Black Light_Valentine Roulette

by Livia Grant

  Except that he’d said he hadn’t meant to call her weak.

  ‘Liar,’ her gut instantly spat.

  He swatted her again, as if she’d said that part out loud instead of deep in the privacy of her own head. And it still wasn’t the vindictive assault she was expecting, but it did make an impressively loud clap as he flattened her ass cheek under his palm. It even stung a little. Okay, more than just ‘a little’, but it wasn’t brutal or harder than she could take. He swatted her again and she tensed, catching her breath. This definitely wasn’t a child’s game of pat-a-cake, not by any means. The force of his next spank, as well as the three or four others that followed—right cheek, left cheek—in steady rhythmic measure, shot through her. The sting made her catch her breath, but even she knew as far as spankings went, this was a warmup. With a warmup’s delicious sting and that bloom of wanton heat sparking under the jubble of her flesh and the bounce of his hand. Newton’s hand. Her skin should be crawling, but God help her, though she had every reason not to want it to, her belly still picked up that burn, absorbing the molten glow and turning it into something so much more.

  She felt his arm move and tensed, ready to reject the next traitorous smack as heat and the pleasurable burn slowly filled up inside her. What she was not prepared for was another pass of the Wartenberg, rolling up her sensitive thigh, over the curving hill of her buttocks and the small of her back.

  Abby threw back her head, erupting into squirms and teeth-gritted squeals of laughter she was helpless to bite back. Her feet drummed the floor, toes digging into the thin carpet while she twisted. Newton held her easily, letting the sharp tips of the pinwheel spines discover, torture and tickle up and down her back, playing along her ribs, down her sides to wander the rounding of her hip and back to her bottom again. She wanted to shout; she laughed instead, high-pitched and frantic, thrashing over his knees like a landed trout, every bit as incapable of breaking away.

  And that sensual pulse that blossomed low in her belly moved lower still. Steady thumping need took root, growing in the bare-shaven shadow of her tightly clenched legs. She didn’t want this erotic hum swimming through her veins, following in the wake of Newton’s toy, filling up her breasts until they swelled, picking up the pulse of that carnal song until her nipples throbbed along in time. She didn’t want this from Newton, and yet all she could do was laugh. Like the voyeurs around them were laughing—her shrieking giggles and their infectious guffaws—until Newton abruptly shifted the Wartenberg to his other hand, and then he was spanking her again.

  Harder this time. Abby’s giggles became an instant moan, the most mortifying loss of self-control she’d allowed herself to suffer since that awful night two years ago when she’d awakened in her own bed to the weight of a stranger falling on top of her, his hand clamping over her mouth so hard that the inside of her lips cut against her own teeth.

  Don’t think about it. She reared back, fighting to get up as if that physical escape could put equal distance between herself and those ugly unwelcome memories. At once, Newton’s arm across her back became a steel beam pinning her down. He shifted, sweeping one leg out from under her to capture both her kicking ones in a scissoring vise.

  “No!” she gasped, but yes was in the heaviness of the hand he now spanked her with. Harder. Faster. A harsh, demanding cadence that grabbed all her attention and brought it crashing back into the here and now of pure physical surrender. He didn’t need a paddle—wooden, Lexan, or otherwise. He didn’t need ropes, either. He held her down with immeasurable strength. A Dom who knew how to conquer and control, to counter the growing frenzy of her struggles because he’d done it before. And like him or not, the submissive inside her responded to that surety, that strength, that inescapable burning pain that mentally calmed and centered her within herself until the franticness of her struggles abandoned her, leaving her to wallow in the growing burn.

  The blossoming pulse.

  The lust and the need that soothed her masochistic soul with the promise of peace once the pain was overcome.

  Prickles—not the Wartenberg wheel this time, but so many more—caressed her throbbing ass, sending those battered nerves to singing and Abby to helplessly laughing once more. She bucked and thrashed, unable to hold still. Her long hair flew about her. Her toes stubbed the floor, sending shocks of pain up her leg to get lost among the tickles and her high-pitched shrieks of laughter.

  “What is that?” she squealed, humping her ass against his knee. No matter how she twisted, there was no escaping the wandering tickling caress of what felt like dozens of sharp little tacks.

  “Vampire glove.” His hand smoothed down the backs of each leg in turn, sending her overstimulated nerve-endings into spasms of unrequited humor. He tickled her thighs, her feet, what parts he could reach of the backs of each knee. He tickled with the prickling pads of his gloved fingertips, scraping up the insides of both her legs as once. He prickled her sex, cupped it, scraped it, held it as if he owned it with tack-like spikes that rested on and in and against her inner and outer folds, against the heat of her molten core, against the throbbing of her desperate clit which only begged harder for the promised bite of each tiny metal tip.

  Her laughter died abruptly. Abby gasped, panting. Jesus, she was sweating. She was trembling too.

  “Stop,” she croaked, suddenly hoarse in a throat that now felt too tight to breathe through, much less laugh.

  Newton’s fingers flexed, not drumming exactly but applying gentle biting pressure against her needy sex.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice cracked. Now, when sounding too harsh could only have served her well, instead she came out sounding as if she were on the verge of panic.

  With gentle pats, he let her feel all the pricks and spines hidden in the finger pads and palm of his black leather glove. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

  Even knowing he wouldn’t let her, Abby tried to get up, but froze when his fingers scraped along her slit, abandoning her pussy to scratch back up the curve of her bottom. For a moment, she was terrified he was going to spank her again, this time with the glove on. Her relief when she felt him take the glove off, however, only lasted until the heat of his fingers and palm cupped her sex once more. His thumb wandered, caressing a single pass along the crack between her buttocks before stopping directly on top of her anus.

  Her pussy tensed. That awful drumbeat of desire pulsed continuously now and his fingers weren’t helping. One had taken up new ownership over her clit. It alternated between idle petting and circular strokes that only made the pressure build, becoming thumps so maddeningly strong that she could feel the heated tugging of her greedy cunt regretting its emptiness all the way up to her womb. Her thighs squeezed closer but with his hand already wedged between them, there was no keeping him out now.

  “I think you’re taking advantage of me,” Abby stammered, her eyes wide and fixed, staring straight out into the crowd at nothing and nobody in particular. Why was he doing this? She was tingling, the whole of her body, everywhere he both had and hadn’t scraped her with either the pinwheel or the vampire gloves. Her pussy tingled. Her clit, swelling with unrequited need beneath his touch, hummed. Her back, her belly, breasts, legs… her ass. God, her ass. The sting of only a moment ago had dwindled into a pleasant, throbbing heat. Taking notes from his fingers, his thumb now circled her back passage, rolling all around the darkened rim and now and then even dipping in, and she could feel the tickling slip of moisture slipping along her labia in anticipation of more. He hadn’t pierced her, not yet. But with each circle and every caress, he was stoking her body’s awareness of him from the flickering of an uncertain match-flame to that of a raging wildfire.

  “Taking advantage?” he echoed, finger and thumb both increasing the pressure. Her clit reveled in being forced down, pinned flat within the heated wetness of her folds, but that was nothing compared to the sheer exhilaration she felt when his thumb increased its press that last iota more and she felt the
tense ring of muscle behind her at last yield. “Are you saying you came to an ‘anything goes’ BDSM party expecting no sexual contact to take place?”

  Her toes curled against her will. No, she definitely hadn’t come thinking that.

  “It wasn’t on your list of hard limits.” Slow and steady, his thumb penetrated until he was lodged as deep as the second knuckle and the abutment of his palm would allow. She shivered, hating how much she loved the feel of him pulling out only to penetrate her all over again, just as slow as before, just as disinclined to stop. Newton or not, like him or not—her body accepted his touch like that of a long-lost lover and her pussy flooded his fingers in response.

  “My, my.” The flat of all four fingers increased their pressure, pressing in until she grabbed his thigh with both hands—not so much an attempt to rise as to process the unexpected pleasure as her clit was mashed and rubbed. “I don’t recall. Was penetration on your list of hard limits?”

  Abby clamped her lips against a muffled squeak as, without seeming to, he opened his fingers enough to catch her clit between them and then clamped down tight.

  “Was fucking?” he asked, soft as the lover her body wanted him to be, a demand nonetheless.

  Hands clenching into fists in the minor wrinkles of his jeans, Abby shook her head.

  “Use your words, please.”

  What the fuck were words? Abby floundered. “N-no.”

  “No what?”

  Frustration reared its ugly head. “No,” she snapped, “fucking was not one of my hard limits.”

  “Speak to me again in that tone of voice. I double dog dare you.”

  Abby’s belly twisted and quivered at how easily he could sound at once both amused and yet deadly serious. He patted the whole of her pussy, a warning that he was not afraid to spank. Just the thought of being spanked there, in that most vulnerable of all places made her belly quiver all over again. “I… I’m sorry.”

  “Quite all right. I can understand how having to repeat certain words or phrases might be embarrassing for some submissives. Was it difficult for you to have to say that, considering where my fingers currently are and how deeply my thumb is stuck up your ass? Does saying things like ‘fucking’ when I’m touching you like this embarrass you?”

  Her face burned. Her pussy pulsed and throbbed, drooling more than enough lubrication to keep every woman in this room fuck-ready for hours. That it was happening was bad enough. That he was feeling it drip and roll down his fingers made it far worse, and yet neither of those things were half as terrible as having to talk with him about it.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “It does.”

  “Since ours is a strained acquaintanceship, at best, I suppose you’d rather not be forced to tack on the usual forms of respectful address? No ‘thank you, sir, may I have another’ or ‘please, sir, fingerbang my ass because I obviously enjoy it’?”

  Abby closed her eyes, the burning in her face and stomach becoming stovetop hot before she could swallow. “Yes.”

  “Yes, you’d rather not say that, or yes, you need a good finger-fucking? Because I could believe that. As tight as you are, something tells me it’s been a while since anyone has held you facedown by your neck, permitting you to plead, cry and wail your submission into the pillows while your asshole took a hard pounding.”

  Her pussy dribbled; her ass convulsed around his thumb. If her face flared any hotter, she was going to melt into a puddle of pure mortification right here on his lap.

  “No,” Abby groaned through gritted teeth. “I really would rather not have to say any of that.”

  He grunted. She couldn’t see it, but she could almost hear the smugness of his nod. “Well, isn’t that just too damn bad? Because, personally, I enjoy communicating with my submissives, particularly when I know there can be no chance of misunderstandings. So, here’s how this works, when I ask a question, I expect all the specifics to be repeated back to me in your answer and your answers should all be punctuated with the appropriate terms of submissive respect.”

  “Or what?” she growled, eyes narrowing to thin slits. She could only wish she were either half as angry as she sounded or half as horny. “What are you going to do if I don’t, shove another finger up my ass? That’ll teach me.”

  “I doubt it,” he said mildly. “I’m thinking dropping you on your ass right here, quitting the contest and walking out the door might have a greater impact.”

  “I have done everything you’ve asked,” she seethed.

  “No, you haven’t.”

  Abby stiffened, and for once it didn’t have anything to do with the pressure of his fingers stroking her clit or his thumb as he caressed in and out of her. She stared at the floor, hating how easily he’d just manipulated her. She didn’t want to quit the contest. She needed this and, disaster though it was to be paired to him of all men, she needed him not to quit the contest too. They both had to cross the finish line. Afterwards, if they never spoke again, then fine, but for now…

  Abby closed her eyes in defeat. Bowing her head, she schooled herself until she was sure she could keep a civil tone. “Thank you, sir…” She almost choked. “…for explaining the rules. I will do my best to follow them, sir.”

  “Are you being sincere?”

  She ground her teeth. “Yes, sir.”

  “Shall we test that?”

  Just as soon as she won this contest, she was going to kill him. “Please test me, sir.”

  “All right.” His thumb sank deep inside her again, then stilled. He cupped her pussy, holding but no longer rubbing. Abby caught her breath, tucking her chin against her chest until she was sure she wouldn’t react. Until that moment, she hadn’t thought anything short of Newton actually using his cock on her would have been worse than rubbing and finger-fucking. She was wrong. After what he’d been doing, no stimulation at all was much, much worse. “Answer honestly: Did you not include sex as a hard limit because you were hoping to make it part of the evening, or…”

  “I ran out of room,” she snapped. “We were only allowed four limits.” Belatedly, she added, “Sir.”

  The suddenness with which he pulled his thumb out of her ass made her gasp. Abby caught her breath when the heat of his palm abruptly vanished from between her legs, but that gasp was all she could do before the painful breadth of his hand came clapping back down again. He caught her pussy squarely. He caught her swollen, pulsing, aching clit, and Abby jolted over his knee, back arched and head thrown back in a shout of pure pain and disbelief… and relief. She writhed, spasming convulsions seizing hold of her sex, shaking her from the inside out.

  “Try again,” Newton urged. “This time with a little more respect and a lot more honesty.”

  Abby fought to calm down, to hold herself obediently in this bent position across his knee. Her pussy throbbed harder, burned hotter, stung fiercely in every shadowy part where his hand had swatted. And that was everywhere. Big as it was, his hand had covered all. She gritted her teeth, eyes closed once more albeit for different reasons now. Her embarrassment was still high, but the heat pulsating through her now-wounded sex was unignorable.

  “I don’t have a problem with sex, sir,” she eventually managed. “Had I been paired with someone I liked, I wouldn’t have objected if he’d wanted t-to…” she faltered into awkward silence.

  “Dominate you sexually?” Newton asked. His hand folded over her pussy again, his thumb slipping back between her blushing cheeks to once more circle the dusky rim of her anus. “Order you head down, ass up? Bite the pillow and do as Daddy commands? This is going to hurt you more than it does me, but I’ll bet I can make you come in spite of it?”

  Her chest was tightening. With each subsequent suggestion he made, she could feel it growing harder and harder to breathe. But it wasn’t until his thumb began again to apply pressure, pressing in until the tight ring of muscle there yielded, that she realized how very breathless she now was.

  “Do you want to safeword?” he inquired
when she did not answer.

  Yes. Only Abby didn’t say that. She shook her head instead. With his thumb lodged inside her, now it was his restless fingers that began to wander. She bit her bottom lip when they skimmed over her clit, parting the folds of both outer and inner labia, and immediately became immersed in the slick heat sheltered in between.

  “Answer honestly, sweetheart.” Twin fingers slipped into the softness of her yielding flesh, sliding into a silken in and out motion that her hips immediately, humiliatingly, unstoppably began to rock to. “When I put you over my knee, you thought I was going to beat your ass in revenge for all the snarky things you’ve said and done to me over the years, didn’t you?”

  Both his thumb and fingers sank in as deep as they could go.

  Abby pressed her lips tight against the inadvertent mewl that tried to escape. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  “You wouldn’t put it past me,” he echoed, his voice like warm velvet, and his fingers and thumb filled up her insides. He flexed them, both sets finding one another through the thin membranes of her passages and sending shocks of pure pressure and delight zinging to her womb.

  “No!” Her hands fisted against his leg again. Her belly flinched. Tiny, trembling convulsions, a prelude to something much bigger, reverberated off the tips of his lightly tapping fingers. The vibrations tremored the length of her clit. Somehow caressing it from the inside. “No, God!”

  She clamped her lips, rolling them tightly together again.

  “No?” he asked, flicking his fingers and sending another radiating jolt into her clit. “No what?”

  “Stop!” Abby hissed, horrified by the pure physicality of her body’s response to him. Her heart thundered in her chest, pushing the fiery pulse of her wanton desire through her veins. She could feel it—thumping in her nipples, thumping in her sex, thumping deep down in her twitching womb where the rawness of her need was building. If she didn’t stop him, he was going to make her come. Newton, of all people, was going to make her orgasm.