Abuse

by Nikki Sex

  “How do you win this game?”

  “Well, if I manage to make you climax when you didn’t mean to, I win. Same for you in making me come when I didn’t intend to. But no cheating. When someone says ‘stop’ you have to stop.”

  “How long do we play?”

  “As long as we like, maybe an hour or two. But honestly?” I waggle my eyebrows. “I suspect we’ll be playing games like this for the rest of our lives.”

  He grins.

  “The ‘Stop! Stop!’ game is like mega-foreplay,” I add. “For the grand finale, we’ll both be completely out of our minds. Then we can fuck each other and try to climax together. Ready to play?”

  He blows out his breath on a sigh. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good. I get to start.” My grin splits my face. “You have to do what I say.”

  He frowns, gives me a dubious look. “All right.”

  Grant is flat on his back, his head on a pillow. God, the muscular taut maleness of him makes me feel faint. He’s so strong, so accustomed to being in control. Is he really going to let me boss him around?

  “Put your hands behind your head, you’re not allowed to touch me,” I say, watching to see how he takes my first command. He mutters an inaudible curse, but does as I ask.

  So far he’s not having any fun, I’m going to fix that. But first, I just want to kiss him.

  “Don’t move,” I admonish. “Stay right where you are while I kiss you.”

  Lord, it’s a blast to order him around exactly the way he does to me.

  I put my mouth on his, kissing him deeply, falling into him. Man, it’s such a turn on the way we connect. I touch, taste and tease, but only mouth on mouth. He’ll have to wait before he gets more. Unfortunately I’ll have to wait, too.

  I sigh, adoring how good he feels beneath me.

  His body trembles—he wants to be closer, but I won’t allow it. He can’t use his strength on me now. His thighs tighten, unconsciously his hips roll.

  I pull back from him. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

  Eyes wide, his generous lips part. He clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says. I snicker inside. The shoe is on the other foot now, isn’t it?

  “You’re forgiven,” I murmur and return to plunder those kissable lips of his.

  This is so damn hot. My pulse pounds, I draw in shallow breaths as I push against him, deepening the kiss. If I kept at it, simply touching him with my mouth, lips and tongue, I swear I could climax just from a kiss.

  I move back abruptly, greedily staring at the restrained power of his rock-hard body while I catch my breath.

  “God, I love your mouth,” I murmur.

  Grant’s eyes shine with lust, while his sensual smile melts me.

  I look him up and down. “I love the rest of you, too, but don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re sexy as hell.”

  Still smiling, he shakes his head. “I’ll consider myself warned.”

  With a naughty grin, my expression full of meaning, I lick my lips, slathering them with moisture until I’m sure they gleam. His body tightens further, while his gaze focuses like a laser on my lips and tongue.

  He has a good idea of exactly what I plan to do with my mouth.

  I trail my fingers up his thigh and circle his swollen cock. Already he’s hard and hot, the skin of him soft as velvet. My eyes take in every stiff inch.

  “Ready for some serious temptation?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

  There’s a martial look in his eye. “Go for it.”

  “I’m going to suck on this cock of yours until I get something out of it.” I squeeze his swollen shaft while I issue this naughty, sensual threat.

  His body jerks, his breath hisses out. I’m rewarded with an agonized male groan of withheld pleasure. His muscles strain with the urge to touch me. Ha! It’s my turn to dominate him!

  I laugh. “Do you like the game so far?”

  The poor man glares at me, but he says nothing. He’s not used to being submissive in bed. Not only that, Grant’s the kind of guy that always has to win. Well, that’s OK by me.

  This is a wanton test of temptation, sensation and restraint. How could either of us lose?

  His cock is red, the veins bulge. One hand idly playing with his shaft, I begin slowly by swirling my tongue around the head, flicking and licking the underside of his penis, the most sensitive spot.

  When he swears under his breath, I snicker under mine. His abs stand out as his flat stomach tightens. The erotic sound of his breath catching makes me smile.

  Good. I lick down his length, my tongue tracing, my mouth nibbling. I take him inside, swallowing him down, sucking until he moans. I sit back and grin. I’m teasing him and he knows it.

  Firm lipped, Grant doesn’t grin back.

  While still fondling his cock, I concentrate on his heavy testicles, sucking them lightly inside my mouth, one at a time. I haven’t done that before with him. His body shudders. He likes it… a lot!

  My skin flushes, my breasts ache to be touched. The fact he likes what I’m doing arouses me further. After so many years of being shut down, he loves feeling. A burning fire begins in my core, spreading outward. I whimper when my clit begins to throb.

  Shit. I have to stay in control. My attention has to remain on him.

  How does Grant do it? This dominance thing is harder than I thought.

  Now it’s my turn to move him around as I like. He raises his eyebrows suspiciously when I spread his legs wide apart. I raise his balls, moisten my lips, then my tongue moves toward the underside of his scrotum.

  His body flinches in surprise, his breath comes ragged and hard.

  With one hand I lightly masturbate his aching cock, with the other gently holding his sack. I generously lick between his testicles and his anus, short soft licks, long harder licks, circles and sweeps, again, again and again. All the while jerking him off.

  “For the love of God,” he cries out.

  There’s a million, zillion nerve endings in his perineum. I’m pretty sure my hot, wet tongue has lovingly caressed every single one.

  I release his cock and his balls, then pull back to look at him. His stunned reaction to this erotic assault is wonderful to see. His biceps bulge as he grips the pillow behind his head, trying not to reach for me.

  I bet if I put my finger up his ass to gently prod his prostate, he’d spray like a firehose. I’d never do this without his permission, not with his history, but someday I plan to get to that.

  We’ll end up doing everything together, in time.

  “You like that, do you?”

  “Fuck!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I snicker and begin gently nibbling and licking his perineum again.

  “Wait,” he gasps, as more pre-cum drips. His shaft pulses, I think he nearly climaxed that time.

  I stop. “Wow, that spot really does it for you, doesn’t it?” I say, wetting my knuckle and stroking him there, just once more, very lightly. He grunts, a sound of agony and pleasure because he has to hold back.

  This is a little power play, it amuses me to keep him close to orgasm.

  Grant says nothing, but his eyes positively burn.

  Jesus Christ on a cracker! Good thing I told him to put his hands behind his head. Otherwise he’d probably flip me over, jump on top of me, hold me down by the nape with his teeth, and slam into me like a wild stallion.

  The image makes my entire body shiver.

  I shift my thighs together, in an effort to control my lust, I manage to chuckle. “You were supposed to say ‘stop,’ but since you haven’t, I get to keep going. Ha, ha! It’s still my turn to tease and torment you.”

  “Fine,” he bites the word out.

  His flesh is slick with sweat. Heat positively radiates from his skin now, while his shaft is thick and solid in my hand. I moisten my palm and lightly masturbate him, easing him past my wet lips and into my mouth.

  His quick inhale of breath makes my core
clench. What is this deep, primal satisfaction I feel in servicing him? I want to see him come. I want to feel him come. I want to swallow his cum!

  I adore the familiar, heady scent of his male musk and arousal. The liquid dripping from his tip is so sexy—it tastes incredible. The smell of him, the feel of him, and the thought of making him climax very nearly makes me come.

  How embarrassing. That’s one way to lose this game!

  Craving the song of his release, I begin working feverishly, sucking and masturbating him with my hand simultaneously, but in a more rapid rhythm.

  Breathing heavily now, he makes such sexy sounds of need! I hum loudly with pure pleasure, the vibration of it shoots through his cock.

  When I send a knuckle down to stroke his perineum, Grant moans incoherently and begins to quietly cuss. I don’t think he can take much more.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” he finally calls out desperately.

  Thought so, I snicker internally, but I immediately cease what I’m doing.

  Sitting back, I let him go completely. My eyes widen as I gaze at him.

  His body is like rock, every muscle strung so tight. He’s thick and long and hard as a post. Bright red, swollen with blood, his beautifully formed shaft twitches, dripping with pre-cum. His magnificent hard on pulses with every beat of his heart.

  Panting and shaking, Grant’s a healthy male animal in rut. And he’s all mine.

  I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier. “Fuck, you look amazing,” I whisper, awed.

  His chin lifts, his smoldering gaze locks to mine. “My turn, I think,” he growls hoarsely.

  No longer under his self-imposed restraint, he leaps up, fast as a hungry leopard, and flips me on to my stomach.

  Chapter 49.

  “Fear, anxiety, arousal, and pain; all are emotions and sensations. They are neither right, nor are they wrong; good nor bad. They are simply passions, a most important part of life. Feel them, fully experience them, surrender to them, and learn to accept them.”

  — André Chevalier

  ~~~

  Grant Wilkinson

  We’ve been playing our teasing, erotic ‘Stop! Stop!’ game for over an hour. First Renata was in control, then me in charge, then her, now me once more.

  I admit there’s something compelling about being under her control, being at her mercy. I wonder. Is that because I like it, or because she does?

  Making her happy is a bone-deep need of mine, so I suspect it’s the latter. Pleasing her, pleases me, just as getting her off, gets me off.

  Now, I’m back in the driver’s seat, trying to make her lose control and orgasm against her will. I’m a little worried my testicles are about to explode, so I think I need to end this game. Time for us both to climax as I fuck the living hell out of Renata.

  I take in a deep breath, enjoying the heady scent of her arousal. The woman is drenched, so ready to be fucked.

  “Keep still,” I remind her when she ever-so-slightly squirms in response to a particularly sensual stroke. “I love to see you struggle—you do it so beautifully. It’s fun to watch you desperately try not to move. Can you understand something that crazy?”

  “Yes, you terrible sadist. Ah! It’s so damn hard!”

  “Yes, it is,” I agree with a grin, blatantly stroking my rigid length to convey my wicked misinterpretation of her words. “And very soon now, I’m going to thrust all this hardness right up inside you, deep into that soft little cunt of yours.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” she moans, her skin flushed with need. “But what about our game? Have we finished the game?”

  “Almost,” I tell her, as I continue to tease her clit. “How badly do you want my cock?”

  “Bad, so bad! Yes pleeeaaasssse!”

  I laugh heartlessly, happy to make her wait. I’ve changed the rules. I’ve gone back to my favorite form of entertainment, teasing Renata until she begs me to let her come—or alternatively, begs me to fuck her.

  Either works for me.

  Right now, Renata’s bent over my bedroom sofa, her ass in the air, her legs spread wide. She has such a sweet ass, the kind of ass that draws me in. I’d recognize her perfect backside from across a crowded room. I love her face, her smile, her breasts, her figure and her sweet pussy, but her ass? Mmm. Nothing makes me harder than thinking of her ass.

  I want to tease it, lick it, stretch it with my fingers and play with that tight rim, preparing it to accept my cock. I wish I could banish this craving, this sick desire that haunts my dreams and fantasies.

  God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.

  From time to time, during my sensual assault of her body, I fondle her full breasts, stroking and squeezing them. I roll her hard nubs between my thumbs and forefingers, tugging her nipples, entranced by how stiff they’ve become.

  Renata whimpers with bliss. I smile.

  But the main thing I do is admire her sweet backside. Lord, looking at her bent over like this is such a turn on. I also love to play with her empty slit, her hard, throbbing clit, and the swollen, puffy lips of her sex.

  Licking her, sucking her, and fucking her with my fingers and my tongue, bringing her to climax—what could be more exciting?

  I’ll never get enough.

  I enjoyed Renata controlling me, yet I much prefer to be in charge. Bringing her close to climax over and over again is so easy. Going down on her, licking her dripping sex, watching her clit pulse, and her inner channel squeeze shut, clamping down hard during her release—it’s all fun for me.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she gasps as I run my tongue from one end of her slit to the other, my tongue swirling, lapping against her as I drink her in. She’s soaking wet. Small, helpless sounds come from deep in her throat.

  When I flick her clit in exactly the way she loves best, her hips instinctively jerk backward, seeking more contact.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to move?” I say in a low, taunting voice. I give her sexy ass a quick slap, an instant naughty punishment—a silly, thoughtless joke.

  Face bright with shock, Renata’s back straightens. Wide-eyed, she stares at me.

  Shit! What was I thinking?

  I take a step backwards, terrified.

  “Darlin’, are you OK?” My hands up in ‘surrender,’ I gasp in horror. “I don’t know why I did that. I know how you feel about men striking women. I’m so sorry. God, please forgive me. Tell me you’re all right.”

  She frowns, I see her mind processing as she sits up on the arm of the couch. My heart pounds in my ears. Has she fallen into her past? Do I remind her of her father? Will she hate me now?

  Leave it to me to fuck this up.

  As a sniper, I never buckled under pressure—I’d lost all emotion by cutting out my heart as a child. By counting my breaths and pulse, in the army I managed my fears through unfeeling detachment.

  Yet, I can’t be detached with the woman I love.

  A bubble of panic wells up from inside my chest. I’ve uncovered my feelings with André and Renata, now I can be hurt. Now I can be destroyed.

  I can’t lose her!

  “Forgive me,” I entreat her in panting breaths, my voice hoarse and low. I’m desperately trying to regain control of myself, but it’s not working.

  “I swear to God, Renata. That will never happen again.”

  Chapter 50.

  “If you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something.”

  — Neil Gaiman

  ~~~

  Grant Wilkinson

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she says tentatively. “You know what? I did disobey you.” After a few beats, she adds, “Oddly, I think I liked that little spank… but I’m not sure. Do it again, will you?”

  “No,” I gasp, stepping back even further, trying to process her words.

  Her smile is uncert
ain, her mind is turned inward. Brow furrowed, she’s deep in thought. As if flipping a switch, she suddenly regards me, becoming aware of my panic. Wide-eyed, she slides down from the arm of the couch, onto the cushion.

  “Oh, poor Grant! I forgot about threatening to leave if you ever hit me! Come and sit here with me on the couch and I’ll explain what’s going on,” she says as she pats the seat beside her.

  I don’t move. I’m afraid to come closer. I’m afraid to do anything just now. I’m so ashamed of myself. I have the crazy desire to drop to the floor, crawl on my knees to her, to kiss her feet, and beg for her forgiveness.

  Why in the hell did I spank her?

  I manage to walk over and sit on the other end of the couch, far from her, where I can’t do further damage.

  Renata snorts a small chuckle. “Grant, that didn’t hurt. That was nothing! Sweetheart, you reacted impulsively. Playfully, even. No big deal. I’m not that fragile, and yours was an innocent mistake. What kind of person would I be if I jumped down your throat for every little slip-up? I screw up all the time, but you still love me, right?”

  I say nothing, but I begin to feel a sense of hopefulness.

  “I assure you—that was nothing like what my father did to me,” she explains. “André felt I needed to overcome my fear of being struck. He tried to persuade me to take a self-defense course so I could learn not to be scared of a hit, or a person’s hands, or to unreasonably avoid pain. ‘Pain? It is only another sensation,’ he constantly told me. He said it wasn’t pain, but the significance of pain that made me fear it. He’d ask me questions like, what does pain mean to you?”

  I swallow with a very dry throat. “Are you saying I didn’t hurt you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me.” Her eyes glitter, bright with wonder. “You may have even done me some good. Despite the countless times and ways André tried to help me overcome my fears, I wouldn’t listen, or I couldn’t hear him. Maybe I just wasn’t ready, you know?”

  I nod, even though I can barely follow what she says. She hasn’t run away, so I think I’ll just keep my mouth shut for now.

  Renata puts the tip of her thumb in her mouth, chewing on her nail unconsciously. She does this when she’s nervous, or sometimes when she’s thinking too hard.