Fearless

by Maren Smith

  Pulling the ponytail through the last twist of the hair tie, he let his hands fall to her shoulders. For almost a full minute, he massaged her, rolling and squeezing the tension for her shoulders until she gave in to the allure, relaxing even more. The longer he kneaded, the more she forgot herself until she found herself nearly leaning back against him.

  His touch changed again, the kneading ceasing as he seized hold of her ponytail, pulling her head solidly back until his breath was at her ear. His low growl sent her dancing shivers whirling all through her. “I asked you what my limits were. This is your last chance to give me some.”

  Her throat worked, but without sound. Her heart raced. Her captured hands clenched tight into fists, but for the first time in longer than she could remember, Kitty didn’t move—not because she couldn’t, but because for one crazy minute with his master-like grip in her hair and the heat of his chest searing into her back—she didn’t want to.

  “I don’t have any,” she whispered.

  “Everyone has limits.” His right grip tightening in her hair, holding her frozen against the dominance of his body, he reached around her and seized her breast in his left hand. He squeezed hard, but the pain barely qualified as such. It was vitalizing, zinging its shocks straight into her eager nipples. “Is this off limits?”

  “No, Sir,” she gasped.

  Dropping his hand, he seized her pussy in the same cruel, intoxicating hold. His squeeze captured her clit, her folds, her heart, and her breath. “Is this off limits?”

  Pooling warmth filled her belly, spilling in an instant all through the furrow his fingers now owned. Her knees shook, buckling in and out under her. He held her up by her pussy. If not for that grip, she’d have fallen into a heap there at his feet.

  “N-no…” Her eyes closed against her will when the heat of his mouth engulfed her earlobe. She felt his teeth, the sharpness exciting all her singing nerves. Her blood pulsed, filling her head, her breasts, her sex with the same heady beat.

  “Your safeword is red,” he told her for the second time. “If and when I find your limits, I expect you to use it. Is that clear?”

  His grip on her hair vanished, only to return with vindictive force when he swatted her ass, then grabbed.

  “Yes, Sir!” she yelped. His hand was huge and hard, and the sheer sting as he squeezed that sting into her clenching flesh consumed her. Her underwear offered no padding and no protection whatsoever against hands like that.

  No more than a link of chain separated her wrist cuffs from the straps around her thighs. It was enough to clink as he spun her via her ponytail and backed her until her butt bumped the edge of the table. She had only enough movement to catch it with her captured hands before he forced his knee up between her thighs.

  “Spread your legs,” he told her, deliberately bumping his knee up against her mons.

  The table behind her became her only source of balance as she obeyed and what she had once viewed as humiliation became something both dark and new as he took his time looking her over. Her pussy hummed, a needy, greedy thing consumed by echoes of his touch.

  His eyes when they returned to hers were filled with echoes of their own. Easing closer, he took firm pinching hold of both her nipples. The pressure was nothing but pleasure. Her eyes almost closed again, but his held her spellbound.

  “I am…” Noah coaxed, his fingers plucked and tweaked, sultry milking motions that tugged her nipples through her bra. Already tight, they swelled, growing heavy while she fought back the urge to arch, offering them further into his hands.

  She shivered. “I am a… a good girl.”

  He gave her breast a rewarding upward slap, the briskness making her flesh bounce and her sex clench amid the ribbons of a molten flood that drenched the gusset of her underwear.

  “I am…” His fingers returned to her nipples, but the touch was a shade harsher now. The pulling was stronger, the pinching and tweaking bringing her back onto her tiptoes. She could not stop herself arching now. She couldn’t stop the molten flow growing hotter as it swept through the furrow, licking up through her nether lips, her clit now pulsed in heady time with each milking motion of his stern fingers.

  She mewed. “I am s-safe… oh!”

  He slapped both breasts, leaving her gasping and squirming on her tiptoes before sagging back down again. Her aching nips sought his tightening hold, she all but pushed herself more firmly into his twisting grip. She pressed her lips, but there was no muffling the sheer pleasure of her moan as he pinched, harder now. Hard enough to bring notes of pain into the musical moan of pleasure that broke from deep inside her.

  “I’m loved,” she said, without needing prompting.

  Three harsh slaps now, first to one breast and then the other, forcing a ragged cry to chase her moan.

  “I don’t have to be afraid of anythi-ing!” Her cry escalated sharply higher in pitch when he switched targets and laid three spanking swats every bit as hard as the others, directly upon her unprepared clit. And she could not—would not—shut her legs. She kept them wide, thighs shaking and straining while his hand gentled, fingers tracing the cotton now molded to her like a second skin. He circled in search of that nub of throbbing desire sheltered beneath the cloth.

  He kept that barrier between his flesh and hers, but oh how she felt the wanton burn of his caress. He made her legs shake. Her hips rocked, grinding into each circling pass with tiny motions she hardly knew she was making. He brought her right to the brink of collapsing, her legs too weak to hold her up any more, but right as she felt the first tickling spasms that heralded orgasm—the first she’d felt in so very long—he stopped. Kitty was so crushed, she groaned her loss before she could stop herself.

  The sound froze all movement, both his and hers. She stared up at him, positive she was about to get her face slapped for daring to criticize.

  “Oh really?” His eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth curled in devious speculation. He didn’t slap her. He picked the clamps off the table instead.

  “Mm!” Kitty rolled her lips tight together again, determined to stay quiet, but there was no biting back her cry as he took a harsh tweaking hold of her right nipple, plucking tight before attaching the clamp. She wished she’d taken her bra off. She regretted the barriers she’d put between them. Not that her bra spared her anything as each alligator clamp took its biting hold on her, but as he took his fingers away again, Kitty found herself missing the intimacy. It was better to be naked. It was better to be vulnerable. It was better to watch her own tender flesh swelling and darkening beneath his expert touch, than it was to suffer this intoxicating mix of hurt and hunger but see only fabric clamped between the jagged teeth.

  Attaching a length of thin chain between the two clips, he pulled her back onto tiptoes by her own aching nipples. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. When she obeyed, he pressed the chain between her lips. “Bite.”

  She didn’t groan, but it was a near thing. Biting down, she kept firm hold on the chain despite her agonizing nips.

  “If you let go of that for any reason other than to say your safeword, there will be consequences and I don’t guarantee that you’ll like any of them.”

  Kitty whimpered, not entirely sure she liked this one. Except her clit was throbbing in steady time with the ache in her breasts and that molten, licking sensation still tickled through her labia, proof of her body’s arousal. It was thick in the air now. She could smell it.

  Back his hand went, down the length of her body, pausing at her belly to circle her navel, pausing at the elastic waist of her panties to dip inside, playing with the flesh concealed from him, lingering again at her mons while he traced the plumpness of her sex before finding her clit once more. Every sensitive nerve in her was singing for him by the time he began another round of lazy circles.

  “Have you any other criticisms you’d like to make regarding my activities?” Noah asked silkenly.

  Her thighs began to shake all over again, which m
ade her breasts jiggle and the bites of the twin clamps torturous. She locked her lips, holding the chain taut against her crying nipples, and didn’t say a word. Whimpers didn’t count. No matter how steadily they mewed out of her, it wasn’t words.

  He smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

  The circles stopped and his fingers took hold of her, pinching her clit and rolling gently back and forth. Plucking at her, the way he had her nipples, while he reached across the table and selected the last clip.

  Her mews turned gaspy as he lowered himself to his knees before her. “You know your safeword,” he reminded. Releasing her clit, he opened his mouth, giving her ample time to realize exactly what he intended before he moved in. The heat of his breath against the gusset of her underwear sent her thoughts scattering like birds taking flight. When his mouth fastened unerringly over her clit, she all but lost her grip on the table’s edge.

  Her panties might as well not have been there.

  God, it had been so long since a man had last done this to her. The long suckling pulls of his mouth and tongue drew her grinding down into the languid motion of his love-making. He tugged, he hummed, he rolled and pressed and bit until she was lost in it. She’d have gripped his head if only she could have got her hands free. She tried anyway, but the minute her stretching fingers grazed the short sandy hairs on the side of his head, he stopped, pulled back, and suddenly the bite of the last alligator clamp replaced his hungry mouth.

  “Bad girl,” he growled, licking the taste of her from his lips. Which was impossible. Her underwear had been a barrier between them. He couldn’t possibly be tasting her the way the stormy blue of his eyes suggested.

  “Mm!” Kitty bent almost double, her body’s ache for orgasm no longer a tickle, but a roar. Her nipples were in agony. Her clit, unaccustomed to the harshness of the clamp, threatened quickly to follow, but neither pain was enough to banish her need. It amplified it. She wanted more. More twists and pinches. More suckling pulls of his mouth. More bites of more clamps in whatever places he saw fit to affix them. And above and beyond all of that, she wanted him. The heat and the hardness of him touching her, skin to bare, burning skin.

  He stood up, so close to her that his body dragged her in places. His hands caught her hips, his chest bumped the clamps on her breasts and set her near to sobbing. Or maybe that was her fault. The inadvertent touch made her jerk back, pulling the chain until the unbearable pain lancing through her nipples stopped everything. And still her clit pulsed and her panties flooded. Wanton, pulsating flows of lust that drenched her everywhere his mouth had been.

  His was the smile of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Catching the base of her ponytail, he turned her around and, with a not-so-gentle shove, bent her over the table. Her bound hands did not allow her to arrest her fall. She landed on her belly, her breasts and pussy both crying and throbbing even louder, overriding the discomfort, feeding off of the clatter of each clamp striking the table. Why had she kept her damned underwear on?

  Her body knew this position and reacted with instant obedience, her legs spreading wide, her hips arching back, offering herself—pussy, ass, what he wanted, however he wanted it, if only she didn’t have the damned underwear in the way.

  She would not have cared if he’d taken it down right then. More than anything, she ached for the brush of his fingers, slipping into the elastic waistband before baring her. The clip on her clit would have prevented it dropping too far. It was hooked to her, with little metal teeth she could feel in excruciating detail.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need to remove it and it wasn’t the elastic of her waistband that he hooked his fingers into. It was the elastic to either side of her crotch, right before he dragged them to one side, baring her ass cheeks, the glistening folds of her puss, and the dusky rim of her anus.

  “Mm!” Kitty locked her lips around the chain, afraid she might accidentally let go. If she did, all this would stop. He’d said there would be consequences that she wouldn’t like, and she believed him. And, oh, how she did not want this to stop. Not yet. Not even when she saw him reach for a bottle of clear lubricating gel.

  She snapped her eyes shut, because seeing made her remember and she didn’t want any part of Ethen invading what was happening now. She wanted to feel, for once—just once—without also being afraid. A dollop of cold dropped into the crack between her ass cheeks, sliding down toward her anus before a swipe of his fingers helped it along.

  “You know how to stop this,” he said, applying that lubrication all around her rim. “There will be no punishment or consequences if you do.” One finger invaded, sinking into her with delicious slowness. “I won’t be angry, and if you don’t want to stop everything, then we’ll leave out the parts that make you uncomfortable.”

  Kitty spread her legs wider, pushing back her hips and impaling herself by centimeters on his finger.

  “There’s a good girl,” was his chuckling reply. One finger became two, and then simple penetration became thrusts. There was no pain. Not even a little. He didn’t call her ugly names or take her dry so it would hurt as much as he could make it. He made it feel good, the way she remembered it feeling way back in the beginning when she first set foot in Black Light and a dom there offered to teach her all the things that up until that moment she’d only dreamed of. She could barely remember his face and his name not at all. When she tried, Ethen’s came to mind.

  Burying her face into the table, Kitty banished him. She focused on the steady in and out of Noah’s fingers in her ass, and now his thumb, slipping down between the slick folds of her pussy to find entrance there too. He pumped her both ways, but only for a moment more. Then he patted her on the bottom and took his hand away. She mewed her disappointment, but his touch had already returned. Not his finger now, the blunted nose of the metal plug circled the rim of her ass, giving her ample time to guess what was coming next.

  Another slow invasion, colder than his fingers with only a pinch of discomfort as the widest section pushed through her involuntary clench. Then it was in, seated deep and cool and weighted. She could really feel it—it had been so, so long.

  Gripping the jeweled base, Noah twisted the plug inside her. He rocked it, pumped it, tangled his hand in her ponytail and pulled her head so far back that the chain between her mouth and nipples tightened, making the clamps bite harder.

  “This is not a punishment,” Noah said, turning her mew of half-hearted protest into a startled, lusty grunt when he yanked the plug out of her, only to slam it back home again.

  Kitty nearly came up off the table, but his grip on her hair, the size and weight of him behind her, and the slow, steady thrusts as he fucked her from behind, it all worked together to hold her pinned.

  Eyes no longer closed, she stared at the wall straight ahead, seeing nothing, but feeling everything. From the pinch and pull as she was taken with her damn underwear still mostly on, to her near tear-inducing disappointment that it should be this metal thing inside of her instead of his rock-hard cock piston ramming in and out as he reinforced, “Bad submissives don’t get treated like this, only good girls. You’re a good girl, Kitty. You’ve been a good girl and you’re giving me a lot of pleasure. So I’m going to return that favor.”

  One last deep pump, and the plug settled all the way into her singing body. She missed him the minute he let her go. Conversely, she didn’t miss him quite so much a half second later when she felt the flat head of the leather paddle caress a warning circle across her round ass. He took his time arranging her underwear, tucking the sides into the crack of her buttocks, pulling it up floss tight, until the fabric was cutting up through the folds of her needy pussy and all three clamps felt as if they were biting right through her.

  “It’s been a while for me,” Noah said, and she could hear the smile in his voice even though his grip in her hair meant she could not twist back far enough to see it. “Come to think of it, I haven’t had the use of a woman’s body since Black Light.
So, thank you for your submission, love. I’m really going to enjoy this.”

  If he gave her a warmup first, it didn’t feel like it. From first smack to last, every swat of his paddle bit straight through her flesh and into her rapidly unraveling soul. The sting was unbearable and yet she welcomed it. It grew teeth more jagged than the clamps, and yet she refused to cry out. She bit the chain until it hurt, but she would not let go. Not because she did not want to cut his enjoyment short, but because she needed this too.

  She needed the sting, the smart, the increasingly excruciating hurt that only grew more vindictive the faster and harder he spanked her. Because he wasn’t letting up; he wasn’t stopping. He didn’t pause to rub and he didn’t spread out his swats to find other places to bite. He focused all of that paddle’s attentions on the absolute swells of her bottom cheeks, above her thighs, in the only two places guaranteed to make sitting impossible later on. And she needed it to be like this.

  Because she was an idiot.

  Because she’d let herself live with a monster who’d used her, degraded her, stole everything she’d ever valued—her house, her car, all the money she made and even her job—away from her. Worse than that, she’d let him steal her dignity and her self-respect, leaving her this… this shell of a person she barely recognized and didn’t at all like. And for what? Because by the time she recognized him for the monster he was, his abuse had become familiar? Because it had become excusable?

  Exactly when she broke down, Kitty didn’t know. But by the time he finally lay the paddle aside to rest the heat of his naked hand on her fiery ass, not rubbing to soothe, but squeezing each cheek to amplify the hurt, she was bawling too hard to control it.

  “There’s a good girl.” He paused between squeezes to swat her again, this time measuring out pain with the flat of his bare hand. “Let it all out, love. Time to let that poison go.”

  She cried when he put her panties back to right, and again when he took off the alligator clips. She cried even harder as the blood came rushing back into all those tender places, but not because it hurt—although it did, and dreadfully. She cried because it had been so long since anyone had cared enough to give her this, and because this—this thing between her and Noah, well… it wasn’t real. Who knew how long it would be before she’d have it again.