Darker

by Ashe Barker

  He withdraws his fingers, leans over me, still standing between my widespread legs, his hands planted at either side of my shoulders.

  “How does that feel?”

  I shake my head, unsure. I give a tentative little squeeze, and can feel the balls pressing against my inner walls. It feels…odd, definitely not unpleasant, but not especially remarkable either. “Fine. I think…”

  “Fine, you think? Not nearly good enough, Miss Byrne.” And with no further ado he lifts me from the bale and plants me back on my feet in front of him. He takes both my hands in his and steps back. I step forward to follow him, and the balls shift.

  “Christ!” I splutter, and double up. Nathan laughs, moves to stand behind me and straightens me. The balls lurch sideways again as I move and I gasp. I’d be doubled up again, or on the floor possibly, but for Nathan holding me upright.

  “Now how does it feel?” He murmurs the words into my ear, and I lean back against him, let him take my weight as I concentrate on the weird and absolutely wonderful sensations coursing through me. The lovely little eggs tilt and roll, the uneven weights pulling them in one direction then another, every movement of mine causing them to shift again. Instinctively I squeeze and grip them, but even though the eggs themselves might remain still, more or less, the inner weights are still loose and mobile, and causing the most exquisite friction deep inside my vagina.

  “Eva, tell me how it feels now.” His tone is insistent—my Dom expects an answer.

  “Fabulous. Indescribable. It’s like… Like…” My words trail away as he steps backwards, drawing me with him, and the eggs give another glorious little tumble inside me. I groan, and suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to stroke my own clit. I start to reach for it, but he anticipates my action and grabs my hand.

  “Not yet, my sexy little sub. Maybe later. First there’s the matter of your disrespect and disobedience earlier. And you didn’t finish what you were saying.”

  “Please, I need to come. Again. Please let me…”

  “No. You’ll come when I say so. Now, you walk.”

  “I can’t walk. I can’t move a muscle. Every time I do these things move and…”

  “I know how they work. I’m wondering about making you walk back to Black Combe with them still inside you. It might take a while, but it’ll take your mind off flowers and grass.”

  “I can’t. Please don’t…”

  “Okay, not all the way home then. But you can manage to stagger over to that water trough over there, and back here. You just need to grip the balls tight. Squeeze them hard and you’ll be fine.”

  I glance up and see the water trough about fifteen feet away. And it might as well be fifteen miles. I don’t think I can manage more than one or two steps and stay upright. The sensations are not painful, or uncomfortable. They are simply wonderful. And completely overwhelming.

  Gently he pushes me upright until I’m taking my own weight again, then quickly lets go of me, steps around me and over to the target water trough. He stands in front of it, facing me. “Get a grip, girl, and come here.”

  I recognise that tone, and I know I need to get one foot in front of the other and do this. It’s only a few steps, and now at least I know what to expect. Sure enough, the first couple of shuffling paces are difficult, slow-going as I clench convulsively around the wildly rolling and tumbling eggs, instinctively working my inner muscles in an attempt to draw them deeper inside. He’s patient, makes no attempt to hurry me as I inch forward, and my confidence quickly grows. Too quickly. The final couple of steps are made at near normal speed, and the Ben Wa balls go into overdrive. I lurch forward, and so does Nathan, catching me before I fall. He sweeps me up and carries me back to the bale of hay where my jacket is still spread out enticingly. He plants me back on my feet, and I lean against the bale, savouring the continuing motion of the balls.

  “Right, that’s enough exercise for today, I think. Maybe you could wear those around the house in future, get used to the feeling.” He catches my look of astonished scorn and chuckles. “Ah, but you’ll thank me in later life. It’ll do wonders for your pelvic floor.”

  “Fuck my pelvic floor…” I’m muttering darkly, but he catches it and laughs out loud.

  “Not sure that’s possible, love. Let me think about it. And that’s another piece of disrespect to add to today’s tally. Your bottom will be sore. Maybe you should shut up now.”

  I’ve opened my mouth to speak again, and what I had in mind to say was far from respectful. He’s right, I definitely should shut up now.

  I don’t, though. “What tally? What did I do?”

  “You took the piss when you called me sir. And there was that ‘talking balls’ comment. And you closed your eyes when I distinctly told you not to. Earlier, when I was finger-fucking you.”

  “But that was when I came. I couldn’t… I mean, how could I—?”

  “And I didn’t give permission for you to come either, but as I hadn’t expressly told you to wait I’m letting that go. Not anymore, though. You’ll wait until I tell you it’s okay before you climax again. Is that clear? Any questions?”

  I shake my head—it all seems fairly clear.

  “What are you going to do?” I know he intends to punish me, that at least is obvious. And I’m incredibly aroused now, just thinking about it. I guess I’m really connecting with my submissive side at last. Or maybe it’s these bloody balls that are shifting my perspective. Whatever, I’m distinctly interested in whatever’s coming next.

  “I’m going to bend you over this nice bale of hay here and spank your bottom. Hard. And you’re going to keep perfectly still, because every time you move those balls will shift and roll and you’ll be that bit closer to orgasming. And you know you’re not allowed to do that, don’t you, Eva?”

  I gaze at him, my eyes wide. I’m confused, incredibly aroused and somehow managing to be scared as well. I know a spanking is fine, quite nice actually, but with those balls inside me? And not allowed to move? I doubt I’ll be able to keep still for long.

  He’s watching me carefully, sees the myriad of expressions cross my face. “I see you’re really starting to get it, this little game of ours. Enjoy, Eva, if you can. Now you can. And if you think you might struggle to obey me about keeping still you can always ask me to tie you up if that would be easier.”

  I take a moment to think about that then lift my gaze to his. “I… Yes, I think it might be. Please.”

  He nods then strides across the barn, before returning a few moments later with some rope and a handful of those plastic cable ties you can buy at DIY shops. And I smell a rat. A metaphorical one this time

  “How did you know where those were? Did you plan all this?”

  He smiles at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “Indeed I did, sweetheart. I always do.”

  “I see. And I suppose you brought a whip or something too.”

  “No, I’m more of a cane man myself, as you know. Or I used to be. Tom likes whips, though—I could ask him if you like. Hold out your hands, please.”

  My head still whirling a little from the casual remark about Tom, I dutifully hold my hands out. He deftly loops a cable tie around each wrist, pulls it just tight enough to not allow my hands to slip through, and uses a third to fasten the two plastic loops together. Then he walks around to the other side of the bale and picks up the length of rope. He threads this through the baling cord holding the huge cube of hay together, and looks at me. “Bend over the bale, please, and stretch out your arms.”

  I do as I’m asked, and he loops the rope between my wrists and around the central connecting cable tie, pulling it tight. I’m neatly fastened in place, my bottom conveniently positioned for spanking, or whatever else he might have in mind. Nathan doesn’t move back around, though, not yet. Instead he leans casually on another bale of hay behind him, apparently ready for a chat.

  “Safe words, Eva. Are we still using ‘red’?”

  I nod.

  “Tha
t’s fine, just checking. I was intending to use my hand on that gorgeous little arse of yours, but if you want me to I can probably find something else. Do you have a particular preference?”

  I shake my head. “No, whatever you think’s best.” But my gaze has dropped to his belt, and I can’t help wondering…

  “Good answer. You are getting into this, aren’t you? Why are you staring at my dick? I know I’ve got a hard-on—but still…?”

  “I was just thinking. Wondering if…”

  He glances down, sees where my eyes are fixed, on the shiny buckle of his thick leather belt.

  “My, we are getting brave. Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

  “Well, not the buckle end, obviously…”

  “Obviously.”

  “And you mustn’t hit me too hard.”

  “Now that’s my call, not yours. I work out what you need, and how much of it. You just lie there and accept it. Deal?”

  I wait for a moment before answering. Then, my voice remarkably strong, given the circumstances, I give him my response. “Deal.”

  He starts to unbuckle the belt, slides it slowly back through the loops on his jeans. Once free, he folds the two ends together and waits. I’m sure he still expects me to change my mind, to chicken out. Instead I smile and turn my head to lay my cheek down on the lining of my jacket spread on top of the hay. I’m ready.

  I should be scared. Terrified, even. I’m tied down, naked, about to be beaten with a heavy leather belt. Instead, I feel vulnerable. And totally safe. And I realise in one of my light-bulb moments, that this is what trust feels like. And I like it.

  My eyes are closed, but I hear his footsteps as he moves around to stand behind me.

  “How many can you manage, Eva?”

  “It’s your punishment. You decide.” And I know it’ll be all right, whatever he decides on.

  “Twenty then. That okay with you?”

  “Mmm, twenty seems—fair.”

  Despite my new-found relaxed attitude, I still squeal when the first stroke lands, harsh and cruel across my left buttock. And I clench, hard, squeezing those lovely little balls inside me. The force of the blow causes me to move, despite being tied in place, shaking and tilting the weighted eggs and causing a delicious ripple to run the entire length of my vagina. Christ, what a sensation. Trust him to know how this would affect me. The ‘no orgasm’ rule might well be broken, and soon. I’m confused by my responses, but in no doubt at all that I want more.

  And I get more. I’m curiously eager for the next stroke, and I’m not disappointed. I squeal again, and again as the third one lands.

  “Breathe in between the strokes, and out as each one falls. Let the hay absorb the force. And concentrate on how those balls feel inside you. But remember, you don’t come until I tell you to.” His tone is low, matter-of-fact. He could be advising me on planting cabbages rather than explaining to me how best to weather a beating and instructing me to resist climaxing. Still, his advice on respiration is useful, and I find it helps. A lot. I manage to control my breathing, and rather than reacting to the sharp pain as each stroke hits me, I find I can let it flow through and past me, into the hay below my body. No amount of breathing control can calm the inner tension caused by those little weighted balls, though, and I’m dangling on the edge of the most explosive climax I think I’ve ever had. And my experience is now somewhat wider.

  It’s sort of strange, other-worldly. I can still feel the pain, I’m aware of it, but it no longer matters to me. I begin to feel a little bit as if I were drunk, but the sensation has come on more suddenly than that would. And I’m still thinking straight, I’m sure I am. I feel as though I’m floating, weightless, but still hugging the hay beneath me. I’m aware of the belt landing across my bottom, but it seems to be less frequent now, and I’m sure he’s not hitting me so hard. It’s enough, but only just.

  I realise I’ve lost count, though I’m sure we must be getting close to twenty. And I’m disappointed. I don’t want this to end, this exquisite pain, this heady out of body experience. I recall a line from a song I heard somewhere, and recite it over and over in my head, as if on a loop. ‘Hurts so good, hurts so good…’ Now I know what that means.

  The beating has stopped, and I feel…cheated. Unfulfilled. I need more, something else, something…

  “Open your legs for me, Angel.” I feel his strong fingers parting my thighs, and I manage to shuffle my feet out slightly to help. Nathan slides his long fingers between my slick folds, and I think he’s about to take away my lovely new toys. I moan in disappointment only to change that to delight as he reaches my clit and stays there, stroking, rubbing, circling the swollen, sensitive nub.

  “Come for me, come now, Angel.” His voice is low and sexy and sweet, but still he’s my Dom and I obey. Gladly. I let it go, and I’m flying again. And I was right—this climax is big, powerful, overwhelming me. My body convulses around the Ben Wa balls, heightening and intensifying the glorious, thrilling tingling that is setting me alight. I cling to the hay under my fingers, shuddering with pleasure as wave after wave of delight engulfs me. I’m moaning, whimpering, absolutely lost in the passion of this moment, which just goes on and on and on.

  Eventually, though, it passes, and I’m quiet once more. I’m breathless, my heart still pounding. I lie motionless, waiting for my body to return to normal. At last I regain the power of speech.

  “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

  “It was indeed. And we’re not done yet. I think you really need to be fucked right now, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Byrne?”

  I really can’t argue with that. “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Wouldn’t it just. I intend to fuck you here…” He is circling my anus with his fingers, the tight little rosette quivering under his touch. “Is that all right with you? You have such a nice, tight little arse. I need to sink my cock into it. Now.”

  “Yes, do it. Please, I need…”

  I gasp as he slides one long finger smoothly past the sphincter and into my arse, sinking deep, probing. He withdraws it, only to insert it again, twisting and swirling it inside me. I realise he’s working the lubricant inside, as well as easing me open for his penetration. Soon a second finger joins in the fun, then a third. And I’m ready.

  I hear the snap of a condom foil breaking, and a few seconds pass as he unrolls the latex over his erection. Then he’s behind me nudging my rear entrance with the head of his cock, pressing forward, gentle but firm, slipping inside me. He doesn’t thrust at first, just continues to ease his length into me, giving me time to adjust, to accept him. And I’m intensely conscious of the Ben Wa balls rolling and tumbling in my vagina, so close, every movement acutely felt in both places.

  At last he’s fully inside, his entire length deeply embedded. He leans forward, his lips just behind my ear.

  “Are you doing okay, Eva? Is this gentle enough for you?”

  “Yes. Yes.” My voice is a breathy whisper. “Too gentle. I won’t break.”

  “No, I don’t believe you will. Okay then.”

  He pulls back, almost right the way out, only to plunge forward once more. The balls lurch around inside me, my arse is stretched—I’m impossibly and utterly full. My muscles relax and I’m totally receptive, loving all this, all that he can do for me. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt as good as I do in this moment. I groan, lost in the sensation as he continues to thrust, slowly at first, but gathering pace as his own climax builds.

  He reaches around me to find my clit with his skilled fingers, rolling it between his finger and thumb, tugging slightly, squeezing. It’s enough, more than enough, and I find myself hurtling into freefall again. This orgasm is less powerful than the previous one, but no less wonderful for that. I revel in it, shuddering with joy as all my senses focus on my core, filled and stimulated beyond my imagining. And moments after the ripples of my own orgasm fade I feel him jerk and stiffen inside me, and hear his muffled “Fuck, Eva, that’s blo
ody wonderful” as the hot surge of his semen fills the condom.

  We both lie still, silent, for long minutes. I’ve no choice about staying put as I’m still tied up, but I wouldn’t have moved anyway. Couldn’t have, even if the barn caught fire. At last Nathan stirs, pulls carefully out of me, disposes of the condom. I’m puzzled about why he used it, and I try to find the energy to ask. And fail, distracted no doubt by the sweet sensation of the Ben Wa balls being eased from my body.

  I make no attempt to prise open my eyelids as I listen to the rustle of Nathan rearranging his clothing, hardly disturbed in the first place, as usual, apart from his belt, of course. He moves back around to the front and uses a small pocket knife to slice through the plastic cable ties around my wrists, and rubs my stiff hands briskly. The cable ties weren’t tight, but I’ve been clenching the hay tightly, digging my fingers into the bale. Satisfied that I’ve regained at least some movement he rolls me onto my back to kiss me, at first just feathering his lips over mine, then deepening. I manage to lift my arm enough to drape it across the back of his neck, but that’s the sum of my available energy for now.

  His kiss is sensual, but not demanding. It’s more of a ‘thank you’ than a ‘give me, now’, and I’m once more flooded with a blend of lust and love, not sure which is in the ascendancy. It really doesn’t matter in any case. He’s mine, I’m his. End of.

  It seems much later, but in reality is only a few minutes, I suppose, and Nathan’s passing me my clothes.

  “Shall we go and find Tom? He’s had enough time to make the coffee by now.” Nathan’s voice is lightly teasing as he watches me struggle to fasten my bra, eventually reaching behind me to do the honours. On the rare occasions I bother to wear one, I usually do that fasten in front and pull it around thing, but not when he’s watching. It doesn’t seem elegant somehow.

  “He might not be back yet,” I answer as I’m shoving my legs back into my jeans.

  “He came back about twenty minutes ago. You were obviously otherwise occupied in subspace and didn’t hear the Land Rover.”

  I glance up at him, surprised. “What? I was what?”