H is for...: BDSM Checklist

by L. DuBois

  “Are you planning to choose veggie tacos.”

  He leaned in and brushed his lips over her temple. “Brat.” He skimmed his palm over her chest, just barely brushing her bra-less breasts. “When I bring you your food, you will eat it. No matter what I choose for you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, then reached up and pulled her hair forward over her shoulders, obscuring the straps. He brushed it back. They were standing directly under a lightbulb, and the black straps gleamed with the muted shine of leather, while the large rings sparkled.

  One of the pair of women was the first to notice Rosa’s outfit, her brows rising.

  The line moved and they stepped up to the window.

  “Go find us a seat,” Liam said.

  Rosa turned and walked away, pleats swaying.

  “Good on ’ya, man.” One of the group of young men was standing off to the side waiting for his food. He nodded in appreciation at Rosa’s retreating form.

  “Thanks,” Liam said. He turned to the man in the truck and placed their order.

  Ten minutes later he made his way to their table, small paper boats filled with tacos in his hands, and two Mexican Cokes in their tall, slim glass bottles tucked into his pockets. Rosa had selected a table near the edge of the light, and seated herself in shadow. He thought about making her move, but then changed his mind.

  Setting down their food, he passed half of it to her.

  “Go ahead, you need to eat.” He took the soda bottles from his pockets and popped the caps.

  She examined what he’d brought her, then picked up a chicken taco. She leaned forward over the table and brought it to her mouth.

  Her moan of pleasure made him wish they’d gotten the food wrapped up to go, so he could use something other than food to make her moan. They were, at best, thirty minutes away from the club.

  He let her eat her first taco in peace, then did some moaning of his own as he ate. They hadn’t eaten anything more than some fruit in nearly twenty-four hours and he was starving.

  When she’d finished her second taco, he reached over and undid the small tie on her top. Rosa froze, looking up at him.

  “Don’t touch your shirt,” he ordered. Then he went back to his tacos.

  Her movements were much more careful now, but when she raised the glass bottle to her lips the top shifted. When she set it down, the top—sans the structural support of the drawstring—slid down, the sleeve nearly to her elbow, the rest of it laying precariously on the upper swell of her breast. Her nipples were hard.

  Liam picked up his still-cold Coke and pressed the glass against her nipples. Rosa froze and gasped.

  When he pulled back the condensation had left two small wet spots, which turned the already semi-opaque fabric almost sheer, and made it stick to her nipples.

  Rosa looked around. He followed her gaze. A few of the guys, including the one who’d complimented him, were looking over. One whistled.

  Rosa’s shoulders hunched.

  “Don’t,” he ordered her.

  “I’m nervous,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “Middle of the night by the side of the road with a gang of shady looking guys watching us, gee, why could I be nervous?”

  He blinked. “Oh you’re actually, nervous.”

  She widened her eyes at him. “What did you think?”

  “I thought you were nervous I was going to tell you to flash them.”

  Something shifted. She licked her lower lip. “Were you?”

  “I was thinking about it.” He caught her chin. “I still might. But first…do you trust me? To keep you safe I mean.”

  “Yes, but the situation could get out of hand—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Rosa.”

  He used the name deliberately.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good. Then finish your tacos.”

  They finished, wiped their hands, and then Liam took their garbage and tossed it in the small can near the truck. He walked back to the table and held out his hand. Rosa placed her fingers in his, trying not to move her arm too much, and he escorted her back to the car.

  With each step they took, the top slid down a little bit more, until it was being held up by her hard nipples.

  Liam grinned as he opened her door. He leaned in and brushed his lips against her neck. She smelled good. He kissed his way up to her ear, nipping the lobe before whispering his next command.

  “Turn around and wave goodbye to our new friends.”

  She stiffened, leaning into him for a moment. Remembering her real fear, he whispered. “We’re right next to the car. We’ll be tearing out of this parking lot before anyone can touch you. Okay?”

  He walked around to his side of the car and opened the door. He’d planned to be the gentleman and close her door for her, but it was more important to make sure she felt safe. She looked at him, worrying her lip. He leaned into the driver’s seat and pushed the button to start the car. When he straightened he raised an eyebrow.

  She was breathing a bit heavier than she had been, and her breasts were rising and falling, the top slipping just a fraction of an inch with each exhale.

  “Trust me?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then turn around and wave goodbye to our new friends.”

  She tipped her chin up in exaggerated defiance, but her gaze was hungry.

  He lowered his voice, putting steel in the words. “Or would you rather bend over and put your hands on the seat? I could flip up your skirt and let them see that pretty ass.”

  Rosa turned, raised one hand to shoulder height, and waved quickly.

  The top fell to her waist.

  The boys wolf whistled as Rosa threw herself into the car. Liam jumped in, his door thunking closed a second after hers. As he’d promised a second later gravel was spitting up under their tires as he accelerated along the hard shoulder, preparing to merge onto the highway.

  She’d pulled the top up, recovering her breasts.

  He reached over and casually flicked it down. “Now take off the skirt and spread your legs.”

  He merged onto Highway One as she undid the skirt, lifted her hips, and yanked it out from under her ass.

  She spread her legs and he spent the rest of the drive with his fingers comfortably nestled in the wet heat of her pussy.

  “I’m going to get you back for this,” Rosa panted.

  Liam lifted his head from between her legs. “Oh?” She watched him grab the end of the string of anal beads he’d forced into her ass and start pulling.

  There was a burst of pleasure-pain as the first golf-ball size plastic bead popped free, forcing her anus to expand as it did. She arched up, crying out. It was Tuesday afternoon, and he’d been playing with her for the past three hours.

  After the intensity of last night—once they’d come back from dinner he’d fucked her for hours, leaving her limp from orgasms—she should have been too exhausted and replete to get this worked up again, but despite what she thought “should” be happening, he had her wild with lust. It didn’t help that she was bound to the bed, her arms extended, her knees pulled up, the spreader bar tied between them connected to the ring in the thick collar she wore.

  He had yet to let her come today, and she was some insane combination of exhausted and hyper, like she’d been awake for two days but had four cups of coffee.

  Liam lowered his lips to her pussy, sucking gently on her clit.

  “Please,” she said, and it was not the first time she’d begged.

  “Please what?” he murmured against her wet flesh.

  “Please let me come,” she sobbed. The orgasm was right there. If he would either keep sucking her clit, get a nice rhythm going, or use something a bit harder, she would come.

  She was so maddeningly close.

  “No.” He kissed her pussy, then rolled off the bed.

  “Get back here!” She wriggled and struggled in frustration. “Damn it, Liam
, get your ass back here.”

  He paused, looking at her over his shoulder. “What did you just say to me?”

  Rosa flopped back on the bed. She should apologize, but fuck that, she was too damned frustrated.

  Liam walked into the bathroom, emerging less than two minutes later. His face was wet and he’d put on a shirt.

  Oh shit. Was he going to leave her alone and frustrated?

  He leaned down over her, planting his hands on either side of her head. “You don’t give the orders, Rosa.”

  He loomed over her, his voice dark with menace and for a delicious moment she was genuinely worried.

  “Do you?” He pinched her nipple, hard.

  “No, Sir.” The words were reflex, wrung from her by the punishing pinch.

  “You’ve earned a punishment.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “You will be.” He started untying her.

  When he helped her off the bed the anal beads shifted, and she wasn’t able to stifle her moan.

  He left the thick collar on her. When he’d first put it on, she’d had a moment of sadness because he’d never “collared” her in that way BDSM romantic fiction talked about.

  Then she’d been too turned on to care about anything except his mouth and tongue and fingers.

  He grabbed the rope looped through the collar and used it as a leash, pulling her along behind him, her naked, while he was dressed in a shirt and slacks.

  He led her to one of the playrooms in the Constellation Court. The room smelled faintly of leather soap and lemon scented floor cleaner. The staff must have come through and cleaned after the weekend’s events.

  He walked confidently to the panel of lights and hit a switch. Every movement telegraphed that he knew exactly what he was doing. He had a plan.

  She’d learned that Master Liam with a plan was dangerous—in all the best ways.

  The fiber-optic pin lights embedded in the ceiling clicked on. They depicted the real stars, though Rosa didn’t know enough to identify the constellations rendered in this room.

  Next he turned on a single spot light, casting a cone of white light onto a piece of equipment.

  A spanking bench.

  “We have one item left on our list. Do you remember what it is?”

  “Hair brush spanking,” she whispered.

  “Get up there.” His head tipped toward the spanking bench.

  She turned, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to protest or beg for something else.

  He swatted her ass. “Go.”

  She went.

  The spanking bench was made of three padded panels. The largest one was also the highest off the floor and had a slight angle to it. The other two were attached to the support post under the higher end of the large panel.

  She stepped between the two lower knee rests, kneeling first on one then the other. She leaned her hips against the end of the largest panel then lay forward. The incline meant that her head was slightly lower than her ass.

  There was the now-familiar tearing sound of Velcro, and then her lower legs were secured to the knee rests.

  A heavy leather belt wrapped across her lower back. She grabbed the handles mounted under the head end of the spanking bench, clutching tight.

  How hard was he going spank her?

  How hard did she want him to spank her?

  She was lying with her right cheek against the padding. Her hair had fallen partially over her face and she reached up to brush it back.

  He caught her wrist, guiding her hand back to the handle. “Keep your hands here. If you move them, I’ll tie them together behind your back and that would not be comfortable.”

  She hadn’t realized he was standing near her head, just outside of her line of sight, until he’d touched her. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He held out the brush so she could see it. It had a large, rectangular head of glossy blonde wood.

  He flipped it around, showing her the boar bristles on the other side.

  Now she was nervous, truly, genuinely nervous. Her stomach was fluttering. It was like…like she was about to get onto a roller coaster. She wanted the experience, though she knew it would be scary, and there was always the possibility it would go horribly awry, and something truly bad would happen.

  “We’re going to start with 5. See how it goes. I won’t do more than twenty though.”

  “Twenty?” She shivered.

  “Yes.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she panted.

  He stepped around behind her.

  Her stomach was knotted so tight she felt slightly sick. “Yellow!”

  Within a second Liam was there, crouched beside her, the brush clattering to the floor. “You okay, baby?”

  “I’m scared.”

  His eyes searched her face. “Really scared? We don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I’m scared now.”

  “It’s okay. You can be scared.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.

  She knew that kiss. Knew the smell of his skin. The tension faded from her. “Green.”

  He stroked the side of her face for a moment longer, then rose. She didn’t tense up when the fabric of his pants brushed the inside of her thigh. She did tense when she felt the tug against her ass.

  She’d forgotten about the anal beads.

  He tugged and her body opened, yielding to his control and command.

  “Relax,” he chided her.

  She tried, but it felt good to fight the pull, to let him force her body to yield. When the second anal bead popped free she gasped with pain-laced pleasure.

  He didn’t stop but kept going, pulling the next one out.

  Her pussy clenched.

  Another tug, her anus muscle burning as he forced her to open, and he used her ass in this delicious, dirty way.

  There was one final bead, and this pulled out half way and then held in place, forcing her ass to stay open around the widest part, until she sobbed and bucked her hips.

  “What color are you?” he asked softly.

  “Green. Green green green.” She licked her dry lips. “Please spank me, Master.”

  He made a noise of satisfaction and she opened her eyes in time to see his arm reach down and grab the brush.

  “Five. You don’t have to count.”

  Crack.

  She screamed. With a spanking usually the sound preceded the pain. This time it was the other way around. The pain was immediate—harder and more acute than the pain of a spanking. That hurt.

  He wasn’t tapping her ass with the brush, wasn’t being playful. This was more like a paddling.

  The loud crack of wood against skin registered dimly, drowned out by the sound of her screech.

  He rubbed the spot he’d just spanked. “That was one.”

  “That hurt.”

  He made a dark, dangerous noise. “I want it to hurt. You’re mine to hurt.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m yours. Hurt me. Please.”

  Crack.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, falling as she squeezed them closed.

  Crack.

  Another scream, another flare of pain. A spanking wasn’t even really that kinky. Vanilla people sometimes played around with spanking.

  This was something else. This was real pain. A stranger looking at them might think him cruel, and her abuser.

  He’d thought that. He’d left her.

  Then she’d left him.

  Crack.

  She tried to jerk away, pulling against the bindings.

  She needed this. Deserved this. She was his, and this was how she’d know. He’d touch her, use her, hurt her, because she’d submitted, and because they both needed this.

  They needed the fire-laced connection that could only be forged in pain.

  His hand ran over hot, aching flesh. She was sobbing, her cheek sliding against the padding thanks to a layer of tears.

  “Good girl,�
� he murmured. “We’re done.”

  “Please. Please,” she sobbed.

  “Please what?”

  “More.”

  His hands paused, then continued to stroke her ass. Even the brush of his hands against her abused flesh was slightly uncomfortable, something that didn’t happen with a regular spanking.

  Crack.

  Hot pain pulsed from her, and she jerked away, breathing heavily.

  Crack.

  “Liam!” she sobbed.

  Crack.

  She couldn’t take anymore. The pain was too much.

  The need was too much.

  Crack.

  Rosa shuddered, and then, to her own shock, she came. It wasn’t like any orgasm she’d ever had before. It turned pain to pleasure, her abused ass becoming the source of the stimulus that pushed her over the edge.

  “Coming,” she stammered. “Liam. Coming.”

  She had no idea if those words were actually comprehensible. They must have been enough, because there was a rustle of fabric, and then he grabbed her hips.

  She was so wet, so ready for him. His cock was thick and hard, forcing her orgasm-tight vagina to open, to yield to him. The pressure of his cock filling her extended her orgasm. She clenched down on him, but he was hard and unyielding inside her.

  When he sank in deep enough for his hips to touch her ass, she cried out in sweet, dark pain.

  “Fuck, yes.” Now he was the one who sounded out of control.

  He pumped his cock into her, wringing alternating moans of pleasure and whimpers of pain.

  “I’m going to fuck your ass.” That was all the warning she got before he pulled out of her pussy. They didn’t have any lube, but she’d been so wet, for so long, that natural lubrication having slid from her pussy when she was on her back on the bed, that they didn’t need it. That, combined with the lube on the condom he rolled on—she heard the distinct rip of the packet—was enough.

  The fat head of his cock forced open her already abused anus. She whimpered as he pressed in. It hurt, and it felt so good.

  His cock sank deep into her ass, and she no longer knew what was pleasure and what was pain. He pumped into her, forcing her ass to yield to him, just as he’d done to her pussy.