Safe Word: Oasis 2: By My Side

by Michele Zurlo

  A motor whirred to life. The bar to which the cuffs were attached rose, forcing her almost to her toes. Cool leather closed around her ankles, and the tug and pull on the cuffs indicated a spreader bar held her legs apart.

  Long silence filled the air, and her pussy grew moist because she knew he was looking at her, checking out every inch of her body. She waited patiently while her master looked his fill, which was his due.

  “Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I’ve never seen a sexier woman in my entire life.” She felt the heat and smooth skin of his chest as he brushed against the pebbled tips of her breasts. She jumped in surprise. “And you’re mine, Cella. All mine.”

  “Yes, Master. I’m yours.” She understood the psychology of why he said the things he said. He had staked his claim and established the emotional atmosphere that permeated the dark of her blindfold. The vehemence underlying his tone lent a truth to his statement that couldn’t be faked. She very badly wanted to be his.

  Cupping her face, he urged her head back the tiniest bit. At five-eight, Marcella was only three inches shorter than her dream man. The way he’d stretched her most likely put them almost eye to eye. If he removed her blindfold, she would find herself gazing right into his golden eyes. Or might they be edged in green now?

  He brushed his thumb over her lips. She parted them ever so slightly, offering but not demanding. The kiss, unexpected and completely welcomed, startled a gasp from her. She thought he would tease for a long, long time before he allowed her the taste of his kiss. Instead he devoured her lips and swept his tongue into her mouth. She quivered and melted under his onslaught, grateful for the cuffs and chains holding her upright.

  He gripped her head and pushed his chest against hers. She had no leverage to balance his forcefulness, and his kiss literally knocked her off her feet. She ignored the increased stress on her shoulder and wrist joints, but he did not. He broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and wanting. She felt his hands on her hips as he moved her back into place so that her feet bore the brunt of her weight.

  He massaged her shoulders. “How are you doing? Wrists okay?”

  As he held her, his thumbs pressed just under her arms, where she was dangerously ticklish. She jumped at the sensation and swallowed an unwanted laugh. “They’re fine, Master.”

  “Shoulders?”

  She felt his frown. If she didn’t know him better, she would have thought she had displeased him. His tight tone seemed to foretell the end of their game, but she knew his tone resulted from the depth of his concern. He had to trust her to tell him when he went too far. No master could read minds.

  “My shoulders are fine, Master. I’m a little ticklish. That’s all.”

  “I see. So torturing you with a feather would be counterproductive?”

  She’d never once had a lover who engaged in light sensory play. So far they’d all liked bondage or they’d been on the prowl for a true painslut, which she was not. The prospect of Sean taking the time to learn her body in such a thorough and intimate way made her heart thump loudly. “It depends on what you wish to accomplish, Master. I’m not ticklish everywhere.”

  He didn’t respond with words, and he didn’t use a feather. He prowled her body with his fingertips, brushing them from her leather-clad wrists to her shoulders. He did this over and over, caressing every single inch of skin. He moved to stand behind her and lavished the same care over her back.

  The pressure of the caresses changed. He used the flat of his hands. He traced trails with his fingertips. He rubbed the inside of his wrists over her hips. By the time he made it to her ass, he had added his lips and tongue. When he licked a path down her spine, Marcella felt as if her body would erupt in flames.

  He worshipped her legs, down the back and up the front. She felt the puff of his breath against her bare pussy. She heard him inhale deeply. Normally she liked to be blindfolded, every sensation magnified a thousand times. Yet it robbed her of the sight of Sean’s face as he looked at her, touched her. She desperately wanted the visual, especially because this was their first time together.

  “Your cunt is one the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, Marcella. It’s the prettiest shade of pink, a little darker than what your cheeks turn when you blush. I think every time I see you blush from now on, I’ll be picturing this.” He brushed his fingertips over her mons and avoided her pulsing, weeping lips.

  Cool air rushed across her slit as he blew, causing her to moan and thrust her hips forward.

  “Your pussy is so wet and swollen, Cella, and the tip of your clit pokes out just a little.” Heat seared her clit as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. “It tastes musky and sweet. I think later I’ll put you in the swing so I can taste all of you. What do you think of that, my sweet slave?”

  He licked just the tip of her clit again and again. Marcella struggled with an answer. She wanted him to put her in the swing right now and finish what he’d begun, but she knew he was practicing for the first round of the show, when she would not be allowed to climax. Her state of constantly heightened arousal would titillate the audience, keeping them on the edge.

  “If it pleases you, Master.” Really, it was the only reasonable response. Good submissives didn’t demand, and she wasn’t in the habit of topping from the bottom.

  He rose to his feet. The scent of her arousal tickled her nose for a split second before he kissed her again. She tasted the barest trace of her juices on his tongue. He broke the kiss and patted her on the ass. “It pleases me.”

  He tickled over her ribs as he finished his exploration. He had yet to touch her breasts, but he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and she twitched and jumped.

  “Ticklish?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He increased the pressure of his fingertips. “Now?”

  Now she felt only the heat of his caress. “No, Master.”

  Abruptly, he stepped away from her body. The heat vanished, leaving quivering need in its wake. “We’re going to play, Cella. I’m going to tease you a lot. You aren’t allowed to come without permission. That will earn a punishment.”

  Marcella shivered. His threat had been vague. Punishment meant different things to different people. Just from what she’d overheard, she knew Sean had used a cane on Gretchen. Marcella had never experienced a cane, but she had seen it used on another submissive. The large man had cried like a baby and begged his mistress for forgiveness. By the time she’d finished with him, his back had been a series of striped welts. Marcella wanted to remind Sean she wasn’t into that kind of pain.

  “Punishment isn’t meant to be pleasant.” He continued as if he’d heard her internal monologue. “You won’t enjoy it. If you enjoyed it, then it would be a reward.” He stepped closer, coming up behind her when she thought he was still in front of her. He nipped at her earlobe. “Do you trust me, Cella?”

  Her fears fell away as her iron will reasserted itself. She would not fail. Did she trust Sean? Absolutely. “Yes, Master. I trust you.”

  “Good. You’ll need that trust because I’m going to test you.”

  Silence again. The sounds of drawers and the clink of ice. She waited, using years of practice to control her desire. The need pulsing between her thighs dissipated.

  Wet heat closed around her nipple. Sean laved the tiny bud with his tongue and stretched it with his teeth. Marcella moaned and arched closer. He released her, but his fingers were there, pinching and pulling. She gasped and tried to move away, but the chains held her in place. When he finished, the sharpness of the remaining pinch indicated a nipple clamp. He did the same thing to her other breast.

  Marcella loved wearing nipple clamps as long as they weren’t tightened too much. Sean played with the tension, easing it back a little. She sighed when she got to the point where pleasure outweighed pain. “How’s that, slave?”

  “It’s perfect, Master. Thank you.”

  The clamps moved and grew heavier. Cold metal slid along the skin of her breas
ts. An image of a delicate chain flashed in her memory. The chain had a series of larger hoops in the middle where weights could be attached. It also had a longer attachment with another clamp at the end that would connect her clit to her nipples. The tissues between her legs swelled, begging silently for attention.

  He tugged on the chain and claimed her lips at the same time, swallowing her gasp. She melted into the firm softness of his lips, but that didn’t stop her from noticing that he ran his fingertips lightly along her slit. Without warning, he plunged two fingers deep. He massaged her vaginal walls, exploring instead of stimulating, but the effect devastated her nonetheless. Orgasm threatened.

  She moaned into his mouth, begging for a reprieve. Her body trembled. He withdrew his fingers. At odds with her mind, her pussy pulsed, chasing the feel of his fingers again.

  “Mmmm.” A slurp and a popping sound came from inches away. “I think we’ll have to get to the licking part of the night sooner rather than later. Your flavor is distinctly addictive.”

  Marcella prayed he would remove her blindfold before that happened.

  The air in front of her lost that electric feeling that came whenever he stood nearby. When she sensed him again, he stood behind her. He probed her anus with gel-covered fingers. She breathed into the sensation, relaxing the tight muscle because she knew the joys that awaited her.

  The first small bead barely made an impact. The second stretched her a little wider, and the wand connecting them thickened. Each bead, successively larger, brought a little more pleasure than the one before. By the time he inserted the sixth, her body trembled and her pussy threatened to spontaneously orgasm. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She tried to think about boring, nonsexual things, but her mind fixated on the things she felt and refused the distraction.

  Her head fell back, and she lost control of her breathing. Sean cradled the back of her skull. He licked a line up the column of her throat and sucked on her lips.

  “You’re close, aren’t you, my sweet slave?”

  No sense in hiding anything from her master. “Yes, Master.”

  “I want to see you come, Cella. I’m going to finger you. I want you to hold off for as long as you can, honey. Ask first.”

  Any other master might have just fingered her until she begged. She liked the way he sometimes told her what he was going to do and sometimes didn’t. When he penetrated her with three fingers—it had to be three, he stretched her so wide—all thoughts of gratitude fled.

  He pumped his fingers into her, curving them to hit her G-spot every single time. Her hips tilted, both a reaction to his rhythm and a need to grind her clit against his palm. The chains didn’t allow for much movement, but they gave a little.

  “Beautiful. Fuck, Cella. I want to see your eyes.”

  She felt him yank the blindfold away, pulling her hair a bit in the process. Sean’s face, a determined set to his jaw, greeted the return of her vision. A strand of sun-streaked brown hair fell over his forehead. His nostrils flared, and his lips parted. All at once, she came. The orgasm blinded her. She shouted, and he only thrust into her faster. Waves washed over her body, tingling up her arms and down her legs. She felt battered, completely at their mercy.

  When she came down, she found her head resting on Sean’s shoulder. He held her close with one hand on her waist, and he stroked her hair with his other hand. She wanted to hold him, but when she tried, her hand wouldn’t move. The clink of chains reminded her that she was still bound in the center of the room.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Don’t thank me yet, slave. You disobeyed a direct order. I told you to ask first.”

  She didn’t think telling him the sight of his handsome face had sent her over the edge would lessen her punishment, so she kept her lips sealed. “I’m sorry, Master.”

  He released her from his embrace. She set her feet and readied her psyche for whatever whip or cane he chose to use. He knelt down and unbuckled her ankles. Then he stood and released her arms, massaging them from palm to shoulder.

  “How are your arms, Cella?”

  “A little sore, Master. They’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  He nodded, and a sense of satisfaction flashed behind his eyes. Green, she noted. Her thighs trembled, barely supporting her weight.

  “Kneel.” He pointed to a thick pillow on the floor a few feet away.

  The foam inside cushioned her knees and saved her from those annoying little bruises that came from kneeling on hard surfaces. The chain connecting her nipples patted an uneven rhythm just below her sternum as she moved. She spread her knees shoulder-width apart and sat back on her heels. The beads in her ass shifted and rubbed, pressing against her still-throbbing pussy walls. She wanted to rub her clit, to prolong the pleasurable sensations.

  Her hands automatically folded behind her back, preventing her from following through on her impulse. She waited in silence, staring at a snag in the rug under the spanking bench. Her mind wandered, caught on the imperfection. Would he want her to take care of that? She had never before entered his dungeon without his knowledge and approval. But now it seemed a little less “his” and a little more “theirs.”

  Denim-clad legs stopped in front of her. Marcella resisted her urge to follow them up, to see if a bulge in his jeans betrayed a desire for her. He squatted, flexing those magnificently powerful thighs. She wished desperately for permission to touch him, to run her hands over his body and worship him the way she had fantasized so many times.

  Ice clinked. He held a glass of water out to her. “Drink, Marcella.”

  She unclasped her hands from behind her back and downed the water. The coldness slipped down her throat, bringing relief. She hadn’t realized how dry she had become.

  When she handed the glass back, only the few ice cubes remained. He accepted it with a smile. Her heartbeat sped up. “Good girl. Now spread your legs wider. Leave your hands on your thighs.”

  She did as he ordered. He reached forward too quickly for her to see, but she didn’t worry too much since his aim would take him directly to her pussy. Something hard nudged the opening of her vagina. She looked down, but his arm and hand obscured her view.

  “Relax, my little slave. This is just a mild punishment to help you cool down. I have lots of plans for this pretty little cunt. I can’t have it overheating.”

  As he held the hard object to her opening and spoke, his play on words became clear. The glass dildo had been kept in the ice bucket. The temperature of the lubricant he’d slathered on took a moment to cool down. He angled the head and pushed the glass dildo into her pussy.

  The unforgiving hardness took her first. Most dildos had some give to make them feel comfortable inside. Glass had no mercy. It stretched her wide, working with the beads in her ass, moving together ever so slightly with each breath she took.

  Just when she began to grow used to this exquisite torture, the iciness of the glass penetrated her hot, swollen tissues. The temperature difference both shocked and soothed.

  Sean watched her as she acclimated to this new sensation. “We didn’t discuss cold play. Now is the time to tell me if it’s one of your limits.”

  Marcella shook her head. “No, Master. I like cold play.”

  “You and your British bands.” He grinned. “I’ll have to take you to a concert the next time we’re in England.”

  She started at the playfulness of his tone. Wasn’t he about to punish her? Shouldn’t he be a little more upset that she’d disobeyed him by coming without permission?

  His knees crackled as he stood. “Kneel up, slave. Careful with that glass phallus. It’s heavy. If you let it fall out, you’ll earn another punishment.”

  A cold, hard dildo delivered punishment? Marcella wanted to laugh at his attempt. Obviously he took her admittance of disliking too much pain as reason to not use some of the harsher methods of punishment. She felt a little cheated. As a submissive, she craved knowing her place. She
craved knowing the certainty of punishment as a response to disobeying.

  Then she rose to her knees. Gravity took over, fighting her for possession of the heavy, slippery dildo. She clenched with all her might to keep it from sliding out and reveled in the level of Sean’s insidiousness. Only the most creative doms administered punishments that were also challenges.

  He’d moved behind her while she fought to obey his orders. Her fevered pussy quivered against the coolness and relaxed, making her fight that much harder not to lose the dildo.

  A tug, and he removed two anal beads in quick succession. She gasped at the heady stimulation and the way it messed with her ability to control her vaginal muscles. Less than thirty seconds into her punishment and she wanted to scream at the impossibility of it all.

  He pushed one bead back in. She whimpered a protest and received a stinging smack on her ass for it.