Falling Hard

by Shelly Bell

  Her mouth went dry while another part of her went wet. “Red.”

  “Good girl. You use it if you need to. We’re still going to use the stoplight system. Now, I owe you twenty spankings for putting yourself in danger tonight. And when we’re together like this, call me Tristan.”

  Chapter 7

  “Count and apologize after each strike,” Tristan said, leading her over to the couch. “If you need a break, say ‘yellow,’ and if you need me to stop completely, say ‘red.’ It doesn’t make you weak if you use your safe words, and I won’t be disappointed. Just be honest with me and yourself as to whether you can actually tolerate more.” He sat on the edge, his hands itching to make their mark on her. “Hike that skirt up, drop your panties, and bend over my lap. You don’t have to worry about falling. I’ll make sure you’re secure.”

  Shocking the hell out of him, she didn’t stop to think. Instead, she followed his directions like she’d been doing it for years. The soft, wet skin of her cunt soaked his pants as she perched on his lap, making his cock throb. He rubbed his hands over the perfect globes of her ass, massaging the pale flesh to get the blood flowing, then lightly trailed a finger down the crack.

  “Has anyone taken you anally?” he asked, probing between and teasing her.

  She shivered, goose bumps popping up on her flesh. “No.”

  “I will.” He pushed the tip of his finger into her, enjoying her little squeak of surprise. “Starting tonight, I’ll prepare you, and when you’re stretched enough to take my cock, I’ll claim this ass and claim it often.”

  She inhaled sharply. “But, it’s . . .”

  “Wrong? Dirty? Unless you use your safe word, you don’t get to decide what’s wrong or dirty, because just like I did in the car, I’m taking that decision away from you. By the time I sink my cock in there, you’ll be ready for it. Not all women enjoy it, but the point is that I do, and because I do, you’ll give it to me without hesitation.” He had no doubt his Angel would love anal sex. He glided his fingers lower, dragging them through her arousal. “Are you on birth control?”

  She squirmed as he rubbed her clit with his thumb and slid two fingers into her pussy. “Yes, I take the shot.”

  He crooked his fingers and found her G-spot, tapping it to get her juices flowing.

  “I’d like the freedom to fuck you whenever,” he said, pausing to lick her arousal from his hand, “wherever, and however I like on the weekends.” The spice of her pussy was unique, just like the woman. He rested one hand at the top of her spine and lifted the other above her ass. “Now that I’ve got you primed, I’ll start your punishment. Don’t forget to count and apologize.”

  His palm came down, the sting of it lighting up his hand and filling him with a euphoric high he couldn’t get from any drug.

  She released a breath. “One. I’m sorry, Tristan.”

  Like playing the rhythmic beat to a song in his head, his hands rained down on her flesh, making her skin turn a rosy red. He continued, pausing a couple of seconds between spanks, until her chest shook from her soft cries.

  “Ni . . . nine. I’m sorry, Tristan,” she said softly.

  He rubbed her red flesh. “Do you need to take a break?”

  “No, Tristan. I just want it over with.”

  That’s all he needed to continue, more than ready to finish her punishment then fuck her raw. It had been years since he went bareback with a woman, and this wasn’t any woman. This was his sub, emphasis on his. There weren’t enough hours in the weekend to do every kinky thing he wanted to do to her. Once she signed the D/s Agreement, he’d own her. Own her innocence. He’d claim every part of her.

  “Nineteen. Twenty.” She was sobbing quietly. “Please forgive me, Tristan. I’ll listen to you from now on. I swear it.”

  Her entire backside was now a dark crimson, and his fingers drifted over his handiwork. “Shh. You’re such a good girl. I’m so proud of you for taking your punishment and I forgive you, Angel. It’s all in the past now.” Her crying ceased and the tension completely melted from her body. “That’s it. Just relax.” He helped her up and sat her on his lap.

  She shifted, her naked bottom rubbing over his pulsing erection. “You’re hard. Is that because you hurt me?”

  To anyone not in the lifestyle, he would probably lie. But one of the things he loved about practicing BDSM was the honesty. He was a sadist. He wouldn’t apologize for it. “Yes, and also because of your submission. Now that we’ve gotten your punishment out of the way, I need to get into that tight pussy of yours.” He quickly unbuttoned her blouse, removing it and bound her wrists behind her back with the straps of her bra.

  He sunk his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back while he suckled on that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. With a growl, he carried her to the dining room table and set her down. In a flash, he fixed himself between her spread thighs. He unzipped his trousers, and a breath later, drove his cock inside her, stretching her walls and filling her to capacity.

  He peered down, mesmerized by the sight of himself inching his way deep into her pussy. When he could go no further, he lifted her chin. Her eyes were wild, filled with blatant desire, and her muscles rippled around his cock, signaling she was close.

  He cradled her face in his hands as he began to thrust, the base of his cock brushing against her clit. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel your pussy clench down on my cock. I promise, I’ll come with you.”

  Pulling his cock all the way out of her soaked channel, he brought his thumb to her clitoris and pressed. Then he slammed back into her, again and again, until her pussy clamped down hard on his cock as she cried out in climax. Tingles in his spine transformed into an explosion of heat. Tristan thrust one final time and then he too was coming, pulse after pulse of mindless pleasure tearing through him.

  Forehead to forehead and breathing heavily, they looked into each other’s eyes.

  There was no going back.

  She belonged to him now.

  Chapter 8

  Isabella took her seat in the front row of her Intro to Business class, wincing when her tender butt made contact with the hard chair. While she hadn’t done anything else over the weekend to warrant more punishment, she hadn’t yet recovered from Friday’s spanking. Call her a freak, but the bruising and the soreness made her incredibly happy. It was as if he was with her no matter where she went.

  Watching Tristan speak to a student at the front of the class, dressed formally in a shirt, slacks, and tie, she couldn’t help smiling. She knew what he looked like out of his clothes. How his thick cock felt as he worked it in and out of her pussy, and how he groaned when he came down her throat. She couldn’t wait until Friday when she’d go from his student and employee to his submissive once again.

  The only thing she regretted was having to lie to everyone about how she spent her weekends. When Cat had asked where she’d disappeared to, she made up a story about having to go home on the weekends, and then she’d told her parents she spent the time with Cat. A part of her was reminded of how she used to lie to cover up for the bruises Tony had given her. But this was different. No one was getting hurt.

  She wiggled in her seat. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. Tristan had hurt her plenty, but he’d never harm her.

  That was the difference.

  Jordan had the nerve to plop down in the seat beside her as if nothing had happened, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’m sorry about Friday night. No hard feelings, right?”

  He was so lucky they were in a public setting right now or she’d really let him have it. “No hard feelings? You left me stranded because I refused to have sex with you.”

  “I was stoned. I didn’t actually mean it.”

  Since he had been by her side from the moment he picked her up at her dorm, that meant he’d gotten stoned before he arrived and driven her while under the influence. She peered at Tristan who was staring at Jordan like he wanted to kill him. “You sure sounded l
ike you meant it. Anyway, it’s in the past.”

  He smiled, believing her. “Great. So will you give me another shot? This time I’ll take you out to dinner.”

  Did he think she was an idiot? “I may have forgiven you, but I’ll never forget. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Is it because of that douche that picked you up from the party?”

  Her breath caught in her chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you get into some guy’s car.” He smirked at her like she was dirt beneath his shoe. “You’re already dating someone, aren’t you?”

  “He’s just a friend who helped me out of a dangerous situation.” She avoided looking at Tristan, afraid she’d give something away. Jordan was obviously bluffing. He didn’t know anything concrete or he would’ve come out and said it. Thank goodness Tristan drove a common car. There was no reason to think Jordan would figure it out, even if he did know what Tristan drove.

  “Interesting.” He leaned toward her. “You’re lying to me. Looks like Little Miss Innocent may not be so innocent after all.”

  Suddenly, Tristan was there in front of them, clearly bothered by Jordan’s close proximity to her. “Is there a problem here?”

  Jordan reclined back into his chair, a sly grin on his face. “No problem.”

  “I think you should move to another seat,” Tristan said in his Dom “don’t fuck with me” tone.

  The room grew quiet except for the whispers. It wasn’t everyday a professor got into it with a student. Drawing attention was the last thing she and Tristan needed if they were going to keep their relationship a secret.

  Jordan sneered, seemingly unconcerned by his professor’s request. “I’m comfortable right here.”

  “I’m not asking,” Tristan ground out.

  Isabella held her breath and silently pleaded for Tristan to let it go.

  Jordan turned to her. “You snitch on me, little girl? I own this campus and I will ruin you.”

  She relaxed, realizing he assumed she’d tattled on him rather than putting it together that Tristan had been the one behind the wheel Friday night. “You can try, but I really don’t give a shit what you do.” She mouthed a “thank you” to Tristan as Jordan reluctantly moved to another row. Tristan’s face remained stony, but she recognized the heat in his eyes as he strode to his podium and began his lecture.

  Between the fact that she loved learning about business and loved listening to the man whose cock had been inside her not twenty-four hours earlier speak about business, class flew by.

  After, she stopped by the coffee shop for a quick lunch before returning to Tristan’s office. She brought along an extra coffee and ham sandwich, knowing he probably hadn’t eaten yet.

  As she headed down the hallway to his office, her tummy flipped over in somersaults in nervous anticipation. Nothing physical could happen between the two of them during the workweek—they’d set strict parameters for their relationship in order to maintain an appropriate professional distance while on campus. Plus, they’d negotiated grades into their D/s contract, requiring her to keep above a 3.5 average.

  She’d taken his contract home and read up on everything she would be agreeing to, then spent all last night carefully filling it out. Now it was burning a hole in her backpack. She couldn’t wait to give it to him and officially begin her first D/s relationship.

  She breezed through the door, spotting a beautiful arrangement of colorful flowers on her desk. Her first thought was that Tristan had bought them for her, but as her gaze jumped from the flowers to his face, the icy expression she saw there sent a chill seeping into her bones.

  The anger she’d witnessed against Jordan was now directed to her, his jaw rigid and his eyes black as night. He was gripping a small notecard in his hand. “You’re engaged?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “What?” She shook her head, completely confused. “No. What are you talking about?”

  He stormed passed her and slammed the door shut then swirled, pointing at her desk. “You shouldn’t have left the flowers here if you didn’t want me to see them. I read the card.”

  Her heart squeezed painfully. “The card?”

  “From Tony. Your fiancé,” he said, throwing the notecard on the floor.

  She inhaled a deep breath and pressed her lips together, attempting to maintain her composure and battling the swelling nausea. “Tony isn’t my—”

  “Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t lie to me.” He stomped to the desk and snatched up a paper that was lying behind the flower arrangement. “He was kind enough to send a copy of your engagement announcement from the newspaper.”

  Pain slashed through her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Let me see that.”

  “Why? Do you need another copy?” Pausing, he frowned as he examined her face. “Upset that I caught you in your lie, Ms. Lawson?”

  This was why she hadn’t wanted anything more than a one-night stand. Tony had constantly thrown accusations her way, placing her on the defensive, and keeping her on edge to the point that she’d started developing an ulcer.

  She couldn’t do that again.

  She wouldn’t.

  Her hands trembled as she took the newspaper clipping from Tristan. She stared down at the engagement announcement and the picture from their junior prom. “Tony isn’t my fiancé. I grew up with him. He was the boy next door and my very best friend up until our freshman year of high school, when friendship bloomed into something more.” Collapsing into the chair at her desk, she blinked away the tears blurring her vision. “It just seemed like a natural progression, you know? Everyone always assumed we’d end up together, and when it happened, I didn’t question it. I loved him. I trusted him . . . which was why I didn’t notice the changes.”

  “Changes?” he asked quietly, still as a statue.

  “He’d always been outgoing. Had plenty of friends. Both of us did.” She smiled, recalling better times, but as quickly as they came to her, they vanished, leaving behind regret. “The summer before our sophomore year, he started getting jealous of the time I spent with my girlfriends. It was so gradual, I didn’t realize that by the time school started up again, I hadn’t seen my friends in a month. Every minute I wasn’t working, I was with Tony. And when I was at work, he’d call or text me several times during the day.” She clutched the newspaper announcement in her hand then released it, watching it float to the floor. “My parents thought it was sweet. As the months went by, he became more and more possessive, accusing me of cheating on him or not loving him enough, and it just seemed easier to give him all my time.”

  “None of your family or friends confronted you about it?”

  She felt Tristan move closer, but she couldn’t look at him or she’d lose it. Instead, she focused on a spot of dirt on the wall. “Maybe in the beginning, but Tony said they were just jealous of us because we were so lucky to have found each other so young and that they weren’t truly my friends. He said he’d overheard them talking about me, and that they . . .”

  “Angel?” Tristan crouched down in front of her, his body heat radiating off of him, somehow touching her without using his hands.

  “He told me they thought I was fat and ugly, and that I must have been an amazing fuck to get a guy like Tony. I believed him.” She shook her head, still angry at herself for being so foolish. “I had no reason not to. It hurt so much that I allowed him to manipulate me into completely dropping all my friends. I became completely dependent on him. I never thought I’d change into that kind of person.” She heaved a pained breath. “By the time the abuse turned physical, I didn’t even consider telling anyone.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry I jumped to conclusions over the flowers. Please let me hold you,” he said, his voice cracking. She closed her eyes, a couple of tears escaping to slide down her cheeks. He wiped one away with his thumb, cupping her face in his hands.

  The damage had been done. T
ristan had immediately jumped to conclusions at the first opportunity, testing the trust that was so paramount to a D/s relationship. It was too little, too late.

  Yet right now it hurt too much to turn him away, the need to feel his arms around her one last time stronger than her sense of dignity. At her nod of consent, he scooped her up and settled in the chair with her on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Dreama confronted me and made me talk to my parents,” she said after a minute, breaking the silence. “After the initial shock, they were wonderfully supportive. The real problem came when they decided to speak to Tony’s parents about it. They accused me of lying to get attention, and claimed I was the one who was clingy and abusive. It destroyed a thirty year friendship between our parents.”

  He stroked her head. “How did he take it when you broke it off?”

  “Publically? Fine. He wished me well and told me he’d always love me, that he understood I wasn’t ready for an adult relationship. But privately, he started sending me notes and texts . . . stalking me whenever I went out with Dreama.” She shivered, remembering the incident that had changed the course of her life. “One day after shopping for groceries, my car wouldn’t start. Tony drove by and offered me a ride home. I didn’t think . . . he didn’t take me home. He had a gun. He said he’d remind me how much I loved him.”

  “What did he do to you?” Tristan whispered.

  “He brought me to his father’s hunting cabin.” She swallowed over the lump that had formed in her throat. “Handcuffed me to the bed.”

  “Did . . . ?” Tristan took a ragged breath and held her just a little bit tighter. “Did he rape you?”

  “No.” If he had, maybe then the prosecutor’s office would have come down on him harder, rather than treating him like the victim. “He spent twelve hours with the gun in his lap, showing me old photos of us together and telling me stories as though I suffered from Alzheimer’s rather than common sense.” Everyone had said she was lucky to have gotten away unharmed, ignoring the emotional and psychological scars he’d inflicted on her. “But he would have raped me if my father and brother hadn’t shown up with the police. The Tony I’d once loved was gone, and in his place was a stranger who didn’t understand right from wrong.”