by Cerys du Lys
The slender, brunette woman slumped over the desk, her pen automatically finding its way to her mouth. The noise of the office was giving her a headache, and all she wanted to do was check her emails, but she couldn’t until lunch. Without the promise of visiting Mike Stone, the world seemed like a dreary and dismal place.
* * *
The cab home was drawn-out by the traffic. The red and white lights glowed in the evening gloom and drizzle like soft halos. Anna sighed and checked her cell for the hundredth time that day. Nothing.
“You are such an idiot,” she whispered to herself. “Two scenes and he’s already tired of you. You’ve really hit a new low,” she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. “You’re such an ugly, useless bitch…” she glared at her reflection in the tinted glass before gazing back at the floor of the cab. The traffic inched forwards.
Suddenly, the cab swung to the left out of the stream of traffic. Anna was relieved. These cabs charged by the time, not the distance, so any shortcut was more than welcome.
The cab drove down three narrow backstreets before emerging somewhere close to Baker Street tube station. Anna’s breath quickened slightly and she pressed her legs together. NW1 was Mike Stone’s area. They could drive straight past his house…
Or stop there altogether. The cab pulled up sharply outside the large terrace and the driver got out and opened Anna’s door.
“Miss,” he said, indicating she should get out. Anna did so, feeling both frightened and elated at the same time. “He says,” the driver said, nodding at the house, “you should let yourself in and make your way to your room,” and here he handed her a key, nodded at her and got back into his cab.
Standing in the exhaust fumes, Anna gripped the small silver key until she felt its imprint on her palm. She considered running up the steps to the door and throwing herself into the elaborate hallway, but it also crossed her mind to flee across the city, back to her home and the crushing loneliness that she could no longer stave off. It was true – she had expected to simply be a toy in the world of Mike Stone, but the thought of being without affection for the rest of the relationship was something she was struggling with. Anna looked up at the door, sighed and gripped the key resolutely.
It was now or never, and right now, she just needed to be touched.
* * *
The hallway was cooler than it was during her previous visit and Anna wished she could have kept her shoes on – something Mike had forbidden on her second visit. There did not seem to be anyone in the house, so she followed the cab drivers instruction and made her way up the wooden staircase. She had not noticed before, but the ink painting lining the stairway seemed to be, if you stared hard enough, images of hands and feet bound in various positions. If you looked again, they could be simply blotches on white canvas. Anna looked away. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, pulsing in rhythm with her sex, which seemed to have woken from its dormancy with frenzy – she could feel as she ascended the stairs that her panties were already a little damp.
Top of the stairs, landing, then into the room she had been imagining for the last three weeks – that dark, purple and black wallpaper with the gilded edging, the luxurious carpet beneath her feet and the immaculately-made, satin covered bed that invited her to stroke the fibers lovingly.
“Hello,” she whispered to the bed, as though it could respond. “I’m back…” she inhaled the scent of the room, remembering the pleasure-pain of before, and trying to forget her mistakes.
This time I won’t do anything he doesn’t want me to, she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed. I’ll be a great submissive, given another chance… she looked up at the glowing chandelier. Then everything went black.
The lights clicked off and Anna stifled a scream, jumping off the bed and holding her hands out awkwardly the way people do in darkness. The blackout curtains allowed no glow from the streetlights to creep into the boudoir, and Anna was momentarily petrified, until a warm, steely hand closed around her wrist.
“M – Mike!” she breathed, trying to turn towards what she thought must be his face, but the click of those handcuffs stopped her as they wound around her left wrist, then her right, securing her arms in front of her and squashing her breasts together. Her nipples sprang to attention and she stood a little straighter to allow the friction of her bra to tease them to a point.
Strong fingers unbuckled her belt and pushed her skirt to the floor before unceremoniously tearing through her panties. Mike groaned and lightly squeezed her ass in his hands before slapping the right cheek, hard with both palms. Anna squealed and nearly toppled over. The familiar warmth rose slightly, but not as extreme as the first time he had hit her. She was expecting pain. She needed more.
Mike seemed to sense this and with a breath, hoisted Anna from the floor and into his arms. His masculine smell washed over her as he was so close, and she could barely resist kissing that strong jaw-line she was beginning to make out in the pitch-darkness of the room. Luckily for her, Mike dropped her onto the soft bed before she could act on this impulse.
Anna tried to arrange herself with her arms still in front of her, but Mike pushed her hands over her head so her breasts’ fullness was emphasized, threatening to burst her blouse wide open. Within seconds Mike ripped the fabric apart, sending buttons flying around the room. He pushed open the material and unclipped Anna’s bra, peeling it away as if he were unwrapping a present. Anna heard it hit the carpet, but still could not see a thing. Mike’s hands, now running over her skin, could be anybody’s, but for that memory of his slapping palms that was seared into Anna’s memory bank forever.
The slim, brunette woman shivered as Mike’s fingers teased her skin, momentarily fluttering across her shoulders, her neck , cupping her chin before running down her back to the smallness of her lower back. Anna peered into the gloom, but still saw nothing. Mike appeared to know exactly where she was, and delivered a fierce blow with a riding crop that had appeared from nowhere across the front of Anna’s thighs.
“Ah!” she gasped, forcing herself not to lower her arms. There was a satisfied “hmm…” from somewhere above her head and the crop descended again, connecting almost exactly on the same reddening line. Anna was sure now that Mike could see her… how else would he know where to strike? Her own vision was no better, distracted as she was now by the warm, blossoming feelings radiating down her thighs and between her legs. She felt something inside her relax, as though all of this was satisfying some deep need that had long been neglected. She did not want it to stop, even as the blows rained down, becoming harder and faster, spread out across the top of her thighs.
Then it suddenly stopped, and a gentle hand flickered over the raised flesh to quickly inspect the damage. Anna was drenched in sweat, and desperate to press her legs together for some relief from the heat, however, she knew it would never be allowed. Mike stroked the delicate skin, feeling the ridges of raised pleasure and pain he had inflicted and seemed satisfied and he tapped Anna’s outer thigh lightly.
Her eyes darting around in the darkness, she heard a drawer opening. Her mind conjured up all kinds of images, wondering what sort of device Mike would introduce next. She strained her hands against the metal handcuffs and wished she could bring her arms down, as they were starting to ache.
The bed dipped slightly as Mike’s weight settled onto it and he moved between Anna’s legs, spreading them apart, not roughly, but with purpose. He stroked with surprising gentleness from her ankles, up her legs, bypassing her pussy, over her stomach, circling her breasts, where her nipples tingled like frozen raspberries ready to be bitten.
His hands traced carefully around her neck before changing course and running up her tired arms and stopping at her hands. Then to Anna’s surprise, he placed a small object into the palm of her hand. Squeezing it curiously, she worked out by the tiny cross on the top that it was a chess piece – a King. She realized Mike was reminding her of their safe word –chess - without having to sa
y it. She was safe. She could say ‘no’. But she did not want to.
Mike’s hands dropped again and his soft fingertips delicately brushed against Anna’s damp labia, making her twitch in expectation. With practiced expertise, he gently parted her lips and pressed her clitoris firmly to make her jolt in the darkness. She craned her head to try and see the man who was slicking her fingers over and over that same sweet spot, but the darkness forbad any sight, keeping him wreathed in shadows.
Anna could feel herself becoming feverishly hot as her clitoris gave tiny spasms against Mike’s hand – whose breathing was as steady as it had been all the way through. As Anna made a tiny moan of pleasure, he gripped her wounded thighs and scraped his nails along her beaten flesh. Anna flinched away from the pain, but moved her leg back again once the reaction of her now-heightened nerves turned that pain into pleasure that encircled her and made her vagina pulse with expectation.
Mike pressed her down firmly on her clit once again, as though pressing an ‘off’ switch and dismounted the bed. Anna was in a frenzy of expectation as she heard yet another drawer being opened.
No matter what was coming out of it, she was sure she was ready.
* * *
Mike shut the drawer with a clunk, and Anna heard his footsteps step back towards the bed. Then there was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled, buttons undone and clothes dropped to the floor. The noises of Mike undressing were amazing to listen to. Anna recalled his sculpted chest with only the smallest down of hair between his firm pectoral muscles. Mike’s body was hard and in shape – in harsh contrast to Anna’s softness. Though greying, Mike was only on the cusp of forty, and had plenty of life in him.
There was a click and a noise as though something was being torn. The blackness was torture. Anna was desperate to know what was coming as Mike once again ascended the bed and positioned himself between her knees. Leaning forwards, he gripped her hands that still held the chess piece and squeezed, once. Another reminder. She was not in control, but it was there for the taking.
In leaning over her, Mike’s hard cock had brushed against Anna’s stomach, and the woman distinctly felt the artificial sensation of a condom sheathing the organ. Another precaution. STI tests were written into the contract, but she had not yet had a test taken. Mike was taking no chances with his body or hers. She felt respected, despite the handcuffs and the stinging of the beatings. She felt safe.
Mike’s hands were between her legs again – one stroking her swollen clitoris, which was so sensitive it was almost painful, while the other, sought entry to her desperate pussy. As Anna raised her hips against the cascading pleasure, Mike slipped one finger inside her and pressed her G-spot with blinding accuracy. Without warning, and beyond her control, waves of orgasm were building within her, and despite her best efforts, she could no longer control them.
As in sensing that her end was near, Mike hitched Anna’s legs up slightly so his hands tightly gripped the underside of her thighs. Then, before her peak could threaten to leave her, he slowly entered her, with just the very head of his engorged cock.
This partial entry – pressing on all of Anna’s most private and sensitive of places made her gasp. Mike lowered one of her legs and barely touched her clit again as he moved only the tip of his erect and willing member inside her. It was not the usual hard thrusting that Anna was used to – by only giving her the bare minimum of himself, Mike was driving Anna to a new frenzy. Her pussy rippled around the head of his cock and she threw her head back as the dam of her self-preservation finally broke and a delicious and intoxicating orgasm washed over her, from the burning wounds Mike had inflicted on her to her brain, and back to her core, where Mike now slid inside her slowly, prolonging the pulses and waves of her orgasm, feeling her wetness grip and pleasure him with animalistic, uncontrolled passion.
Anna screamed, as her orgasm did not relent or fade, as she was used to, but instead it held a grip on her, the electric waves rippling through her body as Mike began to move inside of her with purpose.
His cock was beyond hard – Anna could feel every atom of him inside of her and it thrilled her to imagine the stoic, severe Mike Stone naked and erect taking his pleasure within her. The darkness meant she had to imagine his expression and even his body, as her hands stayed above her head, but they were making contact in a way she had previously only dreamed of. Mike’s thrusts did not become fast or frenzied – they stayed steady and controlled as he gradually entered her further and further with each movement. Then, she felt his pelvis connect with hers and she knew she was full of him. She could feel the head of his cock pressing eagerly against her cervix, which rose to make room for this large, welcome intruder.
“Welcome back, Miss Pierce,” Mike’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness. Anna squinted, but still sore nothing.
“Thank you,” she breathed, resisting the temptation to grip his cock within her. It seemed a strange sort of embrace.
“You came back, and I respect that,” Mike said, moving almost imperceptivity inside her. “And received your reward. How do you like it, Miss Pierce?”
Anna tried to keep her brain on the conversation, but Mike’s fingers were heading for her clitoris once again. “It’s…” she blinked in the darkness.
“Fulfilling,” came the reply. Anna was sure he was smiling as his movements became a little surer. “And you have pleased me this time. You took your punishment well.” his fingers, wet with Anna’s orgasm, flickered over her clitoris, which began to swell again.
Mike’s thrusts became firmer and faster, so did his fingers, slicking over that sweet spot matched the rhythm perfectly.
Anna tried to speak, but the pleasure overwhelmed her and she moaned, feeling every inch of Mike’s hard cock caressing her inside, increasing in pace as his own climax began.
“You need this,” Mike said firmly, pressing hard on Anna’s clitoris. “You need me,” and as Anna’s resolve broke down another wave of pleasure coursed through her body.
Mike’s cock twitched and pulsed inside her and she felt his heat erupt, spilling into the sheath that surrounded it. He remained inside of her as he came, allowing their climax to mix and meld into a sort of calm that left Anna with her eyes closed, despite the darkness. He withdrew and his weight left the bed.
“You will find a bathroom to the rear of this room,” he said briskly. “I expect you to find your own way home tonight. Thank you for responding to my demands, Miss Pierce,” and he left the room. The door clicked shut and the lights, dimmed to a feeble glow clicked back on.
Anna surveyed the damage. Her legs were bleeding slightly from the riding crop, but that did not trouble her. Glancing in the gilt mirror above the dresser, she could see a disheveled, blushing woman that looked a little like herself, but it couldn’t be – she had never looked that satisfied after sex.
What’s happening to me? She thought, heading for the bathroom. And do I want it to stop?
* * *
Anna visited Mike again every day for the next two weeks and every night was different. She had been slapped and spanked with Mike’s bare hands, thrashed with his riding crop, suspended from the ceiling by her wrists and buckled to a St. Andrew’s cross. She never said ‘no’, not once, and she never felt the desire to use the safe word, though she kept the King chess piece in her handbag whenever she visited Mike. It was a reminder of their contract, and a way she was truly in control. She was learning more and more about being a submissive, and Mike occasionally praised her performances.
Each scene ended in Mike’s orgasm, inside of her, and Anna wondered if there was something in the routine of penetration that was comforting to her Dom. She relished the chance to have him inside her, no matter what the situation. Even if he were slapping her firmly with a paddle, or wrapping the riding crop around her neck as he emptied himself into her, the control, the feeling of having him gripping onto her with such intensity, such raw madness and desire, left her breathless – every time.
Even at work, her overactive imagination played out scenes between them, conjuring up new ways Mike could pleasure her and submit her to pain as well. To Anna Pierce, the two sensations were now so closely intertwined that they threatened to become blurred. She understood Mike’s world now.
For him to take on his dominant persona, he needed to remove everything that detracted from it. His suit, his workload and his previous life all had to be forgotten. In his world of BDSM, he was no longer a CEO, a businessman or even Mike Stone. He became the personification of his needs and desires. He threw himself into his sexual energy with religious fervor, and anything that got in his way would be removed. So far, Anna had been with him for nearly three months, and she was still there. And, to her concern, she was beginning to feel more and more anxious about any changes or terminations to their contract. If he ended their relationship… Anna felt sick at the very thought of being apart from him for long.
She forced the thought from her mind, as quickly as possible. She had to trust in Mike, completely, honestly.
There was something else troubling her. She desired to feel him kiss her, to pour himself into her very soul by opening up to her just as she had done with him.
Anna never mentioned these thoughts to Mike, and instead, reminded herself that she had not entered the world of BDSM looking for love, or even affection. She had gotten what she wanted, what she needed. She had no right to ask anything more of him.
* * *
The scene was set. Anna had been buckled onto a curious frame, where her legs were free to move, but her arms were trapped behind her back. Mike had not explained the equipment, but had assured her she would find the experience liberating. She was leaning over a padded, high seat that reminded her of a pommel horse, expect there were no handles and she was resting on her stomach over it. Her toes barely touched the ground, but it was comfortable, at least. The scenes with Mike had certainly helped to tone Anna’s body, making it firmer and stronger. Her stomach muscles did not ache as before, and neither did her arms get tired.
