by Lamont, Tess
Sex.
How could something so common be so good? When she’d been married to Joe, she’d declined as much as she’d acquiesced. Too tired, too stressed, just plain not in the mood—all her excuses had seemed reasonable enough at the time. Now, she wondered what the hell she had been thinking.
Then again, Joe was no Bryce. A good fuck with the right man was utterly essential to life.
“Be right back.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, she stared at the sprinkler valve against the popcorn ceiling and calmed her breath. Orgasm and all, she had yet to get her fill of him. Would she ever? When his thighs had slapped against her ass, her anticipation for a spanking grew. With a few well-placed whacks, she might well go all night. Just how many condoms had he brought?
He emerged naked, having rid himself of the condom, washed and shed the rest of his clothes. He tossed his jeans and shirt over the chair beside the bed and sank back onto the mattress. She rolled against him, rested her arm across his chest and propped her head up with her hand. She smiled.
“Hi,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face.
“Hi,” she replied. What else was there to say? Why talk when their bodies seemed so much better at communicating? “Worn out?”
“No.” His low laugh rumbled underneath her arm and breast. “I could use a minute, though.”
She melted against his body and shivered with a deep breath.
“You cold?” he asked, concerned.
“A little,” she confessed. “But don’t worry; you’re a god-damned furnace.”
“My librarian has the mouth of a truck driver.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, creating more warmth with a pleasant sort of friction.
“No kid. No school. I have to get it all out.”
He coughed. “Not the only thing you have to get out, huh?”
She raised her eyebrows and snorted. “Guess not.”
Christina closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the heated, smooth skin just below his chest.
“Mmm,” he murmured.
Her cunny tingled at sound of his pleasure. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the way he’d praised her body, the way he’d trailed his fingers in places she never before longed to be touched. She wanted to explore his body, too.
Gently, very gently, she smoothed her fingertips against the side of his thighs. His body relaxed as he gave himself up to her caress. Bolder now, she crawled to her knees. Pushing her feet toward his head, she undulated, stretching toward his feet. She took one foot in both hands and massaged.
He propped his head against his elbow. “Nice.”
She damn well could have purred.
She’s read about reflexology...the idea that parts of the foot corresponded with parts of the body. What better time to test the theory? She ran her fingers hard under his arch and pleasure-pain flashed across Bryce’s features. She pressed down against the top of the ball of his foot and he eased back into the pillows. She rubbed against the pale, inner part of his toes.
Service left her with a funny, inverted kind of power—the power of his full attention.
Happy though he seemed to be, he was quite obviously not aroused...yet. Had it been long enough? Maybe if they were both twenty.
She let him rest as she concentrated on his other foot. But her mischievous feeling returned. She parted his smallest toe and carefully, deliberately ran her tongue against the hidden skin.
The sensation was surprisingly soft and dry. She sucked against the soft webbing. His cock twitched and he opened one eye.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Well,” she said. “I was considering whether or not I wanted to run my tongue along the inside of your leg from here,” she tickled his ankle with her fingertips, “all the way up,” she dragged her nails slowly along his inner leg and grinned with delight as he grew harder, “to—”
He grabbed her hand just before she reached his balls. Sitting up, he pulled her toward him. Their lips met above his full erection.
****
Damn. Hard again. That had to be a record. Then again, Bryce had never before had his toes sucked. He placed his hands on either side of her face and closed his eyes, concentrating on probing her mouth’s soft openness. If he could have made their kiss go on all afternoon, he would have. Something was happening between them, something huge—and he didn’t just mean his cock.
Call it instinct or call it fear, either way he wasn’t ready to face it. He broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his.
“Want to see what’s in the bag?”
Christina mewed and shivered under his fingertips. His cock jerked in response.
Not yet. He’d already fucked up his plan to turn her into the squirming, panting mess she’d been their first time. To catch up would take some work and he was going to have to show some restraint.
He smirked.
And some expert restraining, too.
At first, he’d gone simple: a roll of pink bondage tape, lube, and a ridiculously large feather for sensation play. He was going to stop there, figuring if she really enjoyed herself, he’d buy cuffs and rope for their next scene.
Then, he’d remembered her warning: don’t even think about nipple clamps.
Though he’d never expose her to anything that caused her true terror, instinct told him she wanted to be pushed, just a little. He’d seen the way her eyes sparkled as she looked at the clamps. She was afraid, but curious. And definitely interested.
What was a dominant guy to do? Challenge his charge, of course.
Clover clamps were out—too big and scary and the sensation would be too much for a novice. The sex-shop owner had suggested tweezer clamps instead. Helpfully, he’d given Bryce a quick demonstration. Bryce had chosen a pair with a beaded chain. He chuckled when the owner said he hoped Bryce’s lady would, “Wear it in good health.”
“Ready to play?” Bryce asked.
Christina sucked in her lower lip and nodded.
****
Bryce’s kiss had left her hot and ready, and she was eager to see what he planned. He pulled out what looked like a roll of shiny pink tape.
“That looks like it’s gonna hurt,” she said, unable to stop the quiver in her voice.
“Nah. Bondage tape is like plastic wrap...it only sticks to itself.” His grin was evil, but his words reassured.
She cast him a doubtful glance, but remembered how it felt to be tied with his shirt and swallowed. “Okay.”
He pulled the tape from the package and said, “First, choose a safe word.”
He had explained safe words in the car. She was supposed to pick a word, and use the word only if the scene became too intense. If she said her safe word, Bryce would stop. No questions asked.
Her mind went blank, gaze fixed on the roll of tape. “Ice cream.”
“Good choice,” he laughed. “Are you ready?”
Her heart flip-flopped. “Yes.”
He cut a ribbon of tape, pulled her up off the bed, and stepped behind her back.
“Christina,” his breath fanned across her upper back, “you are my hot little plaything from the moment this tape touches your skin. You will not speak without permission, you will answer every question and you will do everything I say.”
His fingers brushed against her skin, but she could not see him coil the tape around her wrists. He looped the flimsy plastic again and again until it became tight like rope and just as inescapable.
“Do you feel any tingling?”
She wiggled her fingers. “No.”
“Can you get out?”
She yanked. The tape stretched as if it would to break, but the give ended abruptly. The smooth plastic surface grew instantly hot and her skin dampened under her bind. “No.”
“Just no?”
She furrowed her brow, and then she remembered. In the scene, she was supposed to answer with his name. “No, Bryce.”
“That’s better.”
He ran his hands up and down her shoulders. “Today, you will address me as sir.”
Ah, yes. Why did that detail curl her toes?
“Yes, sir.”
He shimmied her crumpled skirt down over her hips and repeated the motion, leaving her panties stretched at mid-thigh. Then, he disappeared from the mirror.
Christina heard the unmistakable rustle of fabric from behind. Her hair lifted in a whoosh of air and a blanket fluttered to the floor.
“Sanitary concerns,” he quipped as he smoothed out the wrinkles. “You never know who has been here before.”
His gesture struck her as thoughtful, but before she could get all warm and fuzzy he demanded she kneel.
She eased herself to her knees, glad the mirror was no longer in her line of sight. As sexy as she felt, as ready for his command as she was, she didn’t think she could handle seeing herself bound and prostrate.
Her throat dried with uncertainty as he cupped her chin and raised her face. He winked.
A warm pool of want spread through her chest. With Bryce, she’d be safe, no matter what.
“Face to the blanket,” he ordered in his cunny-slicking tone.
Her arms strained and the soft heat of the plastic tape slid along her back as she lowered her forehead to the ground. Breathing slow and even, she waited.
…and waited.
Her breath’s sound filled her mind as impatience gnawed. What the hell was he doing? She fought the urge to peek at his feet.
She wanted him to touch her, to slide his hot hands over her body and order her to open for him. She wanted to hear the low rumble of his voice giving her commands. She wanted him to spank her like he said he would. She wanted…
She stopped breathing.
The scene wasn’t supposed to be about what she wanted. The scene was supposed to be about submitting to Bryce—trusting him to fulfill desires she only partially understood. With his silence, he was reminding her and testing her resolve.
Thirty seconds as a submissive and already she’d messed up. She concentrated on sheet wrinkled against her forehead and the cool air conditioning tickling her raised derrière.
Her mind slowed and she moved her awareness. Her breasts hung heavy—tingling and ready. Her toes stretched as they curled under. And her mound? Well, she could feel the folds of her outer lips, the throbbing of her clit, and the dampness seeping from her slit.
While she controlled her attention, she kept her body in perfect stillness but for the small movement created by her breath.
Just as she found her groove, he kneeled. The hot roughness of his knuckles separated the crook of her ass. Her first impulse was to clench, but she resisted, staying open.
God, but she craved the feeling of his hands on her skin. After so long a silence, so long an absence, his hands felt like heaven. The baby-smooth heat of what must have been his cock caressed her crevice.
“I want to take you here, Christina,” he said as he teased her ass. “Would you like that?”
Christina sucked her bottom lip through her teeth. Would she? Her mind went blank, again. He moved away.
“You promised to answer when I ask a question.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and thought better of it.
He planted on foot on either side of her body. “You are kneeling in what’s called a whipping position…for good reason.”
His hand crashed against the fleshiest part of her raised bum with a resounding crack.
Ohmygod.
She gasped from the sting. Pain rang like a howl in her ears—pain and a burning hot desire.
“I—I’m sorry, Bryce...sir. I—I think I—I mean I might like it.” Her words tumbled out as her mind pleaded, spank me again, please, please, please.
He rubbed his hand over the sting as her breath came hard and heavy.
“Later, we’ll discuss the ways I’ll take you. Right now, you will learn your lesson.”
Yes, sir. PLEASE teach me my lesson.
Whack. Christina sucked in air like a person coming up from ocean depths. But before she had time to think…
Whack. Pain and heat spread through her ass and she bucked.
Whack. Her scream gurgled against the blanket.
Whack. She clenched her teeth.
Whack. Pain rolled like sound waves in and out of her core.
It hurt. There wasn’t any sugarcoating the sting. Her eyes watered and her knees slipped, but her pussy was wetter than ever.
He slipped fingers hot with friction down over her slit. Involuntary quivers shook her thighs. He was good. She knew he would be. His palm was limp but fingers firm. His hand landed on the fleshiest area, and his smacks alternated between cheeks. Bryce knew exactly what he was doing. He was punishing, yes, but making sure she enjoyed every blow.
Whack.
Her spanking continued and the sound of his labored breath became her lifeline. Her body jiggled on the beat of his palm. But then, the edge of her razor sharp pain crumbled to something broader, more diffuse. Her mind struggled to a precipice and suddenly it felt as if she were falling.
She blinked away tears. Her forehead ached with her body’s weight. She cried out, guttural and low, releasing her tension.
He stopped and knelt over her, scissoring her ribs with his thighs. His hands glided lightly, in rhythmic motion. She concentrated on his touch.
He rested his hard prick in her bound hands. She wanted to cup his cock’s smoothness. But, though he murmured comforting words and tenderly diffused the sting, she didn’t dare move without permission.
Her head grew dizzy and her agony melted into euphoria. She still burned, but she felt so light.
He slid back over her body, resting on his haunches as he drew her face up from the sheet. His face was flushed, his eyes dark and wide.
“Good girl.”
She’d never been as attracted to a man as she was right then.
He wasn’t done, she could see it in the color of his skin, feel it in the urgency of his touch. And there was, of course, the matter of his rock-hard dick. She waited for direction with her pulse beating in her throat.
“Now, we balance your burn.” He dangled a beaded chain. What appeared to be rubber-covered tweezers adorned each end.
No.
She glanced down at her pebbled nipples and a chilling sensation tripped down her arms. The security of her safe word dangled alongside of the chain.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She could refuse, she knew. “Yes, sir.”
She did trust him. He’d shown thought for her safety at every stage of play. But, her nipples were so sensitive and those tweezers looked pretty damn unforgiving.
She started to quake and closed her eyes.
“Tell me your thoughts—all of them.”
She swallowed. “I can’t handle nipple pain, sir.”
He dipped down, taking one nipple between his teeth. His gentle sucking made her moan. Lightly, he bit. Electric shocks of pain shot through her core like an internal shiver. He released. The after-burn left her licking her lips.
“Very good,” he said. “Still afraid?”
Letting him clamp her nipples while her hands were bound required deeper trust than she had granted. Could she offer up her fear and depend on him to lead her through the mire of trembling incoherence?
Her shoulders ached from her binds, but as she sat up on her knees, she rolled them back anyway. She made her decision. She was ready.
“No, sir. I am not afraid.”
She sucked in and held her breath as Bryce secured a hard, dark nipple in a tweezer and pushed up the tiny ring. Pinching tightness plucked strings of pain that reverberated through her center. Hurt, yes, but not as intense as she’d expected.
When he’d clamped both nipples, Bryce sat back on his heels, satisfied. Determined to please Bryce and conquer her fear, she played with sensation. She closed her eyes and deepened her breath. Deep tissue pinch in her nipples was mirrored by a clenching f
ullness between her legs.
The chain swung between her breasts as he came to his knees. Her gaze dropped to his cock. Damn. Her ass throbbed, her nipples stung and still she wanted to wrap her tongue around his prick and suck.
“Pink tape and nipple chains work on you,” he said.
“All the rage this season.” She took a breath. “Sir.”
He drew her up by her shoulders so she rested on her knees. When he stood, his erection pulsed at lip-level.
“Next on the menu: me.”
Yes, dear. She tried to wrap her lips around his cock but he stopped her.
“Oops,” he said. “Almost forgot.”
He hooked the chain over his erection. Where the hell did he come up with that? She gasped as her tits strained upward, pulled by the chain.
“Take as much of me as you can. I don’t care if you drool.”
Christina didn’t think; she sucked. Using the present-moment awareness she’d discovered, she took his length to the back of her mouth, expecting to gag. She didn’t. She opened her throat and relaxed her tongue, enjoying his salty taste.
He gripped her hair and guided her head, making her feel like a creature made for his pleasure.
Her nipples wrenched upward as she took him to her throat, sending shards of cut-glass pain stinging through her tits. She gyrated—deep, deliberate. Agony in her nipples alternated with torment at her jaw, but only Bryce’s voice could make her stop.
She was dizzy with the sweet-musk scent of him and relished the feeling of his hand clutching her hair. Hot and horny and determined, she slid her tongue up and down, memorizing his curves, his ridges, his most sensitive areas.
His balls practically disappeared into his body. “Enough.”
Pushing her supine, he removed the clamps.
Fuck. The searing pain she’d expected when he had first clamped her now blossomed in blinding brilliance. Her raw, bruised nipples ached from their rosy tips straight through to the bottom of her stomach. Part angry and fully aroused, she panted deep as she waited for direction.
He cut through her bindings.
“Get down on your back and Spread.” Bryce’s words were barely intelligible.
She spread her legs as wide as they would go. Her heavy breath shook her body as she watched him slide on another condom.
