Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection

by Portia Da Costa

  He laughs. "Oh, I'm sure you have. Meditating, my arse... I'll bet you've been lying here having filthy fantasies."

  I haven't, really, but if that's what he wants, that's what he shall have. I lick my lips, out of his sight, summoning some up.

  "It... it wasn't so much fantasies as memories. I was thinking about some of the stuff we've done."

  "Stuff? Our arrangements are 'stuff' to you?"

  "You know what I mean."

  He heaves a sigh. "Go on."

  The way he says that makes me quiver. There's power in two little words.

  "I was thinking about the time you ordered me to arrive at midday, and you thrashed me once straight away, then again, every hour, on the hour, when the clock chimed.

  God, I was sore that day.

  "And did you enjoy that game?" There's another rustle as he moves slightly. Is he wearing his silk dressing gown, I wonder. He sometimes does for our little sessions. I'd love to turn my head and look his way, but I know I can't.

  "Bits of it... The bits that happened on the half hour... They were very nice."

  "Indeed."

  On the half hour, he'd been just as kind as he'd been cruel on the hour, stroking me to at least one towering orgasm, if not more.

  "And what else do you like? What other happy times do you like to fantasize about? What other little tricks? Do tell me more."

  I have to shuffle a bit on the bed. I'm really excited now. I know I shouldn't rub my pussy against the beautiful chenille, but I can't help myself. I just can't help myself. He's made me ache without even laying a finger on me.

  "I like it when you ring me while I'm at work and tell me to stop what I'm doing and go to the cloakroom to play with myself."

  Oh, that's a good one. I love that. It's a perfect counterpoint to being the perfect example of rising management material that he's helped me to be; a luscious secret to spice up the daily routine. I excuse myself, speed to the ladies' room, and when I'm there, I have to stand in a cubicle for five minutes, with my skirt pulled up to my waist and my panties around my ankles, fantasizing about a pre-decreed image while I stroke my pussy.

  "Really? I'm so glad you enjoy that. Tell me... what are your favorite images? What are the ones that are most likely get you off in five minutes?"

  Most likely? Hell, I always get off. There hasn't been a single time, when, knowing I'm masturbating to his order, I haven't had to bite my lips to contain my moans of pleasure while a workmate or two pee or powder their noses, only feet away.

  "Sometimes I think about you whipping me with a riding crop, while I'm bound across the trestle... without any clothes on." He doesn't make a sound, but in my mind I hear a grunt of satisfaction or even the little exhalation of breath when he lands such a blow. "Or I imagine myself draped across the back of the big armchair, and you're spanking me with one of your leather soled Persian slippers. And no matter how much I cry, you won't stop. You keep on going until your arm is really tired and then you get your cock out and you-"

  "Yes, yes, that's quite enough of that. Go on... more about the punishments, if you don't mind."

  I can't see him, but I can see the clock. I seem to have been talking for hours, but it's only a few minutes. Barely any time at all, he hasn't laid a finger on me, and there's already a little damp patch beneath me, where I've got sticky and aroused and seeped through the cotton of my nightgown and onto the perfect surface of the throw.

  I can't help but think about other ideas he's seeded in my mind. Just remembering them makes my sex ache even more.

  "Sometimes I imagine being at a party... not like the one we met at. It's more of a 'special' party where I'm the star attraction and you punish me in front of an audience, or let other people punish me while you watch them."

  "Sounds interesting. Kindly expatiate."

  I don't laugh but I want to. He uses big words sometimes where smaller ones would do. He's a very educated man... as well as supreme master.

  "Well, it's all men, and me. And each one of them has fifteen minutes to do what they want with me... under your supervision, of course." He'll like that, more "time" involved.

  "The first one is a teacher or something and he makes me bend over as if I'm at school and clasp my ankles. Then he takes my skirt and slip, and pins them up securely. To... to... expose me."

  "Completely?"

  "Um... no. He lashes me with a rubber 'slapper', but he lets me keep my panties on, the white lace ones you really like. Those ones we bought in Paris, you know?"

  "I do know." He sounds stern, but I know he's only faking it. He puts on this very rigorous voice, but I know him. I can hear the laughter, beneath. He's just loving all this. "I just can't believe you'd show your very best knickers, that I bought for us alone, to some stranger, some teacher you barely know."

  "I'm sorry."

  "You'd better be. Pray go one."

  "It hurts a lot, and I nearly fall over, and I cry a lot and it feels as if my bottom's all swollen. Then afterwards he makes me drop my knickers to show everybody there how red I am." Oh God, it's nearly killing me that I can't touch myself. I'm going crazy. Frustration plagues me far harder than any spanking. "And they all laugh because my knickers' crotch is so sticky and they know how turned on I am."

  "Well, that's hardly surprising. You have no self-control whatsoever." It's not the truth. I actually have loads of self-control, thanks to Sebastian, but I know he's only teasing me. "What next?"

  I hesitate a moment. I wish he'd let me look at him, but I've got to remain as still as I can, with my face towards the window and the chest of drawers with the little clock on the top of it. In my mind's eye though, I see Sebastian, lounging in his chair, looking wonderful and so handsome he's almost edible, with his dark hair, his lean strong body and his long elegant hands. In a private act of defiance, I picture him naked, his skin pale, but his cock rosy, and also long and elegant.

  "Megan?" he prompts, and it's a slip, a personal touch. My inner turmoil increases, but in my heart now, not just my body.

  "The next man has a go at me, and amazingly, it's that man off the television that I fancy. You know the one, the guy in the cop show who used to be a fake psychic? I don't know how he's at the party, but it's him and he's into BDSM, even though you wouldn't think it from looking at him on the box..."

  "And moving on to the real point, please?" He's not cross. He doesn't really make any effort to hide his amusement. My crush on the television guy is a running joke between us.

  "He was really strict, and he made me walk around the room with my knickers at half mast, to shame me. Everybody was looking at me, getting off on my embarrassment and the awkward way I had to walk. Especially you..." I'll probably suffer for that, but what the hell. "Then he took me across his knee and spanked me very hard for quite a long time. My bum felt like it was in flames, because of the rubber slapper. He covered every inch. I knew my cheeks were bright red. It was frightful. I thought he was a nice guy until then, but he was a real tartar."

  "And did this treatment turn you on? Did you feel randy because it was your hero?"

  "I was turned on because you were watching." It comes out without pause for any thought. It's the truth.

  "I'm touched. Continue."

  "There was only one more man who wanted a turn. He was older, and some sort of aristocrat, with silver hair and weird blank eyes... very cruel, even more than the others. His voice was very cold and he sounded weary and a bit bored with it all. He ordered me to remove all my clothing then made me climb up on the table, and then he thrashed me with a switch."

  Sebastian says nothing, but I can almost hear him thinking, fantasizing just like me. I hear a rustling. I'm almost certain he's touching himself now, almost certain he's got his beautiful penis out. Oh, if only I could see!

  When he still says nothing, I go on. "He's a consummate disciplinarian, very cruel. He lined up his cuts with almost mechanical precision, and then kept going back to the sorest places, just to ma
ke things worse. I was whining and complaining by the time he eventually finished with me, but my pussy was dripping, dying to be touched."

  "Oh dear God..."

  It's a gasp, almost a sigh of desperation. I've reached his limit, and my own. Defying his strictures, I roll onto my back just as he strides towards me. His cock is out, high and hard, bouncing wickedly as he lunges at me. Within a heartbeat, he's kneeling at my side, and he pushes me back onto my front, holding me down with one powerful hand on the small of my back, while he pumps himself, looming over me.

  Still I strain to look at him, twisting to see him over my shoulder and loving the flush of pink on his razor cheekbones as he masturbates furiously. It takes but a moment or two for him to come heavily, his semen spurting and landing warm on my as yet unpunished bottom.

  "Oh God... oh God, you're devil woman," he pants as he finishes, his chest heaving and his beautiful eyes almost rolling up in his head, "What you do to me... it's... it's amazing."

  The sight of him amazes me. He's so wonderful, so wild, so revealed to me. I'm almost beyond sex, but at the same time drenched in it. I reach beneath myself, find my clit and rub it furiously.

  But Sebastian is astonishing, he recovers in an instant, pitching forward, almost covering me with his own body while he too fishes beneath me, knocks my own hand away and starts rubbing me. He's all over the place; he must be still fazed by his orgasm. But still he manages to work me just how I like it, hard and fast and rough, almost hammering my clit with his fingertip.

  I come immediately, I'm so excited. I thrash hard, flailing about clutching at him where I can reach him, behind me. His sticky cock is jammed against my thigh as I shout his name, soaring, dying... loving.

  *** *** ***

  Afterwards, while I'm still in a dazed glow, he finally does spank me, warming my buttocks thoroughly and efficiently in the time honored way, and making me squeal even though I barely have a voice.

  "Oh my darling," he murmurs, a moment or two later, sliding his hand beneath my belly to raise me up so he can fuck me.

  When he pushes into me, my tears start to flow, but it's not from the pain. I'm crying with happiness, and so is he. We're in pieces with love.

  "I think it's time," he says a few minutes after our mutual climax, while we're lying like spoons and he's warming his hard, flat belly against the heat in my sticky, pulsating bottom.

  "Time for what?" My brain isn't really working properly. What is he talking about? Have I missed something somewhere?

  "For us to take the next step."

  My heart thuds hard. Does he mean what I think he means, or is it just some new level of refinement in the way we play our games together?

  "Megan? Are you listening?" He kisses the back of my neck and I realize I've been hesitating.

  "Yes... but I'm not sure what you mean." I am sure, actually. I know, suddenly in my heart, that it is what I think it is.

  "Oh, I think you do..." His arm tightens around me. His voice sounds just a little bit tense, as if there's a crack in his confidence, a fear of my answer. "But it'll mean you giving up all hope of having a chance with your guy from the telly, or all those other men you fantasize about."

  Despite the way he's holding me, I turn in his arms, not even wincing when my throbbing bottom plagues me. "They're only daydreams, Seb. The only man I really want to spank me is you... You know that." I touch his face, and kiss him lightly to eradicate any possible doubt. "You're a cruel brute sometimes, with a heavy hand, but I can't help but love you."

  He laughs. He knows I'm joking and the only cruelty he wields is beautiful to me.

  "And you're willful and defiant and sometimes you're a terrible submissive, but I can't help but love you too." He's joking too, I know that. Except for the very last element...

  "Very well then, lover boy, it is time. If that next stage of yours is the one I'm thinking of too."

  "Yes! Yes, it is!" he growls happily in my ear, and grabs me hard and close. I barely notice my twinges of pain as he kisses me like fury.

  It's time for my friend and master to become my husband too.

  ###

  The Roses in Your Cheeks

  "But it's freezing outside... Are you sure you want to go out for a walk?"

  Sebastian gives me one of his looks, his very significant looks, as he folds up his newspaper in the sitting room of the Rook's Nest Inn, where we're staying for a bit of a mini break. We haven't been away for quite a while. The last time was our luscious honeymoon in the Caribbean, but that feels like a lifetime ago now. That's the trouble when you get promotion at work. It becomes harder than ever to take a holiday when you want to.

  "Absolutely," he says briskly, unwinding his tall lean frame from the chintz armchair. Even now we're so familiar with each other, I still almost gasp at the instant pang of lust. He's so strong, so powerful, and so dominant. "It'll put some roses in your cheeks, my love. You're looking a bit peaky... you could do with the fresh air." With no further ado he reaches for my hand and leads me out of the room, and away from the cheerful fire I was enjoying.

  Not that I don't expect to enjoy myself elsewhere.

  Roses in your cheeks.

  With Sebastian, that doesn't mean my face.

  The Rook's Nest Inn is a lovely old place, quaint and pretty and surprisingly well appointed for so small an establishment so off the beaten track. But alas, the way it's been renovated to provide for guest bedrooms and en suites, some of the walls are terribly thin. So much so that it's easy to hear the sex lives of the guests staying next door to us; and for them to hear us when we're at it.

  So, no fierce and extended spanking sessions with me moaning and wailing and blubbering. No telltale "whack" of the slipper, the slapper or the cane.

  And it's killing us. No wonder Sebastian wants to get out for a while. I can see the tension and the fire in him as he strides towards the staircase in reception, and feel it as he hustles me up the stairs ahead of him. His hands settle on my bottom to hurry me upwards, and I have to bite my lip, I feel so tense and so bloody yearning too.

  It's not natural for me to go for more than a couple of days without those roses in my cheeks.

  We scurry about our room, getting our things together. I desperately want Sebastian's hands on me, whether to punish or to pleasure, but I can hear our neighbors fussing next door, and if he and I start anything we're bound to be overheard.

  When I slip into the bathroom to check my face and hair, I'm almost shaking. Almost fainting with lust. I've already got a bit of pink in my cheeks, and when I unfasten my jeans and slip my hand into my panties, I'm streaming wet. Sebastian can do that to me with just hints, and looks, and a lift of one elegant dark eyebrow.

  I can't wait to bend over and yield my bottom to his hand.

  When I leave the bathroom, he's waiting for me, looking impatient and already wearing his long, dark Belstaff overcoat. He springs up from the armchair as I reach for my own coat, and stays my hand.

  "Just a minute... Let's make this walk a bit more interesting, shall we?"

  Isn't it going to be interesting enough already, if he has in mind what I think he has in mind? What I pray he has in mind, regardless of the cold?

  Oh... oh... I think it's the sex toys again.

  "Sit down in the chair. Pull down your jeans and panties," he instructs me. His voice sounds crisp and businesslike, but his silver blue eyes are on fire. As I comply, shaking, he fishes in the pocket of his coat and draws out an item.

  A confection of balls and silk cord.

  It seems incongruous, in the man who is my master, but he sinks gracefully down and kneels beside where I'm sitting. There's nothing subservient about it though. He's simply down there for better access. Without so much as a by your leave, he rummages in my fleece and sticks a finger rudely inside me.

  "Well, I thought we might need lube, but you seem to be saturated, dearest," he observes, then shoves in another finger. I groan. I can't help myself, and he murmu
rs, "Hush! The neighbors..."

  And he's right. They're moving about in there, arguing by the sound of it. I don't care what they're up to or whether they hear me. I only stay quiet because Sebastian compels it. Riding his hand, I bite my lips and reach down to try and rub my clit, fingers close to his.

  "Uh oh," he says quietly, shaking his dark curly head. "No pleasure for you just yet, naughty girl."

  Withdrawing his fingers abruptly, he pushes them into my mouth now, and I lick them clean, loving my own foxy flavor. Then he whips out a snowy handkerchief to dry them... and sets about me again with the objects from his pocket which he'd placed to one side.

  "Right. You know the drill. Knees apart, ankles together. Push up. Open yourself wide."

  Breathing heavily I obey him, lifting my hips as best I can, and displaying my pussy.

  Sebastian seems to consider lube again, but after a moment, he just presses the first of a pair of Chinese love balls against my entrance and shoves it into me without pause or mercy. It's quite a big one, quite a stretch, and my fingernails gouge the chair arm as he pushes it home, following up immediately and just as uncompromisingly with the second.

  I'm stuffed. Beleaguered. Filled up. Bulging. How on earth will I be able to walk, feeling like this?

  I gasp, hardly able to contain myself, but he gives me a firm look and I clamp my teeth together. I suppose I should be grateful that he hasn't put a plug in my bottom too, but the moment I think of that the perverse side of me wishes he had!

  "Come on, let's go for that walk," he says briskly hauling me out of my chair and reaching for my coat. I'm barely on my feet before I'm panting hard, wracked with sensation as the balls roll and rock. "Hurry up, Megan... Let's get out of here," he admonishes, just as if there's absolutely nothing out of the ordinary and we're simply doing what most couples staying at a nice country inn do; which is, going out for a simple, pleasant walk.

  He helps me into my coat and scarf like a devoted valet assisting his exalted employer. He treats me like cut glass, but all the time he's hiding a smirk at the thought of what's going on inside me. The way the balls roll and tilt makes me hot, and all of a flutter. I doubt if I'll feel the cold with all this heat on the boil.