by Alison Tyler
He gestures, and I slide the leggings and underwear off myself and toss them onto the sofa. “What do you want, pretty girl in my living room?” I resist the urge to um and blush and I walk over to his chair.
“I want to be closer to you.”
He holds a hand out to me, and I climb onto his lap. As I do, he reaches up and palms my breast and pulls me in.
“Well?”
“You usually…you don’t usually ask, you just take,” I whisper, leaning into his hands, arranging myself so I’m straddling his thigh, shivering with the chill on my bare skin and the contrasting heat of his hands.
“Well, you’ve never shown up at my door before.” He lets me tip his face toward me and find his mouth with mine. His lips are firm and full and I can feel his sandy beard scratching at my face. He tastes familiar when I flick my tongue across his. Little shivers fill me at the connection. He hooks a finger into the strand of beads at my neck and starts to pull. Caught in my dress, they come slowly, snaggingly over my shoulders, then faster as there’s more slack. They fall between my breasts and he fists them loosely in one hand and rubs the sliding mass of them over my exposed and eager tits. The beads are cool on my nipples. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Rob pulls me forward by the necklace and loops it tight around my throat. He still has plenty to hold on to. The strand around my neck is taut, but I can still breathe, and I suck in air sharply when he catches my nipple in the fistful of beads he’s holding and closes his hand. The beads crush together around it with tiny shrill noises and I feel a multitude of little points of pain light up on my tender flesh. I squeak and try to pull away, but the choke chain he’s made of my necklace doesn’t make that any more comfortable. He pulls me back in and does the same thing to the other nipple, reaching up to kiss me again as he pinches my delicate skin. The beads are light, but they have a multitude of edges that pinch and grind. I moan in protest but I don’t move again. “What do you want?” he whispers into my ear.
“You?” I try, mashing my crotch against his jean-clad leg. He trails his fingers down my thigh and strokes my bare pussy. I tilt to let his fingers in and even at this awkward angle they fill me. I thrust onto them but he slides them out of me, trails them up through the beads, which tinkle and whisper as he goes, and pushes them into my mouth. This. I want this. The taste of him in my mouth, tart with a slick of my cream, this is exactly what I want.
“Ass on the table.” Rob moves forward with ease, pushing me back until my legs hit the table, and I sit, more abruptly than I would like to. He slips to his knees and puts his mouth to the nipples he’s just finished abusing. Lightning darts of pleasure zing around my body as he eases me backward, and pushes the skirt of my dress out of the way. He nuzzles my inner thigh, all soft lips and prickling beard, then his lips move slowly up to my cunt. I open for him and whimper when his tongue delves deep into me before licking up to my clit. His mouth feels so firm, so wet, his mustache and stubble press into my soft flesh and the burn drives the pleasure upward. My hand settles on the back of his head, winding tight into his thick hair as he starts a steady rhythm, building pressure, sucking on my aching, swelling, throbbing flesh until my abdomen begins to tighten and contract. And then he stops.
“What! What? Rob!”
“What do you want, Cally?” He rests his head on my thigh and begins to play with my cunt, just lightly, running his fingers up and down my lips, spreading the wetness around.
“I…I want to come! Rob, please!” I try to grind against him, but to no avail. He moves away and lifts my hips, flipping me over onto my front. The smooth wood of the table is cold against my breasts and belly and I shiver. Rob hunkers down beside me and whispers in my ear.
“Not until you give me what I’m looking for, baby. Now, remember that time we played with the hairbrush?” I gulp. “Hmm?” He smoothes my hair off my face so he can see me, and I nod.
“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper.
“And you remember we agreed on a word you’d use if you needed things to stop or slow down?” I nod again, caught in the bright blue of his eyes. My face flushes but my pussy is flooding with the excitement and fear of anticipation, too. “Do I need to tie you down, Cal?” I really don’t know if he does or not.
“No?”
He pats me on the head. I try to feel indignant, but it doesn’t work. His fingertip trails all the way down my spine and taps three times. A beat, and his hand cracks onto my asscheek. It sparks and burns and I moan and put my head down and wait for the next one. He smacks me and waits, timing each pause just long enough to make me fear the next one, make me long for it. My pussy throbs and flames along with my ass. I want his face back there. Even better, I want him to fuck me now. But he doesn’t. He stops his punishment and strokes my hot cheeks. I groan and writhe back against him, but he just smacks me once more.
“Up. Bedroom.” I scramble, slither off the table, melted and liquid and eager. He leads me into his room. It’s white, mostly. The floor is stained dark, and the bed is dark wood, but everything else seems white in the dim light. I clamber onto the bed and as I make to turn around he catches my wrists and stretches them in front of me. Beneath the pillows are straps! I didn’t notice them the time I was here. Velcro straps he fastens me into. My arms are spread wide and my head is low to the bed. He pushes my ass up high and checks my pussy. His fingers stroke, then enter again; he pushes against my G-spot. “What do you want, Cal?”
I groan in frustration. Isn’t it obvious?
“I want you to fuck me, Rob, please.” It’s a good enough position to beg from. Being tipped up onto my face and spread open like this always undoes me. I can’t think of much else but his cock at this point. But he’s having none of it. He pulls his fingers out of me, leaving me gasping at the cold absence of his hand. He crawls to sit beside me and pushes my hair out of the way, touches my lips again. All of a sudden he smacks my face, not so hard, but I startle and try to jerk away. The straps mean I’m not going anywhere, and he does it again, a little harder.
“What do you want, Cal?”
“Ow!” I’m not used to this, and I’m shocked. I feel completely helpless, and small. He smacks me again and the side of my face stings. Before I can even analyze my reaction, I start to cry. Wet, lonely tears run from my eyes and he wipes them away—and smacks my face again, lazily.
“What?”
I’m spread open, and within a few minutes, he’s put me in a place I could never access by myself.
“More.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper. I press my face into the pillow as best I can.
“Oh, honey. It’s okay, we’ve just begun. I can do this all night.”
I sob and shake my head. “No, more. I want more. Than this. I want you.”
“Ohhh.” He moves his hand over my breasts, spreads it on my stomach.
“I want breakfast. Television. I don’t want to have to go home.” I start to babble. His hips press against my thighs and I can feel him lean to the side. I hear a condom packet rip and his hands leave me for a second and maneuver the rubber on. His cock presses against my open, wanting cunt and for a second I’m worried he didn’t understand. But as he pushes into me he leans over and kisses my back, touches his forehead to my skin. His cock feels so good inside me that I almost don’t care if that’s all he’s offering, but he leans over me and reaches for the straps, pulls my hands free. He pulls me up to his chest while he thrusts into me and wraps long arms round my torso, crossing my breasts and stomach. I am penetrated and held, it feels like flying, like floating.
“Is that what you want?” he whispers in my ear, licking the curves of my ear between sentences. I try to answer, but now the tip of his tongue is running electric shivers between every tiny hair inside my ear, hot as he exhales, cool as he pulls his breath away. His pubic hair bristles against my sore ass. He’s pounding against that swelling wall inside and one big hand is pressing on my clit, rubbing as he fucks me. I’m trapped and there’s no escape from the waves
of pleasure that burst through me. He pinches my tender nipple and I reach back to hold on to his arm as I come, the heat and hurt and tightness of it shaking me.
We collapse to the bed, and he pulls me to his chest, arms around me. “It’s what I want, too,” he says, deep voice in my ear as I start to float away. “Sleep. And in the morning, there will be more.”
TWO A.M. DATE NIGHT
Sophia Valenti
Brandon was waiting for me when I got home. I’d been expecting to find him in the living room, but the sight of his silhouette, backlit by the street lamps shining through the window, still made me jump. My husband seemed so imposing sitting in the shadows, or perhaps it was the apprehension growing inside me that was making me feel so jittery.
“Hey,” I called out into the darkness, my faltering voice betraying my nerves.
“Finally decided to come home, did you?” he answered, his tone sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
“Sorry. I know I’m late, but dinner took longer than expected—”
“It’s two a.m., Celia,” he interrupted. “Dinner was over hours ago.”
He was right. I’d had a dinner date with Rick, an exboyfriend with whom I was still friendly. Well, more than friendly. Despite the fact that I’d been married to Brandon for more than a year, my sexual attraction to Rick was still strong, even though my motivation for hooking up with him was now very different.
While Rick and I were dating, we’d fucked like wildcats, but once our clothes were back on, we could never find a way to get along. I’d once joked with a girlfriend that Rick wasn’t the type of boy you married. So I didn’t, and chose Brandon instead—a man whom I could love and trust, and who satisfied me in ways Rick never could.
“What have you been doing all this time?”
“I was with Rick.”
We both knew the real answer, but making me tell him was part of our game. However, it didn’t matter how many times we’d played like this. It didn’t make it any easier for me to confess. Even though I’d gone to see Rick with Brandon’s blessing, the chill in my husband’s voice made me feel as though I’d done something wrong—something that I needed to be punished for—and it was no coincidence that Brandon felt the same way.
“With Rick? Or fucking Rick?” Brandon stood, and I heard the click of his belt buckle as he unfastened it.
“F-f-fucking Rick.” I nearly lost my place in our usual script when I heard the zip of his belt being pulled free. I’d been expecting Brandon to take me over his lap and spank me—not whip me with his belt. My throat tightened, but the thought of leather lashing my skin excited me, causing yet another complex mix of emotions to swirl through me.
As panicked as I was, I knew Brandon wouldn’t actually hurt me. No, I take that back—he would hurt me, but in the best possible way. That I knew. He always pushes me to my limit, and then asks me to take a bit more—bending but never breaking me. His spankings are hard and fierce, but as much as I dread being taken over his lap, I also crave the sting of his hand. Just as I also crave the intense sex that follows and how he makes me come harder than any other man I’ve known. Even as I’m enjoying the sensation of Rick’s thick cock filling my cunt, I’m imagining how Brandon will punish me for fucking him when I get home. But I’ll never tell my lover that’s the reason why my orgasms are so intense. You see, even when I’m with Rick, Brandon is in my head, controlling how I climax and making me long for the sweet pain that I know he’ll deliver. I love it and hate it all at the same time, and at that moment, I couldn’t deny that my pussy felt hot and slick. It didn’t matter that I’d come thirty minutes earlier; I was hungry for more—hungry for the release that only Brandon could give me.
My husband moved closer to me in the darkness, like a predator slowly stalking his prey. “I have such a bad girl for a wife,” he said, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. I shivered at his touch, so soft and gentle. I shivered because I knew what those hands could do—how hard they could strike my bare ass, how they could easily capture my wrists in their unyielding grip. Each scene Brandon and I have together lays down another memory, and those moments linger in my mind and echo in my body, making every experience more intense than the last. “Such a bad, slutty girl,” Brandon muttered, almost to himself. His voice sounded dreamy, and I instinctively knew he was picturing me and my lover. It was a thought that taunted and aroused him all at the same time.
Brandon slipped his hand inside my dress and into my bra, cupping my breast and running his thumb back and forth over my nipple. It perked up instantly, and he toyed with it absentmindedly as he continued. “Did you manage to make it back to his place? Or did he start fingering you in the restaurant?”
Brandon knows me too well.
“In the restaurant.”
He pinched my nipple hard, and I gasped. “In the restaurant—what?” he demanded, twisting my erect nub. The spark of pain encouraged me to spill the details.
“I wasn’t wearing panties,” I sputtered. “So during dessert, Rick slipped his hand up my dress and started fingering my pussy while I sat at the table.”
“You went out to dinner without underwear, like a little slut?” Brandon queried, giving my nipple another harsh tug. A small sob escaped my lips, and my cunt felt like it was dripping.
“Y-y-yes, like a slut.” As the word slut left my lips, I felt another rush of wetness seep from my pussy.
“And then what happened?”
“He took me back to his apartment, and we barely made it in the door before he tore off my dress. He couldn’t wait to get me naked.” I sighed as Brandon released my throbbing nipple, only to gasp again when he pinched the other, rolling it between his fingers and tugging it until I whimpered. I took a deep breath and continued to speak. I knew that was what Brandon wanted. It was what I wanted, too.
“He took off all my clothes and had me kneel on the couch—”
“Show me. Show me how.” Brandon reached over and clicked on a small lamp. That’s when I saw the animalistic desire in his ice-blue eyes. His black hair was disheveled, and his button-down shirt was partially open, revealing a muscular chest that was covered with swirls of dark hair. My eyes traveled downward to find the bulge of his erect cock in his faded jeans—and the thick black belt in his hand. I could barely take my eyes off the doubled-up loop of leather. The sight of it made my cunt ache.
I pulled my dress off over my head, but left on my red lace bra. The straps had slid down my shoulders, and my breasts hung out of the peeled-down cups, just as Brandon had left them—and just as Rick had done hours ago. Keeping on my high heels, I knelt on the black cushions with my thighs spread wide, grabbing the back of the velvet sofa. My long brown hair spread out across my back, the curls tickling my hypersensitive flesh. I could feel the cool air wafting over my exposed cunt, making me even more aware of how vulnerable I was.
Brandon approached me from behind, leaning over me and pressing himself against me. I shivered despite the warmth his body imparted to mine. “And what did he do once he had you naked?” Brandon ran his fingers along the front of me—between my breasts, along my stomach and over my mound—taking a leisurely trip downward, and then softly, slowly circling my swollen clit. I just barely stifled a whimper as Brandon’s hand abandoned my pussy and he backed away, which I recognized as my sign to continue my X-rated tale.
“He trailed kisses down my back as he played with my cunt.”
I felt a rush of air behind me and then the sting of the belt as it landed on my upturned ass. I inhaled abruptly and threw back my head, looking toward the ceiling with wide eyes as if searching for escape, but I knew there was none to be had. Excitement coursed through me, knowing there was no way out. Brandon was going to thrash me good. I was overwhelmed by emotion—and thoroughly turned on.
“I was so wet for him. His fingers were making squishing noises as they thrust in and out of me,” I confessed, nearly panting.
The belt landed again and again in quick
strikes, taking my words away from me. The loud report shocked me as much as the sensation did, but what shocked me most was that I wanted more. Even though it hurt, even though my face heated with shame, I was so aroused that I felt as if I were flying.
“You were so wet because you’re a bad girl who lets men play with your cunt, even though you’re married.” Brandon interspersed his words with hot licks of the belt. With each lash, I squealed and tried to hold my position, but it was impossible. I lost my sense of time, my sense of self. I spread my thighs wider and thrust my ass upward, almost as if I were offering him more flesh to hit, to spread out the stinging slashes of leather and weaken their cumulative impact. Brandon accepted the invitation, lowering his aim and snapping the belt against the underside of my cheeks, first the left and then the right. He alternated between the two until my head dropped and I released a strangled cry. That’s when he stopped, only to drag his fingernails up one asscheek and down the other, making me gasp. The leather’s lingering sting radiated a pulsing heat that had spread to my pussy. My neglected clit throbbed, even as tears welled in my eyes.
Brandon was close behind me again, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Did he make you come right away, or did you have to wait?”
“I had to wait because he wanted to fuck me first.” Brandon ground his erection into my asscheeks, and the rough texture of his jeans against my well-whipped ass made me groan. My skin was so tender, and my cunt was aching with longing. He reached around my hip to stroke my slit again, and by this time I was so wet I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that being abused this way turned me on so much, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.
