Of Humans and Monsters

by Candace Blevins

  His head tilted and he looked unbelievably sad for a brief moment before he gave a thoughtful smile. “I don’t think either of us has to worry about that. We both have walls up, which makes it nice to be able to get a little close without worry we’ll be seen as leading the other on.”

  It wasn’t my place to point out that my walls are healthy, and are about being a mom and putting my daughter first, while his are about not getting hurt again. I wished I could help him break the walls down but I knew I wasn’t the person to do it. I could’ve helped him as his therapist, but he’d never see one, and now that I’d fucked him there was no way to help him even as a therapist.

  I needed to shut down this line of questions though, so I asked, “Do I get to ask how your week’s gone? You have secrets you can’t talk about too. Right? I’m guessing you wouldn’t answer if I asked if you’d had to kill anyone this year.”

  “Right you are. Let’s start with a nice, friendly, over-the-knees-spanking, shall we?”

  “Same rules?”

  He tilted his head and gave me a mischievous grin. “No, I think we’ll change things up. No words unless there’s a problem, in which case you’ll tell me. Otherwise, use your voice as much as you like, but I’ll get creative with my belt if I hear any words.”

  “Do I need permission to orgasm?”

  “Of course you do. Now,” he sat on a short stool near a worktable, “over my lap. Question and answer time’s over. No more words.”

  I’d been about to ask if he wanted me to take the shirt off, but since I couldn’t ask, I decided to bend over with it on. I’m pretty sure he enjoyed lifting it to my waist and tucking it around me to make sure it stayed before he started spanking me.

  I groaned at the first hard, sharp, smack as heat traveled to my groin and my clit throbbed with need.

  “Mmmm. Your moans could be marketed as Viagra, Cupcake.” He inhaled and cursed under his breath. “Fuck, but I love the way you smell when I spank you.”

  I hadn’t realized he’d called me by name around the club, and hadn’t called me Cupcake as a nickname until we were in private, but his hand landed on my ass again and my hips ground on his leg as I gave him another long, low groan. Damn, Dawg knew exactly what I needed.

  This wasn’t going to be a nice soothing warmup — he was getting right to it but without going over the top to start.

  He soon set up a nice tempo, and before long was hitting me hard enough I braced my hands on the floor to keep from moving forward on his lap.

  I yelped as he increased speed and tempo, and he struck at least a dozen times with no pause.

  “On your knees. I need your mouth a minute before we move on.”

  Giving blow jobs when I’m on my knees and have my hands free has never done much for me, but when Dawg said he needed my mouth, he hadn’t been asking me to blow him. He meant he needed to fuck my face until tears fell from my eyes and I gasped for air — and I loved every second of it.

  After nearly a week of fighting for my life and having to stay on top of supernatural politics nearly every minute of the day, Dawg let me be nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. Now, I fought for air and struggled with my gag reflex while I tried to be what the man over me needed. He’d make sure he didn’t kill me — I didn’t need to worry about anything except staying upright on my knees while he used me.

  He went hard, deep, and fast, and came down my throat in less than five minutes as he practically screamed, “Fuuuuucccckkkk,” into the air above my head.

  “Shirt off and lean over the bed. Wait for me with your arms folded behind your back,” he gasped as he backed away from me.

  I caught my breath and reveled in my exposed position during the couple of minutes he took to pull himself together and return with a paddle. “That’s my third fucking orgasm of the day and I popped off like I was in high school. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy spanking the hell out of you?”

  I wasn’t supposed to talk, so I turned my face, met his gaze, and licked my lips. I wouldn’t dare be so cheeky with most Doms, but Dawg wouldn’t see it as bratty because he’d encouraged me to keep it fun.

  He chuckled and swatted me with the paddle. I yelped and jumped, and he chuckled again. “Nod or shake your head — will you be okay with some bruising on your ass and thighs?”

  I considered what I had coming up and nodded. I had two and a half days until my date with Xaephan, but the demon would probably enjoy playing with any bruises that might still be around.

  “So much fun to play with,” Dawg said right before he swung the paddle another five times without pause and it was all I could do to stay leaned over the bed.

  He kept me right on the edge of what I could handle until I was practically in tears — not just from the impact of the paddle, but because my need to orgasm grew with every strike and there was no way to beg for release. I knew he could smell my lust, frustration, pain, fear, and need. The fact he kept going without giving me relief fueled my already crazy-intense lust. I humped the bed when he set up a rhythm, so my ass was up for the strike and my clit was crushed into the bed while he drew back. He didn’t tell me not to, but a few times I had to force myself to be still before I pushed myself over into orgasm.

  I was almost ready to beg for release despite the threat of his belt when he ordered me to come as he put even more muscle behind the hard wood of the paddle. I used an iron grip to make sure I held my arms behind my back as my body spasmed out of control, jerking and pulsing as my insides came apart with ecstasy while Dawg was relentless with the paddle.

  I have no idea how he lubed his cock while he beat my ass, but he did, because before my orgasm was over he tossed the paddle on the bed beside me and rammed his cock into my ass. It was narrow enough I could take it, but that didn’t stop my screams. I hadn’t expected him to thrust in my ass all at once, and I screamed a series of long screams, then short staccato screams, and back to long ones as my body dealt with the shock of it and my orgasm blew me out of the stratosphere all over again.

  “Oh yeah, that’s it, spasm around my cock. Fuck, I went in narrow and you’re tight as a—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence, and apparently decided it was time to open and stretch me, because he pulsed bigger and I gasped and yelped.

  “Fuck yeah,” he said as he leaned forward and propped himself on my arms held behind my back. His fingers circled around my joined forearms and his weight pressed down as he growled, “Gonna spread you so damned wide this time. Relax and open for me.” He chuckled. “Or don’t. Either way, here it comes.”

  My scream was louder and longer this time as his cock grew fatter inside me in a series of pulses and I was certain I couldn’t take it. I soon realized he’d held my arms to make sure I stayed in place, and I was seconds from screaming it was too much when he stopped pulsing wider and gave me a few seconds to catch my breath.

  “Shhhh,” he murmured as he rubbed my back and shoulders. “Relax, Cupcake. I’m not even normal width yet, and I intend to go so goddamned much fatter than my norm before I start moving.”

  I shook my head no and he popped the side of my already tender ass with his hand. “Yes. Deep breath in, to a count of fifteen.” He counted slow as I pulled air in, and then again as I expelled it until not a bit of air was in my lungs.

  “Good. Again.”

  He made me take another three unbearably deep breaths before telling me to breathe normally but to keep it slow and controlled. The burn and stretch in my ass had subsided, but he once again went wider, and I yelped and fought to keep my breathing controlled as he pulsed bigger four more times without pause.

  “Excellent, Cupcake. Get used to me and we’ll go that much again. You’ve been trained well, but I like that I’m the one teaching you how to handle a wolf’s cock.” He rested his warm hands over mine, which held my elbows so tight I was cutting off circulation. “Arms out to the side and keep them there.” He stroked my back from shoulders to sacrum. “Relax around me.
You can take this and more. I’ll add more lube before I start moving in you, so let all your worries fade away. Relax and enjoy — you know I’ll make it good.”

  He could smell my worry and didn’t know what it was, so he was trying to ease my fears by guessing. I actually hadn’t worried about the lube thing, but it was nice to know he had a plan. Mostly, I was worried I was already stretched to my limit and I wasn’t sure I could take more, but I remembered he’d know if he took me into true pain and would back off. I breathed my worries out and focused on how much I trusted him. He rubbed down both sides of my spine from shoulders to sacrum again. “That’s better. Good girl. Another deep breath for me, to a count of fifteen.”

  Pulling so much air in with a huge, fat cock up your backside is quite an experience. Letting the air out made it feel as if I had more room, but Dawg only let me have the feeling for a handful of seconds before he once again pulsed larger and I was squeezing the blanket in my fists and panting once again.

  “It’s like you forget you’re horny when you get used to me, and then I hurt you again and you’re suddenly radiating lust.” He pulsed larger again, and groaned as I yelped and stopped breathing.

  He leaned forward and braced himself with his hands on my shoulder blades. “A lot wider this time.”

  Once again, I soon realized he’d braced me and not himself, because when I fought and tried to stand, he held me down while his cock grew, and grew, and then grew some more.

  “Oh! Fuck! No! Please! Shit! It’s too much!”

  He shrank back down and slid out with a chuckle. “Words, Cupcake. Looks like I get to have some fun with my belt before we get everything all slick again.”

  The heat of his palms pressed into my shoulder blades as he lifted his fingers in the air. He thumped a finger onto my upper back as he said each word. “Oh, fuck, no, please, shit, it’s, too, much.”

  My apprehension increased with each additional finger, and when all eight were down my pulse thundered in my ears.

  “Eight strikes of my belt. Where shall I choose?”

  I didn’t move a muscle while he walked to his clothes and pulled the belt from his jeans with a whooshing noise that sent even more of my heated blood to my clit.

  “On your back. I think I want to start with your tits.”

  I rolled over and held my elbows behind my back without being told. I’d been painstakingly trained in how to offer myself up for punishment, and it was important I accept it as gracefully as possible. I rolled to my back and spread my legs with my feet by my ass, and he didn’t adjust me.

  Dawg took his time looping the belt and getting it just right, and by the time the first strike hit my left breast I was a bundle of nerves.

  Heat. Fire. Sting. Pain.

  I only gave a short scream as I closed my eyes and accepted the pain instead of fighting it. I hadn’t followed orders and I deserved this, so I did my best to accept the consequences.

  Another wallop of impact sounded and a thick line of blazing, stinging, fiery torment formed across my right breast this time. My scream was a little longer, but I was determined to accept whatever he gave me, and I relaxed into the pain as best I could.

  “Eyes open, and lift your knees to your shoulders but keep ’em wide.”

  His words were clipped, and when I met his gaze, his normally bedroom eyes were intense, fierce.

  My heart stalled when I saw him lining up to strike my pussy next, and I had to force myself to stay relaxed while holding my knees open.

  He took his time getting his aim right — likely more about building me up to it than a need to make sure he hit the right spot — and I was nearly in tears before he swung.

  When the harsh, cruel leather finally made impact from my clit to my asshole, I gripped my elbows behind my back, but my legs came together and rolled to the side as a unit as my screams filled the room. He’d hit me so fucking hard and I’m certain it took me a half dozen times of trying to breathe before my muscles finally worked well enough to pull air into my lungs.

  Dawg didn’t soothe me or talk me through the pain, and when I finally had control again, I returned to position to wait for the next strike. This was punishment and it was supposed to hurt.

  “That’s three. Turn over and you’ll get the rest on your ass and thighs.”

  I didn’t point out they were already blazing from the paddle, but rolled over and waited for him to heap even more heat and fire on my already tender backside.

  Five lines of delicious torment. I know they were supposed to be consequences for talking, but fuck if they weren’t exactly what I needed. Catharsis. Dawg used fire and pain to clean my system from the effects of a harrowing week.

  He hadn’t taken it easy on my breasts and pussy, and he’d laid into my ass and thighs with more strength than most men dared. I wanted to thank him, but talking would’ve been disrespectful in that moment.

  He donned a glove so he could take it off without needing to wash his hands, and used a single finger to get me slick inside. He lined his cock up with my ass, slid the tip in, and pulled the glove off so he could hold me while he forced my ass open again with his distressingly fat cock.

  Thankfully, he backed off on the width a tiny bit once he was all the way in — before he pulled out, slammed back in, and fucked me with an intensity you only get from a supernatural. I wanted to scream a long line of “Yes, Yes, Yes,” but all I could do was make what I hoped were encouraging moans and squeals. I reached for my clit and he pulled my arm up and held it to the center of my back. “Don’t be a bad girl, Cupcake. No playing with yourself or I’ll have to punish your clit. Arms behind your back again.”

  He ordered me to orgasm three times while he fucked my ass, and each time he shot me farther into ecstasy until I was sure I was done for the night. Finally, he rolled me over and put my hand on my mound. “Keep yourself happy while I go clean up. Want to finish in that beautiful, sweet pussy.”

  I’d put my condoms out before we showered, and he returned and rolled one on as he held my gaze. “You can talk now, just be sure you use the right tone.” He offered his hand to help me up, and grasped me under the arms as I stood. The next thing I knew, he’d sat me on his cock and I was wrapping my arms and legs around him in reflex. He walked us to a wall and gently settled my back against it before his hips moved and jerked until he was bouncing me up and down on his thick, hard length, and now I actually did scream a litany of “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  The theme now was to give me orgasms until I was wrung out, and I lost track of the number of positions he moved us through and how many mind-melting orgasms he forced from me.

  Once again, we ended up in a modified missionary with our gazes locked while we made love. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted, but I didn’t want to. He looked into my soul as his cock caressed all the best places inside me. My last orgasm was so intense I worried my heart might beat its way out of my chest and my muscles might come loose inside me. My back arched and I melted under the warmth and intensity of his unfathomably deep blue eyes when he finally came and we trembled and quaked together.

  When he finally pulled out, I’m pretty sure I rolled over and passed out, but it’s possible I crashed while he was still inside me.

  I’d set my alarm for the latest I could get away with, so I was up and in the shower within moments of it going off. My breasts sported red stripes with underlying bruises clearly made from a man’s wide belt, and I could only imagine what my ass and thighs looked like. I felt them when I carefully leaned against the shower, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve had to carry on with my life while wearing bruises from a scene.

  I didn’t get my hair wet, so I only needed to pull it into a ponytail and spend five minutes on makeup before I was back in the main room and slipping into jeans and a t-shirt.

  Dawg was awake and watching me, and my fingers itched to run through his tousled hair as he lounged in bed with an ultra-sexy leg outside the covers. Nothing would’ve made m
e happier than to crawl back into bed and let him have his way with me again, but I leaned over to give him a kiss as I buttoned my blouse. “Thanks for a wonderful night.”

  “You’re most welcome, though it feels like I should be thanking you. Everything okay this morning?”

  “I’m deliciously sore, if that’s what you mean.”

  He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, and I had to breathe through my libido to keep from tearing my clothes off and jumping him all over again.

  “One day,” he chuckled, “I’m going to make you sore and then have time to play with you and torture you all over again the next day.”

  “I look forward to it.” I checked my phone, unplugged the charger from the wall, and turned to see him sliding his legs into his jeans. He zipped them but didn’t button them, and a shirtless, disheveled, sexy Dawg in unbuttoned jeans is a sight to behold.

  He lifted my duffel and I managed to keep from drooling. His smirk told me he knew the effect he’d had on me, and I was suddenly uncomfortable. I don’t do one-night stands enough to understand the full etiquette. Our first night had ended when Nathan arrived, but this was a two-night stand now, and it felt like I should just go.

  “I can make my own way upstairs. I’m not sure if Nathan or Patrick’s picking me up, but they should be waiting for me in the parking lot.”

  “Feels necessary for me to hand you to whoever’s in charge of your safety today.”

  “Well, since you’re up, I should make the bed.” God, could I be any more awkward?

  “No, I’ll send a prospect down to change the sheets and clean the bathroom.” He sighed and pulled me to him. “We’re good, Cupcake. Don’t go all weird on me. I hope we have a chance to play some more, but if we don’t, I’m glad I’ve had two nights with you.”

  I relaxed into his warmth. “Thanks. I’m not big on casual sex and it suddenly felt awkward. You’re right, of course.”

  “Not sure anything about our night can be called casual,” he noted as he released me. “Perhaps calling it no-strings sex might be more accurate.”