by Anthology
This ritualized manner of foreplay is new to me—and so fucking arousing.
“Because I couldn't take off your belt with my teeth,” I try again. Even my voice is shaking.
“Yes, among other things,” he says. “You were are ashamed about that beautiful body I adore so much. You forgot to address me properly, several times. That calls for punishment, don't you think?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
He slides the belt over my behind, gently patting it as if he was practicing. I flinch and shiver every time the leather touches my skin. The anticipation is playing havoc with my mind.
“Please,” I breathe.
“Please what?” he asks.
I don't know. I don't know what I am begging for. Am I asking for pain?
He removes the belt from my behind, and for a while, nothing happens. I shudder and notice myself moving my hips back and forth, dizzy and warm with arousal and prospect.
It happens suddenly and without further warning. The first stroke cuts into my thick flesh like a fiery knife. I yelp in pain and my head flies back into my neck before the second blow hits my skin. It hurts, it really fucking hurts, more than anything anyone has ever done to me. The pain is fierce and blinding me, even with my eyes wide open.
Strike after strike rains down on my skin, each more painful than the one before. Soon, tears of pain are rolling down my cheeks and I yelp uncontrollably, trying to process the agony that each new blow unleashes on me.
Yet, it is the release I have been waiting for. All sanity and control has left my mind and body. I feel like I am flying through the pain, reaching new heights of ecstasy without the help of any substances.
He stops and throws the belt aside. It lands on the floor a few feet away from me.
“Turn around,” he orders.
I am sweating and shivering. I am sure that the tears have smeared the little makeup I had on my face, so I make sure to keep my head low while I follow his order.
But of course, he does not accept that.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I slowly tilt my head up to look up at him. He smiles and nods in approval.
“Perfect. You look stunning,” he says while he unbuttons his pants.
Even without directly looking at it, I can tell that he is hard and showing a considerable bulge beneath his suit pants.
“Keep your eyes up, look at me,” he reminds me when I am about to lower my eyes to his crotch, where he is about to free his erection in front of my face.
“Look at me,” he repeats. “And open your mouth.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper and do as I am told.
“Good girl,” he praises, and a moment later, I can taste the tip of his cock on my tongue.
He teases me for a while, sliding his cock along my lips as if he were applying lipstick to them, before he dives inside. He is huge and hard as rock. Even when he only inserts about half of himself, I struggle with accommodating him inside my mouth. But he pushes further, pressing against the back of my throat and causing me to gag.
I instinctively close my eyes, but he reminds me to keep them open and on his, looking up at him while I choke on his impressive length. He grabs a fistful of my hair at the back of my head and starts pushing me back and forth, thrusting himself in and out in the process.
“Yes, good girl,” he breathes while continuing to shove his cock in and out of my mouth. “Very good girl.”
He presses me against his pelvis, his hard cock pushed against the back of my throat, and holds me in place like this. I gag and choke, suffocated by his length, while tears and saliva are dropping to the floor beneath us.
“Stay like this and don't let go,” he commands before he slowly starts to step back, dragging me with him. I stumble on my knees, blinded by tears and fighting for air as we slowly approach the bedroom behind him. I support myself by grabbing onto his pants for dear life, pinned against his crotch while his hard cock is throbbing deep in my throat.
He releases me once we have reached the bedroom and I desperately pant for air while thin lines of saliva stretch between my lips and his massive cock.
“On the bed,” he orders. “On your back, legs up and spread for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” I utter, accompanied by frantic coughing.
I climb on the lavish bed and position myself the way he asked me to while he steps out of his pants. Finally!
He stands next to the bed for a few moments, stroking his beautiful erection, still wet with my saliva, while he looks down on me. The sore skin on my behind is burning as it is pressed against the soft sheets beneath me. The throbbing sensation is only adding to my arousal.
He climbs on the bed and positions himself above me, his hands placed next to my head respectively.
“I am going to fuck you now,” he whispers, planting a kiss on my trembling lips. “Like you have never been fucked before.”
I moan when he moves down, kissing and licking along the line of my neck and my collarbone until he reaches my breasts. He sits back on his heels so he no longer depends on the support of his arms and can move them down to massage my voluptuous breasts.
I arch my back and moan when he starts twisting my sensitive nipples between his fingers, pinching and squeezing them while I squirm with pleasure.
“These are so beautiful,” he whispers before he starts sucking on them, his tongue circling around my right nipple first, then the left.
Playing with my breasts like that is like turning a switch. I want him so bad. I need him.
“Please,” I breathe again.
“Please what?” he asks again.
Only this time, I know what to reply.
“Please fuck me,” I whisper. “Please, Sir. Fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” he breathes. “You deserve it, beautiful.”
He straightens up and produces a condom from God knows where, well prepared as he has shown himself to be this entire evening.
Moments later, his tip is pressed against my entrance, teasing me. I instinctively move my hips toward him, inviting him in, which makes him smile.
“Impatient little slut,” he says, smiling as he shoves himself inside of me.
A gasp of surprise and pleasure escapes my lips as he stretches me with his enormous member.
He leans over me, pushing himself inside of me until his pelvis is pressed against my center. I moan and reach out for him, desperate to touch his chiseled chest that is hovering above me, but he grabs my wrists and pushes my arms down on the sheets above my head before he begins fucking me relentlessly. He thrusts his rock hard cock in and out of me like a wild animal with no regard to anything but his desire for me.
I yelp and squirm beneath him, pinned down by his sheer strength and force while he has his way with me, fucking me like no one else has before.
All this build-up has my climax approaching fast, way too fast. I don't want to come yet, but when he pins my wrists together above my head, holding them down with one hand while the other travels beneath us, there is nowhere else for me to go but along with the explosive vertigo accompanies my release.
He massages my clit while ramming his cock inside of me, following my climax only few moments later as my muscles clench around him in desperate need.
Chapter 9
Ava
“Wow, Ava,” he breathes, lying next to me while I am wrapped up in his arms, feeling small and vulnerable, but oh so fucking good.
“Wow, yourself,” I tease him, for which I receive a loving pinch in the butt, right on my tortured skin.
“Ouch!” I yelp. “That is going to hurt for a while.”
“I hope so,” he says. “I don't want you to forget about tonight.”
“I won't,” I whisper. “Even without the pain, I could never forget.”
He squeezes me. “Good girl.”
“So, am I right to assume that you enjoyed yourself?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, Sir. A lot.”
That is
a major understatement. But what else could I possibly say? Please, let's do it again? Please, let's do this all the time and have a nice dinner together afterward? Please, Derek, the hottest man I have ever been with and who is way out of my league, please want to be mine as much as I want to be yours?
Sure. That is what a man like him would want to hear after a good fuck.
“You were well prepared,” I say instead. “Did you plan for this to happen?”
“I wouldn't say I planned it,” he says. “But I was hoping for it, yes. And it never hurts to be prepared.”
“So, the room, the suit, the condom,” I list. “All of this is ready to go for you whenever you... feel the need?”
He looks at me with indignation.
“I am not the kind of playboy you take me for, Ava,” he says. “Even though I may not have behaved much like the gentleman I promised on the first day we met.”
I giggle. “Oh, I don't think there was anything inappropriate about your behavior.”
“There was,” he insists. “You are just the little minx I hoped you to be. Sexy, obedient and naughty.”
He squeezes me with his strong arm and plants a kiss on my forehead.
I smile. My hand is resting on his perfect abs, stroking along the sexy little hills of his incredible muscles. Never in a thousand years did I expect myself to ever come close to a man like him, let alone touch him or be desired and fucked by him.
“You are so out of my league,” I whisper the uncomfortable truth.
“Nonsense,” he objects. “Stop saying things like that. It is insulting—to yourself and to me.“
He strokes along my upper arm and gently squeezes my breast.
“You are beautiful just the way you are,” he whispers. “Sensual, fierce and elegant. I loved watching you work out. Your strength and determination is beautiful, as are your curves.”
I blush at his words. How can he be so utterly sweet to me?
“Thank you,” I whisper helplessly.
He pinches me again and I flinch.
“Thank you, Sir,” I correct myself.
“Do you think we could do this again?” he asks.
“Well, there’s one more Advent Sunday coming up,” I say.
“Oh, and after that you’re done with me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Um, I’m… no,” I stutter. “But by then you might be done with me.”
He sighs. “Right now, I don’t feel like I could ever be done with you.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “This is seriously the best Christmas season ever.”
“It is for me, too,” he agrees, planting another kiss on my cheek. “So, you’re not done with me? Not now and not once Christmas is over?”
I chuckle. “I hardly believe so.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I have a lot more in store for you. Let’s just hope my magic works on you even when the season is over.”
I look at him, this Adonis of a man who thinks I could be a good match for him. There’s a sinister darkness about him that I’ve yet to figure out, but if he lets me in, I don’t think there’s anything that could chase me away. Even after only seeing him twice, I feel so much closer to him than any other man I’ve dated before.
That means something.
“I can't believe how lucky I am,” I say. “Who would have thought that winning a silly Christmas party raffle would lead to this? To you.”
“We're both lucky,” he whispers. “So, why leave it at this? It would be foolish to stop now, wouldn't you agree?”
I snuggle up to him, smiling.
“Yes, I would agree, Sir.”
The Santa Code
By B.B. Hamel
Chapter 1
The Golden Ticket
I eat chocolate bars, and I’m not ashamed of that.
I shouldn’t be, of course. They're just chocolate bars. Short, easy, cheap--the sort of thing I can grab on my way out of the supermarket or a CVS and get a quick shot of dopamine right where it matters. It’s cliché, of course, to be a woman that eats chocolate bars. It’s also frowned upon in our size-obsessed society.
None of that matters to me. Anyone can fat-shame me all they like. I’m a comfortable size, a trim size even. I run regularly and even do some exercises once in a while, though really I just call that “jumping around” on account of all the jumping it involves. Still, I’m in good shape, and so what if I want to be a cliché? I like it, and that’s good enough for me.
I unwrapped the chocolate, staring out the window of the bus. I was exhausted from my long day at work and annoyed that my car was in the shop, and so all I wanted to do was enjoy my chocolate piece by piece while listening to Radiohead. Thom Yorke’s voice on the last track on OK Computer came through my earbuds as I began to peel back the foil.[That's my favorite Radiohead album!]
And stopped as I dropped my phone, the plug yanked from the base.
“Crap,” I muttered, leaning forward to fish it up from the ground. I managed to grab it before it slid back under the seat behind me.
When I sat back up, I glanced around the bus before looking at my chocolate bar again. There, just under the foil, was a golden piece of paper. It looked just like the “golden ticket” from the Willy Wonka movies, and for a second I thought I had won some prize. I dropped my phone out of excitement, but that just wasn’t reality. Chocolate companies didn’t give away prizes, at least not that I knew of. No, it was probably just some stupid advertisement.
I peeled back the foil and carefully pulled the gold laminated piece of paper from behind the chocolate bar. I gently wrapped the chocolate again and placed it in my lap before holding up the gold paper.
Dear Anna Myra, congratulations! You’re the big winner of Hub Candy Company’s annual special giveaway! You’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to Aruba, where you’ll be treated to first-class accommodations, including flights. Please contact Langdon Rob at 555-631-8855 at your earliest convenience to accept your prize. Congratulations again!
I read it once, read it again, and nearly passed out.
I turned the piece of paper over and over again, and although it looked completely legitimate, including Hub's logo on the back, it couldn’t have been real. It just wasn’t possible that it was a genuine thing. This had to be some kind of prank, some elaborate prank being played on me by some annoying, but well-meaning friends. Maybe even coworkers. Janet from Account Management was always making jokes, maybe this was her handiwork.
My name really was Anna Myra. As far as I could tell, this specific piece of chocolate had a piece of paper with my name slipped inside of it and sealed perfectly before being put at that specific stand, waiting for me to buy it. The chances of me actually picking this piece of chocolate were so small, insanely small, that I couldn’t believe it was real.
But it was real, or at least the paper was real. I wasn’t hallucinating it. Which meant it had to be a joke of some sort. I looked around the bus, trying to smile, since maybe I was on camera or something. Nobody maintained prolonged eye contact or smiled back, and an old Asian woman gave me a dirty look before turning her head to stare out the window.
I felt insane. I felt like a crazy person. I sat there going over the various different possibilities in my head again and again, and every time I kept coming back to the fact that this was all a practical joke.
Still, even if it was a joke, how did I end up picking this specific bar? How did someone manage to do that?
Thoroughly freaked out, I nearly missed my stop. I managed to get up and run out the front at the last second, ignoring the annoyed comments from the driver as I hurried toward my apartment. I lived on South Street in Philadelphia, in the most touristy place in the whole city, but I liked it. I liked the crowds and the noise. There was always something to do. The sidewalks were perpetually dirty, spotted with puke piles and gum splotches, a landscape of human vice and excitement.[Probably the most honest description of South Street I've read...]
I walked
past Whole Foods, still staring at the golden ticket in my hand. I rolled it between my fingers and it was heavy, thick, and laminated, clearly not just some cheap inkjet deal. The letters themselves were slightly raised, embossed into the paper. The whole thing had a high-quality feel to it, which went against my practical joke theory, unless it was a very serious practical joke.
I hurried up into my apartment, slamming the door behind me. I worked for a small advertising agency right in Center City, which was pretty nice, but I usually worked very long hours. I was exhausted when I got into my little one-bedroom apartment and flopped down onto the couch.
I didn’t waste a single second. I got out my computer and quickly did some Googling. I learned as much as I could about Hub Candy Company and the mysterious Langdon Rob.
Turned out, Langdon Rob wasn’t mysterious at all. In fact, he was the young CEO of Hub, one of the youngest CEOs in the country. He was only twenty-eight, but he came from a long line of candy magnates. His father ran Hub before him, and he took over when his father stepped down two years ago.
Langdon was hot. I mean, maybe that wasn’t important, but he was freaking attractive. Cut jaw, close-cropped hair, deep blue eyes, and this cocky grin that made my heart pound in my chest. He didn’t look like a typical stuffy CEO.
I did some more Googling, but I couldn’t find any information about some special trip giveaway. There was no information about a giveaway anywhere on their website or anywhere else on the internet as far as I could tell. I did some quick searches about personalized tickets in chocolate bars, but that didn’t turn up anything either.
It only deepened the mystery. Langdon was a real guy working for a real company, and the ticket felt pretty real to me, too. The number didn’t come up when I searched for it, but that didn’t surprise me. I was pretty sure it was a cell number anyway. Maybe Langdon’s private number?
Or maybe someone else’s number that was using this poor guy to trick me. I couldn’t think of anyone that would really go to this much trouble to get one over on me, but the alternative seemed too crazy to be real.
