His To Have

by Devon Birchley

  I shake my head fast.

  “Okay, continue. This time, tilt your ass up a little more.” I try my hardest, but he’s rarely satisfied, and every few seconds, I get another lash. It’s a confusing sensation. I hate it and long for it at the same time, just like when he spanked me. Each stroke connects directly with my clit, and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from making a sound.

  When I’ve circled the room three times, he seems satisfied.

  “Much better,” he says. I stay on all fours and he pulls the plug out. Suddenly, my ass feels very open. He slides a finger in, then a second, and I give a deep moan. He moves in and out, in and out, while another finger finds my clit. This feels insanely good, and I moan and pant, right on the point of coming. Abruptly, he stops and pulls me to my feet. I stare at him wide-eyed, and a sound of frustration escapes my lips.

  “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he says. “Go over to the bench and bend over it.” I swallow hard. It’s kind of evil-looking, like a medieval implement of torture. I hesitate for too long, and he slaps me, right on the pussy, making me gasp. “It wasn’t a request. It was an order.”

  It’s kind of awkward to climb on because it’s high enough to leave my feet dangling several inches off the floor, but I discover that it’s very well designed and comfortable to lie on. He buckles the straps tightly around each wrist and ankle so they’re stretched to their full extent and my legs are spread wide apart. This is it. I’ve never allowed myself to be so vulnerable to someone before. If he hits me way too hard, if he turns out to be a secret psychopath, I have no way of getting away from him. I’m completely at his mercy. All of a sudden, I feel sick. Am I doing something spectacularly dumb?

  He crouches beside me, low enough that he’s looking me in the eye. When he strokes my hair, I feel a little calmer.

  “If I do anything you don’t like, that’s too much for you, just say the word ‘orange,’ and this whole thing stops right away. I’ll untie you immediately.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you trust me, Reagan?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I’d never do anything to harm you. Remember that.”

  The first stroke feels very different from before, and I realize he’s not using the crop. It’s something with lots of strands, kind of like a mop head. At first, it doesn’t hurt when he rains blows all over my ass and upper thighs, pausing from time to time to tickle my ass and pussy. Soon the strokes get harder, and I can’t help yelping as each one lands. I begin to struggle, trying to protect my heated flesh from each lash of the whip, but the bonds are holding me tautly, and I have virtually no wriggle room. He rains a series of stinging lashes up my inner thighs, from one side to the other, and I flinch and strain, terrified the next one is going to land on my pussy.

  He stops. I can’t see him from this position, but I hear his footsteps as he strides across the room, and I stiffen, fearful of what’s coming next. There’s a whoosh, and the crop stings my ass again. Way harder than before. My ass is sore and throbbing, and I can hardly stand it. By the time the fourth one lands, I yell “Stop!” He pauses, then comes around to my face, the huge bulge in his pants only inches away.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble.

  He runs his hand over his cock. “Do you want my cock?”

  “Yes.”

  With his other hand, he reaches out and lightly fingers my asshole. I draw in a sharp breath. “I’ll stop whipping your ass, if you prefer me to fuck it instead.”

  He whips me again, and I yell for him to stop again. But this time he continues. I can’t take it. It hurts so bad. My eyes have teared up, I can hardly see, and my nose is running, too. Say the word, and he’ll stop. But I can’t do that. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. To think he picked the wrong girl to be his submissive. The next lash lands on my inner thigh.

  “Fuck me!” I say.

  “What?” He hits me again. It’s unbearable.

  “Fuck me. Please fuck me!” I yell, on the point of sobbing.

  He hits me one more time. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes. I want you to fuck me in the ass. To take my anal virginity.”

  He makes a deep, primal sound and steps away from me. I shiver. I’m still not sure if I’m ready for him. Being fucked while tied up and spread out like freaks the hell out of me.

  He returns, unfastens my ankles and wrists, and helps me to my feet. And then he unfastens the collar and removes it.

  “Come on,” he says and leads me out of the room.

  12

  “Don’t be nervous.” He lays me on the bed on my back and strips his clothes off. “I’m going to make you mine, and I want you to remember it as a good experience.” His cock is bigger than ever, and the thought of how much he wants to bury it in my ass scares me. But I’m ready, too. I want him inside me, more than I’ve wanted anything before. He bends my legs back until my knees press up against my chest. He licks me, the tip of his tongue probing into my hole. His fingers come next, working up to three of them. “This is a lot how it’s going to feel,” he says as his finger joints slide in and out of my sensitive ring.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  He withdraws his fingers and I try not to tense up again as he rolls on a condom, takes a tube of lube, and smears it all over his cock, then presses the tip to my hole.

  The first inch feels amazing, and I relax a little, eager for more. And then it’s suddenly too much, and my asshole throbs with the pain of a stubbed toe.

  “Relax,” he murmurs. “Just hold onto your knees and focus on how much you’re going to like it.” There’s a big push, and the head of his cock pops through. It suddenly feels better. Wow. It’s in. There’s a sense of yielding as my most private, tightly controlled part gives up all control to him. My ass and pussy throb intensely. He keeps pushing, an inch at a time, and I gasp as the rest of his cock slides into my back passage, all the way to the hilt.

  He leans over me, watching me intently. “How’s that?”

  “Fucking hot,” I manage to say.

  He grins and kisses me. “It feels incredible for me, too. You’re so tight around my cock.” He begins to thrust gently, and it feels hella intense. Good, but pain is lingering just beneath the surface. “Rub your clit,” he says, and this makes the difference, tipping the scales in the right direction. He leans back, watching his cock going in and out of my ass, as he spreads my labia wide with two fingers. It feels so wrong that he’s fucking my ass instead of my soaking wet pussy, and the thought fills my mind while I work on my clit. He moves faster and harder, and it feels better and better. My ass has relaxed, and every thrust feels amazing. I start to shudder all over, and then I come, my asshole spasming hard around his cock, big waves detonating through my body.

  “I knew you’d love it,” he growls as he turns me around carefully, keeping his cock inside me. He pulls me onto my hands and knees, and he screws me from behind, his balls slapping my pussy as he ploughs my ass. So dirty, and so incredible. He speeds up, drilling me faster and faster.

  “You’re mine now, forever,” he snarls in my ear, and a moment later, he comes too, burying himself even deeper into my ass, ejaculating deep inside me with a roar.

  He pulls out very slowly, leaving my ass feeling weirdly open and bruised.

  “Just tap it like this,” he says, and as his finger presses on it, it closes up gradually.

  I go to the bathroom to collect myself. I feel shaky, like I’ve been through something significant and potentially traumatic. But kind of exhilarated too. When I come back to the bed, Adler holds his arms out to me and I sink into them gratefully. He holds me against his chest and kisses my head. I lie there, stunned. When I lost my virginity for the first time, I didn’t guess that I had another, darker, more difficult virginity remaining. Waiting to be taken by a man who had comple
te domination over me. I’m glad it was him. And if it hadn’t been him, it might never have happened. None of my exes tried seriously to fuck me in the ass. Sometimes their cocks would stray there hopefully, but I just adjusted my hips, and the moment passed. I like the fact that it evidently means a lot to Adler, too. There was nothing casual about it; it was serious, momentous.

  “Do you prefer anal sex?” I ask him anxiously, not sure if I could do this on a regular basis.

  “No,” he says thoughtfully. “It feels great being in your ass, but you have a beautiful, tight pussy. However, as part of your training, I’m only going to fuck you in the ass for a while.”

  My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. I think it will do you a lot of good.”

  I give a shudder.

  Adler is true to his word. In the following days, he continues to message me, telling me when he wants me to wear the butt plug. I’m free to masturbate, but forbidden from putting anything in my vagina, including my fingers. I spend almost every waking minute in a fog of need. I’m turned on practically all the time, and I masturbate at least twice a day in the office. It has the effect that I’m sure he intended. I start to fantasize about him fucking me in the ass, yearn to feel his cock in there again.

  We meet every two or three days. Every time I arrive at his door, I strip off and leave my clothes in a pile, then buckle the collar around my neck before I ring the bell. Sometime he wants me the second I come through the door; other times he likes to tease. Being naked all the time while he’s clothed continues to feel hot and dirty. He touches me a lot, casually groping my breasts while we chat in the kitchen, his fingers slipping inside me while we sit on the couch. I get the message: I’m his, and he has access to my body anytime he wants it.

  He continues to tie me up, either over the bench or standing against the wall. Sometimes he whips me, but just as often he teases me, getting me all worked up, then leaves me blindfolded with clamps on my nipples, desperate for him to come back and fuck me.

  And every time he fucks me, it’s in my ass. He always makes sure I’m ready, but his initial gentleness has quickly given way to rougher entrances. If he tells me to come to the house with the butt plug already in my ass, I know he’s going to take me as soon as I arrive. He’ll push my face against the wall of the hallway, pull the plug out, and replace it with his cock. Then he’ll screw me hard and cold. He fucks me over the stool in the kitchen, bent over the couch, and while tied hand and foot to the bench. I come every time, even without being able to touch my clit, my ass so sensitized and ready for him.

  “I would love to fuck you in a public place,” he says one day. “Where people are watching, wondering if I’m taking you in the ass.”

  “I’d like that,” I say slowly. “Have anywhere in mind?”

  “Maybe,” he replies with a smile. “Hold that thought, and I’ll get back to you soon.”

  We don’t only have sex. Sometimes we play for an hour or so and then, true to his word, he cooks dinner for us both. During these times his voice changes from his hard, staccato demands and interrogations into his other, softer timbre. When we eat, he gives me a long T-shirt to wear, and we sit at the island in the kitchen or on the sofa, chatting like any other couple.

  One night, he asks if I want to watch a movie. “Your choice,” he says.

  I hesitate, unused to choosing anything in this relationship. “How about a romantic comedy?”

  “Sure,” he says after a beat.

  I laugh. “Kidding. I’m actually not a big fan of sappy movies.”

  Adler digs me in the ribs until I shriek. “Think you’re funny, huh?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Maybe I should make you watch some real violent guy movie to teach you a lesson,” he says, squeezing me tight and muttering darkly into my ear.

  I raise my hands. “I’m ready. Maybe I have a thing for guns and ridiculous car chases.”

  We flick through recent Academy Award winners and pick last year’s best picture, which neither of us have seen. We settle back on the sofa, but I fidget, trying to get comfortable with the heavy collar around my neck.

  “Come here,” he mutters, and he reaches behind my neck and unbuckles it. And then he pulls me against his body, wrapping one of his arms around my shoulders. I sit very still, hardly daring to breathe. Are we really snuggling on the sofa together? Are his lips really resting on top of my head, his breath warm on my hair? I miss the first ten minutes of the movie because I’m reveling in the sensation of being in his arms, of doing something that’s been so normal to me ever since I started dating guys. And he was willing to watch a romantic movie with me. What the fuck? I wasn’t lying about my aversion to sappy films, but if I’d known he was going to hold me like this, Sleepless in Seattle would be playing and I’d be gunning for all the mushy bits to break through his unromantic shell.

  He sits still while we’re watching, but every so often, his hand slides up and down my forearm, and more than once, I think I feel him inhaling the scent of my hair. I have to take a bathroom break halfway through. I return to the sofa gingerly, certain that he’ll have changed position, but he welcomes me back and, if anything, holds me more tightly. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, endorphins flooding my body. This moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

  And then I force my attention back to the screen. It turns out there’s a dash of romance in this movie, too. A male and female character are reuniting after being separated by a war for the past ten years. The guy tells the girl he always loved her, but he was too scared of what the future held to tell her. The camera zooms in on the girl’s big liquid eyes, full of emotion and understanding, and they kiss. My heartbeat speeds up and my breath catches in my throat. Adler shuffles in his seat, then he reaches for the remote and hits pause.

  “Bathroom break,” he announces, getting to his feet and stretching.

  I glower, watching his retreating back, certain that something just passed between us.

  When he comes back, he’s far more casual. He doesn’t wrap his arm around me, but sits next to me, his shoulder just brushing mine.

  “You look happy,” Hugo says when we’re having beers on a Friday night. He’s been living here for three weeks now, and he seems happy, too. He likes his new job, and he’s been on a couple of dates with one of his workmates.

  “I am,” I say, surprising myself. I’ve been so wrapped up in Adler for the past few weeks that I haven’t had time to think about the fact that I don’t feel lonely anymore.

  “Who are you dating? Tell me it’s not the guy from the club.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Hugo sighs. “He was an entitled asshole.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. I can’t explain to Hugo that it’s a game we play. He wouldn’t get it at all. A part of me feels deeply uncomfortable that I’m doing this thing he’d probably think was very weird and maybe even disgusting.

  And it bothers me I have this situation that’s exciting and fulfilling, but I have to keep it quiet from everyone—everyone except for Monica, of course. With her, I share every juicy detail.

  “Stop, Rea, you’re getting me too horny, and Rick is away all week,” she moans.

  “I’m not apologizing. Remember all that stuff you used to tell me about your sex life that totally scandalized me when I was Miss Innocent and Prissy?”

  “But this is on a different level. This is a real-deal dom-sub relationship.”

  “Yeah, I know. But—”

  “But what? Why do you suddenly sound so down?”

  “I want more. Every time we do something normal together, like watch a movie or he cooks dinner for me, I wish he was my boyfriend.”

  Monica lets off an epic groan. “Girl, do you realize how lucky you are? You’ve got a seriously hot guy who fucks you exactly how you like to be fucked and treats you respectfully. A lot of guys who are into that scene are seriously fucked up, believe me. At best
, they’re giant nerds, and at worst, they’ve got a lot of issues. Enjoy it for what it is, and please don’t ruin it by trying to turn it into something else.”

  “But I want him to be more than a sex partner. I’ve never met someone as cool and charismatic as him. He says he doesn’t have relationships, but I don’t get it. He’d be the perfect boyfriend. I think I’m falling for him.”

  “Rea, listen to me. You need to stop that right now. He’s not a keeper. He’s there to have fun with for a while, explore your dark side, which it sounds like you’re doing extremely well, then go find yourself the all-American boy of your dreams to settle down with.”

  “You’re right,” I say, after a long pause. “He’s been very open with me about how he feels, and I don’t have the right to try to turn it into something else.”

  But the feeling doesn’t go away.

  The following day, Adler has a surprise for me. There’s a black leather swing hanging from the ceiling of the S&M room. There’s a strap to support my ass, and each leg slides into a separate loop. When he swings me back and forth, my legs swing wide apart. He watches me, very pleased with his new toy. Then he gets undressed and watches me some more, idly stroking his cock. At last, he steps forward and plunges it into my pussy, ending a two-and-a-half-week drought. Fuck. It’s almost indescribably good. I’d forgotten how sweetly intense it felt, with none of the awkwardness of anal sex. It’s just pleasurable. And with the swing bearing my weight, I lose myself to the pleasure of his cock pounding into me.

  “What have I done to deserve this?” I gasp.

  He gives me a wicked smile. “You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you. And this is your reward.”

  It turns out the swing can be adjusted to support my weight in different ways. With a few tugs, I can lie on it face down while he slides his cock deep into my throat, and then he spins it 180 degrees and fucks me from behind.

  “I wish I could do rope work,” he says. “I’d like to have my friend come and tie you up in a very restrictive position.”