by Nikki Sex
“André used to say, ‘Ma belle, decide to return to a state of helplessness—but this time, enjoy it! Become familiar with vulnerability by choice! Fear and pain are neither wrong nor right. They create sensations one can experience. Be at the mercy of someone you trust, someone who you know will also give you pleasure. Then your fear of such powerlessness will be banished.’”
I run a hand through my hair. “Are you saying you want to feel helpless and afraid? Because I don’t think I can do that to you.”
“But you make me feel that way already!”
I frown in surprise. “I do?”
“Sure you do. Your little power plays during sex, the way you hold me down, or boss me around. It scared me at first—it still does sometimes. But I trust you and I’ve grown to accept being at your mercy. It’s super-hot, really. The way you take what you need is a real turn on.”
“Oh,” I say weakly. “That’s… good.”
I do get off on pushing her to do things in the bedroom—I’ve never understood why. It’s as though I make her do uncomfortable things in order to prove to myself that she cares for me.
“André told me he thought I’d enjoy a spanking,” she continues conversationally. “He was always trying to get me to associate pain with pleasure, to break that primal fear I have of it. He wanted me to become more balanced on the subject, not over-the-top afraid. He said I could overcome my fear of pain or being hit through interest or curiosity. I never believed him, but you know, I think I understand what he was trying to tell me now.”
She shifts on her seat, rubbing her bottom, craning her neck to see my handprint. It’s there, all right. Pretty and pink on her soft, white skin. It gives me a rush to see that mark—the color I put there. A strange, possessive thrill.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
I am a sick, sick fuck.
“You know, it feels kind of interesting,” she says. “My butt is tingling, but in a good way.” She smiles at me. “It’s kind of hot, don’t you think? Some of it is simply the fact that you did it, but also that I took it for you.”
For me. Exactly! How does she know? That’s what I need, that power I have over her. Proof of her love.
“So, I think I want you to spank me and make me climax while you do it. Are you up for that?”
I frown, conflicted. I’ve continued to read books about how to please a woman in bed, a project started by my own fear of the sexual act. I’ve even flicked through sadomasochism info. I swear, I don't go looking for this stuff. Sometimes I just drive the internet information highway like a drunk in a Ferrari.
I did intend to read about spankings, surprised to find they can cause climax. I picked up on it, mainly because of the focus on a woman’s ass. It was a different tool to bring her orgasm, yet, I couldn’t take the subject seriously.
I never dreamed Renata, a woman whose father beat her as a child, would ever consider such a thing.
“Are you sure you want to try it?” I ask cautiously.
“Positive.”
I stifle a moan as I get a mental image of her lying face down over my lap with all of my attention on her sweet ass. My waning erection hardens. I dream of that ass of hers. It’s so wrong! It’s so, so bad. But it’s also hot as hell.
I love this incredible woman. Every instinct I have screams for me to cherish and protect her. I don’t want to hurt her—I never want to hurt her. But if a spanking is what she needs, I’ll do it, despite my misgivings. How can I refuse?
I press my lips together, held back by my doubts. “What if you don’t like it?”
She tilts her head, a devilish expression on her face. “Well, you’d better make sure that I do then, shouldn’t you?”
“Ah.” I think I can see how this may work. Maybe.
“Don’t worry,” she soothes, sensing my resistance, my fear of screwing up. “I promise I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to. I honestly think this may help me in the same way I’ve helped you. This is me overcoming my childhood fears, changing the associations and getting through it.”
My heart rate has calmed, but it kicks up at this. Renata wants a spanking and I love to play with her ass. The vision of her laying across my lap makes me hard as steel. Damn. As long as I ensure she enjoys it, I can give her one.
“Well, if you put it that way,” I say in a deliberately low, slow drawl.
We gaze at each other. Her eyes shine with a combination of anxiety, mischief and trust. It’s her trust that unnerves me. I’d rather cut off my right arm than destroy her faith in me.
I pat my lap. “Come over here, darlin’,” I say, relieved to be forgiven, nervous and oddly exhilarated. “I want to help you all I can.”
Chapter 51.
“Like cures like. Hippocrates, the father of medicine stated, ‘By similar things a disease is produced and through the application of the like is cured.’ I have found this to be true for mind, heart and soul. If a beating has harmed you? Eh bien, be comforted, for a beating, it can cure you.”
— André Chevalier
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
Renata stands up, hesitates for a moment then walks to my side.
“I think you’re so brave to do this, sweetheart,” I encourage. “I know how frightening this kind of thing might be for you. Do you want to spank me first?”
Her expression incredulous, she laughs. “Are you serious?”
I stare at her with a perfectly straight face. “Of course, I’m serious. I’ll do whatever you need. Anything. Everything. There’s nothing I won’t do for you.”
Her face screws up. Is she going to cry? Jesus. When she abruptly leaps on to my lap, I brace myself for impact as much as for the emotional fallout I anticipate. She barely misses my erection—thank God. Throwing her arms around me, she presses her breasts against my chest.
Shit. She is crying.
Renata never hides her feelings with me. Her tears used to be disturbing. Now, I’m flattered. I’m safe for her to cry on and it’s an honor. Not everyone merits that special distinction.
I pat her back, stroking her, waiting. Her breath hitches as she cries. “Are you all right, darlin’?” I ask.
She sniffs, but doesn’t let go. “I’ll be OK in a minute,” she rasps. Time passes, five minutes, ten. Should I get her a drink or something? I continue to run my hands up and down her back. Caressing. Soothing. Finally she pulls back to look at me.
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“For crying all over you.”
“You can do that anytime.”
Our eyes lock. I hate to see her cry, but she knows I mean what I say. Good times, bad times, I’ll always be there for her—just as she’s been for me. Maybe that’s what love is.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I know why she’s crying. The passing of her mother and brother and the happy childhood she was robbed of, left a dark emptiness deep in her soul. Renata needs to be needed and I need her desperately. I’m her family now, her future. Knowing that makes her happy.
Sometimes when she’s really happy, it’s too much emotion for her to keep inside. That’s when she cries.
“I love you,” I say unnecessarily. She already knows this, but it’s good for her to hear the words.
She sniffs adorably. I pick her up off my lap, set her down on the couch and walk over to the bedside table for a box of tissues, I bring them back and offer them to her. She blows her nose, loud and long.
Not the most ladylike thing she’s ever done, she sounds like a foghorn.
We both laugh, it changes the atmosphere. The mood lightens as tension dissipates with our laughter. Her face is blotchy, but her breathing has returned to normal.
“I love you, too,” she says, in control of herself again.
I smile. “I know.” I pat my thigh. “You still up for this?”
She nods.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She lays
on her stomach, arranging herself across my thighs, my erection at her waist. Her head hangs upside down, her ass canted upward, ready for me. Molten desire fires my blood.
Having this beautiful woman spread across my lap is agony and ecstasy. My pulse quickens as anticipation builds. I place a palm on her buttocks and one on her shoulder. I have to put my hands somewhere, right? But my palms burn where they contact her skin.
This is sexy as all fuck.
I clear my throat. “How does this feel? OK?” I ask.
She giggles. “Not bad, a little disorienting. I definitely feel like I’m at your mercy. I can’t see anything with all my hair hanging down, covering my face. I may as well be wearing a blindfold.”
I snicker. “Kinky,” I tease. “We can do that if you want.”
“Ha, ha,” she says. Then, after a short pause she adds, “Maybe later.”
“OK.” Shit. I was joking, but now she’s got me thinking about it.
I begin to stroke her back and buttocks. Caressing and massaging, I skim her hips as well as inside and outside of her thighs. Doing this feels natural running my hands all over her, at least at every place I can easily reach.
“Mmm,” she murmurs.
“You like that?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I do too,” I say in a low voice. “Spread your legs,” I tell her, breathing in sharply at her instant compliance. It’s such a turn on when she does exactly as I say. “That’s right, good.”
I immediately begin to finger her, to the sound of her muted moans. I could do this all day. “Mmm. You’re so beautiful. I love playing with you.”
She mumbles something barely intelligible, asking why I haven’t started spanking her.
“Because, I think it’s better to go for pleasure, before we get into pain,” I tell her.
I'm following my heart as well as gut impulse. I'm also using information I gleaned from my research. Getting her excited will dull her pain to an extent. I know there are ways to prepare her body as best I can to accept the punishment I'll be doling out.
Plus, I don't need any excuse to play with her. I simply love doing it. Doing it while being close enough to bite her ass? Well, that’s heaven.
With one hand fondling between her legs, I use the other to squeeze and massage her buttocks. My breathing becomes ragged from all of the erotic images going through my mind. I can’t help it. I just have a huge thing about her ass.
“Are you ready?” I finally ask.
“Um… I think so.” Her voice quivers with trepidation.
I frown, hesitate. “Renata—”
“No, no,” she cuts me off abruptly. “I’m ready. Go ahead. Spank me.”
Without further warning, I spank one white buttock.
Slap!
It’s hardly a tap, but it makes a nice sound. She shivers violently. Is her reaction from fear or arousal?
“OK?”
“Yeah, do some more. That didn’t hurt, not really. It felt… interesting.”
Slap! Slap! Slap!
My palm descends, landing on her butt cheeks again and again, alternating sides. My palm begins to tingle and feel warm, so the more sensitive flesh on her buttocks must feel the effects, as well.
I try to make my slaps feel more like an intense massage, soft and rhythmic. I’m going for erotic sensation. She squirms, panting and gasping. Anxious, I stop for a moment to stroke her. She doesn’t ask to stop. Maybe she likes this?
Slap! Slap! Slap!
What I’m doing can’t possibly be painful—except for me. This gnawing ache! I need release. Having her mighty fine ass right here in front of me isn’t helping.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
The sound of my hand spanking her bare bottom is sexy as hell. I love the way her flesh jiggles with each impact. I keep thinking about how similar it would look if I was pounding into her asshole repeatedly with my cock—as if I'd ever allow myself that sick pleasure.
Raw desire combined with self-loathing tear through me, tangled irrevocably together. I wish those images and impulses would leave my mind and stay away. Yet, being this focused on her incredibly irresistible ass, that’s not going to happen.
Her smooth, white skin is turning pinker with every blow. Her flesh feels soft and warm, while I’m hard as rock, an inferno of inner heat, burning with overpowering lust. I want to touch and lick her all over. I long to watch my cum jet on and in every part of her body. I want to fuck her ass, her pussy, her breasts, and her mouth.
I imagine seeing my semen ooze and drip from her every opening. Fuck. So damn hot! I need Renata. I need to have her, to keep her, to consume her completely.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Greedy for her body, I continue to pleasure her. My hand is drenched from her arousal. I play between her legs, parting her folds, entering her with two fingers and lightly stimulating her clit with my thumb.
Whimpering, she moans again and again in an unbroken song of bliss. Oh yeah, she likes this. I bet I can make her come.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
I begin to strike her slightly harder, because I think that’s what she wants. The flat of my hand hits her buttocks, first one side and then the other. Her breath is ragged and heavy, her body shudders. Is this really arousing her? Or terrifying her?
I stop and stroke her pretty pink ass. She makes a sound, a quiet sigh, confirmation that she loves my touch.
“Still OK?” I ask.
“Mmm.”
Fuck. Is she really getting off on this?
Encouraged, I use both hands to explore her backside, her flank and the curve of her back. I see why artists draw the female form; it has such a unique, enticing beauty. I caress down her spine. With my fingers I spread her cheeks, drawn to that small rosebud entry point that taunts me so completely. I squeeze, massage and stare. Christ Almighty, she’s so fucking hot.
“OK?” I growl, a rough, low sound. “Not scared?”
She moans.
“More? Should I go harder? Or was that hard enough?”
“I need to feel pain,” she says, tensing suddenly as if expecting a painful blow. “The sound freaked me out, but I’m used to it now. I feel a kind of burning sting from what you’re doing, but it’s not bad. Right after you strike me, it turns into a kind of warm, pleasant glow. It isn’t uncomfortable. If anything it’s a huge turn on. But I need it to hurt, so I can learn not to fear pain.”
I don’t want to hurt her.
I take a deep breath. “If that’s what you need, I can make it hurt.”
Chapter 52.
“For erotically intelligent couples, love is a vessel that contains both security and adventure, and commitment offers one of the great luxuries of life: time. Marriage is not the end of romance, it is the beginning. They know that they have years in which to deepen their connection, to experiment, to regress, and even to fail. They see their relationship as something alive and ongoing, not a fait accompli. It’s a story that they are writing together, one with many chapters, and neither partner knows how it will end. There’s always a place they haven’t gone yet, always something about the other still to be discovered.”
― Esther Perel
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
It’s my job to help Renata as she's helped me, despite my misgivings and inner conflicts. Her wellbeing comes before my own, even though the idea of inflicting pain on her kills me.
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
“Yes. André thinks this will help me. I do too, so go ahead.” Her body tenses again.
I clear my throat. I’m so not ready for this. I never want to cause her pain. Not now. Not ever. But if she wants this, if she needs it… I’ll do it, for her.
“I’ll give you plenty of warning before I hit you harder, so just relax, for now,” I say reassuringly.
I decide to put the whole pain thing off for now. No hurry, right? Instead I focus on bringing her close to orgasm again and again through finger fucking and gentle
, rhythmic, spanks. She enjoys this and I do too.
Impulsively, I bend forward and use both hands to grab her butt cheeks, spreading them apart enough to fully view the puckered ring of her anus. I groan with need. I want to, but I could never touch her there. Instead I kiss, lick and nibble her gorgeous ass. Her skin radiates heat wherever I’ve hit her. She’s salty, sweaty and so, so soft.
“Lord, you’re beautiful,” I tell her in a husky, lust-filled growl.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
I tip her bottom closer to me and tilt it to a more accessible angle, unable to resist tasting her. With my nose and mouth—in fact, my whole head down between her legs, I suckle her pulsing clitoris, moaning from the intensity of my delight.
“Grant,” she screams.
It dawns on me that the vibrations from humming must feel similar to her as when she hums with my dick in her mouth. Fucking hell, that's hot.
I pull back before she climaxes, but clearly she’s in the zone. We’ve been doing this for at least forty minutes by now. That's not even including the time we spent torturing each other with the "Stop, Stop" game.
Trembling, she writhes and squirms on my lap. Almost anything will send her over at this point. Her entire body has been transformed into one big, throbbing, hungry clit.
Good.
A peculiar sense of power, anxiety, excitement and arousal runs through me. I can’t put it off any longer. It’s time for the pain part of this crazy exercise. Lord, I hope she can take it.
I hope I can too.
I take a deep, fortifying breath. “OK, darlin’, this is going to hurt. Ready?”
“Yes, God yes!” she gasps. “Please!”
Slap!
I slap her ass, hitting both cheeks at the same time hard. She tenses, her whole body as taut as a board—it’s an instant, convulsive reaction.
“Ahhhhh!”
The shocking scream that shrieks from her mouth astonishes me. Is it the sound of agony or ecstasy?
Oh, it’s ecstasy all right. She climaxes with a scream so loud, I worry my neighbors will call the police.
