Michael

by Marilize Roos

  She had no idea what he was using to caress her, but she was squirming in her shackles with arousal.

  Finally, that maddening touch crept up from her inner thigh, up over her mons, her belly, and throat. It finally settled on tracing her lips.

  “A rose,” she breathed. “I can smell it.”

  “Clever girl,” Michael whispered. He moved beside her, and tucked the stem of the rose behind her ear, arranging her hair around it and draping it over one shoulder. “Don’t move, and don’t open your eyes,” he said.

  He unclipped all four cuffs from the cross, lowering her arms for her to hang relaxed by her sides then slipped the blindfold off over her head. He led her forward two steps, then standing behind her, he whispered in her ear. “Open your eyes.”

  She blinked. The lights were dimmed in the basement, but after the darkness of the blindfold, it seemed bright and warm. In front of her stood an antique full-length mirror on a swivelling stand, and it showed her in all her naked glory while Michael stood fully-clothed behind her.

  “This is what I see when I look at you,” he said softly, directly in her ear while he met her eyes in the mirror. “Your eyes and lips are soft with arousal. This flush at your throat, belly and breasts? Beautiful.”

  He slid his hands up from her hips to cup her breasts and circled her nipples with a gentle touch of his middle fingers. “But they don’t hold a candle to your breasts. Tight and pebbled with anticipation.” He gave them a slow pinch, increasing in intensity until she moaned, the warmth radiating outward from her nipples.

  His right hand reversed course, sliding down her belly and burrowing through her folds to insert a long finger into her pussy and grind the heel of his hand against her clit while his left hand continued to play with her nipple. Helpless with pleasure, she ground down into his hand, seeking the pressure. Her hips rolled, her head dropped back against his shoulder, and she stared at their reflection in the mirror through heavy-lidded eyes as she rode that hand to a squirming orgasm. When she finally floated down from her climax and opened her eyes, she met his gaze in the mirror.

  “Now that…” he said, his eyes intense, voice gravelly, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t hide your body from me; I don’t see any of the imperfections you do.”

  Quivering with need, even in the wake of her recent orgasm, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Michael. He took her hand and led her to the massive bed, then stood her beside it to give her a drugging kiss.

  “Last chance not to go through with this,” he whispered.

  “I know,” she said. “I love my husband.” His eyes clouded, but Judith put a finger to his lips. “But I care about you too. I want this. I want to sleep with you, and won’t love him any less by doing so. I want you both.”

  She climbed onto the bed and lay with her head on the pillows. Wanting to give him something special, wanting to give him of herself, she ignored her natural inclination to cover up and displayed her body for him. She felt another flash of uncertainty, a moment of self-consciousness, but then he crawled onto the bed, still fully-clothed until he held himself propped above her.

  She could feel his erection pressing against her hip, and when she reached for his belt buckle, he caught her cuffed wrists, pressed a tender kiss to each palm, and clipped the cuffs to the headboard.

  He reached for his zipper and Judith could hear his fly opening. A moment later she felt him at her entrance, and she stared in Michael’s eyes while he impaled her slowly, not stopping until his pubic bone ground against her clit.

  “God, you feel so good,” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know how long I can keep the pace slow. I want to make it good for you.”

  “I am enjoying myself very much, thank you. So go ahead and fuck me hard.”

  He blinked at her in shock, then grinned. “I don’t recall hearing you swear before.”

  “Do you have a fucking problem with that?” She asked tartly.

  “Oh no,” he said quickly. “I like a little filthy talk. Now let’s see if you can live up to your mouth.”

  He dropped down onto his elbows, his face nuzzled into the hollow of her neck while his arms held her tightly to him, and hammered into her. Be careful what you wish for. She gripped the bars of the headboard to brace herself against his thrusts, and revelled in the carnality of it. Pure want and need.

  With great satisfaction she watched her Dom lose control. She turned her head so that her lips grazed his ear. “Your cock feels so good, sir,” she urged him on. “You stretch me so good; yes harder, sir,” and she felt him shift into even higher gear.

  He climaxed, his hips bucking convulsively against hers, flooding her womb with cum and launching her into her own orgasm. He clung to her as his cock pulsed inside her, and Judith was sure he’d left bruises on her shoulder blades in the heat of his passion.

  ~*~

  Chapter 16

  Michael tossed the used washcloth in the basin and turned back to the basement bed; for a moment he just stood and took in the sight. He’d unclipped Judith’s cuffs from the headboard, and she lay warm and satisfied among the rumpled covers.

  Men and women were so different – and he liked them both.

  Men were more angular and powerful. He liked those perfectly rounded, compact buttocks, the broad, muscular back and shoulders, the broad, sculpted planes of pecs and abs. He liked to run his hands over the hard muscles and feel their restrained power.

  She rolled to her side, one leg drawn up slightly, and his eyes feasted on her lush, feminine curves among the sheets, her shapely leg, her generous breasts, her tousled red-gold hair. Her welcoming softness. Her toenails were painted scarlet, even if her fingernails were bare. She looked like a baroque painting.

  Yes, he liked men and women both.

  “Hey,” she said drowsily. She patted the mattress beside her, and he took her up on her invitation. He slid fully-clothed under the covers with her and gathered her up against his side with his arms around her shoulders. She cuddled against him, her head pillowed on the hollow of his shoulder, her thumb idly strumming his nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

  They lay in silence for a few minutes, Michael just absorbing the quietness, staring at the rafters above the bed.

  “I was terrified that you’d use that cane,” she said quietly. “I thought I’d be up for it, but… after Tristan…”

  “I know – I saw your eyes bug out when you saw it. You didn’t even see the rose on the trolley?”

  “No – all I saw was that cane. Okay; I saw the floggers too.”

  He smiled. “Princess, I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m not really a Sadist.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No,” Michael said quietly. “I’d far rather watch you melt, than break.”

  “But, Tristan…”

  “Tristan craves pain; I can dispense it. I don’t really enjoy it, but I do it to make him happy.”

  “Oh.” She was silent several minutes, thinking. “So, what is it that you need?”

  How many subs have asked me that question? Most were vocal on their wants and needs, and Michael had always complied, but he believed this was the first time a sub has asked for his needs. Warmth for his sub flooded his chest in the region of his heart.

  “I need you, Princess,” he said. “Your authentic, sweet self. You delight me.”

  “I do? And Tristan?”

  “And Tristan. You are two very different submissives, and you both appeal to me in different ways.”

  She pinched his nipple lightly through the fabric; not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to grip the nipple between thumb and forefinger and let it pop free when she tugged on it. He liked it.

  “I can’t even imagine being bi-sexual,” she said. He glanced down at her in surprize, but her eyes were fixed on where she was playing with his nipple. “I was thinking about it this last week.”

  “You were?” He asked.

  “I tried to imagine being attra
cted to another woman. I even tried watching some lesbian porn. I’m sorry to say – women just don’t do it for me.”

  “Hm-hmm,” Michael hummed, waiting to see where she was going with this. “Lucky for me you like men.”

  “I see the way you look at Tristan.”

  Michael froze.

  “You want him. But more than that, you want him to want you too.”

  “Judith –”

  “It’s alright,” she whispered, pausing in her teasing of his nipples to put a finger to his lips. She grinned. “You have excellent taste; I happen to think he’s hot, too.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “And I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve imagined you and Tristan… together, and…” She blushed furiously.

  “The idea turns you on?” Michael asked.

  “I’m a straight female and have a pulse; two attractive guys who can’t keep their hands off each other? I think it’d be freakin’ hot.”

  “You think I’m attractive?” Michael teased her.

  She hid her face in his shoulder. “God, did I say that out loud?”

  “Oh, don’t back-pedal now, Princess.” His smirk faded. “There’s no point to wanting what I can’t have. Tristan is straight, and I have to accept that.”

  Judith hugged him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel guilty that he’s attracted to me, but not you.”

  “Don’t be,” Michael swallowed. “I’m blessed to have you, and I shouldn’t be greedy. I’m not too proud to take what I can get.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It is also time we went to our own beds; before Tristan comes looking for you.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Judith sighed.

  Michael escorted her to the guest room. In a move that surprized him, Judith gathered her clothes, but hugged the bundle to her chest instead of getting dressed, and walked completely naked through his house to the guest room.

  Tristan still wasn’t in their room, and he waited for Judith to climb into bed and pull the duvet up to her chin, before he sat by her hip on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Sleep well,” he said, smoothing the edge of the duvet over her shoulders.

  He rose and limped to the door. God, my thigh hurts, he thought as he turned to look at Judith, lying small and innocent in that queen-sized bed.

  ~*~

  Tristan looked up when he heard the rustle of clothing at the door. Michael leaned his shoulder against the door frame, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Making progress?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah,” Tristan leaned back against the backrest, arching and stretching his back. “I think I’m done; I was just going through it one last time to check through it.”

  “I’m glad,” Michael said. “Then at least you should have the rest of the weekend to relax.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Tristan said, and Michael turned to leave. “Did you have a good time?” Tristan spoke quickly, before his nerve failed him. He hoped he sounded casual, and not anxious.

  Michael turned back, and hands still in his pockets, looked Tristan in the eye. “Yes, we did, thank you,” he said calmly.

  “Good,” Tristan muttered, looking down at the desk, unable to maintain eye contact.

  He should be angry. Jealous. Hurt. Outraged. Scared.

  Instead he felt… uncertain.

  What now?

  How will this affect us?

  What did they do?

  How do I compare?

  Will she still want me? Or will she now prefer Michael?

  “See you in the morning,” Michael murmured.

  “Good night,” Tristan muttered, but when he glanced at his watch, he saw that it was after one in the morning.

  Tristan gathered his books and stuffed them into his briefcase, then headed for the guest room, turning off lights as he went.

  Their bedroom door was open. He closed the door behind him, and stopped beside the chair by the window to shed his clothes before climbing into bed beside his wife.

  “Did you manage to finish?” She asked in the dark.

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “Although, my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool. I might read through it again tomorrow to see if I made sense.”

  He held his breath, waiting to see what she’d do, but she just snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh; he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her tight. “Good,” she hugged his waist tighter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I love you too.” His voice was husky with emotion.

  “I wish you were with us tonight.”

  Tristan just tightened his arm around her shoulders for a moment. He didn’t answer, and was grateful that she didn’t press him for a reply.

  Soon, her breaths evened out and she went slack against him, and he followed her into dreamland.

  ~*~

  Tristan always slept like the dead. When he lay down and closed his eyes, he’d still be in that position when he woke up. Judith normally envied him the deep sleep; she’d always been a light sleeper.

  Last night Tristan had been restless. His hands twitched in his sleep, and his head rolled left and right on his pillow. A few times, when his movements had woken her, she’d laid a soothing hand on his chest and murmured softly to him, which seemed to quiet him for a while.

  And that morning he had morning wood that looked like it bordered on painful.

  Judith glanced at his face – yes, he was still asleep – and ran a feather-light finger from the base of his cock, up his shaft, and circling the sensitive ridge of his glans. He arched his back, seeking stronger contact, but Judith’s finger reversed course and trailed down the shaft back towards his testicles.

  She glanced up. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he fisted the sheets. Encouraged by his unconscious response, she licked her lips, making sure her mouth was wet, and then took him slowly into her mouth.

  He cried out at the sensation, and when she paused to reverse course, his hand shot out to grab a fistful of her hair and shove her face further down on his shaft. The move was completely unexpected, and her eyes snapped open wide to fix on his face as he jammed his cock deeper down her throat. Her eyes watered at the intrusion in her throat, but she resisted the impulse to struggle, and swallowed instead.

  Tristan’s eyes flew open. He was disoriented for barely a moment, and when he looked down at Judith, he snatched his band back out of her hair with horror. “God, I’m so sorry, Judith!”

  Judith pulled off slowly, sucking in a breath, then licked at some of the drool that had run down his cock and onto his balls. With a last long, slow lick up the length of his shaft, she shot him a siren smile. “Do it again.” She took him in as deep as she could, then pulled away slowly until the head popped out of her mouth. “I like choking on your cock.”

  “Fuck, Judith!” He groaned. She licked around the head, little kitten licks designed to drive him insane, until he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. Instead of shoving his cock down her throat, he pulled her off him by a fistful of her hair, shoved her to the side to sprawl on her stomach beside him. He pounced on her, his weight on her back a delicious thrill, and grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back sharply.

  In one shove, he drove into her with his cock. He felt impossibly large inside her, stretching her almost to the point of pain, and she let out an animal groan. She was pinned to the bed, helpless and at his mercy, and she loved it.

  He pounded into her, holding her head bent at that extreme angle, the headboard banging against the wall. “You like choking on my cock, do you Sweetheart?” He grunted. “Swallowing me down first thing in the morning do it for you?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. Her head swam with arousal, her breasts painful where they were crushed underneath her against the mattress. He drove into her mercilessly, over and over again, and she was helpless to do anything but take it. It
was a side of Tristan she’d never experienced, and she felt light-headed with lust.

  He grunted filthy promises in her ear while he possessed her, until he finally roared his climax and came deep inside her, dragging her into orgasm with him.

  He released her hair and they held their positions for several moments afterwards, catching their breaths. Tristan pulled out, his cock still hard, and Judith could feel a gush of semen slipping from her pussy and trickling down her inside thigh; Judith reflected that Tristan’s cum had added to Michael’s from the night before. She looked over her shoulder to where he knelt between her thighs, staring down at her cum-filled pussy.

  She turned onto her back. Tristan stared at her uncertainly.

  “Come here,” she murmured. After a hesitation, he lowered himself to lie beside her, and she snuggled back into his shoulder. Because it looked like he was ready to run, she draped a leg over his thigh and wrapped an arm around his waist.

  “Did I hurt you?” Tristan whispered.

  Judith smiled a feline grin. “Oh, Mr Bennett, only in the best possible way.” She dragged her foot up his calf and let her thigh brush his softening cock. “Feel free to do it again.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up. “Really, Tristan. I loved it. I like it when you get a little rough. I love it when you’re overcome with passion and just take what you want. I wouldn’t like a slap to the face, but a little rough handling? Yes please. Just like that. And in case you didn’t get the memo – I love having my hair pulled.”

  His head flopped backwards on his pillow. “God, I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.”

  Judith kissed the side of his pec and wriggled more snugly into his shoulder. She luxuriated in this feeling of satiety, and even enjoyed the feeling of the cum dribbling from her pussy.

  “Did he hurt you last night?” Tristan asked softy into the silence.

  “Hurt me?” She asked with confusion, then realized what he meant. “No, no, he didn’t hit me, if that’s what you mean. He’s not really all that into pain, if you can believe it.”