by Love Belvin
“There will never be a laughing matter in this room, beloved. Ever.”
Well, damn!
Suddenly, a flash sensations ripped through my core, and I could feel my clit swell. My eyes bulged.
“And speaking of which, you will always refer to me as Sir down here and never anything else, at least not my formal name. Could you tell me what does that reference do to me, Alexis?”
That topic ran familiar and I recalled what he shared with me during lunch in Indonesia, just before our first time.
“It swells you and makes you want to shove yourself deep into the caverns of my pussy to hear me cry tears of insane pleasure,” I breathed, my heart pounding ceaselessly and clit mirroring the rhythm.
“I don’t think those were my words verbatim, but I like your colorful rendition, Alexis.” I felt his finger course my spine from my ass to my neck. I shivered the entire way. “Stay right here. And don’t look up.”
The music began again soothing me against the small voice inside screaming, “Run!” But I ignored it, curious to learn what, in fact, he was about. Who is Ezra? I waited as I heard him open drawers, doors and pull a heavy object across the carpet.
“Stand, Alexis,” I could hear him rasp over the music. I obeyed, still wary, but deathly curious. I rose slowly to my feet, taking in his bulging erection, swollen abs, dusted chest then wiry beard. “You’ve had a taste of being restrained and seemed to have taken to that rather quickly.” I could hear the amusement in his tone. “I want to try removing your sight.” He lifted a black satin eye mask. “Removing your ability to touch, move, see and/or hear intensifies other senses. For instance, I’m applying the mask and then I’m going to restrain you to the horse bench. When you’re unable to move or see, your sensitivity to touch, sound and taste will amplify.”
He moved me over to the wooden bench that was covered in black leather and tufted like the headboard across the room.
“This is called a horse bench,” he explained briefly.
It was a triangular structure from a frontal view, with two landings on both sides. That’s all I could make out before my eyes were covered. At that point it seemed as though the volume of the music had increased. I waited for a few seconds before hearing him at my ear.
My body trembled from being frightened at his sudden proximity. Ezra nipped my ear with his teeth, my skin tickled by his whiskers.
“Just breathe, beloved,” he whispered in my ear delicately, pushing his bare chest to my back. I could feel the cool air pushing into my gaping mouth. “Lean in to me.”
I rested on the heels of my feet, shifting some of my weight on to him. I took a deep breath, trying to stabilize my heart rate and racing lungs. When his fingers began to thrum my nipples, all of my weight fell into him. His touch was soft, but coordinated. Sensation shot straight to my core and I pushed my breasts into his hand not wanting the feeling to end. Ezra kissed my shoulder, his tongue swiped up my neck, hitting a bed of nerve endings I had no idea were there until him. When he moved up to my ear, I couldn’t help myself, I twisted slightly to meet his lips and landed on his beard. I felt the reverberation of his chuckle before he took my lips, kissing me into a frenzy. I got lost in feeling his slivery tongue curl against mine. When I felt him at the base of my breasts, I could still feel a weighty sting on my nipple. My hands went up and hit a chain before Ezra pulled them back down and withdrew from me.
“You don’t use your hands unless I invite you to, beloved. Down here your body is under my instruction,” he scolded gently. I wanted to speak to ask what the hell was gripping my nipples. But the bolts of sensation shooting into my groin quieted that inquiry. “Let’s take care of those hands.”
He guided me to bend over the horse bench and secured my wrists in handcuffs on either side. “Perfect height.” I could feel air hitting my wet core just underneath my ass. Shit. I was so wet already.
“Relax, Alexis. I need you comfortable.”
I took that as his way of saying I didn’t look comfortable, so I applied all of my weight to the cushion under my torso. That’s when I felt his palm on my ass cheek, wiggling. My spine curved at that.
“That’s it, beloved. Relax. I want you to enjoy this. And when you’re not, I need you to tell me, okay?”
I nodded my head, unable to see him, but could feel so much more. Then I felt a metal crawling on my lower back. I bowed even more. That move pushed my breasts further into the cushioned leather, I could now feel the object on them, an intensified pulling. A striking pleasure. I moaned in response.
“You enjoy the pinwheel. Nice, Alexis,” Ezra growled his praise. “And here, my kitten has returned.”
The cool metal piece traveled up my back, teasing my senses. Ezra gripped my hips, urging me to lift a little. Then I felt a stiff object moving against my sex toward the top. I was so damn wet it slid with ease. He kissed my left cheek moments before I felt vibration directly on my clit. Oh, fuck… He pushed down on my hips, inviting me to rest on the vibrator. My forehead met the surface. My wrists yanked against the cuffs. This was some intense shit.
“That’s it. Feel it, baby,” I barely recognized the growl in his vocals.
“Alexis, we need to control your orgasms. You’re…for the lack of a better term…trigger happy now that you can achieve them. Moving forward, whether we’re down here or in the Maldives, you need to have my permission to come.” As he spoke, I wanted to grind on the vibrator. I needed a release in the worst way, but from his instruction, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. “If you come without it, I will punish you. I need you to learn how to control them. If you hold out and not give in to it when one surfaces, it will be more intense when I finally allow you to do it. Is that understood?”
I nodded.
“You need to speak, kitten. I need to hear you to gauge your pleasure…and please reference me each time you speak.”
Reference him? What the hell? How?
“Yes…” I hesitated in heavy contemplation. “Yes, sir.”
Ezra wiggled my ass again. “Good, girl.”
I swear on any day, that demeaning reference of ‘good girl’ would have offended me, but between the vibrator beating against my swollen clit; the rolling pinwheel igniting tiny bits of pleasure across my back, shoulders, ass and thighs; the pinching of my nipples; the scent of this viral man hovering over me; and the sounds of Alina Baraz and Galimatias I could forgive anything.
“We need to establish safety. You need to give me a word that means you’re in pain, discomfort, or feel you’re in danger. It’s called a safeword. I need for you to select one for those conditions. However, understand when you dispense this safeword, everything stops and you are free to leave the basement. I don’t endeavor for you to ever use it, but it is necessary for safety reasons. What’s your safeword, kitten?”
I didn’t have the capacity to think. I wouldn’t have been able to utter my name.
“Would you like me to help with that?”
Mid nod, I uttered, “Yes, sir.”
The pinwheel stopped and the surface of my skin was that sensitive to notice. He must have been considering a word. Then the prickly movements continued.
“How about trinity?”
My core quickened, a familiar indicator. That caused my hips to move against the vibrator to gain traction.
I can’t come yet!
“Trin-trinity, sir!” I spat out, trying to control the growing pressure.
“Very well, kitten.”
The pin wheel stopped and Ezra placed his big hands on either side of my hips again, pushing me into the vibrator, intensifying the sensations. My ankles rolled unsteadily, wrists pulled against the cuffs, chest pushed my clamped nipples into the cushion, and my ass shook in the air. I couldn’t fight this anymore.
“Permission to come, sir!” I shrieked, tensing all over to hold off.
“I was going to deny you at least once, but you’ve done so well thus far; I’m going to allow you to. Come, kitten.”
I let go, and the moment I did my body exploded. Pleasure dancing on every nerve ending at each corner of my body. I felt my scalp prickle and the sting of my toes against the carpet from them curling.
“Christ, Alexis!” Ezra groaned, took me at the hips lifting my ass in the air and entered me in one swift thrust.
He moved in and out of my canal manically, clamping my hips with a fierce grip as he pounded me. My breasts moved against the bench, my hands splayed on the landings on either side to balance myself. I could hear the grunts in Ezra’s plunging and felt the stirring in my groin again. My ass higher in the air than my shoulders. I could feel him hitting deeper in my core at this angle. The more he plunged the more intense the pleasure crested, pre-orgasm flutters amplifying.
“Ezra!” I shouted as I came all over him.
“Beloved…” he cried as he plowed into me several times more, nearly breaking me in two, before his hips faltered.
Ezra
“You didn’t ask for permission to come that second time, beloved,” I panted, lungs beating wildly.
With rapid movements, I released her wrists, carefully stood her straight, pushing her limp body into my chest, my arms underneath hers with one hand wrapped around her belly. I used the other to slowly and gradually unclamp her nipples one at a time and felt her wince between each removal. Then I rubbed around the nipple where the clamps were placed, and not directly on the nipple where there were a storehouse of nerve endings. That could’ve proven utterly painful for her as a beginner.
Alexis was wrung out, incapable of answering my reproachful implication. She was magnificent. I knew I’d eventually get her to try it out down here, but could no longer deal with suspense after having the area completed three days ago. When she texted me after her interview and agreed to come straight home, I planned in haste.
“Can you walk?” I asked softly. “I’d like to give you a bath.”
Alexis mumbled something before sauntering off and stumbling.
“Hold!” I leaped to grab her and lifted her into my arms.
She melted into me right away, eyes closed and mouth slack. I padded into the bathroom and lowered into the Jacuzzi with Alexis on top of me. After tapping a few buttons, the water began to fall into the tub around us. With one hand, I reached over the side and dumped a cup of bath salts aside our legs. Alexis shuffled to move off of me.
“No.” I tensed my arms around her to gesture her to stay.
Her tired eyes met mine. I understood she was not yet acclimated to sex with me, much less intimacy. And neither was I with her, but I wanted it here in this capacity, so my eyes didn’t falter as they urged her to stay put.
Alexis shifted in until she was comfortable on top of me. I kissed the top of her head, aside her poofy ponytail.
“This is the time for us to talk about how you feel. I need to know what you didn’t like. Do you have any questions for me?”
She shifted her head on my chest to face me.
“Are you going to spank me for not asking you if I could come again?”
My forehead wrinkled. “No, beloved. You won’t receive any punishments for earlier. You did great. I can give you a pass for that mishap. You’re still new yet.”
“But isn’t that what the lifestyle’s about?”
Oh, sweetheart.
“Not entirely. It is a kink, I will admit, and mainly for those who enjoy pain—to receive or give it, but that’s not exactly what I’m about.”
“But you said you’d punish me,” her voice was quieted from exhaustion.
“And I will from time-to-time. You’re a beginner. It will be a fun way for you to learn. Not all punishments consist of pain.”
“What else is there?”
“Making you wait for sex, denying you orgasms, giving you more than you can stand.”
Alexis sucked in air. “Like that night…”
“After the club with Anushka, yes,” I finished her revelation. “There are several ways to punish you, but don’t dismiss the idea of a good spanking being a favorable deed. Some thrive from it.” The way I believe you will in due time. “But don’t worry about anything too intense. I’m not into sadism. I learned that years ago.”
So I hope you don’t need it in excess.
The water was at waist level now, the spicy temp soothing her exaggerated joints.
“Oh,” I grunted, suddenly reminded of something I wanted to address earlier. “You left the bed unmade again this morning, Alexis.”
Her head popped up this time, eyes hard. “This is your third time bringing that up. Does it really bother you that much?”
“Yes, it does,” I asserted emphatically. “Sweetheart, just as God’s grace and mercy are new each day, I’d like to crawl into a freshly made bed every night. I don’t want to be reminded of the night before when I get in there.”
We needed to get this straight here and now. An unmade bed was a huge pet peeve of mine. A hard limit.
Just when I thought I’d have to argue further, Alexis rolled her eyes and, in the flash of an eye, she bit her bottom lip and those very eyes darkened with need. She shifted until she straddled me. My erection sprung to life.
“You wear a mask. A veil. To a few you’re a counselor. To others you’re a pastor. To some you’re a scientist. But to me, you’re simply dominant.”
My lungs vacuumed to capacity with air and my eyes flew wide at her revelation. She accepted me—she may not have fully understood me, but Alexis had quickly begun to surmise my layers. My chest swelled with a mixture of pride and another emotion I could not identify because I’d never felt it before. Either way, I’d had the confirmation I needed that she was indeed the return of the covenant I’d made seven years ago when I answered my calling. The components of my life were aligned and I could now thrive, living out my purpose, and not compromise my dignity.
I took her at the back of her head, my mouth inches away from her lips. “Well, isn’t this pleasant.”
She gave a flash smile; just as quickly as it appeared, it evaporated. My seductive kitten. “How about we go upstairs to your bed and do things that will make you want to remember tomorrow morning,” she purred, rubbing her sex against my wood.
I found myself surprised as well as humored.
“I didn’t scare you out there. I am well pleased, kitten.”
Alexis bit her lip again as she shook her head, unable to hide her smile.
“I don’t scare easily. Harlem Pride.” Her whisper was unalloyed seduction. “In fact, let’s start in here and work our way upstairs.” She moaned as she sank down on me.
“Christ, Alexis…”
I glanced at my phone facing up on the clothed table. Again.
“That’s the problem with the Christian body, and has been historically: you have disgruntled members branching off and creating various denominations. Take Paul and Peter at Antioch for an example. It caused the people to split,” Bishop argued.
“Segregating the Kingdom of God and diluting the word, compromising the vitality and credibility of Jesus being the son of the only true God,” I added noncommittal.
My mind was elsewhere. With Alexis and where she could be. We’d just finished up a light lunch at Frankies Spuntino restaurant on Hudson. Her last text was thirty minutes ago when she was just as many minutes late. I’d told her about Bishop Jones’ visit to the city and his request to have a quick lunch with us before flying out.
“This is true, but if only our brothers and sisters in leadership could see,” Bishop inclined in his seat, speaking in his heavy Caribbean tongue melodically. “Nonetheless, the unadulterated word of God will prevail.”
“Jesus said if our doctrine exceeds that of our scribes and Pharisees, we will not enter the Kingdom. His word shall prevail,” I affirmed his argument.
My phone chirped.
Alexis: Hey. I’m outside. I don’t have cash. Could u come out here?
Cash?
Me: I’m sorry. I’m confused.
For what?
“I was hoping to—as church folk say—fellowship with your new bride. Are you sure you haven’t paddled her into a new doctrine?” he jeered with his normal inflated and peculiar humor.
Before I could respond to that jib my phone sounded again.
Alexis: For my dad to get back home. He drove me here.
I leaped to my toes at that. Drove her here?
“I apologize for her tardiness and will see you out,” I quickly offered as I went for my wallet.
I dropped a wad of cash on the table and was on my way to the entrance of the restaurant.
As I neared the front, I captured the silhouette of her large afro ponytail on the top of her head. She was dressed in a skirt, wrinkled blouse and heels, her purse clutched in her arm. The closer I drew the more I could observe her unkempt nature. Her lipstick faint in color, lids smeared, and eyes glossed over. Not only had she been drinking, Alexis was intoxicated. I didn’t see Rasul.
As I approached her, my gaping intensified to evaluate her condition. Had she been hurt or upset?
Returning my notable regard, Alexis shifted in stance. “Hey, what did I miss?” Her shaky eyes went between Bishop and me.
There was a brief revelatory pause before he replied, “Nothing at all, dear. You were able to avoid stodgy preacher banter,” he joshed with grace.
He knew my wife appeared to a luncheon with one of the most recognized names in tele-evangelism, not only tardy, but utterly plastered. With anyone else, it could’ve proven humiliating. To me it was enraging. And just when I told myself I could handle the raging anger, Rasul stumbled in the door, shoulders broad and eyes hard, which was his usual stance in public. His pathetic tough guy presentation likely adapted in prison for when he entered the canteen.
“You good, Lex?” His eyes went between the two of us. “Here,” he spoke slowly, gradually accumulating the revelation that his daughter was in deep trouble with her husband and likely trying to conjure a reaction. “I parked the car,” he spoke to his daughter, but his eyes were stapled to me as he handed her the keys.
I refused to return his questioning glare. I didn’t want to behave in the only manner he was accustomed to. At least not here.
