“Is the little piggy ready to squeal for me?”
In a single text, Ben had already reduced her to a quivering mess. Margaret bit her lower lip as she read the text a few more times, allowing the delicious degradation to sink in.
“Yes,” is all she wrote back.
She said her goodbyes to her friends, and walked to the elevators. Having showered and shaved already, she had no need to go back to her room. Entering the empty elevator, she pushed the number for Ben’s floor. As the doors were closing an arm reached in, causing them to automatically open again.
It was Jonathan.
Margaret hoped this was not intentional on his part, but knew that was wishful thinking - which was confirmed as soon as the doors closed.
“Are you fucking him, Margaret?”
Deciding it was best to say nothing, she continued to look straight forward, wishing Ben wasn’t on the fourteenth floor.
He walked over to her and stood inches away. His anger filled the elevator.
“I asked, are you fucking him?”
Margaret’s fury was now rising too.
“Jonathan, don’t think for a second that I don’t still have those pictures, or that I wouldn’t use them to fuck up your life very badly if you don’t knock this shit off.”
A malicious grin formed on his face as he responded.
“And don’t you think that I don’t have those recordings. You’re a pretty sick girl, Margaret, letting those assholes beat the shit out of you.”
The elevator doors opened and Margaret looked frantically both ways, trying to remember which way they’d gone last night. Shit. She didn’t have his room number. Jonathan was following her down the hallway, clearly thinking she was heading to her room.
“Stop following me Jonathan - I don’t want to turn you in, dammit. We had some good years, but let it go.”
As she was walking down the hall she hoped Ben’s room was on, she texted him.
“Room number? Come out.”
As soon as she’d finished, Jonathan grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall - his breathing erratic.
In the same moment, her phone chimed and a door opened from back where they’d just passed. Jonathan heard it too and moved away from her. Ben walked out of his doorway, then ran towards them.
“What is this? What’s going on?”
“Just get him the hell away from me, Ben.”
Ben turned to Jonathan.
“We can do this two ways - both are fine by me, but either way, you’re getting the hell away from her now, and for that matter, always.”
Jonathan walked away, but not before adding, “You’ll never have again what we had together, Margaret. No one will take care of you the way I did.”
She felt like throwing up as the adrenaline and alcohol she’d consumed on an empty stomach caught up with her.
Oh god… what Ben must think.
As they walked back to his room, Ben asked, “Why were you with him?”
“He followed me into the elevator after my alumni party. I didn’t know he was still so angry.”
“Will you tell me now what happened between the two of you?”
“Yes, but do you have any food?”
Ben pulled out bags of pretzels and nuts, which she took eagerly, along with a glass of water.
As she ate, Margaret told him everything. She had no reason to lie, but was concerned he’d be disappointed in her. She told of how they’d started - how good it had been - admitting to the guilt she felt about sleeping around on him, even with his blessing. Ashamed, she confessed to letting Jonathan take over her life until she had little independence from him. Finally, she showed Ben the pictures of her beating, which she still kept on her phone out of fear of him.
Ben looked thoughtfully at her. No judgment in his eyes.
“I hope you know you have nothing to be ashamed about. He’s a pretty fucked up guy. You didn’t make him that way - he was just good at hiding it for as long as he did.”
Margaret sighed.
“I know… and I don’t know. It was hard seeing him again.”
Ben went over to the two-seat couch she was sitting on and sat down. Without words he pulled her into his arms until her head rested on his chest. Margaret allowed herself to absorb his calm strength for the next few minutes - the sound of his heartbeat soothed her while his hand played idly through her hair. It was so… nice.
Ben felt Margaret’s body stiffen before she disentangled herself from his arms. Her hair was a mess and her cheek red where it had rested on him. He thought she looked beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t what you wanted for tonight.”
“It’s just fine, Margaret. Whatever you want.”
Her body in his arms had felt good - felt right. He’d be more than happy to hold her all night, but by her suddenly closed off demeanor he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He also knew that he wasn’t going to let her leave either. If she wanted to play - he’d play. She stood there before him, looking unsettled and unfocused. He could focus her.
“Come over here. I want to show you something.”
She wordlessly followed him towards the bathroom, stopping briefly at the bed where he’d laid out all of the items from the exhibition hall. She was so expressive. He watched as she took in every one of them and could see that whatever melancholy had taken hold after her altercation with Jonathan was being quickly replaced by nervous energy. Unconsciously her eyes had widened and her breaths increased. Margaret’s eyes darted from one instrument of torture to the other, and he thought he almost saw her crack a smile.
When they approached the bathroom door, he showed her the two belts that hung from the closed door. One belt was the worn brown leather one that he’d worn the night before, the other was a black dress belt. He was a little concerned the smaller dress belt might cause circulation issues.
“Are you up for this tonight?”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Then get your fucking clothes off - we’ve already wasted enough time.”
He watched her flinch as he said that. Perhaps she had enjoyed their cuddle on the couch after all.
As she wordlessly stripped, Ben removed the belts from the door. He could feel both his cock and his heart grow hard. Any compassion he’d felt only minutes earlier was shelved for the time being, allowing the sadist in him to run wild. The one who wanted to watch tears and cum drip down her face. The one who wanted to see what kind of screams he could draw out of her… what kind of shame he could evoke.
Ignoring her nudity as if he wasn’t affected by it, Ben coldly wrapped one belt around her wrist, pulling the length through the buckle until it was sung around. He did the same with the black belt, checking and rechecking that the pressure wasn’t too tight. Once her arms were bound, he pushed her backwards until she was just in front of the doorway. He then pushed her forearms up until her hands were raised over her head, positioned the belts over the door itself and closed the door. He knew the leather would get damaged, but didn’t really give a damn.
He watched as Margaret pulled at her bindings, appearing surprised by how effective they were.
“You’d think you’d know better than to let a bastard like me tie you up, Doctor. Perhaps you haven’t learned your lesson yet… but you will.”
As he walked away from her, he could almost feel the daggers she stared through his back. Picking up the long sponge forceps, he ratcheted them closed and open a few times to ensure they would readily come off if need be. The handle gave them the appearance of scissors, but instead of blades, long metal rods extended from the joint, the ends of which were circular and connected together at varying intensities depending on how many ‘clicks’ the user chose to close it. There were small serrations on the ovoid ends that ensured a sponge would never escape its grasp.
Ben was feeling pleased with his new toys, and chose to amuse himself using the fucktoy bound to his door as
a guinea pig. He tried the clamps out on various parts of her body, starting with her earlobes. He didn’t ask if he could remove the lapis earrings, he just did. He clamped first one ear, then the other. Not quite satisfied with the mild groan she let out, he squeezed the handle twice more until she began quivering and pleading for him to take them off. Margaret tried to stay still, having figured out that the more she jerked around, the more the clamps would swing. He watched her face closely. Waiting.
Ah… Here they come. Perfect.
Tears not only were forming, but they quickly streaked down her face. She cried and pleaded, but never mentioned her safeword. He removed both clamps at the same time, excited by her stifled scream. Apparently she had no desire to be interrupted by nosy neighbors any more than he did.
He tried a few more places - cunt lips, tongue, belly button - before settling on her areolas and nipples. Instead of using the circular serrated tip, he clamped the tender flesh between the body of the forceps in a vertical position. The effect was intensely obscene. He loved it.
“Well, Doctor, I don’t think I’ll ever see those forceps in the same light again. Instead I’ll always remember how they looked at this moment with your nipples crushed between them.”
Margaret was looking down at them herself, before she shut her eyes tightly. He suspected that looking only made the pain worse. She was panting now, which caused her chest to lift with each breath.
Leaving her once more, he came back with a handful of cups in varying size, along with the pump. From his pocket he pulled out the menthol ointment.
“I think the ointment the rep used was just plain petroleum. I suppose this will have to do. Ben dipped his finger into the jar, rubbed it around the rim of one cup, then placed it over the rounded swell of one of her breasts, just to the outside of the clamp. Attaching the pump, he squeezed one… two… then three times. Soft flesh ballooned into the cup as air was sucked out.
“Ah!” Margaret cried out as blood rushed to the abused tissue.
Ben repeated the same action on the other breast, and once finding his rhythm, decided to place all ten of them on various parts of her belly, hips and thighs too. He was left with the smallest cup, which was cylindrical in its shape and approximately two centimeters in diameter. Instead of just coating the rims with the menthol, he made a point to coat the entire inner surface with it.
As he was doing this, he casually asked, “You do know where this is going, slut… don’t you?”
He looked at her, covered in cups and clamps - her body distorted for his pleasure - and hers, he supposed.
“Yes.” She gasped out through dry lips.
“Tell me, cunt.”
“My… my clit.”
The look of anguish that overtook her features was exactly what he’d hoped for.
He approached her slowly, relishing her anticipation. Using his thumb and forefinger, he touched her pussy for the first time all evening, but only to part the lips as far from her clitoris as well as he could. The little bud was already erect and exposed from its hood. Ben worked the rim of the cup around her clit, creating a good seal at its base.
A high-pitched moan escaped from her chest.
“Feeling the menthol already, are we? It’s bit more intense than toothpaste, I suspect.”
Ben attached the pump and watched closely as he squeezed it three times slowly, one after the other. Her clit elongated and expanded with each pump, slipping easily over the ointment covered walls. Its color darkened as blood rushed in and was trapped.
Removing the pump, the distended clit encased inside the clear cylinder stood straight out from her pelvis. Margaret was writhing in her bindings as tears wet her cheeks and chest.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t…” was spilling unfettered from her lips.
Ben dropped the pump and stepped in front of her. Shoving two fingers deep inside her pussy, his hand was immediately soaked. Removing it, he smeared the juices over her face and lips. He removed both forceps from her breasts in quick succession and watched as the abused areolas and nipples remained in their squashed position. He used his hands to squeeze them hard, resulting in even louder shrieks.
Once again, those beautiful eyes looked otherworldly as the gold flakes seemed to multiply and shine on him.
One after the other, Ben released the safety valves on the cups, allowing air to reenter and the seal to be broken. He removed all but the one on her clitoris. Dark purple-red rings of varying sizes marred her perfect pale skin in an abstract pattern. As she jumped from one foot to the other, attempting to cope with the myriad of stimuli her body was processing, Ben mused that she was doing a dance of pain.
Curious to see what would happen, he pulled gently on the cylinder around her clit.
“Oh, Ben…,” was her lustful reply.
Encouraged, he pinched it between his fingers and began jerking it up and down over her clit. The hood pulled up and down over the engorged base, almost like a foreskin.
“Look at that, pig. You’ve got a girl-dick.”
Margaret appeared beyond caring about whatever he was saying, and was thrashing her hips against his hand, following the rhythm he’d started.
“Ah ah ah ah…,” she cried out until she exploded in a cacophony of grunts and groans that came forth with no inhibition.
Releasing the valve, he removed the cylinder from her clit and watched it shrink almost to its normal size - although the color remained an erotic crimson hue.
He thought about the titanium rod back on the bed.
I think I can save that one for tomorrow night.
Ben hugged her body to his with one arm as he opened the door to the bathroom with the other. Margaret collapsed against him, not even trying to stand on her own. She whimpered as circulation returned to her arms, but had little energy to do much else.
A good man would let her rest. He’d wash her up and tuck her into bed. Instead, Ben brought her to the bed and flipped her onto her back. Stripping from his clothes, he quickly sheathed his prick and climbed onto the bed. Pushing her thighs back to her belly, her ass and cunt presented themselves to him.
It’s time to sample that ass.
He dipped a few times into her pussy for a little lubrication, then without preparing her ass pushed himself forcefully against the ring.
Met with resistance, he instructed his half asleep companion, “Let me in, cunt, or you’re going to feel what a titanium rod feels like shoved up your ass.”
With that, he felt her ring accept him and he bore down until he was balls-deep.
So fucking tight.
Ben took his time, alternating between longs slow strokes and faster, piston-like jerks. Her used body loosely flopped under him, but fully awake now, she was looking up at Ben with total acceptance and serenity.
He came screaming a stream of obscenities, but by the time he pulled out of her, all he wanted to do was hold her tight in his arms. He encouraged her to walk to the bathroom and relieve herself before she fell asleep. She walked gingerly, and didn’t argue when he remained in the bathroom with her. He followed suit, and then returned her to the bed. Laying on his back, he pulled Margaret over until her head rested once more on his chest and his arm holding her tight.
Margaret whispered, “I guess I’m staying the night.”
He whispered back to her, “I guess you are.”
Chapter Ten
The next two days and nights played out in a similar manner. Lectures by day, rough sex by night, followed by breakfast the next morning. Matching stripes now adorned the backs of her thighs where Ben had caned her with the titanium rod the night before. Without telling him, Margaret sat in on the lectures he presented. Remembering how awkward he’d been anytime he’d had to speak in class, she was impressed by his composure, humor, and intelligent delivery. She also enjoyed the naughty thrill of sitting in a room with a few hundred other attendees and being the only one who knew what the lecturer had been up to last night.
Wha
t hadn’t happened between them though, was any discussion of what would come when they got back to Portland. Margaret was struggling with this. She was feeling her separation of work and private life policy slipping, but the idea of dating another surgeon, after Jonathan, still terrified her. Also, she’d grown to love the staff she worked with, along with her new city and would hate to have to relocate once more.
Not to mention that Ben is still in a relationship.
By the morning of their last day in Boston, Margaret had securely put up her walls, resolved that it would be best to enjoy the weekend for what it was, then go back to their regular, separate lives. That task may have been easier if they didn’t share the same flight home that afternoon.
Ben had appeared to have woken up in a great mood, but she watched it fall flat when she chose not to shower and stay for breakfast, making the excuse that she was meeting with her friend Carol and would rather get ready in her own hotel room. In fact, she’d mentioned, her day was pretty full and would just meet him later in the lobby when it was time to catch the airport shuttle.
While at the airport, Sarah had called him. She’d tried not to listen, but only feebly. It had sounded like he was trying to tell her she didn’t have to pick him up, but eventually relented and agreed to text her upon landing. Margaret grimaced at the prospect of meeting Sarah, but figured Ben would care for it even less. He remained quiet after getting off the phone, the conversation they’d been having prior to the call apparently dropped.
Seems like Ben already has his head in Portland. I guess that answers that.
Margaret’s mood was sinking fast. They’d made plans to see if once again someone would switch seats with one of them so they could sit together, but the idea of five and a half hours of struggling to make conversation didn’t appeal to her.
She turned to him.
“Ben, I’ve got some work I need to do. I think I’d rather just sit alone.”
Her voice had broken up whatever thoughts he’d been having in that moment, and he just looked at her.
The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set) Page 39
