard of her, his expression edgy, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not…” she faltered.

  A fleeting glint of disappointment was quickly replaced by a small smirk. “Have I ruined you for vanilla sex?” He sat up and reached for her. “Because trust me, vanilla is not a flavour I’m familiar with whether there are cuffs involved or not.”

  Mira stepped back, out of his reach. “It’s not that. It’s…” she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. After everything that had happened this weekend, after everything they’d been through, she couldn’t understand why shyness was flooding her.

  “It’s what?” Jack’s growl was impatient.

  She licked her lips and dove in. “Maybe it’s my turn to fuck you.”

  His eyebrows jumped in surprise. It gave Mira a little thrill that she’d caught him off-guard. “And how exactly do you intend to do that?”

  “We could tie your hands over your head.” Her heart was thudding and she could hear the breathlessness in her words.

  “No,” Jack replied as he stood up from the bed and walked around it. “That’s not how this works, my little submissive pet.” He pulled her to him, pressing her face against his chest. He seemed a little angry.

  Mira’s voice was muffled as she spoke, her hands splaying across his strong stomach, fingers sliding across the ridges. “I just want to show you what it’s like to be taken, Jack. I just want to know you like you know me.”

  Jack pinched her chin, brought her face up so he was looking down at her. He stared into her face, his eyes trying to see past the brown in her irises to understand her. “I won’t be tied,” he repeated.

  Mira’s heart skipped a beat and a warmth flooded her body as she nodded. “Maybe you could just hold a strap,” her voice was soft, inviting, hopeful. “Your arms overhead so you don’t touch me.”

  “I don’t know if I have that kind of will, baby. Not to touch you while you’re fucking with me.”

  She smiled and took his hand trying to lead him out of the bedroom.

  “Mira,” he growled, his feet following her reluctantly. “Where are we going?”

  “To the jazz room. I saw a strap in there. On the wall.”

  Sixteen

  Jack let Mira lead him into the room, the jazz still playing softly, the chair where they left it. The strap on the wall above, where he’d hooked her shackles but didn’t lock her in. He’d wanted to watch her, see what she’d do with the freedom of movement. And he wasn’t disappointed. The only thing that kept him lasting as long as he did this morning was all the fucking they’d been doing in the last two days.

  Now Mira pushed him against the wall, her beautiful small hand splaying across his chest. “Put your hands up and hold the strap.” She ran her hands up his sides to his armpits then tried to force him to comply with her, tried to move his arms up.

  He couldn’t help but grin. She was still his soft, beautiful Mira. She wasn’t trying to dominate. If anything, she wanted to please her master, she wanted to give him pleasure. His cock hardened at the thought and he took a shallow breath as he complied with her request, moving his arms up over his head, his hands groping for the strap, then weaving it through his fingers and holding it.

  Mira’s breath caught as he did this. The muscles in his arms strained as he stood with his hands overhead. As she stepped back, lust hit him hard. She was naked, her hair falling over her shoulders, uncombed and wild, her lips slightly parted as she breathed her desire. Her breasts jutting out at him, firm handfuls that ended in points as her nipples hardened under his dark gaze. His eyes travelled down to her waist, her soft belly, the flair of her hips, the softness of her thighs as they sheltered her pussy. She was perfect. She’d always been perfect.

  She reached out with her hands, exploring him, lifting him carefully out of the loose pants he was wearing, pushing them down his legs, getting him to step out of them. As she stood up, she craned her face to his, brought her lips to his, her hand circling his neck, pulling him closer so she could kiss him. Softly, delicately but resolutely, letting him kiss her back, but only as hard and intense as she permitted. Her lips trailed after her hands as she explored him, his shoulders, his arms, chest, stomach and thighs. Pushing his legs slightly open, she brought her mouth to his inner thighs, kissing, licking, nipping.

  Jack felt the pressure in him growing, impatient with her soft caresses and kisses. She hadn’t touched his cock and yet, the sight of her on her knees in front of him excited him to an explosive point; he thought he might come without her stimulation. As if sensing his impatience, Mira brought her fingers to his balls, caressing each one gently. He squeezed his eyes shut as her fingernails raked over him. He was so fucking vulnerable, he couldn’t believe he was letting her do this and without his strong hand, trapping her head, making her understand how careful she needed to be. It heightened his lust to be at her mercy.

  She shifted her hands to his cock, exploring it with her fingers, licking it softly, drawing her tongue down its length, over the head, exploring the hole, licking away his pre-cum, then pumping with her hands, her fingers wrapped around him, then her mouth, sucking him, taking his length, holding his cock with both hands. He groaned and bent his face up, the top of his head resting on the wall, his fingers tightening as he clung to the strap. Held it like an anchor. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to give this moment to Mira. He should have let her tie his hands. He wasn’t sure he could resist grabbing her, taking over.

 
She curled her fingers into the cheeks of his ass as she took his cock deep into her mouth, too deep. He heard her sucking, heard her gag, but she persisted. Stroking him as deep as she could. “Fuck, Mira,” he groaned. “Fuck.” He opened his eyes, looked down at the top of her head as she swallowed him, then closed them again, his muscles clenching. This was too much. His heart stuttered and his balls tightened, the pressure mounting. Did she know he was going to come? His breathing was deep, hoarse. He couldn’t contain his groans and then he shouted her name, but she’d moved her mouth from him, her hands jacking him, thrusting against his length, his semen spurting from him, hitting her chest as she watched him erupt, her own eyes dark and needy. She stroked him until he was empty, then brought her mouth to him, licking his cock clean.

  He looked down at her, kneeling at his feet, his cum glistening on her body. Then she smiled up at him, her eyes shining brightly, the smile on her face reverent. He closed his eyes to her trusting face. He was a bastard, a prick and an asshole. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve love.

  Seventeen

  Monday Morning – Day Four

  Mira turned her face towards the cloudless sky and let the sun stroke her. She was dressed in the outfit she’d arrived in, except this time Jack gave her shoes and a soft sweater to ward off the chill of the morning. He was with her, beside her, his hand on her back as he guided her towards the waiting car.