I bite back my smile. He clearly adores Alia. I grab the pizza from the guy as Doug wrestles with Alia, finally shoving her out of the back door. He comes back and pays the pizza guy.
“Pizza?” he asks me.
“Yes please,” I say. Our conversation was interrupted at the most inopportune time. I want to know what he’s thinking.
He takes the pizza from me, gestures for me to follow him. We go to the kitchen and I gasp. His kitchen is beautiful, light and airy; it is L-shaped, and opens out to the backyard. Alia is in the backyard, basking in the sunlight.
He grabs plates, opens the box. We help ourselves to slices, the food momentarily pausing the conversation.
“Did you like getting whipped at the House of Pain?” His words pull me back to our conversation.
“Yes.”
“Did you like being tied up?”
“Yes,” I whisper again.
“So, what concerns you?” There’s no impatience in his voice. He’s trying to understand.
“I don’t like the idea of being obedient, submissive.”
“Are you submissive in bed?” he asks bluntly.
I flush. “Sometimes. But I’ve always had a choice; I don’t have to be submissive.” I’m explaining myself badly. I think I’m afraid I’ll lose my ability to choose. That my submission will not be a choice I make, but the expected behaviour from me.
Doug listens as I try to explain this. Finally, he raises a hand and interrupts me.
“As I see it,” he says, “you are trying to run before you can walk. These things, everything you are worried about – the nature of submission, the boundaries of the submission, they are complicated things that every couple negotiates over time.” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes me and continues. “Right now, I think we should be more concerned about the hard rules – things you have no interest in doing in bed, things you definitely want to do, that kind of thing.”
He’s right. Besides, as he said, this can be a one-time thing.
“No blood,” I say. “No permanent damage. No caging.”
“Ok.” We quickly agree on the basics; set me up with a safeword. Red.
“I really have only one rule, Sara,” Doug says. “One that applies to both of us, really. Open, honest communication. If something isn’t fun, say so. I’m pretty sure that we can find enough things that we will both enjoy.”
“Ok,” I say, softly. I am once again a bundle of nerves. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.
He senses my nervousness. “Sara, it’ll be fine, I’m not a jerk,” he says wryly. “Look, do you want to do this some other time?”
“No.” I don’t think I’d have the courage to go through this again. Besides, I broke up with Colin because of this dark chasm in me. This is my opportunity to explore it a little bit.
“Can I get a glass of wine?” I ask him.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Liquid courage?” he asks with some amusement. “Red or white?”
“Whatever’s easier,” I say. Doug opens the refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of white wine and pours me a glass. I take a sip. It is light and refreshing; a perfect summer wine. I take another sip.
“Let’s go back to the living room,” he says.
***
In the living room, Doug sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. He pulls me close, one hand encircling my waist, the other tracing a gentle line down my cheek. He runs a thumb over my lower lip; an incredibly erotic touch that has me shifting restlessly in his lap.
“Want to do this?” he whispers in my ear, catching my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling it lightly. Little tendrils of arousal run through me, replacing the nervousness. I shift in his lap again. I can feel his erection against me, and I bite my lip. His body feels good, really, really good.
I nod. Yes. I want to do this.
He pulls me closer and kisses me. His mouth is initially gentle on mine. I sigh softly. I haven’t been kissed in over five weeks and I miss it. My mouth parts slightly and lets him in. That’s the signal Doug’s been waiting for. His lips are suddenly more insistent, his tongue pushes into my parted mouth and dances a delicious duet with mine. His free hand traces idle lines on my bodice.
I moan. Doug’s hands are, in their own way, creating a fire as insistent as the whip. My body tingles in pleasure and lust. I move into him; bring my hands around his head to draw him in, still closer.
“No,” he says softly, pulling away from my mouth for an instant. “Let me set the pace, please.”
Aah. The first demonstration of control. But he doesn’t order me. This is a request, not a command. I nod. I can do this for him. My hands remain at my sides.
He bends his head again, pulls my mouth onto his. He’s nibbling my lower lip now, softly, and the feeling of his teeth on my lip is awakening a deep hunger in me. I moan and shift restlessly.
“Keep still, baby,” he mutters. Again, not an order, but again, I obey.
His hands are now running lightly over my breasts. I want to shrug off the straps of my dress, lower the bodice so that his hands will caress my bared breasts but I hold still. His fingers are dancing a little waltz on my bared arms, tracing a pathway along my exposed cleavage, running a fiery line along my thighs.
I part my thighs. Doug chuckles. “Keep still, baby,” he says again.
His mouth now is trailing little kisses on my neck. I love being kissed on my neck. It’s my secret erogenous spot, one with a direct line to my pussy. I feel the familiar stirrings as he kisses me. The familiar dampness. I bite my lower lip and moan.
The sunlight is streaming in through the windows in his living room. Doug groans. “The dungeon is in the basement,” he says, a little ironic inflection when he says dungeon. “The bedroom is upstairs. Which way, Sara?”
It is tempting to pick the safe path; to gesture towards the bedroom. I don’t do that. Instead I gather up my courage. “Downstairs,” I say quietly.
We walk towards Doug’s dungeon.
Chapter 5
I expect a sinister basement; damp, dim and forbidding. Doug’s dungeon isn’t any of these things.
The St. Andrews Cross in a corner does look intimidating. And the ceiling is criss-crossed with visible metal beams, some with chains hanging down. But aside from these things? The room is, like the upstairs, warm. There are windows set high in the walls, looking onto the backyard, and through this, beams of sunlight come streaming down. The floor is tiled, with throw rugs spread across; shades of red and oranges everywhere again. There’s a bed in the room; a comfortable looking king-size bed – made with pristine white sheets, and a white throw on top. I pause, look around and take it in.
Doug watches me, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not what you expected?” he asks me.
“No,” I confess. “I thought it’d be more like the House of Pain.”
Doug laughs. “The House of Pain stage? Come on, Sara, John is creating a world of make-believe; his stage needs to be dramatic. Me, I’m just looking to get laid.” He winks at me when he says that, wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I burst out laughing. He’s deliberately easing my tension, making me laugh and causing me to relax. I very much like Doug at this moment.
Doug moves towards me and I stop laughing. There’s electricity in the air. I remember how strong his hands felt on my body; how good it felt to be kissed by him. I take a half-step towards him. We are standing, facing each other, in the centre of the room.
Doug reaches out, runs a finger under the strap of my sundress. It’s a simple gesture, but his touch inflames me. I look into his eyes. There’s desire in them.
“Can you take off your dress?”
I nod. For the moment, he’s keeping this interaction as close to vanilla as possible. If I ignore the St. Andrews Cross in the corner, this might almost be a guy I met at a club. I focus on that thought as a way to still my nerves. I unbutton the couple of buttons that holds the dress in place, slide out of it, letting the
dress pool at my feet.
His eyes are on my body, and now, his hands are too. He’s pushing me towards the bed, and I sink into it, Doug sliding next to me. He leans against the headboard, pulls me on his lap, and unerringly finds that spot on my neck again; that spot that is oh-so-connected to my pussy. I moan.
His pace is maddeningly slow; he hasn’t touched my breasts yet, and I want him to, so badly. I shift again, try to thrust my breasts outward; shamelessly hoping he’ll touch me.
“Are you trying to tell me something, Sara?” His voice is slightly amused.
“Please,” I mumble, colouring. “Touch me…”
“Touch you where?”
Damn it, do I have to spell it out? “Touch my nipples, please,” I beg. I am shameless. But his mouth on my neck has set my blood roaring, and I need to feel his hands and his mouth on my nipples.
“In that case, Sara,” his voice chides. “Try holding still. The more you wiggle, the longer you’ll have to wait for me to touch them, ok?”
Ouch. That’s it; the iron fist in a velvet glove. I hold still, whimpering. I need him to touch my nipples. They’ve grown erect under my bra, and are aching for stimulation.
Just like that, I realize, he’s in charge. He doesn’t need to tie me up or whip me. I’ve held still because he’s asked me to. It’s a little disconcerting, honestly.
I’m quickly distracted from that thought though because now, his mouth is tracing a hot path down my middle. My pussy throbs in need. Is he going to kiss me there too? Is he going to slide off my panties?
I want desperately to thrust my hips towards him, but I do as he told me instead. I hold still.
“Nice,” he says approvingly, noticing my stillness. His voice is warm, and his approval sends tingles running through me. “Such good behaviour deserves a reward, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” I say at once, then bite my tongue. Keep the sass under control, Sara, I warn myself. But Doug doesn’t seem perturbed at the sass. His lips twitch. His hands move towards my bra, unclasps it and slides it off my shoulders.
“Even more gorgeous close up,” he says again, though this time, his eyes are on my breasts. “I’m pretty sure every guy in the audience Saturday night wanted to do this to you, Sara.” He runs his fingers over my nipples, teasing them even further, till they stand out, erect. He takes a nipple between his fingers, pinches and pulls it, hard enough to be painful, soft enough to send bolts of pleasure coursing through me.
“And every guy in that audience definitely wanted to do this.” He lowers his mouth onto my nipple. I groan. He grazes my nipples between his teeth and the act sends shock waves of pleasure all through my body. I moan. I arch towards him, helpless in the face of the feel of him.
A quick, hard pinch on my nipple. “Keep still,” he chides again.
“Sorry,” I mutter. I’m not being a very good submissive, not according to the reading I have done on the internet.
His mouth has moved to my other nipple, and it is all I can do to hold still. I want to touch him, to pull his head onto mine, to feel his hard cock drive into my shuddering pussy. This pace, this slow, deliberate pace that he’s setting; it is maddening.
“Doug,” I moan. “I want to touch you.” My voice is heavy with need.
“And you will, Sara,” he promises. “Just not yet.”
His hands move over me, his mouth traces a warm path. My pussy is drenched; the slow seduction performing its magic.
His fingers finally graze my panties. I still immediately, with a sharp intake of breath. I can’t believe how wet I am; how aroused. “Please,” I beg, my voice high and keening.
“Patience,” Doug urges, his voice hoarse. I can feel his erection. He’s affected by this too. But his control is flawless. He strokes me through the panties, feels their dampness.
“Having fun, Sara?” There’s male satisfaction in his voice.
I’m too aroused to be annoyed by the display of male pride. I want him to rip my panties off. I want him to thrust hard into me.
I keep still instead.
“Good girl.” Again, approval in his voice, and again, he’s got a reward for me. He tugs my panties down, past my knees and I kick them off. They land on the floor somewhere.
Doug is gazing at my pussy, his gaze smouldering. I’ve shaved. He parts my outer pussy lips, traces the inner folds with his fingers. I whimper. He bends his head, takes a long, slow lick. I whimper yet again, my hands clutching his head.
Finally, after what seems like hours, he lowers his mouth on my clitoris, sucking it into his mouth, while he thrusts two fingers into my pussy. I moan and whimper. This is so good. I feel the tension build in me, and I know I’m not going to last very long at all. I’ve been ready to explode all during his slow exploration of my body.
He slides his hand under me, pulls me up into his mouth. I clutch at his head, fighting the need to pull him deep within me, and never let him go.
My eyes meet his. The heat in my eyes is mirrored in his, and that does it. I can’t last anymore. My body spasms, and my orgasm rips through me in a pulsing of electricity.
He doesn’t stop licking all through my orgasm. His tongue stays on me, his fingers pump in and out, and as the tremors finally ease, he gently gives me one final lick, and raises his head.
“I’m pretty sure every guy at the House of Pain wanted to do that, wanted to be the person sending you over the edge.” He sounds pleased. Men.
“Doug,” I whisper, “I want to touch you.”
“In a second, baby,” he says. He gets off the bed; quickly undresses and grabs something from a drawer.
I gaze at him in turn, transfixed. He is gorgeous. Lean and hard and muscled, with a sprinkling of chest hair that snakes downwards in a pathway towards his cock, standing erect and engorged. His cock. I sigh softly. It is long and hard, and I want to feel it more than anything in the world.
“Sara,” he says softly. He shows me what’s in his hands. It’s a pair of nipple clamps. “I’m going to put them on your nipples, Sara,” he says, and this time, there’s muted command in his voice. “And then, I want you to ride me.”
Yes. I get to feel him inside me. He’s not going to tie me up, I get to touch him. I smile at him. “Okay,” I say. My voice sounds gleeful. He looks a little startled at the tone in my voice and then grins at me.
The clamps are tight and slightly painful. I wince for a moment, as my nipples get accustomed to their feel. Slowly, the pain recedes to the background and my nipples throb. Doug lies down on the bed, quickly rolls on a condom. He nudges my hips towards him.
I lean over and straddle him. I feel powerful. I grab his cock, slide his head around the entrance to my pussy, just a little, just a tiny bit of teasing, to make up for how long he’s kept me aroused. He growls; a low, sexy sound in his throat. “Don’t tease, baby.”
I don’t tease. I can’t – I ache to feel him inside me. I slide down his length, adjusting as I take in his girth. I feel stretched, full. My pussy aches again with arousal, as I slowly raise my hips, and come down on him again.
Gradually, I get a rhythm going. Each time I come down on his cock, my breasts bounce, intensifying the ache in my nipples. They are sweet distraction, and my brain is torn, trying to process the two sensations at the same time. I move up and down on Doug’s thick length as he grips my hips. I look into his eyes. I can see smouldering need there and I respond to it, increasing my pace just a little, inclining my body so that he’s hitting my g-spot with each thrust.
That serves as my undoing. I speed up my rhythm, each time, his beautiful cock comes in contact with that spot in my pussy, I jump a little and bite my lips. I’m moving faster, harder, grinding down on his cock, grabbing his shoulders and forearms, running my hands over his chest, whimpering as the tremors run through me. I can feel the muscles in my pussy clamp down on Doug and the ache in my nipples intensify as I bounce harder on him. Then, I’m breaking apart again in a powerful, shuddering orgasm, an
d as the muscles in my pussy contract around his cock, he comes too, with a groan.
I get off him and he pulls me next to him. His body is warm. He feels good next to me.
Chapter 6
Doug’s fallen asleep next to me. I lie quietly, not wanting to disturb him.
Instead, I try to process the sex.
Not what I expected. That’s the first thought that pops through my head, and I explore that, trying to understand exactly what I had thought this encounter would be like. I thought there’d be more ordering around. I’ve read a thousand BDSM stories, seen a thousand BDSM videos. I thought I’d spend some time on my knees, sucking him off, and if I did a good job, he’d let me come.
I shake my head. His control is much more subtle than that. I get a sense that there won’t be too much ordering around with Doug. So far today, he’s made mild requests, with rewards for good behaviour. I’m being trained to obey. That thought scares me a little.
But I can’t deny the wetness that seeped through my panties at his impeccable control of my body.
I don’t want to think about this. To think about the nature of his control on me. Although there’s been a deep craving for pain inside me for many years, I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this, to cede control to Doug. Someone I barely know.
But the sex… the sex was amazing.
“So have sex with him, Sara,” I tell myself. “Just don’t get involved.”
***
Things like that are always easier said than done. When Doug wakes, he stretches, deliciously. “I have to walk Alia,” he says, “else she’ll get really, really cranky. Want to come with me, and then, maybe, we can do this again?”
Yes. Doing this again sounds very good. I can’t take my eyes off Doug’s naked body. I nod my agreement and hunt for my panties.
Alia is delirious with joy when she sees the leash, her tail wagging hard in enthusiasm. I laugh at her. She’s adorable, and her good-humour is pretty contagious. We set off for a walk.
The House of Pain Page 4
