I could only guess at how lewd I looked. In the spotlight, legs spread wide, my ass in the air, begging him to push a butt plug in my ass, pushing back against it myself. I swallowed and moved, hesitantly, backward, impaling myself with the plug. I didn’t have much range of movement, but he pushed the butt plug into me at the same time, and it was quickly buried in me. It hurt a little as he pushed it in, but mostly, I felt filled. Really, really filled.
I could hear Ryan’s sharp intake of breath. Good. He was still clothed, and my pussy was dripping juice all down my leg, there was a butt plug buried in my ass, and I felt very, very open and vulnerable. It helped to know he wasn’t entirely unaffected.
His fingers were tracing the base of the plug, nestled against my ass. “Such a pretty ass, Maya,” he said quietly.
“Now for the clamps.” He walked over to face me. He was still in the darkness, I couldn’t see his face. I moaned. A hand reached out, his fingers caressed my lower lip. I tried to suck his finger into my mouth, to show him how strong my need was, how potent my arousal. But he was having none of it. I moaned again, this time in protest.
He chuckled. His fingers reached down to pinch my nipples, to roll them between his fingertips. He pulled on them, steadily, stretching them out, preparing them for the clamps. The pain flowed through me; my pussy kept gushing. I watched, fascinated, as my nipples responded to his hard fingers. And with two quick movements that sent shudders through my body, the clamps were on. I whimpered. These were harsher than the clamps I’d worn last night. My nipples throbbed with pain.
“Relax. Take deep breaths.” His voice was in front of me; he was still in the darkness.
“Ryan,” I moaned. I needed to see him, to feel his touch against my skin.
As if he’d read my mind, Ryan moved into the light. His eyes were warm, infinitely kind. He leaned towards me, traced my jaw with a fingertip. “Want me to stop, kitten?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I ground out. Already the pain of the clamps was receding into the background, and my nerves were tingling where he touched me. He smiled at me. “Stubborn kitten,” he whispered. He moved away. I could hear him behind me.
And back again, this time with the short crop. He was grinning. “Now Maya,” he said, his voice betraying his anticipation, “I will admit, I can’t wait to use this crop on your wet, waiting pussy.” I looked at him warily. Should I fear his eagerness?
“Kiss it. And ask me to crop your tight little pussy.” His voice was steady. The crop was at my lips. I parted my lips a little, kissed the crop tentatively. It smelled of leather, a smell I’d never associated before with sex. I had a feeling that would change soon.
“Please Ryan,” my voice very, very soft, “please will you crop my pussy?”
“Since you ask so nicely, Maya,” he said, his voice silken, “I’d be happy to.” His voice turned crisper. “Remember. You have a safeword.”
I nodded. At the same instant, the crop came down, hard, not on my pussy, but on the side of my breasts. I tensed, expecting pain, and there was a sharp pain, but only for an instant. The next instant, Ryan’s fingers were stroking my breasts, stroking the pain away, replacing it with pleasure.
And again, on the other breast. He avoided my clamped nipples, for which I was grateful. I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I could withstand this expert control of my body. My body shone with sweat, as he wielded the crop, short strokes on my breasts, then cropping my back, and then my ass. His fingers pulled my butt plug out, and pushed it back in, cropping me at the same time. I groaned. So much pleasure. My hands were clenched into fists; I was breathing in short gasps. The crop was on my ass, now on my inner thighs, near my pussy, as I clenched in anticipation of the point when that crop would strike my open, waiting pussy. Perversely, I felt myself push towards him, as if I wanted to feel that sharp pain in the most intimate part of my body. Did I? What was Ryan doing to me?
Every nerve of my body was tingling. I could feel the juices from my pussy drip down my leg. I was so very close to orgasm; I was teetering at the edge. I could hear myself moan almost continuously now, as the crop controlled my exposed body.
Whap. The crop finally found my pussy, and the sharp stroke of it pushed me into orgasm. I screamed, shuddering, as I came, fists clenched, writhing against my restraints. My climax was still flowing through me, when Ryan cropped my pussy again. I screamed again in response. The crop was triggering shuddering pulses in me, my pussy was convulsing in reply. And one last time, the final swift stroke of the crop, and a swift thrust of the dildo into my pussy.
I screamed, as I could feel every muscle in my pussy clench and spasm against the dildo. It was stretching me open; I was filled to overflowing, with the butt plug in my ass, and this large dildo in my pussy. Another orgasm shuddered through me.
I slowly came back to earth. I could hear Ryan adjusting something on the bench. The dildo remained in me, as did the butt plug. I held very still. Any movement would trigger another orgasm, and I needed to recover, to regain some resilience to withstand the intensity.
Ryan was at my face. He held a glass of water with a straw in one hand, a towel in the other. My forehead was damp with sweat; he very gently ran the towel along my face. I took a greedy sip of the water. My breathing was slowly returning to normal.
“You still have all your clothes on,” I pouted. It wasn’t just that I felt exposed, naked under a spotlight while he was fully clothed. I would have also liked to feel the hard length of him in me. The dildo in my pussy was a poor substitute.
“It appears that I do,” his voice was amused. “Remember the rules though; no talking unless you are spoken to.”
Crap. I’d forgotten. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I was very conscious of his skill with the crop, and the fact that the paddle hadn’t yet been used.
“Mmm. Here, drink some more water,” he said easily. I took another sip. “So, Maya, ready for round 2?”
Chapter 11
I was tied doggy-style on the punishment bench. Clamps on my nipples, with the chain connecting them hanging down, swaying as I quivered. A large dildo in my pussy. A butt plug in my ass. My entire body was covered with a sheen of sweat; a reaction to the intense series of orgasms I’d just had.
Was I ready for round 2? It was a meaningless question. I was ready for whatever Ryan was going to do to me. I wanted desperately to please him, to pleasure him as he pleasured me.
“The paddle will hurt.” Ryan’s voice was calm. “Probably more than anything we’ve done before. I’m going to start you off with five strokes.”
Gulp. I had been hoping he’d forget about the paddle. Right now, more than anything, I wanted to feel his body against mine.
My entire body tensed in anticipation of the stroke. “Relax, breathe,” Ryan said, and at the same time, he brought the paddle down on my ass.
Pain flowed through my body. The paddle had also struck the base of the butt plug, causing the plug to move momentarily deeper in my body. I could feel the heat in my ass; could feel the redness left by the paddle stroke. I whimpered in agony.
Two more quick strokes of the paddle, this time at the base of my buttocks. I hissed in pain. My ass felt like it was on fire. But pleasure wasn’t far behind; Ryan’s hands were stroking my ass, kneading it softly, and my nerves began to tingle again, as his fingers brushed against the dildo buried in my pussy, and the butt plug buried in my ass. I moaned, this time, in a combination of pleasure and pain.
“What do you think?” Ryan’s voice was level. “Want two more strokes?”
I gulped. Was I supposed to beg for my last two strokes, to plead for the pain? I didn’t think I was up to that. The paddle hurt. But Ryan’s hands were rubbing my reddened skin, and it felt good. My pussy was dripping again around the dildo. I didn’t answer.
“Kitten, answer the question.” His voice was firm, a warning in it.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. Was I supposed to beg? I knew that was part of the game, but thi
s was intense and I had very mixed feelings about the paddle. No, in all honesty, I didn’t like the paddle, it hurt too much. What I liked was Ryan stroking me after, easing the pain with his skillful hands.
Ryan came around, eyed my face. He was still in the darkness, but I could feel his eyes on mine, searching for a clue about what I was feeling. I didn’t think I could hide my dread.
“Use your safeword.” His voice was flat. The words were an unmistakable order.
Thank heavens. “Red,” I whispered, and I was swiftly being unbuckled, clamps removed, dildo and butt plug pulled away from my shaking body, and I was carried in his arms, and laid on the bed. Ryan joined me, still fully clothed, and pulled me into his body. I leaned into him, taking shelter in the comfort of his arms.
We lay in silence for a few minutes. Gradually, my shaking slowed, my breathing eased. I moved back a little to look at his face. He looked unhappy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fear in my heart, my voice the merest whisper. What had I done?
“The paddle was too much, yes?” His voice was tight.
I nodded in the darkness.
“Why didn’t you use your safeword?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I trust you, you won’t cause me harm.”
“No, I won’t, not visible broken-skin harm,” he agreed. “But I’m not a mind-reader; I won’t always know whether you are having fun or not. In the middle of a session, I might hit you once too many, go one stroke too far. You have to take responsibility for letting me know when it isn’t fun for you.”
Sigh. He was right, of course. I tried a different tack, tried to explain why I hadn’t stopped him. “It was fun when you were stroking my ass.”
“Maya.” His voice was extremely hard. “Would you like to get tied up now, get fifty hard strokes of the paddle? Or the cane, would you like to feel its lash on your skin?”
“No,” I whispered, shocked.
“What if I rubbed your ass after each stroke? Kissed each welt, right after I caused it? Would you like it then?” His voice had not gentled.
My pussy dripped a little, but my mind contradicted my body this time, and my mind was right. “No, not even then. I would have liked your touch, but I wouldn’t have liked the paddling.” My voice was chastened. “I’m sorry. I should have safeworded.”
“Yup.” A one-word answer, but he didn’t sound mad at me anymore. My heart warmed. He cared so much for my safety and happiness. And he was still fully clothed. My hand snaked out, stroked his chest, softly exploring his body, heading lower. I wanted to pleasure him.
“Can we still continue? Can I touch you?” I asked, hesitantly.
In response, he simply took my hand and placed it on his hard cock. I could feel its pulsing outline against his jeans. I moved my body lower, unzipped him, and eased his jeans down his hips, showering the exposed skin with soft kisses. He moaned. “Maya.”
I smiled in the dark. It was now my turn to give him the same pleasure he had given me. I removed his briefs quickly, impatiently. I lowered my head onto his hard cock, and I took him in my waiting mouth, and sucked him as if my life depended on it.
Ryan’s hands wound in my hair, but he didn’t otherwise move me. He groaned. “Kitten, I’ve been watching your beautiful naked body respond to me for the last few hours, I am not going to last long.”
I didn’t talk, I just moved my mouth on his cock, swirling my tongue around his head, working on establishing a rhythm that would give him satisfaction. I concentrated on the way he felt in my mouth, on his quickening breathing, on his clenching hands, my senses entirely focused on him.
“Maya,” he groaned. “I’m going to come.” And he came with a muffled off shout, his seed spurting in my mouth. I moved my lips down his length, to swallow his entire load. I swirled my tongue on his head, to lick up every bit of Ryan, and I reveled in my ability to satisfy him.
“Come here,” he bent forward, pulling me up, placing me next to him. He kissed me briefly. “Thank you,” he said softly.
I laughed incredulously. “I think I should be thanking you,” I whispered.
We fell asleep in the playroom.
***
It was December 23rd. Christmas was fast approaching.
“You have no Christmas decorations up,” I said to Ryan, slight disapproval colouring my voice, my eyes surveying the unadorned apartment. I adored decorating for the holidays; it was the cause of much joking in my family. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and of course, Christmas – if there was a holiday, I would decorate.
“Yeah, Christmas decorations are not really my thing.” Ryan looked at me from across the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and wandered over to join me at the kitchen table.
“Oh come on,” I cajoled. “Let’s decorate. It’ll be fun.” I was pushing Ryan deliberately. In the last two days, we’d had a great time, both in the playroom, and wandering through Paris. He was either the greatest actor in the world, or he genuinely liked me. Other women had batted their eyelashes at him when we walked through the Louvre. The woman dispensing tickets at Versailles had openly flirted with him, but his attention had been focused only on me. At times, I could see glimpses of something that seemed beyond affection. I wasn’t delusional; he cared about me, was perhaps even beginning to fall in love.
As for me, I was hopelessly, irretrievably in love with Ryan. Not the Ryan who was the object of my teenage crush, but the actual man; the man who paid attention to how I took my coffee, the man who was kind and considerate, who humoured me by taking me around Paris and showing me the city he lived in. His easy laugh now haunted my dreams; he had to only look at me a certain way and my pussy would be wet in anticipation of what he would do to my aching body. More and more, I was dreading the New Year, dreading the imminent end of the vacation.
But I was also angry at his self-proclaimed unwillingness to be in a relationship. I didn’t understand why. Close-up, he didn’t strike me as a playboy. There was seriousness under his easy-going nature; there was nothing shallow about Ryan. I wasn’t deluding myself, he would be happy in a relationship with me. His refusal to even try was infuriating me. And so, I was pushing for a fight over Christmas decorations.
Ryan raised an eyebrow at me, and appeared to hold back comment. “I don’t really do Christmas, Maya. Can we just let it be?” He sounded a bit weary.
“I want to decorate.” I winced as I heard myself. I sounded childish and stubborn. Shut up, Maya. Let it go, the sensible bit of me screamed. But I’d kept my emotions under control all week, doing my best to hide how much in love I was, and everything seemed at breaking point.
Perhaps Ryan could hear the quiver in my voice under the defiance, because he shook his head slightly, and closed his eyes. A long second passed in utter silence. I didn’t break it; I was fighting a desire to burst into tears.
“Okay.” His voice was utterly expressionless. “If it’s important to you, let’s do it.”
My eyes flew to his face. I was stunned; I didn’t expect him to agree. “Really?” I asked. Idiot, Maya, I chided myself inwardly. I knew what I was doing – there was a stupid, deluded bit of me that somehow equated putting up decorations with being in a relationship. The sooner I crushed that little hopeful part of me, the easier I would find it to walk away at the end.
“Sure,” he said. He sounded resigned. “It seems stupid to fight over Christmas decorations. But there’s no way I’m braving the crowds in the stores to buy decorations, Maya. Borrow some of Nina’s; I’m pretty sure she has a couple of boxfuls in her apartment.”
“Can we get a tree?” I looked at him hopefully. I loved Christmas trees.
“Women, sheesh,” he grumbled, almost inaudibly. “Okay. We’ll get a tree. Call Nina about the ornaments, I’m not getting involved.”
Nina sounded stunned on the phone when I called her from Ryan’s bedroom. “Ryan’s putting up Christmas ornaments?” I could hear the disbelie
f in her voice.
“Yeah, why?” I’d told her that he’d taken pity on me, and invited me to spend Christmas with him.
“Umm, Maya, I’ve lived in Paris for the last six years, I see Ryan at least once a week. Ryan hates the holidays. He’s never once come over for Christmas; he even ignores Grandma’s invites.” She still sounded incredulous.
I could sense the questions form in her brain, and I needed to divert her. I lied again, telling her I was in a hurry; that I needed to go to the Louvre. I was becoming quite the liar with my family as I hid this affair I was having with Ryan.
“The ornaments are in her storage room,” I announced to Ryan, making my way out of the bedroom. “She says you know where the key is.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay, let’s go get them then. My landlady’s promised she’ll send her husband for a tree this afternoon. Might as well get going.”
I looked at Ryan in surprise. “You called your landlady for a tree?”
Ryan surveyed me with mild exasperation. “Maya, you’ve seen the Porsche. There’s absolutely no way I’m transporting a tree in my car.”
My lips twitched. Boys and their cars. “Fair enough,” I said evenly.
Once the tree was in place, and we’d carted the boxes of ornaments to Ryan’s apartment, I was determined to make the place festive. Nina’s Christmas boxes yielded colourful paper garlands, which I made Ryan hang up on the windows. I fiddled around with the radio till I found a station playing non-stop Christmas music, and set it blaring through the apartment. Ryan watched me in bemusement, as I danced back and forth, mixing up cookie batter. Soon, the apartment was filled with the smell of baking.
“You really are enjoying yourself,” Ryan said, chuckling at my antics.
“Decorating for Christmas was my favorite thing to do with my parents,” I confessed. I didn’t talk about my parents very much. They’d died when I was eight, and I still felt betrayed by the universe. “I’d always get to put the star up on top of the tree,” my voice was soft, remembering. “Rosa and Julia always wanted to, but I was the youngest; that was my special treat.”
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