by Dawn Steele
She thought of the lithe tiger. “Yes.”
“Are you curious how I came to be? How all of us here came to be?”
“Yes.”
“But not as much as you are curious about me . . . the man. Am I right?”
“Yes.” It was as if he could read right into her mind.
His hands moved to her neck. His touch was gentle, and yet there was a subtext here. A lurking menace.
He said softly, “If you tell anyone about us . . . ”
She held her breath. She was waiting for those large hands to circle her neck . . . and squeeze. And yet she wasn’t afraid of his implied threat. She would never betray him, and she sensed he knew that.
He finished, “ – no one would believe you.”
She said, “I’m not going to tell anyone about you. Or this place.”
He arrested her eyes for a long time.
Then he said, “You know, I actually believe you.”
She let out a whoosh of breath. This man was unsettling. His intensity was unsettling. It must be the beast in him, she decided. The chameleon of all his parts.
He sat up suddenly – another abrupt about turn which startled her.
He said, “Turn around?”
“What?”
“Turn around.”
Without warning, he flipped her roughly onto her belly. The clamps squished against her soft flesh. She cried out. The pressure on her pussy lips and nipples intensified in a new direction.
His fingers stubbed her pussy hole from behind. God help her, but she was wet again. Miserably, wantonly wet.
“You want a fantasy?” he said. “I’ll give you a fantasy.”
Her spirits lifted. Was he going to fuck her from behind? But he didn’t say he was going to give her her fantasy.
He said, “Don’t move.”
He slipped off the bed and went to the dresser. She craned her neck to watch him. He opened the top drawer. His body obscured whatever object he was taking out.
Then he turned, and she saw that he had a red paddle in his right hand.
He held it up for her to see.
“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted your Professor to do to you?”
11
She had to confess she was scared.
She had never been beaten before. Not even once.
He advanced towards the bed. The red paddle was a slim thing. It had a handle and a flat surface which looked frankly unyielding.
Rust climbed onto the bed again.
“Get up on your elbows and knees.”
He wanted her on all fours. Like an animal.
She obeyed, even though her limbs were like jelly. Her buttocks protruded outward, soft flesh just waiting to be smacked. Her elbows were flat on the bed while her knees dug in.
He gazed at her with undisguised hunger, and she was momentarily gratified that he seemed to want her s much as she wanted him. His cock was now erect. Extremely so. The great vein on top of its shaft was engorged, as was its uncircumcised head. He stroked the head and shaft once, twice, as he gazed down upon her.
He was a left hander. It was the way he held the paddle. Something she had never noticed before because she had never seen him write anything down.
“Have you ever been spanked before?” he asked her.
She shook her head mutely. Her inner thighs clenched. She was scared.
“There’s always a first,” he said.
“Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.
He gave a low laugh. “On the contrary . . . you might like being hurt.”
He raised the paddle, and with one fell swoop of his left hand, brought it down against her pale, pale buttocks.
K-r-a-a-c-k!
The pain flowered in her butt, as did the telltale red band across her moons. Tears crept into her eyes. Oh, the sting! The paddle looked so slim, and yet it hurt more than she could have thought possible.
He brought it down again before she knew what was happening.
K-r-a-a-c-k!
“No!” she cried out.
“Do you want me to stop?” he challenged.
Therein lay her psychological dilemma. She didn’t want him to stop, but she didn’t like this part of the package. She wasn’t sure she liked the pain of being spanked. Certainly, her position of submissiveness was beguiling. The fact that his cock was so hard was empowering to her.
Then again, it was the whole package. The pain, the domination, the submissiveness, the empowerment of submissiveness. It was Jungian and Freudian theory rolled into one. She never understood the archetypes until now.
“No,” she whispered.
“What was that again?” He brought the paddle down on her buttocks. Again and again.
“No!”
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want you to stop.”
K-r-a-a-a-a-a-c-k!
“Good girl.” He caressed her face. Lovingly.
She was confused. Did he have feelings for her aside from lust?
He placed the paddle down. Her buttocks were a flaming mass of redness and stinging heat. Tears flowered in her eyes but he made no move to wipe them away. Then he stroked his cock and moved it towards her face.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded. “Suck me.”
She eagerly opened her mouth wide and took his huge, tumescent organ into it. His flesh filled her mouth, grazed against her teeth and flattened her tongue.
“Lick me,” he said. “Worship me.”
She was still on her elbows and knees. She sucked at his cock, the way she had seen the women and men do in the chambers outside. Her cheeks hollowed and sucked, and she put all the strength of her facial muscles into it. She sensed that if she didn’t go a good job, he was going to send her packing.
“Mmmmm,” he said.
Emboldened by his pleasure, she put her tongue against his crown. She licked his tip, tasted the salty sweetness of the pre-cum on his aperture. The tip of her tongue dipped into his orifice, and he gasped out loud as he combed his fingers through her hair.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
She couldn’t even if she wanted to. All the aching hunger of her fantasies was now fueled. She was with the man of her dreams. The muscled and corded hero of her daydreams. And she was sucking his cock. The cock of a god.
He crammed as much of his flesh as he possibly could deeper into her mouth, until her throat was forced to unleash its gag reflex. She almost coughed, but stopped herself by taking his cock in further. Deep throat, she told herself. How far could she let him go? She angled her neck so that she could fit him in deeper. She needed him. She sensed he needed her too. He grinded his hips against her mouth.
Deeper, he seemed to say. Take me deeper. Into your throat. Into your soul.
She funneled her mouth so that her entire orifice became a passage of pleasure, and he bucked against this. Fucked her mouth. It was such a dirty act, and yet so beautiful. So much connection – mouth to cock to heart.
He threw back his head and gasped in pleasure. His fingers in her hair gripped hard. His pads indented her scalp. He was close to coming, she could sense it. She could smell his pubic hair, that deep pungent sweaty scent of it. Smell his skin. Smell the pheromones he was giving out. Smell him like she had never smelled the world.
He shot his load into her mouth before she could understand what was happening.
Thick, stringy bands of cum pumped into her throat. She had no choice but to swallow it. All of it, before his seed spilled out of her mouth.
She had never swallowed cum before. She had never even tasted it. But now she knew. It was a salty, slightly bitter almond milkshake, rich in concoction, even richer in its psychological implications. So she drank and drank from his font, which seemed to go on forever. So much cum. So much rich, milky cream.
Oh, but she never wanted it to end!
But it had to end at some point. And finally, his cock sputtered out its last dollops. One spurt. Two spurts. Like a soda tap giv
ing out its last riches.
He let his cock deflate for a moment in her mouth. Then he took it out. She gazed at his sweaty, shining face. His eyes had taken on a dreamy quality, and she had never seen him look so content.
He took out his cock from her sodden mouth.
“Good girl,” he said, stroking her damp hair from her forehead. “Let me see. Let me see your mouth.”
Dutifully, she opened her mouth for him to inspect. She could still taste the cum on her tongue. He must have been pleased at what he saw, because he stroked her face.
“Beautiful,” he said. “You are beautiful.”
Her spirits soared. He found her beautiful! She could count on the fingers of her hand how many times she had heard a man say that to her, and so many times itself on this night.
His cock was not detumescent yet. Not fully. His expression was one of languor as he rolled her over to her back.
“You’ve been a good girl,” he said. He lazily pinched her nipples and tugged at her clamps. Her skin there was chafed and numb by now, and she wondered how much longer he was going to leave the clamps there. Her pussy leaves were sore too. And numb.
His hand strayed to her pussy and played with her clit and the clamps there. He began to stroke his cock again.
“You’ve been a good girl,” he repeated, “and I’m going to give you what you want. And I’m going to take from you what I want.”
He got up again. To her shock, his cock was rapidly filling up again. She had thought men couldn’t get erect so quickly, not after they just had a full-out, mind-blowing orgasm. But he did. And she knew he was not an ordinary man. Maybe his tiger genes gave him super-revival powers. Maybe his cock could get hard at a word . . . or a thought. Whatever it was, the possibilities were endless and exciting.
“Spread your legs,” he said. He reached for the drawer in the cabinet beside the bed. He took out a condom packet.
Her heart leaped. Oh yes, she needed to be fucked so badly by Rust O’Brien. This was her fantasy – the stuff dreams were made of.
He rolled the condom onto his cock. Then he posited himself above her, his sheathed cock pointing at her pussy hole between her legs.
He was breathing hard.
“Pull your pussy apart using the clamps,” he ordered. “Pull them apart for me. Let me see you clearly.”
The command was very intimate and precise. Her hands went to her pussy clamps and she seized the two crosses there and pulled them apart as far as they would go. She was being treated like a pure sex object and she had never been more exhilarated in all her life.
So she pulled. The clamps bit down hard on her red, fragile flesh and tugged at her nether lips. Her pussy was thrown wide open for his inspection and entry.
“Keep them open that way,” he instructed.
He bore down on her, and his cock was poised at her very wet vulva. Her membranes glistened red and violet. Her entire groin was a smorgasbord of anticipation. This was the moment she had been waiting for. This!
Fuck me, she wanted to scream. Oh fuck me!
He did not disappoint her. With one mighty thrust, he cleaved through her pussy.
“Ohhh!” she screamed.
His intrusion was so sudden, so immediate, so overpowering that all her senses – her perception of everything around her – was concentrated on his cock filling and stretching her pussy. Her eyes fluttered open to focus on his flushed face above hers.
I love you! she wanted to cry out.
Because she did. She truly did. She had been in lust – in love – with this enigmatic, unknowable man for a long time. But she could not declare this because it would be tantamount to him never seeing her again. If there was even a second time for both of them.
So she had to make this precious encounter as memorable and remarkable as she possibly could. So he would come back. And she wanted him to come back again and again. Look at her, she marveled, making plans for the next time when she hadn’t even finished their first time together.
His pubic bush rubbed against her clit as he fucked her. His fucking was very hard – raw and animalistic and full of power. He was an alpha, she was sure of it. The alpha of his tribe. His cock pounded and knocked and hammered into her until the bed was creaking and the bed posts were slamming against the wall. He grunted, as did she. Animalistic sounds in an animalistic mating environment.
Oh fuck me, she sobbed silently, fuck me!
His flesh rubbed and rubbed her clit and displayed labial grooves. The friction was so overwhelming that her climax seized her rapidly, bringing her to contorted heights and throwing her further skyward.
She shrieked. The white hot blinding light boiled in her mind, but he was relentless. He continued to pound her. The bed slammed against the wall, and she was sure everyone in the club must have heard them. He punctuated each slam with a grunt, and she came again and again. Just when she thought she couldn’t go any further, the friction on her clit and displayed leaves would become more raw, and she would be transcended to greater and greater heights – until her multiple orgasms became one continuous blur.
Then she suddenly felt an emptiness in her vaginal tunnel.
She opened her eyes in surprise. He had withdrawn his still erect cock. Why did he not want to finish?
“Turn around,” he said.
Without waiting for her, he flipped her sweaty body over. Alarm sprang to her head. What did he have in mind? Was he going to fuck her like an animal – on all fours?
But he clambered over the bed to reach for the drawer in the cabinet again. He took out a bottle of lube.
Why did she need lube? Wasn’t she wet enough?
He took a generous dollop of it and smeared it on his condom covered cock. Then he returned to her. He placed the tip of his cock against her anus, and she suddenly knew what he was about to do.
But she wasn’t ready! Her mind went into a feverish spin. Would it hurt? Would his large cock tear her?
“Do you want to stop now?” he said.
He waited. Now she knew what he meant by taking what he wanted from her. But he was giving her a choice. He was letting her walk away if she chose to. But oh, he had her, and he knew it too. She couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Already, she didn’t want to leave him, and she was already making plans for their dubious future.
Now she knew he was an anal man. His sexual preferences ran on the wild side, and that was why – in addition to the secrets he kept – he seemed so enigmatic and elusive. His cock nudged her bare anus, ready and as hard as an iron rod.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked her again. One hand was on her waist, steadying her. The other was on his cock, angling it, ready to ram her if she should so give the word.
And she knew what she would say. She already knew what she was in for the moment she walked into this room with him.
“Yes!” she gasped.
He drove his cock into her anus, and she shrieked again.
The pain was immense. Her anal sphincter protested as his cock drove it apart. But the lube ensured that nothing was torn. His organ slid up her rectum, spreading her muscles wide. The passage there was a lot tighter than her other one, and he now bucked against her hips, spearing her, thrusting into her, hammering her moons as if his previous exertions never drained a patch of energy off him.
She couldn’t help crying out repeatedly as he drove himself in and out of her. The pain abated, and the lube provided a smooth passage for his thick rod of flesh. After a while, she found the fucking strangely rhythmic and strangely comforting. Like a taboo being crossed. The clamps on her pussy were whipped back and forth with the force of his propulsion.
She might even learn to like it, she reckoned.
He came soon enough. His cock had been dealt with a lot of friction tonight, and it didn’t take long this time. He came into the condom, crying out his climax into the ceiling. She felt an incredible sense of pleasure as he emptied himself into the condom inside her ass. What pleasured h
im pleasured her as well, she decided. Gave her a profound sense of existence, God help her.
He pulled his cock out of her, stripped off the condom, and got off the bed. He threw the condom into a trashcan that she hadn’t registered when she came into the room. She collapsed chest first onto the bed. She still didn’t dare take off her ‘decorations’.
“Come here,” he said.
She turned, and he unclasped the clamps from her nipples and labia. Her flesh underneath was white, and the blood immediately rushed to fill the pinched blood vessels. She was satiated and fatigued beyond belief.
“Lie down,” he said.
She lay flat on the bed, unable to move because of sheer tiredness now. He dimmed the lights, and then he got back into bed with her and pulled the covers over both of them.
“Sleep,” he told her as he put his arms around her.
Almost like love.
Oh yes, she could love a man like this. And allow him to love her. If a being such as he could love someone. And she wanted to believe that he could – that this would be the start of a new chapter in both their lives.
Of course, she could just be kidding herself and all she was to him was a puny one-night stand.
Yes. That was more likely to be it.
Her heart quailed.
But she should not think of things like these. She should just enjoy the remaining moments she had with him, come what may. They were sleeping together tonight, like a real couple. Her body against his, skin against warm skin, his arm around her waist, his breath against her cheek, her hair fanning his face.
Bliss. This was what sheer bliss was like. She should just enjoy the moment. Not over-think herself into a frenzy. Not over-ruminate things the way she always tended to do.
She didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms, but her fatigue gradually overtook her and she drifted off into a dreamland of her own making involving lions and tigers and bears.
12
Coda.
Did she even merit a second chapter?
The next morning, she found herself alone in bed. He had left sometime in the early hours, and she was so deep in sleep that she hadn’t even noticed. Her black taffeta outfit was in tatters, and so she found a dressing gown in the closet and went out into the corridor, where no one trawled anymore.
