by Melinda Minx
“Again” I whine.
He hits me again, and the shock of the impact knocks the tears loose. They flow down my cheeks live rivers overflowing in heavy rain.
He fucks me slow as he spanks me. His cock slides in and out, and the massive girth makes up for how slow he moves. Each time he spanks me, my inner walls tighten all along his cock, and I feel so tight against him that his cock can barely pull out of me.
He waits until I tighten to plunge back in. If not for how soaking wet I was, his cock couldn’t make its way back in through my vice-like grip.
He spanks me again and again, and it starts to feel raw. The pain intensifies, and just when I think I can no longer handle another blow… he stops.
He knows just how much I can take. He knows my body and what I want without me having to tell him.
The stinging pain lingers, and he begins to fuck me harder and faster once again. His hips drive into me and slam against my raw skin, and the pain remains at just the right amount.
The ecstatic and orgasmic feeling builds up within me from each of his thrusts, until I know I’m soon going to cum.
“I’m going to—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I know. Cum hard for me, Madrigal. Let go of everything and cum hard all over my cock.”
I wonder when he’s going to cum, but I figure he’s got that handled. I’ll let him fuck me as long as he needs to. If he doesn’t cum with me on the first orgasm, he can dump his seed into me on the second or third. My body is his to do with as he pleases.
I stick my ass and hips up as far as I can, digging my elbows into the bed and bucking my hips back into him. I want to feel as much of him inside me as I can as my orgasm builds up. I let go of everything I can. I let go of my doubts about Dominick. I let go of the future. I don’t want to worry about anything that will and could happen after this moment. All that matters right here and now is that he’s deep inside me, and that he’s filling me up.
I feel his fingers dig into my hips, and he grunts. The muscles of his thighs tighten as they press up against my body. He’s going to cum now, isn’t he? I don’t have the expert read on his body that he has on mine, but I’m starting to at least get a vague sense of it.
I focus on the feeling of his cock as it pounds me harder and harder, and I think I can feel it expanding and swelling. There is more tightness, more friction, more everything.
Then my muscles all tighten suddenly, and an incredible feeling of release hits me. Then I realize with sudden surprise that it’s not just a moment of release, it’s building up.
Each time Dominick thrusts into me, the release builds and builds. If the “block” he spoke of is a real, tangible thing, I thought he’d all but torn it down already. But now, I realize, it was still there, and it’s being torn down by Dominick’s beautiful cock inside me.
I feel the block crumble more and more with each thrust, and my heart pounds and sings with happiness. I never thought I’d feel so free, and each second that my orgasm builds up, that feeling of freedom increases and grows.
“Dominick!” I scream. “Tell me you love me, tell me—”
“I love you, Madrigal, and now I’m going to pump you full,” he roars, and then he pounds me so damn hard and mercilessly that my voice devolves into guttural moans and shouts. My body shakes and trembles so intensely that it feels almost like having a seizure. But the realization strikes me that fully surrendering control of my body is what I’d needed all along.
And surrender I do. I feel fully under Dominick’s power. My body moves because of what he does to me, not because of any conscious decision I make. And his cock and hands and every part of him do beautiful things to me as my orgasm rages beyond measure. I feel my pussy gushing wet all over his cock, but he’s plugged me so airtight that nothing can get out, instead I just wash his cock in my cum.
But I’m not full, not yet.
His body tightens more, and his fingers dig into me. “It’s time, Madrigal,” he grunts.
And then I feel an explosion rock through me. His cum is thicker than mine, and it fills me with an unbelievable intensity and pressure.
When he pulls back again, I feel the pressure within me become so intense that cum begins to gush out. He pulls his cock all the way out for just a moment, long enough for the cum to drip down my body, and then he thrusts inside as deep as he can go once again. His cock twitches and throbs, shooting loads of his seed into me, all just as thick as the first.
“Ahhh! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I scream, panting and gasping.
The feeling of freedom has not subsided; it’s only grown in intensity, and feeling his seed fill me makes me soar to new heights. I never want his cock to leave me, and I never want him to stop cumming inside me.
Time distorts as we cum together. My body trembles for so long that my muscles give out. I collapse down in a motionless heap as Dominick’s dick finishes unloading into me.
I feel his seed dripping all over the bed and pooling below me, but there’s still so much inside me, and I know the block has been torn down. All of that cum inside me that he’s saved up for so long—just for me—is deep inside my now fertile channel.
“Good girl, Madrigal,” he whispers.
The last thing I think about before falling asleep is the sudden memory of him saying he loves me. Did that really happen, or…
14
Dominick
My phone buzzes. Not the phone I use to contact Madrigal. The other phone. The one that you don’t want to ever go off.
It’s never a call, only ever a text. That doesn’t mean I can ignore it. It just means I have a few minutes of plausible deniability.
I look over at Madrigal, still fast asleep.
Shit.
I fucked up last night. I slipped up. Bad. It felt like I was drunk, or worse. I was drunk on her. I let the pretense of us being on a real date justify my own emotions and feelings toward her coming out real and unshrouded. I told her exactly how I felt in a moment of passion.
I told her I loved her.
And she prompted it, didn’t she?
But that’s not allowed. It’s bad enough if she told me to say it. That’s an immediate breach of contract. The fact that I said it though is... it’s my ass. I’m finished.
I unlock the drawer with the phone and slide it open. I look at it like it’s a snake ready to bite me, but I swallow my fear and pick the damn thing up anyway.
I look at the screen.
“You have an appointment with the master at eight. Tonight.”
“Fuck,” I whisper.
With the master himself? That means... it means I need to book a flight. It means…
It could mean a number of things. The worst case is they recall me—forbid me from coming back to Madrigal, from so much as speaking to her.
I remember the feeling of my balls draining so deep into her. I felt the way her body moved, and I know her block is cleared. My sperm is probably doing work on her right now. The chances of her becoming pregnant are incredibly high.
What if…
I shake my head. There’s no way out of this. I have to come when the master calls me.
I look around with sudden shock. I don’t see any cameras or microphones, but…
Jesus.
I force myself to go stone-faced, and I realize it’s best to not even wake Madrigal. I’ll have to leave her like this, alone, with my seed still inside her. If I tell her that I might not be back, or so much as leave her a note, it could make things infinitely worse.
He could have me killed. Not legally, of course, but if he wanted it done, it would happen.
The real problem is Madrigal and any potential child. I try not to even think about that.
I tip-toe out of the bedroom, take a long hard look out the window, and then I call an Uber to take me to the airport.
Forgive me, Madrigal.
I arrive at the master’s house at a quarter to eight. I feel slightly jet-lagged from going coast-to-coast,
but at least the time difference bought me more time.
Though it feels like he gave me the extra time just to make me stew. He gave me just enough time between his text and the meeting time that I had ample time to over-think the situation and every possible outcome.
It could be a regular check-up. It’s my first assignment, and he wants to see how I’m doing. It could be that. It’s unlikely though, considering he contacted me the morning after I totally fucked up.
I get out of the cab at his gate and ring the bell.
The gate opens after a few moments, and I walk down the long driveway as the sun sets behind me.
When I reach the door, his butler opens it without me having to knock.
“Mr. Dominick,” he says.
I nod to him. “Enrico.”
“You can wait in the drawing room, he’ll call you in. Would you like a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
I could use a stiff drink, but I don’t want the master to read into that. Getting a drink would mean I need a drink, and it could make me look suspicious to him. There’s a slim chance he’s not sure that I’m off the rails, and I don’t want to do anything that could lead him to the conclusion that I—or Madrigal—breached the contract.
I sit down in the drawing room, and Enrico walks off to do whatever the hell it is he does. The drawing room is overly elegant: decorated in antique wood furniture, all hand-carved, and dominated by an ornate grandfather clock that is likely worth more than most peoples’ houses.
I watch the clock out of the corner of my eye, the master steps in just before the clock strikes eight.
“Dominick,” he says, looking down at me.
He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man. He’s pushing sixty-years-old, but he’s in shape and he could easily pass for forty-five. His silver-grey hair is peppered with black, but his face is so strong-featured that the grey hair only makes him look more dashing and refined.
I stand up and extend my hand. He takes my hand and we both squeeze as hard as we can. Neither of us blinks even as we crush each other's’ hands. We let go, and he nods for me to follow.
He leads me to his office, and he gestures for me to sit down at a couch in the center of his office. There’s a small, ornately decorated wooden and gold-trimmed coffee table in front of me. The Master sits opposite me in a high-backed, throne-like chair.
He crosses his legs, strokes his grey stubble, and looks down his nose at me for a long time.
I know better than to risk speaking first.
After an excruciating period of time, he finally just says, “So tell me about your first assignment thus far.”
I saw this coming, but it was in my “worst-case scenario” mental folder. If he knows we’ve both breached contract, it’s best for me that he simply tells me that up front. I can immediately show remorse and ask for a second chance. I can at least ask for mercy on Madrigal’s behalf.
This open-ended “tell me about” is the master giving me rope to hang myself with.
I at least know better than to ask him to specify. I’ll have to give an answer and just navigate the minefield as I go.
“I feel it’s going well,” I say. “She was blocked tight when I first met her. It was bad enough that I considered walking away. She wasn’t being obedient at first, and I got the impression she would be unwilling to work with me and have the right attitude to get things done.”
He watches me with a blank expression. His eyes reveal nothing, and not a muscle on his face so much as twitches. Dammit.
“I presented her a difficult first task. I felt that if she turned it down, she wasn't serious and was wasting our time. She passed, obviously, or I wouldn’t be sitting here telling you things were going well. I pinpointed shame as a key aspect of her block, and I was able to clear it through a surprise voyeur session, as well as—”
“Stop,” he says, holding up a hand.
“Fast forward,” he says, a serious edge in his voice.
I swallow, and my Adam’s apple bulges conspicuously. “I saved myself for over a week, cleared the block, and put the week’s worth of sperm inside her.”
“You think she’s pregnant?” he asks.
I consider—briefly—lying to him. Saying I don’t really know. I decide it’s not worth risking a lie, so I simply nod to him.
“I see,” he says. “Since you’re in breach of contract, Dominick, I’ll hold you here until we get confirmation. If you’re wrong and she’s not pregnant, we’ll take the payment she’s given us and I’ll send you through re-education.”
I feel my heart pounding. My face burns red with rage.
“If she is pregnant,” he says. “I’ll bear down on her with the full fury of the contract.”
I clench my teeth, and my jaw juts out.
He shakes his head. “Dominick, you didn’t even ask what would happen to you if she’s pregnant? Are you so far gone you care only about her? Luckily, I value you greatly. You’ve shown incredible potential, and that heart of gold is just what we need. It’s not been restrained enough. You’ll have to be punished severely, but if we can get you to do what you did for Madrigal without losing it at the critical moment, you’ll be one of our most valuable employees—if not my successor.”
“Am I dismissed?” I ask.
He waves a hand. “Enrico will show you to your quarters.”
15
Madrigal
I wake up alone.
I go to look for Dominick, but it soon becomes obvious that he’s not in the apartment. I spend a few minutes ruffling around, but I realize that he never even lived here. There’s no clues to be found, so I call a cab, get dressed, and go outside.
I thumb my phone nervously as I stand at the intersection and wait for the cab. I could call him, but should I?
My request was for a regular date, and I assume that “date” ended as soon as we fell asleep, or as soon as the sun rose, or whatever metric Dominick applied.
I’m to obey him once again, and he trained me well enough to know that I shouldn’t call him.
But it wasn’t just my block that he broke through, was it? It felt like we tore down all the barriers between us last night.
I decide I’m going to read the contract when I get home, and I’ll call him after I know just how much of a risk he may or may not have taken last night.
I get home, ignore all my unread emails and voicemails on my business accounts, and tear open the filing cabinet where I stashed my copy of the contract.
I go through it, and it starts out with what I knew already. The cost of the service—which I’ve already paid—is also no surprise to me.
Then I reach the section on “breach of contract,” and suddenly I stop skimming.
There’s an entire section on “appropriate language.”
If, at any point, the dom decides the client has fallen in love with him, he is contractually obligated to terminate the contract. Further, if the client expresses said feelings verbally (e.g. “I love you,”) the dom is required to immediately report the client to the organization as being in breach of contract.
I read through, each word sending a chill down my spine. It says that “the dom” is even supposed to terminate if I ask if he loves me.
If the client breaches contract, all relations with the dom must cease immediately. If the client’s next menstrual cycle arrives normally, she must submit proof to our organization, and while she will not receive a refund on her payment, no further legal action will be carried out.
“Jesus,” I whisper. “Did I lose Dominick forever? I breached contract... and now he’s gone?”
The next paragraph hits me even harder.
If there is a breach of contract, and the client is determined to be pregnant (or the client fails to submit proof of her next menstrual cycle) then I, Madrigal Morningside, agree that the organization will seize all of my assets, and immediately upon birth, that the child will be given up for adoption to the organization.
&nbs
p; “What?” I jump out of my chair and throw the fucking thing down. “They’re going to take my child?”
Even with a contract, there’s no way they could actually force me to give up my child. Is there?
And all of my assets? So even if I manage to keep the kid, I won’t have any money to keep a roof over our head and food in our stomachs.
And what about Dominick? Will I ever see him again?
“What if I’m not pregnant,” I whisper.
Did I ever think I’d wish I weren’t pregnant? I’ve so badly wanted to be pregnant for years, and now that I might really have a child growing inside me, I find myself hoping I’m not?
My stomach feels heavy as lead, and it ties itself up into knots as the reality of this horrible situation washes over me.
I start to sob, and I foolishly take out my phone and call Dominick.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service, if you’d like to—”
Crap.
I throw the phone onto the floor, and it slides across the floor and ends up somewhere under my filing cabinets. If I broke it I don’t even care. The man I love is gone, and I’ve likely lost everything. The best outcome for me now is that I’m not pregnant, and that I can keep my business. I lose the chance to have a baby, and I lose the only man I’ve ever really loved. That’s what I’m hoping for?
I hold the thing in my shaking hands and watch.
My period is already four days late. The small window in the pregnancy test starts to show a hint of blue, and the unmistakable shape of a plus sign brightens into clear view.
I don’t know whether to laugh, or to cry.
I decide to laugh. They are not going to take my baby away from me. I decided that before I even knew if I was pregnant. I might lose Dominick, and I might have to leave everything behind, but my baby is mine.
I wait until I’ve composed myself enough that my heart doesn’t feel like it’s been ripped from my chest, and I drive to my lawyer’s office. I hired him as soon as I read the contract.
