by Tara Oakes
“Catherine.”
“Aye?”
“I said get to the spanking bench. Before we play, there’s the small matter of your dirty mouth.”
She gulped but hustled over to the piece of furniture. Catherine knelt on the step, then bent at the waist to lower her torso over the padded surface. She’d barely settled before his hand cracked against her ass, and she cried out. Five more smacks, quick and sharp, landed on alternating cheeks. It was a mere three hits to each side, yet her ass was on delicious fire.
“This girl is sorry, Master,” Catherine said, looking over her shoulder and giving her rump a little wiggle.
“Ha!” His yelp of surprise made her jump. “No, I don’t think you are, or else you would be more careful how you speak around our young, impressionable children.”
Now proper shame crept in. She had been trying to be careful but had let lusty intentions take precedence over mothering. Well, shit. Another series of open-handed smacks found their mark while errant tears left damp, crooked trails down her face. Sometime later, she was lifted into his arms and carried to the large bed.
“There you go, jewel. Get it out. All of it, sweet girl . . . I know. Master knows.” He rolled her onto her tummy, then began caressing her heated derriere. “I know this has been an adjustment and we’re tired, but . . .” he leaned over to kiss the dip in her lower back, “. . . you have to remember yourself in front of the kids.”
Catherine nodded and mumbled into the mattress.
“What was that?”
She lifted her head, “Aye, Master Jayden. This girl agrees one hundred percent. She promises to be more careful from now on.”
“Good. Now that’s settled, what do you say we have some fun?” Her answer was a wiggling ass, which he gave a hard smack that made her yelp. “Cross, slut.”
“Aye,” she all but squealed and hopped off the bed. Her backside stung. Catherine welcomed it, though. She luxuriated in the awareness of every movement she made right now.
Master reached the Cross right behind her. Before he spun her around to back her up against old St Andrew, he flashed an evil grin and held up a generously lubed, large, butt plug. “Bend forward and spread ‘em, pet.”
Catherine eyed the plug, wary. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have been concerned. However, enough time had passed since their last anal encounter that she might as well be an anal virgin again. This was going to hurt.
“Why the hesitation, Catherine?”
“This girl isn’t sure she can take that . . . thing.”
The sound of his laughter was something she’d always enjoy. “You’ll just have to trust me to know what your body can handle.” Master punctuated this sentiment by sliding a finger first in her pussy, and then easing it into her ass.
A strangled groan crawled up her throat, while her thighs parted to encourage him. When he took his hand away, her body tried to follow. She wanted more. Grabbing her ass cheeks, Catherine rotated then tilted forward. Because she was expecting cool lube and glass to touch her, Catherine jumped when his hot, wet tongue found her rosebud instead.
He must’ve been expecting her reaction, because no sooner did she start to pull away than he yanked her back until her ass was pressed to his face. It was pointless to fight him, and she didn’t want to. Catherine relaxed and gave herself over to the enjoyment. Fingers brushed up her inner thighs then entered her, teasing her with a maddening stroke.
“How can that feel so good, yet not be enough?” she thought while bearing down on his probing tongue and fingers without shame.
Slurping around his words, her Master spoke—“Give it to me, slut”—and another finger found its way inside her, joining in to coax her along. The submissive came undone. Without abandon, Catherine proclaimed her gratitude to Master through a jumble of incoherent words as she began freefalling into her orgasm.
A stinging, burning sensation snapped her back from enjoying it through to the end. For a long moment, Catherine had no breath while all of her faculties were centered on the violation of her ass while the plug sank home.
Standing in front of her once again, Master rose to his full height. “Straighten up and get on the Cross. Tits out.”
Until that moment, Catherine had put her leaking breasts out of her mind. Now, they throbbed with the need for attention. He’d tormented her nipples like a teething babe, but now they were alert once more. Master might’ve thought he’d emptied a lot from her, but she was producing for two ravenous one-year-olds. Her breasts were still swollen with milk.
He pressed in close, pushing her against the cold wood and making her gasp. When his warm mouth closed over her parted lips, she welcomed the distraction of his seeking tongue while he locked her wrists into place. The second he had her trapped, his weight vanished and deft fingers found her pussy. She was soon back to that place of ecstasy.
“Sing for your Master. Let me hear you, Catherine . . .” His words trailed off while he raised his arm to reveal one of her favorite floggers, a work of beaded macramé art. The souvenir gift from Landon and Paige’s honeymoon did incredible things to her skin and muscles when Master Jayden wielded it.
So sing she did.
She screamed loud and long until her lungs hurt from trying to breathe. Waves of bliss undulated over her body. Each strike sent bursts of fire exploding across her skin before skittering away in tingly goosebumps. Again and again it happened, and she was vaguely aware of feeling wet . . . everywhere.
“Focus, Catherine.”
Jesus fucking Christ, her tits hurt. She loved it, and the same went for every searing stripe across her midriff and thighs. Catherine knew if she were to open her eyes and look, her body would be a masterpiece of red lines and white dots from the wooden beads. She was rejoicing in how freeing it was, and the tension in her shoulders was dissipating.
Her head was quiet for the first time in months.
A loud clatter was followed by pure silence, with the exception of heavy inhales and exhales, warning the submissive. She knew her Master. He was ready to take what was His.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Catherine.”
“Aye, Master.” Limp and upright only because of the shackles that held her, Catherine opened her eyes to find she was being devoured by his eyes.
Their gazes locked, and he knelt down to guide one of her legs over his shoulder so he could work the plug from her ass. It followed the flogger to the floor, clunking and rolling a few inches before he hooked her knees over his elbows, and stood. A slight adjustment, several slow breaths, and then his length replaced the plug inside her. Deep. Amazing.
Eye-to-eye, the couple breathed each other in while Master began to move. Catherine sagged, dead weight in his arms, but he supported her. Beads of sweat popped up along his forehead. The veins along his arms and shoulders became pronounced with his effort. Still, his lips were soft and tender where they met her neck, her breast, her collarbone . . . anywhere he could reach.
One wrist was freed. Her arm draped around his neck, waiting for the other.
Both wrists fell limp.
There was a slight draft while they moved across the room, and she was awestruck at how it felt to have him inside her while he walked. When he laid her on the bed then extracted his cock with extreme care, she wanted to cry at the reverence of his actions.
“A rúnsearc.” The endearment fell off her tongue without conscious thought.
He looked up from rolling on a condom, a serene expression transforming his face. “My beloved.”
At her nod, he crawled onto the bed, moving to cage her with his body. “Your servitude has been surreal. However, I’m ready to make love to my wife. Will you have me, Erin?” His fingers were already unbuckling the collar and sliding it from her neck.
“Aye. Now and forever,” she promised, and he sank into her, taking them both home.
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DINNER IS SERVED
A ‘We Kinky Three’ outtake
Kira Barker
One last time I looked over my assembled paraphernalia, making sure that I hadn’t missed anything.
Chopsticks; Sushi and maki in the fridge; soy sauce, ginger, and wasabi paste set aside—check.
Knife, safety scissors, rubber bands, a bucket full of cold water, blankets—check.
Erin, wrapped in two entire rolls of cling film, leaving her completely bound and helpless, lying on the kitchen island—check.
Now all I needed was for Jack to come home. Figured that today had to be the one day when he wasn’t on time. I’d already sent him two texts, hesitating on the second, neither wanting to tip him off nor appearing particularly needy. Then again, I didn’t mind waiting a little longer—I wasn’t the one whose entire body was constricted and getting increasingly hotter and more sweaty by the minute. Unable to control myself, I couldn’t help but smirk down at my willing victim, letting my fingers trail over her thigh. She couldn’t see me, of course, the blindfold made sure of that. But she could definitely feel, even the lightest touch drawing a low moan from her. More she wasn’t able to offer around the ball gag that both ensured that she was reduced to nonverbal communication, and kept a steady airflow going where I’d cut away the wrap around the red rubber. It was tempting to clamp my hand over it to cut her off, only for a few seconds, but I could already hear her panting softly with exertion. Push her I might, but it was a little early in the game to make her squeeze that squeaky toy that she held in her left hand where it was tightly secured to her leg, serving as stand-in for a safeword.
Checking my phone again, I grunted. Five minutes late. Maybe I should shoot off another text. Not that it would do anything, because if he wasn’t already on the way home, I couldn’t leave her like this until he got here. In that case, it would be just her and me, and an entire world of possibilities that I had shelved for tonight in favor of including Jack. Not the worst thing that could happen, my dick happily informed me, but I wouldn’t have had to bother with getting sushi for that.
Just as I hit the message icon to text Jack, I heard the front door open, admitting the delinquent in question—jabbering happily away on his phone.
“Yeah, just got here,” he told whoever he was talking to. “No idea why. Simon’s normally not that needy—“
And that’s when he looked up, seeing me standing behind the kitchen island—and what lay stretched out on it—making Jack grin as he laughed softly to himself.
“Look, I gotta go. Dinner’s served. I think,” he said, his grin widening. “No, don’t think that’s anything you’d be interested in.” Another laugh followed. “Ewww yourself. Talk to you later.” With that, he hung up, leaving his phone and bag in the foyer before he came strolling in, his light eyes jumping between the island and me several times. “So that’s why you were so insistent that I don’t stay longer. And there I was deluding myself that you were missing me already.”
“I’m always missing you,” I teased, reaching for the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss that should do plenty to underline that. I more felt than heard him chuckle as he stroked his tongue against mine, but he didn’t protest when I ended things before they could run their course. I’d thought about actually tying Erin to the island but that would have been a bitch to undo in a pinch, and with two people watching that she couldn’t somehow roll herself off should take care to prevent that. But for that, I had to watch her, and I couldn’t quite do that if I was busy devouring Jack’s mouth.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked, looking at the human saran wrap roll in front of us.
“As you already guessed, dinner’s about ready,” I replied. “Can you get the box from the fridge?”
Jack seemed a little disappointed when I was referring to an actual food container, but brought it over without another comment. Picking up the knife, I considered what to do now, but what the heck. He’d watched me do worse than just scare her a little, so I might as well ignore him for a few seconds.
Pressing the flat of the knife against her cheek—making sure that the edge didn’t even touch the cling film, let alone get close to cutting it or the skin underneath—I leaned in, speaking softly to her.
“Do you know what this is?”
The second she felt it, she went perfectly still, a clear indicator that, yes, she did. A harsh pant made it around the gag, followed by a whimper. My dick jerked, already hard enough in my pants to get uncomfortable, but it was way too early to care about that.
“Do you know what I’m going to do with that knife now?”
Another whimper followed. I pulled it away, relishing the sight of the full-body shiver that ran through her. Oh, but I was getting under her skin with this. So often it were the small things that had the most impact. Go at her with the cane for ten minutes, and she would still laugh in my face. But take away every degree of control—her ability to move, or even see what was coming—and she was putty in my hands.
Well aware that it wasn’t just us, I looked up to Jack, trying to gauge his reaction. He was tense, but clearly trying to fight his instinct to balk. Years of being her silent protector, ready to tear down anything that could distress her at a moment’s notice took longer than a few months to overcome. But the fact that Erin, rather than I, would have been the one to sock him a good one had he tried seemed to help. As much as I loved reducing her to this, it was her fierceness that had always drawn me to her.
Because imagination is way more powerful than action, I pressed the flat of the blade against the fleshy part of her tit next, making sure that only the very tip poked lightly against where her nipple was barely tenting up the wrap. I heard her hold her breath, another helpless noise following. Unable to help myself, I smirked, then twisted my wrist so that when I moved my hand, the edge of the blade sliced clean through the top layers of the wrap. Not all of them, but enough so that she felt them part, her mind easily supplying what I’d never actually do to her in reality. She started to shake, making me stop and pull away immediately, but as soon as she went still again, I did the same to her other breast.
And because she didn’t call me a sadistic bastard for nothing, I then brought the knife to between her thighs and cut through the tight layers right from her pussy to where her legs met, the sudden popping sound loud enough to make her scream.
Putting the knife away, I stroked her leg gently until I felt her relax again, then used both hands to widen the tears I’d created, freeing the sweaty skin of her tits. That drew a moan from her and she tried to arch her back, the cool air on her heated skin obviously feeling wonderful. Reaching between her legs, my fingers found her soaking wet, and that had nothing to do with sweat.
Jack shook his head as I looked at him again, a clear “you crazy kids,” if there’d ever been one. Flashing him a grin, I accepted the box from him and started distributing the morsels of food all over Erin’s chest, making sure to stay to the uncovered areas only. “You better make sure that you don’t drop any of that, slut,” I told her, not waiting for her to acknowledge my order. She knew better than to disregard it and not expect consequences.
At my nod, Jack mixed some wasabi into the soy sauce. He frowned when I dipped my finger into the remainder of the green paste, scooping up a generous dollop.
“What are you—“
He stopped there, watching with a look of light horror as I brought my finger through the lower tear in the cling film and started rubbing Erin’s clit with it. I could tell that she knew immediately that something was up, but it took me trailing between her wet pussy lips and pushing my finger into her for the burn to start.
Her entire body went rigid, and if not for my other hand clamping down on her shoulder, she would have jerked hard enough to send food everywhere. Even so, two maki slid down into the crease of her elbow, but Jack diligently placed them back to where they belonged.
&nbs
p; I waited ten seconds for her to jerk around more—or squeeze the hell out of her squeaky toy—but when neither happened, I scooped up more wasabi and made sure that the entire sensitive area of her vulva was covered. She gave a few more pained moans that made me want to tear the cling film right off and fuck her stupid right that very second, and a protesting grunt when I rubbed yet more over her asshole, but I knew that she would have been disappointed if I’d stopped.
With that taken care of, I reached for the chop sticks, handing Jack the other pair.
“Bon appetite.”
He regarded me with a level look as I poured some of the soy sauce straight over two maki before I ate them right off her chest, making sure that with the second, I also sucked on her nipple. I could tell that everything inside of him was screaming to tell me off for eating maki the wrong way, but doing it right would have entirely defeated the purpose. I scooped up another, then reached up to Erin’s face and tore the saran wrap further, until I could grab the strap of the ball gag, snapping off the front bit. She didn’t make a face as I slowly removed the rubber ball from her mouth, but worked her jaws briefly once they were free.
“Open up,” I told her, smiling as her mouth immediately went slack before her lips parted further. Picking up a salmon sushi from the container, I dunked it in the soy sauce before I fed it to her, making sure to hold on to it so she could bite off a small piece and not choke on the entire thing. Vixen that she was, she didn’t miss the opportunity to not just lick the last bit of rice off my fingers but sucked on them, making it even harder for me to go slow.
Jack finally got over himself and dug in, helping me feed her in between cleaning off his “plate.” Erin remained docile enough, but from the way her hips never quite stilled I could tell that the wasabi was working its magic. More to get a rise out of her than to actually increase her discomfort—that was a welcome side effect—I picked up the last of the green paste and thrust my fingers as deep into her as her position would let me, drawing a few distressed sounds from her, interspersed with quite the amount of moans.
