by Lynn, KT
I keep my gaze steadily on the floor. But then I feel something thin and cool pinch my pussy lips. It is gentle at first, then tighter, squeezing them together over my hood and clit. I glance at what he is doing, and see that the belt holds two thin chains, like a necklace, which have pinched my pussy tight shut.
“We won’t be needing that hole today,” he says. I look up at his face for just a second and see him smirking. My jaw clenches as I resist the temptation to sneer at him. He clips a dog leash to the thick chain around my neck. “On your knees,” he orders.
This is Darren’s third Saturday at my house, the day we arranged for mutual convenience. The first two were spent learning that I need to follow his commands promptly. When I don’t, things end in a safe word.
I drop back down to my knees then stumble forwards onto all fours as Darren tugs on the leash. I gag for a moment soundlessly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my pain or surprise. Trying not to bump or drag my bare knees, I crawl after him at the brisk pace he sets. The chains of the rimba chafe and squeeze at my pussy lips with every movement. There is only pressure on my clit without any friction, but the sensation is strangely arousing. My cunt lips grow swollen, the chains cutting a little harder.
He stops beside my coffee table. It is large and glass-topped, placed just in front of a plush leather couch. “I want you to lie face down on the coffee table,” Darren tells me. I look up at him, an eyebrow raised. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get cold.”
I say nothing, but stand and awkwardly kneel on the unyielding glass surface. His hand is warm and steadying on my shoulder. I want to snap that I can do it myself, but this would probably be a lie. He helps me settle forwards until I am lying down flat on the glass, thanking god that I am small enough it should easily take my weight. Still I try almost not to breathe, to tense and be as still as I can while listening for the scrape of it starting to crack. My breasts are flattened beneath me against the glass, nipples hard from the cold and pointing into the table painfully, crushed beneath me.
There is a flash and I blink in surprise. Looking down through the glass I see a black SLR camera pointed up at me, resting on the floor directly beneath my face. “It’s on a timer,” Darren says. I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s going to take a picture every thirty seconds. Just something to add to the Brooks portfolio.” So this is what he does when I’m getting undressed, preparing myself for him. I wonder how many hidden cameras there have been that haven’t needed a flash. I wonder how big my portfolio is growing.
“I suppose I should be flattered,” I murmur.
A single sharp streak of pain lands across my ass cheeks. There is another flash from under the table. The camera catches me with my mouth open and eyes wide in pain and surprise. Looking up at Darren, I see he’s holding an old fashioned school cane. More equipment lifted from my not-so-secret stash.
“Flattered?” he barks, landing another strike that crosses the first. “You should be ashamed!”
I bite down on my tongue for the next two hits, trying to shut out the pain and limit the jerky responses of my body. The camera must be going off, but I don’t see the flash with my eyes tight shut. It’s nothing to the flashes I see behind my eyelids with every stroke of the cane. On the next, I suck in a breath, as it falls neatly on the mark left by a previous hit. “Is that what this is?” I ask angrily – angry at him, and at myself for reacting to his bullshit games. “Is this to shame me?”
“This,” Darren punctuates the word with the cane whistling through the air and landing on the tops of my thighs, “This is to punish you. For exploiting your workers-“ Smack! “-For utilising sweatshops-“ Smack! “-For dodgy government investments.” The last strike fell particularly hard across the middle of my thighs and wrenched a howl of pain from my throat.
“Proof!” I shout. “If you had proof you’d be selling it to the Times. Not holding a sex scandal over my head in exchange for the privilege of my body once a week.”
Our first meeting had been at a party held by my company. Darren was most definitely on the guest list – I don’t generally associate with tabloid hacks and they’re most certainly not the kind of people I’d want at my parties. I enjoy sex, and so do many of my clients. In a corporate atmosphere it can be difficult to find time to let your hair down. My parties ensure that there is always a time and a place to get to know colleagues better. Darren managed to lie or blag his way into not just the party, but also my bedroom. When it became clear who I was, I was given the choice – exposure or slavery. One day a week I am his, in payment for his silence.
His hand is in my hair, tangling and wrenching my head upwards. “No denials, then. Just evasions. What a surprise.”
Short sharp thwacks run over the length of my ass until the whole area feels as though it’s on fire. “No denials,” I sob, trying to remember to breathe, “Because it’s so ridiculous there’s no point in acknowledging your allegations.” I feel dribble pool on the table beneath my mouth as tears leak from my eyes. I’m coming close to my threshold now, but I’m determined to have my say. “We’ve worked hard to get where we are. I might not be running a social enterprise, but what you’re suggesting is ridiculous. Give me a solid allegation with names and dates, and I’ll answer it.” The camera flashes under the table, and I look fiercely up at Darren. “But you can’t torture me into admitting something that’s not true.”
“Torture?” Darren laughs cruelly. I can feel my cheeks burning, knowing I have slipped up and that I will pay for my mistake. “Is that what this is, Ms. Brooks?”
My legs are wrenched apart at the ankle and his fingers thrust up towards my pussy. The thin chains are clamped tight around my lips and as he pushes his way to my slit they bite harder into sensitive, swollen skin. I know, moments before I feel it happen, that his fingers will slide through slick, drizzling cunt juice. Despite the pain and the humiliation – or perhaps because of it – my traitorous body has reacted with need and want. Some prime animal instinct inside of me does not understand who this man is or how he revolts me. It only recognises what he does to my body, and my body in turn begs for more.
“Fuck, you love this more than I thought!” he laughs. The camera flashes as my cheek presses down against the cool glass, eyes shut, trying not to enjoy the feel of his fingers struggling into my cunt or the bite of the chain clamp shutting him out. “I wonder if I can still fuck you with this on.”
Before the words are finished his hands are on my hips, lifting them high and turning my body towards him. My sweat-slicked skin squeaks against the polished glass surface of the table. My knees bump against the table’s edge before settling where he wants me. The blunt head of his cock slides against the tightly clamped slit of my pussy, rubbing through the juices that ooze from within. He slicks his cock, running the crown invitingly against my greedy swollen cunt. I bite down on my lip, determined not to give any sign that I’m enjoying the feel of him – though he knows, he can see from the state of me, that I want nothing more than for him to fuck me until I’m howling in pleasure and pain.
It’s a squeeze, but his cock slowly splits its way into my cunt. The rimba resists. The chains feel as though they’re cutting into me, though I know that won’t happen. I’m gasping at the pain, panting with my face pressed against the glass as the camera flashes again. “Fuck, that’s tight,” Darren groans. He eases out and back in again. Normally a tight fuck would get easier, but the chains of the clamp are unyielding. They do not soften or mould to accommodate his thick cock pushing inside of me. They bite just the same every time, squeezing tight against my cunt lips and layering frustrating pressure onto my untouched clit. I feel every inch of his dick as it slides slowly in and out of me, my cunt lips squeezing around every ridge and vein, moulding to the landscape of his cock.
He can’t push in far enough to hurt the welts raising on my ass, though his hips and the hem of his shirt brush over them painfully. I’m left hissing between my teeth
, jumping away from his body though I long for him to fuck me harder. The threat of his hips slamming into my abused behind is there and I can feel my body inching away from him as he burrows inside of me.
Darren only eases in and out a few times before he pulls out completely – either because he’s enjoying it too much, or worried that I might be.
“Open your mouth,” he orders.
I do so but don’t open my eyes. His fingers slide inside still slick with my cunt juice. I suck them eagerly without looking at him. I lick my own juice from the pads of his fingers and graze my teeth over the knuckles. There are memories of doing this the first time we were together, eager to please him, to arouse and impress him, to make him want me more. He does this every time now, I think, to evoke those memories. It’s another form of blackmail. He’s blackmailing with the fact that I wanted this and that, on some level, I still want it. I have a choice, limited though it may be. I choose to be on my own coffee table, bound and clamped, struggling to stay upright as I suck my own cunt juice from my blackmailer’s fingers. These thoughts fill me with the overwhelming temptation to bite, but I don’t think I could stand the cane again.
“Roll onto your back.” His voice is no longer light, nor mocking. Something has flipped inside of him – perhaps he too remembers when I looked eagerly up at him as I sucked on his fingers and his cock. He is raw and needy now. Like me.
My eyes stay shut as I maneuver awkwardly onto my back, wincing as my burning aching ass is crushed against the glass. I think I hear the click of the camera and wonder if the angle is wide enough to catch the red stripes, the raising welts and forming bruises. My eyes flutter open and I see him undoing his pants. We’re nearing the end of my day of punishment. He’s finally giving in to his need for me – which is, at the end of the day, what this is all about. He can dress it up as political, he can claim it’s a punishment for my supposed misdemeanors. But as I’m forced to recognise my need for him, it’s glaringly obvious that this setup is an excuse for him to enjoy striping my ass.
“You’re going to miss out on a picture of the come shot?” I ask, managing to raise a smirk of my own, enjoying what I feel is a fleeting momentary victory.
“Oh don’t worry. I’ll be sure to get a snap of the final masterpiece.” His hand is gripping the leash, and he yanks on it, forcing me painfully upwards. The thick links grind against my throat. My head lifts, shoulders arching upwards in an effort to take the strain from the sensitive muscles at the back of my neck. In the struggle to be where he wants me to be, it’s a surprise when he forces his thick prick into my mouth. I gag on his cock and struggle to breathe, before he pulls mostly out and I am able to regain my breathing.
He controls my head, my mouth, setting the pace at which he wants to be sucked. The head of his cock bumps and grinds against the back of my throat and I try my best to swallow around him. Spit slides down his length and my chin. I gasp for breath at every available moment. But mostly I just hang on, hands balled into fists, stomach clenched to keep me where he wants me without getting throttled by the leash.
Darren grunts above me. I know him well by now, his reactions and the way he does things. He’s already quite close. The caning turned him on. In other, better circumstances maybe we could have both fully enjoyed it. But then, would it be as fun being caned by someone that wasn’t a complete prick? Someone I didn’t hate and fight quite as much as Darren? There’s a fire that I have for (or against) him which I’ve never felt with anyone else, no matter how hard they’ve pushed me. And I’m the kind of woman who likes to be challenged by her partner. That’s part of why I chose him in the first place.
Suddenly I’m yanked down by the leash. I choke for a moment, then fall back limp on the table. I’m gasping for breath, looking up at Darren as he takes his cock in hand. For a moment, I can see him without the veil of hatred for what he’s doing. He’s a sexy guy, tall and dark with sexy long-fingered hands that are wrapped around his cock. He’s pumping himself hard, thrusting into each movement. He’s on the brink of orgasm. His face is contorted into a frown of blissful concentration, lips pulled back in something close to a snarl. I can see how I would want this man; what attracted me to him the first time we met. And for just this moment, I can admit to myself that I never come as hard as when I rub my clit thinking about our days together.
Darren arches into a last frantic jerk of his cock and a thick jet of spunk arcs through the air and lands across my face. The hot, salty liquid paints right across my cheek and nose. Another rope of come spatters across my mouth and another on my neck. Already I feel the cooling tickle of it beginning to drip downwards.
I can only watch as Darren, quickly recovered, reaches for the camera under the table and begins to snap pictures of me like this. Tied. Clamped. Beaten. Covered in his spunk. The chain around my neck is not his collar, but it is clear at this moment that he owns me.
He snaps pictures from various angles. Doubtless there are close-ups of my face, breasts and cunt. “Do you want to come?” he asks softly from behind his camera.
I smirk. He’s asking because he wants the pleasure of refusing me. Always this question. And always the same answer.
“No thank you,” I reply, denying him his opportunity.
“I’ll make you come eventually, whether you want it or not.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, though I suspect the effect is marred by his spunk dripping down my face. “You can certainly try. I wish you the best of luck.”
Darren removes the rimba clamp from my pussy, letting me draw it around my body, avoiding the close contact he had initiated earlier in putting it on. He unties my hands and feet then helps me to unfasten the thick leather cuffs. He doesn’t bother to get me a cloth to clean up. The spunk on my face and neck is starting to dry, I can feel it getting flaky. “You can let yourself out,” I say, deciding the most dignified course of action is to pretend it’s not there.
“Same time next week?” he asks, unfastening the leash from the chain around my neck. I’m careful not to meet his eye.
“That will be fine.”
A Heated Stroll
by Harriet Lovelace
Themes: public sex; exhibitionism, threesome
A warm fragrant summer breeze blew gently across us as Jesse and I walked along the park’s dirt path. Our hands were intertwined and we were enjoying some orange cream popsicles. I was wearing a light green thin strapped top with a blue jean skirt and green flip flops that matched my top. I looked up and down Jesse’s tall slender figure; he was wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of black gym style shorts with black tennis shoes.
“These are great, Jesse, a nice compliment to the wonderful warm weather.” I smiled and moved closer to him. Jesse playfully pushed me away but was still holding my hand firmly.
“No problem, Hailey. This was one of my favorite past-times.” We continued to lick at the popsicles as they started to melt in the heat of the afternoon. We passed a few other couples and some families as we walked further down the park’s trail.
As less people were around further down the trail, I began to feel a bit playful. I ran the tip of my tongue from the bottom of my popsicle to the top as I looked up at Jesse with my pale blue eyes. I laughed as I realized he was watching me. He chuckled slightly and squeezed my hand before he licked his popsicle in a less seductive manner.
“You’re making me a bit jealous there, Hailey.” I squeezed his hand back as he spoke. Casually ignoring his comment, I wrapped my lips around the top of the sweet treat. His brown eyes were fixed on me and I decided to close my eyes as I teased him. With a sense of noticeable enjoyment, I pushed the popsicle into my mouth, the orange and cream flavors were dancing on my tongue and I slowly pulled it back out. Slowly opening my eyes, I was delighted to see him watching me still. I let out a soft moan in pleasure and flicked my tongue against its cold length.
He pulled me close to his body as he whispered in my ear, “You may want to stop that before things get ou
t of hand.”
His lowered voice sent chills up my spine and I playfully shrugged.
“Who said that would be a bad thing?” I stuck out my ice cold tongue taunting him. Jesse laughed and shrugged as we continued to walk a bit further.
As we approached a bench in an area that seemed more secluded, Jesse sat down. He pulled me into his lap and held me as I finished up my treat. I licked the melting popsicle as it dripped onto my skin. Squeezing me gently, Jesse leaned over and licked the cream off my chin, running his tongue up to my bottom lip. He sucked my lip into his mouth as he sucked the sugar off my lip. I let out a soft sigh and placed my hand on his chest. My small fingers lightly pressed into him as he released my lip. He trailed two fingers over my cheek before placing his lips firmly against mine. I kissed him back with a little more force. I could feel his lips form a smile as he deepened the kiss. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands were moving up and down my back as he pulled me closer to his body. I bit at his bottom lip and opened my eyes. My heart was racing as I pulled away and looked around. We were still alone and my eyes met his once more. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face back to his. Jesse kissed me roughly and pressed his warm tongue to my lips. I parted them slowly as my tongue met his. He began to massage my tongue with his and I closed my eyes once more. His hands were gripping my head firmly and I began to feel a bit uneasy as I started to hear footsteps. I squirmed in Jesse’s lap, but he refused to stop. Our kiss was never interrupted by me moving about. After a moment I gave up and quit fighting him. I placed my hands on his chest and tried to enjoy this moment. The footsteps became louder and then it was quiet. A rough voice broke the silence and my heart stopped.
