by Aya DeAniege
He slapped me!
My response was to hit him back, only with a closed fist. However, as I swung upward, he reacted, raising his arm to protect his face. Our arms contacted, jarring me. I hadn't quite expected him to defend, but I knew what to do if someone stopped me from striking them.
I tried to pull away, and he grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight and firm. I tugged at my wrist, trying to get free. All he seemed to do was hold me there. Keep a grip on my arm didn't phase him at all. As I struggled, Nathaniel reached out with his other hand and grabbed my shoulder, yanking me towards him before he pushed me away, releasing my wrist at the same time.
My feet almost went out from under me as I stumbled backwards—this wasn't how I had been sparring with my trainer. I was three steps away before I managed to stop the backward motion of my body, but I had to shift backward another step to get control over my weight once more. I glared at him as he just looked at me.
All the training I had taught me to be on the defensive. It had been about an attacker coming at me, swinging at me, about them being in the moment and making mistakes. This was completely different. Nathaniel was an aggressor, but he wasn't an attacker. He wasn't distracted.
He was calm, collected, and seemed to know exactly how I'd move.
“You have no problem beating on a man, come now," Nathaniel said, slipping off his suit jacket as he tossed it to the side.
He was stripping off his clothing, so I assumed he was distracted. People are distracted when they take off their clothing. I moved towards Nathaniel as he kicked off his shoes, meaning to hit him as his face was turned.
I had no problem fighting dirty.
Nathaniel had trained for years. Not just in a gym, but with actual trainers in methods of self-defence. He had worked as both the attacker and defender in situations created by his trainer, possibly during his time in the slum as well. He had experience using his knowledge against men his own size.
A woman who was so much shorter and weighed half as much as him—even if we were both muscled—wasn't going to be a problem when he had more training than she did.
By that point in our relationship, I knew he had a black belt in something, but I had assumed that it was simply the colour of a belt. No one had taken the time to explain martial arts to me. They simply assumed that everyone in the world knew. I knew those arts existed, but not how to tell who had the most training and experience.
Which became confusing when I realized that all of Nathaniel's belts were black.
He wasn't bothered by my second attack either. It barely phased him. During the second lunge, he also didn't take my feet out from under me or put me on the floor.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. Dragging me close, one of his arms wrapped around my throat, locking me in place. He held me like that and chuckled. I struggled in his arms, trying to get away but his grip was firm. I might as well have been trying to move a mountain. His hold was that solid.
“What's to stop me from having you here and now?” he asked.
My struggle renewed in the arm lock. Without warning, I was suddenly moving away from him. At that moment, I thought I had gotten myself free, but he had released me. My feet stumbled over the marble, the dress shoes I wore weren't exactly meant for fighting.
They were barely meant for walking in, for crying out loud.
In annoyance, I kicked the shoes off and towards the door of the estate. I spun on Nathaniel and growled my frustration.
The man almost looked bored. His hands slipped into his pockets as he seemed to study me for a moment.
“Try harder.”
For a startling moment, I saw Albert. The man seemed to be found of that saying. Even though I had been tied up, he had chided me for not behaving appropriately, for screaming too soon, or not screaming loud enough. At the end of each of these lectures, Albert had used those two little words. Those words had infuriated me every time that they had come from Albert's mouth. He was mocking me, I knew it, as if I were trying to impress him in the hopes of being let go. My fury had allowed me to hold out just that little be longer, to try to fight back a few times. Every time I heard those words, I wanted to bash his smug face in.
I attacked Nathaniel with all that rage, striking him several times before he even tried to counter. It didn't occur to me that Nathaniel was allowing me to use him as a living punching bag, but it did feel good. Especially when I caught him off guard with a blow just below the ribs and was rewarded with a startled sort of gasp as the air left his lungs.
That was when Nathaniel decided enough was enough.
The fight that followed broke several items in the greeting hall. It even drew a few servants in, who backed out of the hall as quietly as they had come. Nathaniel encouraged me to attack him several times, taking several blows in the process. When I began to tire, he huffed out a breath and plucked me up, dropping me over his shoulder.
I might as well have been a child fighting a bear, an ant a truck, for all the damage I did to Nathaniel. My trainer was not the same as Nathaniel's trainer. He was meant to be a starting point. I caught the trainer off guard often because he didn't expect that much hatred for the male gender from something so small.
I should probably ask Nathaniel how he handled that so well, what other woman had he confronted who was so enraged that he became so practised at predicting my moves. My stumbles were during play, but Nathaniel existed as a sadist before the community, just as Mr. Wrightworth had.
Being picked up like a sack of flour renewed my struggle. I was rewarded with a smack to the bottom, though it was not a hard smack, just enough to cause a little sensation. He did not balance out the strike by giving me a smack to the other side as well. That was how I knew that I was in trouble and this was more serious than I had initially thought.
At no point did Nathaniel balance it out. I swear my backside began to burn with the need to have it balanced out.
“You win,” Nathaniel said, his hand roaming over my back and hip.
I growled in response but waited.
He had the upper hand, with me draped over his shoulder. I didn't know how to fight from my current position. Mr. Wrightworth had gone over how to fight while in bindings, when in a choke hold, even when he was atop me. Yet no one had thought to include a 'so he's treating you like a sack of potatoes' lesson in my self-defence classes.
Nathaniel took me to his room and dumped me on the bed. When I shot upwards, he grabbed me by my wrists and pinned me against the bedspread. I struggled against his hands on my wrists, still trying to get away, and his weight came down atop me.
I don't know why I was struggling then, besides perhaps to dominate him physically. If I had won, as he said I had, I should have been on top, not pinned to the bed looking like I was writhing because I was unable to get my wrists out of his hands.
“You should have been training weights as well like I told you to." Nathaniel chuckled as I attempted to yank my hands from his.
I could lift some weight, but I couldn't lift his weight. My training outside of self-defence had mainly been about regaining as much mobility in my leg as possible. In retraining the muscles that I had 'warped' by not walking properly for so long. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I might have to lift two hundred pounds of muscle and man.
While I struggled, Nathaniel shifted. He let one of my wrists go, taking the other upward and slipped a binding over it. I struggled harder, but it took him no time to take hold of my other hand and bind it as well. They were not the velcro ones that Nathaniel had used before, but actual nylon ones which were pulled tight and held in place with a little buckle.
I looked up at the bindings, registering the change as I turned my attention back to Nathaniel. The bindings were snug in place, flush with my skin. The feel of something flush against my skin, so tight, placing pressure on my sensitive skin, sent tingles down my arms. A fire began burning in my belly as I tugged against the bindings.
&
nbsp; Not necessarily to get free, you understand, but because with each tug of those bindings, I was sending shudders through my body, like electricity dancing across my nerves.
He had me tied, and I wasn't panicking.
Months of work with Mr. Wrightworth were paying off. The intention was clear, but I didn't feel like I was being taken advantage of.
Trust Sir.
“I—” I said, wanting to explain, wanting to talk about this strange lightning dancing through my body.
Nathaniel kissed me as he held me against the bed. His tongue slipped into my mouth as his hands roamed up my skirt and caressed the skin of my inner thigh. That caress sent shivers through me, an unspoken promise.
As the kiss lingered, Nathaniel's fingers slipped under the hem of my underwear and pulled downward. He pulled away as my underwear slipped below my knees.
“I—” I tried to protest again.
My underwear was tossed to the side. Nathaniel bent and captured my lips before I could get much more of a protest out. I wasn't trying to tell him to stop, however. What I desperately wanted to know was what his plan for me was. I assumed that the plan would result in sexual gratification, but what kind of sex were we about to have?
Was this play? Was this rough sex to pair with the fight in the greeting hall? Or something else entirely?
His tongue slipped into my mouth once more, probing gently as I moaned. Fingers trailed over the inside of my thigh as Nathaniel pulled away, smiling slowly.
“I'm not playing,” he whispered, bending to kiss my heaving chest. “Just... exploring.”
His fingers grazed over me, probing gently as I bit my lip to stop a moan. The man made a rumbling sound, kissing my chest and shoulders as his fingers teased me. I tugged at my bonds, wanting to get free. Nathaniel sat back, watching as I struggled.
“You seem to enjoy my exploration,” Nathaniel said, his hand slipping free of my skirts.
Trembling, I moved my hips as the man looked down at me, studying every movement I made.
“Well, I can't be certain,” he said. “Perhaps a closer inspection?”
He lifted my skirts, kissing the flesh that was revealed as he went. The first tentative lick drew a small sound from my lips.
Nathaniel pleasured me.
Which makes it sound inept.
I suppose his attention that day was in part because I had brought it up that first time that I had played at being Domme. Despite what he claimed, Nathaniel was not inadequate in the least. His hands had to hold me down because I attempted to writhe and move. I had also attempted to get my legs around him, to keep in just the right spot.
When I have bad days, I still think of that moment as I moaned and writhed. I was at his mercy. He could have done anything to me.
He chose to take me to that edge and then pull away. How he knew could have been in a hundred different reactions, in the tremble through my muscles, or the tone of my voice.
He wiped at his lip as he tried not to smile.
“I don't recall saying you could come,” he said. “Did I say you could come?”
“You said we aren't playing.”
“Oh, shit, that's right," Nathaniel muttered, frowning as he looked down at the bedspread. "Well, then, I suppose if you do come, I'll just have to keep going."
I whined in response.
I watched helplessly as Nathaniel reached for the beside table and withdrew the wand he enjoyed using so much. Yes, I enjoyed the toy, but my favourite implement was always Nathaniel's body. I hadn't been touched by the toy in months and months. We had played a little, had sex a little even, but we hadn't used that toy.
It's cheating, using that thing on a woman. The toy guarantees results and is a dirty way of getting those results, especially when the woman wants actual sex.
Which I did, right then. I wanted Nathaniel between my legs, not hovering over me, holding a toy that would make me see stars.
When he turned it on, I shuddered and tried to move away. I had been introduced to forced orgasms, and they were so terrifyingly good.
However, I didn't want to be sore for the next three days as well as in a cloud from the drop.
Nathaniel touched my right hip and pulled the toy over my stomach slowly, to the other hip. I swear I could feel the vibrations still between my legs, when the toy hit my hip, it made me writhe with need. It hesitated there a moment before travelling downward. I tried to move with that deep vibration, only to have it withdraw and shut off. With a little growl, I looked to Nathaniel, who smiled at me.
“That'd be too easy,” he said with a chuckle.
“Please,” I moaned.
“You'll get it, just be patient,” he said, slipping off the bed.
As Nathaniel stripped down, I tugged at my bonds, still trying to get free. This time, though, it wasn't that I wanted to escape, it was that I wanted to lay my hands on the man, to hold him close and not let him go until we were both spent. My breath came more rapidly. I could feel my heart trying to escape my chest.
Naked, Nathaniel stood at the edge of the bed and considered me as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.
“All the things I want to do to you right now. How many ways can I make you come, I wonder? So much lost time that we've yet to make up for.”
He sat on the bed beside me, hands running up my sides. They roved over my breasts, hesitating for just a moment.
“I wasn't playing with them,” I said, unable to stop the laugh that escaped.
Nathaniel chuckled, his hands flowing down my sides and then my legs, then back up, under the skirt.
“Suppose I should have removed this first.”
He slid between my legs, the heat of his body reigniting the fire between my legs. I adjusted under him, eager for what came next. Thoughts of previous romps flashed through my mind, driving me wild as Nathaniel smiled down at me.
Nathaniel shifted down lower, kissing my stomach before he set his head over the place he had kissed. His hands settled on my ribcage, just below my breasts. He had settled like that several times before, both during play and the few nights that I had crawled into his bed to sleep beside him.
Sometimes sleeping alone was too much. Those nights, one or the other of us would go to the other. It was the only time that I didn't shout at Nathaniel for entering my room without permission.
“Ah well, goodnight,” he said suddenly and without warning.
And promptly went limp as if he had fallen asleep.
“Nathaniel!” I protested, tugging at my bonds so that I could smack him for being mean.
“I'm joking, calm down,” he chuckled.
“My hands are bound, but I can still kick you in the face,” I said pointedly.
Nathaniel lifted his head and shifted upwards, causing every fibre of my being to cry out for more. He kissed me, and I felt weak, he stroked me, and I swore I could take on the world—if only for another caress. With every touch of his fingers, I writhed. My need for him was stoked, and it seemed he'd never fulfill my need.
Until he eased himself into me. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but I wanted to protest, to scream at him to move faster.
“Today, it's slow and steady,” he whispered as he moved slowly.
I'm going to die if he doesn't move faster.
“Please,” I moaned.
“No,” he said with a small laugh as he thrust gently.
His pace was just as he promised. It was agonizing to be pushed to that edge over and over again, but unable to leap off the edge. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Nathaniel knew exactly what he was doing. Each thrust brought more pleasure, but it wasn't enough. My legs wrapped around him, trying to urge him on. Moving my hips with every motion, he made only worked slightly. Nails were digging into my palms, I moaned out my frustration and the agonizingly slow pace, pleading with him to give me what I needed.
Suddenly his pace changed, each motion being exactly what I needed and yet too much all at once. When he finally
stilled with a groan, I lay there panting, staring up at the ceiling as I struggled to comprehend the signals my body was giving off.
I hadn't had an orgasm separated from play since Mr. Wrightworth, months earlier. Before that, it had been years. The feeling was different from that which happened during play. I struggled to determine whether it was a good kind of different.
Nathaniel reached up and released me from my bindings. For a moment my hands remained above my head, thenI lowered my arms gratefully, dropping them to the side.
He slipped to the side, pressed tight against me. I shifted my arm to wrap around his shoulders and sighed out.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
“We haven't had sex outside of play.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Pretty sure...”
He sat up, looking very serious as he considered that point.
“No, I think we did, but I get your point.”
“I wasn't making a point, just a comment,” I said, sliding under the blankets and rolling to my side.
It was a comfortable position, one that I had started sleeping in after the trial started. Though usually I was curled around the long-eared stuffed animal I had received at the Program building. The animal reminded me of the Program and how safe I had felt despite all that was going on outside the walls.
“Dress?” Nathaniel asked.
“What? Oh,” I sat up and pulled the dress over my head, tossing it to the side.
“You seem upset.”
“Shut up and go to sleep,” I growled, dropping back to the bed.
Nathaniel slipped under the blankets and pressed tight against my back. As much as I wanted to resist because my previous irritation was returning, having him against me was a comfort. The heat of his body eased the tension in my limbs. I couldn't help but relax just slightly in his arms.
“Beating me in a fight isn't going to be simple,” Nathaniel said. “I've trained in self-defence for years. Most rich folk, though, are not as well kept as I am. You'll be able to hold your own against them.”
