by Linnea May
I want her impaled on my cock so badly, but I don’t think she deserves it quite yet. She’ll have to earn it, beg for it. That’s when I truly thrive.
I plunge a finger inside her, cupping her throbbing clit with my palm. She’s so turned on that she starts rubbing herself against my hand in an urgent attempt to get off.
“Get rid of the thong,” I command her, and she doesn’t hesitate a second to grab it with both hands and slide it down over her ass, letting it drop to the floor, all the while keeping my hand wedged between her legs, my finger buried deep inside her inviting walls.
When I catch her eyes, I can see the vertigo of pleasure reflected in them. She’s so desperate for an orgasm, I wonder if I should allow her to have one right now, earlier than planned.
I decide against it and remove my hand, licking my finger with relish as she stares at me, blushing with shame.
“Turn around,” I say. “On the bed, on all fours. Your ass facing the foot of the bed.”
She nods and obeys, following the instructions like a good girl, even hollowing her back to grant me a better view of her perky behind.
“On your elbows, hands together,” I elaborate.
I expect her to throw me a quizzical look or ask me where I’m going with this, but instead she just follows my orders, lifting her ass higher as she leans forward on her elbows.
I walk around the bed and produce a short piece of rope from my pocket.
“Well prepared,” Lana comments, as I begin to tie her wrists together and fasten them to the headboard.
“Always,” I reply, smacking her ass with my right hand.
She yelps, but hollows her back even further, as if she’s asking for more.
I think she is.
“You know, this is supposed to be a lesson, a punishment,” I say, while unbuckling my belt. She turns her head to me and her eyes widen as I pull the belt out of the loops on my pants, turning it into a leathery sling in my right hand. “But I think you might be enjoying this a little too much.”
She looks at me, her eyes wide with a combination of fear and anticipation.
I’m careful with the first blow, and the faint gasp she lets out as the belt hits her milky flesh is a telltale sign of the soft sting she endured. I give her a moment to process the feeling before I hit her again, harder this time.
She sucks in air, but doesn’t make another sound, her forehead now resting on the sheets between her elbows.
“This is for missing class,” I say, granting her an extra strong whip.
She yelps out in pain, and I add two more blows, each of them fierce but not too strong for her to handle. When I take a little break to give her some time, she’s wiggling her behind up in the air, her skin blushing from the impacts. It’s the most beautiful sight.
I need to taste her, and remind myself what that alluring body tastes like, radiating and flushed with endorphins. She earns two more blows with the belt, both of which she takes with astonishing grace, not moving an inch except for her hands that are yanking at their restraints. She’s moaning into the mattress, her body squirming and her ass rocking from side to side, as she processes the pain.
She’s slowly drifting into subspace, her moans growing quieter and longer. I throw the belt aside and start unbuttoning my shirt. She’s flying too high to notice me undressing. I get rid of my clothes, only leaving on my black boxer briefs for now, and climbing onto the bed behind her, carefully placing my hands on her burning ass cheeks.
She groans and leans into my touch, exposing her clit as she does.
“Beautiful,” I sigh. “So responsive and hungry.”
She doesn’t say anything in reply, but digs her face deeper into the sheets.
I spread her ass cheeks, exposing her even more until I’m faced with her glistening entrance. She stops moving and freezes with expectation.
I lean forward and taste her, wasting no time on gradual exploration, but going for her most sensitive spot right away.
She recoils, accompanied by a cry of pleasure. My fingers dig into the hot skin on her ass, spreading her even further apart while my tongue continues to caress her clit.
She’s helpless, going back and forth between desire and shuddering, until I finally hear the word I was looking for.
“Please,” she pleads, the sound muffled by the mattress.
My cock has been only half awake until now, but hearing her say that word brings it to full attention within seconds. It’s the most erotic word that can come from a woman’s lips.
“Please what?” I ask, stopping my treatment only for a moment.
She clenches. “Please…”
“Please what,” I repeat, slapping her ass. She shrieks in surprise, followed by desperate whining.
“Please fuck me.”
There it is.
I have no intention of making her - or myself - wait any longer, and I climb up to the head of the bed to reach for the condoms I have laid out on the night stand. I throw a quick glance at her, but she’s hiding her face from me.
“I want to see you,” I declare, grabbing her by the hips and turning her around. She follows and turns on her back, her arms still tied to the headboard above her head.
“Better,” I growl, leaning forward to kiss her while I open the package and roll the condom over my length.
She reciprocates the kiss with more hunger than ever, obediently spreading her legs to invite me in.
I help her by placing my hands at the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs apart, as I tease her with my tip.
She sighs desperately, shifting beneath me and trying to move her hips closer.
“So impatient,” I scold, acknowledging her with a wicked smile.
“Oh, come on!” she pleads, squeezing her eyes shut as her body continues to beg for my cock.
I ought to punish her for her impudence, but my own need takes a hold of me, making it impossible to resist any longer.
She welcomes me with the deepest, most desperate moan, arching her back as I fill her with my length, stretching her tight walls as I glide inside easily. She clenches around me, an alleviated smile on her face as she takes me in. She opens her eyes and searches for mine while I’m still hovering closely above her face. The blue in her eyes is shrouded with lust.
I lean down and kiss her again, before straightening up to fuck her, properly.
My thrusts are slow and appreciative at first, too slow for her. She yanks at her restraints, egging me to increase the force I use on her - and I respond.
Long and deep shoves follow in rapid succession of each other, making her squirm with desire. I grab her hips and lift her up, pounding into her with such brute force that I feared it might be too much for her, but she loves it. A smile accompanies her cries as I piston into her, galloping toward my own climax.
However, I will make damn sure that I don’t come without her. I continue to fuck her while drawing along her wet clit with my thumb, causing her to shriek with pleasure.
“I’m gonna-”
“Yes, you will,” I say, increasing the pressure on her nub while my cock shoves into her.
She squeals and arches her back, her rapid breathing a telltale sign that she’s nearing release. A sharp inhale and her eyes opening wide with wonder announces the arrival of her climax. Her muscles are clenching around me violently, causing me to follow moments after her orgasm erupts.
Strong waves of pleasure rock us both into post-coital relaxation, and I withdraw from her, eager to feel her heartbeat skin to skin next to mine, as she calms down.
I free her hands and lie down next to her, offering the curl of my arm for her to rest in. Her eyes are half closed as she rolls up against my side, her frail hand resting on my hard chest as she dozes off.
I almost begin to worry about how long she passes out next to me. It’s been so long since I had a woman sleep next to me that I don’t remember what is standard in situations such as these. I feel drowsy myself and keep nodding o
ff, but force myself to stay awake, so I don’t miss out on anything.
So I don’t miss out on her.
Her face has lost all its harshness, and she looks so different from the first day we met. That stubborn, arrogant girl who came up to me after class, scolding me for not being a real teacher, her speech lacking the respect I know I deserve and awakening the furious desire in me to break her. I wanted to see her beg for me, I wanted to make her cry out in pain and pleasure, I wanted to see her lose those strict inhibitions that govern her everyday life.
I managed to do all that. I’ve yet to see her on her knees in front of me, but beg she did, and she lost herself in me. She turned into a hungry bitch in heat, and she needed me to feed her.
But there’s more to Lana.
When I fended off her narrow-minded accusations, I wanted nothing more than to annoy her, make her mad and put her in her place in the bedroom. I never expected her to listen and then to doubt herself.
There’s potential in her, a passion for something other than the path that has been laid out for her. I would like to see her walk that new path, and I’d love to help her get there.
I don’t want to break her. I want to see her flourish.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LANA
It was nothing more than a short post-sex nap, but when I open my eyes, squinting around the room in confusion, I feel disoriented yet weirdly rested.
“I was starting to worry.”
His soft voice greets me from the side, and I realize that I’m lying in his arms, my hand resting on his muscular chest. The very same chest I was so desperate to touch and kiss a few weeks ago.
“That was good,” I whisper.
He chuckles and squeezes me closer. “Glad to hear it.”
“Sorry,” I add. “I didn’t mean to say that-”
“I know what you meant, Lana.”
He turns to me, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Are you hungry? Because I am.”
I nod. “I could eat.”
I haven’t had dinner yet, and he wore me out. My backside is still hurting from the belt.
He whipped me with a belt, hard, and I liked it. I still can’t get over that. I quiver at the thought of it.
I want more.
It was such a cathartic experience. I’ve never been hit like this before, especially not during sex. It hurt, but it felt so right at the same time. I know that some people get off on pain, but I never thought I’d be one of them. Then again, I don’t think it was just the pain that drove me wild. It was everything. His control, his care, his way of taking me, making me feel safe, and being so desperately wanted by a man who couldn’t be farther out of my league.
He orders us some food and has it sent up to the room. Because I didn’t give him a clear answer as to what I’d like to eat, his order gets a little out of hand, leaving us with so much food that the dining table inside the living room can barely hold all of it.
I sit across from him, wrapped in a soft robe provided by the hotel, and dig into the best steak I’ve ever had.
He casts me an amused smile. “Good?”
“Very,” I reply, still chewing.
“So, while you were avoiding me,” he says. “Did you happen to think about that homework a little more?”
I wash the last bite of my steak down with champagne, relishing the decadence of it. In fact, I did more than just think about it. While I knew I didn’t want to face him for a while, I still planned on taking some time to figure out exactly what I wanted to do with the idea he planted in me. As it turns out, thinking about it and applying what I learned in his class actually led me to sketch out a draft business plan for bringing one of my ideas to life.
I wipe the corner of my mouth with a heavy cloth napkin to buy myself some time to find the right words to explain it to him.
“I have,” I say. “I actually started working on something… I think.”
“You think?” he asks, looking at me with an amused smile, leaning back in his chair. He’s wearing an identical white hotel robe, looking incredibly delicious with his dark rumpled hair.
“Let me hear about it,” he says, waving his hand.
I clear my throat. The app I decided to follow up on is an idea I had when I first started college and realized how hard it was to socialize outside club activities.
“What I think would be really nice to have is an app that helps you find people close by who are interested in similar things, like playing a certain game or sharing a hobby, and you could search for others to do it with via app.”
“Like a dating app, but for socializing?” he asks, seemingly trying to grasp what it is that I’m picturing in my mind.
“Yes, and not only to socialize,” I reply. “Like, say, you need a certain tool for home repair, but you don’t have it and can’t or don’t want to buy it. So you want to know if any of your neighbors might have one that you could borrow.”
“Interesting,” he says. “Go on.”
I continue to tell him more about the details of certain functions while he listens, his eyebrows furling at some points, enthusiastically nodding at others. I haven’t thought out all the details yet, but as I talk to him, more and more ideas come flying to me, and I’m having trouble keeping them in order.
“Can you code?” he asks eventually, interrupting my speech.
I pause for a moment, shaking my head. “Not really, I learned a little, but had to stop because it didn’t fit my schedule.”
“Things like that need to always fit into your schedule,” he argues, figuratively punching me in the stomach. “So, what you’re saying is, you’d have to hire someone to write the app for you?”
“Yes, I think I’d have to,” I admit.
“That’s not a problem, you don’t have to write it yourself,” he says. “You just need to be aware of how much it will cost for you to make it happen.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you could come up with a proper business plan within the next couple weeks?” he asks, startling me.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I probably could. I’ve already done quite a bit of research, and-”
“The reason I’m asking is this,” he interrupts, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table as his eyes fixate on mine. “Remember how I told you about me being an angel?”
I grin at him. Somehow, the fact that he refers to himself as an angel is funny to me, especially considering what kind of man he is in bed. But I know what he’s talking about.
“Yes, sure.”
“I’ve recently become part of a collaboration of investors who provide a platform for young entrepreneurs to present their ideas and receive our support,” he says. “Financially and with business advice.”
He pauses and looks at me, observing my reaction. Is he going where I think he’s going with this?
“You think I could…?”
“Why not?” he says. “It’d be a good opportunity for you to gauge whether or not this could work for you.”
“A couple of weeks you said?”
“Close to three, to be exact,” he confirms.
I gulp. “That’s tough.”
He smiles at me and takes my hand, softly stroking the back of it with his thumb when he says, “I’ll help you along the way, as much as I can.”
My eyes widen with appreciation. “You’d do that?”
He nods. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Mr. Portland.”
“Jackson,” he says. “I think there’s no harm in you calling me that when we’re alone.”
His words feels like a warm embrace, so intimate and loving. I get up from my chair and walk around the table, forcing myself onto his lap to hug and kiss him.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my face close to his. “Jackson.”
He wraps one arm around me while placing the other on my thigh, slowly traveling along my skin, beneath the robe, while his eyes fixate tenderly on mine.
“Why?”
I hear myself ask, as I stare at him with wonder.
“Why what?” he asks in a whisper.
“Why do you want to help me?”
“Because I want to,” he says. “And because I can.”
“You don’t have to, just because we’re sleeping with each other.”
He chuckles, and his hand moves to the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my center. I willingly open my legs to grant him more leeway, and he moves his hand further in, until he’s touching my warm entrance.
“Sleeping together,” he says, while parting my lips. “You’re so cute.”
I inhale noisily. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” he agrees. “But rest assured, I’m not helping you because your cunt tastes so fucking delicious.”
Oh, God, he and his filthy mouth. I blush, even though my core starts throbbing with desire as he starts circling my clit with his skillful fingers.
“I’m helping you because I believe in you,” he continues. “You are a smart girl, there’s no doubt about that. The only thing that has kept you from success on a road less traveled is your fear and your oppressive environment.”
He pauses, his expression changing into a contemplative state.
“Sometimes you need a push in the right direction,” he adds. “And a person who pushes you there.”
He plants a kiss on my cheek. “I hope to be that person for you.”
As if he wants to keep me from replying, he slides a thick finger inside of me, bending it and pushing up at that sweet spot, while his thumb continues to caress my clit. I moan, my fingers clawing into the flesh of his shoulder.
“You’re too good,” I breathe, rasping. “Too good for me.”
His gaze darkens for a split second, before a mischievous smirk appears.
“I’m just right for you,” he says.
His grip around me tightens, and I am silenced as he brings me to another climax.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LANA
It’s been almost two weeks since Mr. Portland became Jackson to me. Of course, I only address him like that when we’re alone, but it’s getting harder every day to remember to maintain my distance in public.
