by Ashe Barker
Imogen realised she’d been holding her breath, and exhaled slowly. Then, conscious of releasing the tension in her shoulders, she managed a tremulous smile. “Yes. Thank you, Sir. I’m better now. Please, continue.”
The pressure increased as he tightened his grip and squeezed once more, her nipples again becoming squashed and distended between his fingers. He pulled, but this time Imogen allowed it, let her head fall back and the pain build, until her murmured ‘amber’ brought it to a halt. Almost. This time he stopped and relaxed his hold, but not totally. The sensitive buds were still constrained, still uncomfortable, still stretched as he pulled them away from her body. Imogen chewed nervously on her lower lip. He saw.
“Is this still moving too fast, Gennie?”
“I… Gennie?”
“Sorry, Imogen if you prefer. Too fast?”
Another long exhale, followed by a deep, relaxing, grounding breath. Then, “I’m fine, really. And Gennie’s fine, too. If you like.”
“I do like. Gennie suits you, especially when your tits are in my hands. Let’s go again, yes?”
“Yes…” The whispered response was barely past Imogen’s lips when Zack squeezed again, using yet more force, pulling and now twisting, too. But it was better, at least, not too bad. Bearable. She remembered this newfound endurance was due to endorphins flooding her system in response to the pain, helping her, easing it. A good, skilled Dom would know, would be able to gauge how much pain to inflict to create that rush, and to maintain it. And she did seem to be in the hands of a skilled Dom. Glad of the blindfold, which excluded all other stimuli but his voice and the feel of his fingers on her body, Imogen relaxed into this moment. A faint smile danced on her lips as she gave herself wholly over to sensation, to the exquisite, excruciating ache delivered by Zack’s ruthless hands. She surrendered willingly now to his merciless assault on her delicate, swollen tips, thrusting her breasts forward into his hands.
Zack held her there for a few seconds more. Or was it hours? She realised afterwards she had no idea how long she’d sat, perfectly still on her table, as he’d pulled and shaped and moulded her sensitive peaks to his requirements. She only knew that she loved the sharp, intense sting, the sense that she was floating in a new space she’d never been in before. She mumbled in frustrated disappointment when he released her without warning, to quickly shiver at the ticklish drape of something soft, caressing the sensitive points. Then in the next moment she bit back her scream, the harsh bite of something hard and fierce gripping and tightening. First the left, then the right side, then Zack’s arms around her, his lips close to her ear as he murmured words of comfort and encouragement.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe in and out. Slowly. It’ll pass soon. You’ll be fine.”
Shivering, she was aware of her breasts pressed hard up against Zack’s chest, their tender peaks clasped in an agonising embrace. Her breasts felt heavy, and she was aware of the hard, alien presence between their bodies.
“What? What is that? What did you do? It hurts…”
“Your nipples are clamped. You can safe word if you need to, but if you wait a few seconds, you’ll adjust. Ride the pain, love, get past it, beyond it.”
“I can’t.” She could hear the whimper in her voice, detested herself for it.
“You can, you are. It won’t hurt any more than this, and you’ll soon be used to it. It’s already easing, yes?”
“I-I’m not sure…”
“Gennie?”
“Yes, perhaps. A little.”
“A little’s good. Good enough. Bearable now?” He firmly massaged her back, the circular pattern calming and grounding.
He sensed her start to relax, so he brought his left hand around to cup her breast, taking its weight tenderly. As her frantic shaking settled, he brought his right hand back around too, and stepped away from her to survey his work. Both Imogen’s nipples were swollen and stretched, the deep red tips just visible, poking between the jaws of two strong spring-action clothes pegs. He’d raided her utility room earlier, found the pair he intended to use and adjusted the springs to increase their bite. He’d protected her delicate skin with small strips of surgical lint from her first-aid box, before snapping his makeshift clamps into place. And they were working beautifully. Not the most aesthetic solution, but very effective. He watched as Imogen visibly relaxed and adjusted to the alien sensations, her body learning to endure, and to welcome the pain. With one fingertip he lightly grazed the exposed flesh of her left peak, and Imogen gasped, its sensitivity magnified by the clamp. He repeated the delicate exploration on the right and was gratified to see a similar reaction. She was ready.
“Okay, now please stand up and turn to face the table.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I want to know how wet you are. So you’re going to show me. Stand, please.”
Zack made no move to help her from her perch, just watched as she wriggled awkwardly forward then dropped to the floor. The clamps caused her breasts to move as she stood up, and the pain was truly exquisite. Imogen was panting slightly, her head hanging forward as the waves of sensation washed through her, every nerve ending in her body standing at attention, all connected invisibly to her beautifully tortured nipples.
“Turn and lean forward. Press your breasts against the table top. I want your arse in the air where I can see what’s going on here.”
It would hurt. Imogen knew that as she leaned over the table, obeying without hesitation. She wanted it, welcomed it, Zack’s gift. Her moan was muffled within her hair as her weight settled on her helplessly distended peaks, the pegs digging into the soft mounds.
“Press down, and lift up your bum.”
Imogen obeyed, and Zack pushed a cushion under her stomach to raise her bottom up slightly more.
“Mmm, another I think. Lift up.”
The pain was excruciating now as Imogen could only use her breasts, crushed against the table, for leverage, her bound hands of no use at all. She managed to raise her bottom again with a soft groan, and he swiftly positioned a second cushion under her stomach.
God, he knows his business. Where do they learn this stuff?
Imogen resolved to ask later, if there was some school for Doms somewhere where they learnt their little tricks and practised their dark art. For now though, she was fully occupied.
“Open your legs. Show me how wet you are, little slutty sub.” The voice was soft and low, despite the crude words.
Imogen obeyed again, and was aware of the soft swish of fabric against the backs of her thighs and her buttocks as Zack lifted her kimono, still hanging from her bound wrists. She felt his gaze on her body as surely as his touch, and held still to allow him an uninterrupted view.
“Mmm, that’s one bonny pink tush you have here, Gennie. And I can see you’ve been enjoying yourself. May I…?
Imogen made no pretence of not understanding his request. Not that she felt for one moment it was a genuine request. He intended to touch her all right, but would have her acknowledgement that it was what she wanted, too. She was past playing games.
“Yes, please. Feel free.”
“Thank you.” He used his fingers to ease her buttocks apart to allow him to inspect her tender, engorged pussy lips. He reached farther, separating her labia to reveal her clit, swollen and throbbing and quivering to be touched. He didn’t oblige, though. Not yet. Instead, he turned his attention to her anus, the tight little opening nestling shyly between her buttocks, now exposed by his exploring hands.
“Lovely arse, Gennie. It looks tight. Have you been fucked here?”
His conversational tone was in sharp contrast to the exquisite intimacy of his words, and as he circled the pursed entrance with his finger, Imogen’s body jerked involuntarily.
“Sorry, did I make you jump? Well, have you?”
He continued to probe and prod at the tightly closed sphincter, and despite her not inconsiderable embarrassment at being examined in such fine detail
, the opening started to relax, just a little, under his gentle testing. She gasped as he slid one fingertip inside. He made no attempt then to press farther, to burrow deeper. He just held her there, bent over her dining room table, open and exposed, knowing he was looking at her and totally aware of his finger inserted into her anus.
“You didn’t answer me, Gennie. Have you been fucked here before?” He wriggled his fingertip inside her arse and Imogen jerked again.
“No, no, never.”
“Never?”
“No.” Her voice was a broken whisper now as the pressure increased ever so slightly, as he twisted his finger to caress the inside of her rear entrance.
“So much pleasure yet to come then. Later. Upstairs, where it’s comfortable. And I can take my time over you. Because you’re a sexy little slut and you deserve to be savoured. Now though, I think you need something a little more—exhilarating—to take your mind off those nipple clamps for a while. So, I’m going to spank you until you ask me to stop. Are you ready?
Imogen lay silent, her body adjusting again as the questing finger withdrew from her body. Then, “Yes, I’m ready. Thank you.”
* * * *
The first ten or so strokes were exquisite, quite, quite delightful. Old habits die hard, and Imogen fell naturally into that old, ingrained rhythm of breathing in between the spanks and exhaling as each fell. She could feel each perfectly positioned stroke, and knew her bottom was starting to glow beautifully under Zack’s tireless palm. Her nipples were sore, incredibly sore, the clamps pinching and punishing, but she found that by pressing her body into the table she could gain some respite. The sharp throb could be dulled to an ache, and she found herself loving the quiet brutality of it, this sense of subduing her body, asserting her own will to surrender to her Dom’s demands.
By the time she’d counted to twenty, her bottom felt to be ablaze. Zack was unrelenting, the blows falling with rigid regularity, just a few seconds between each stroke. Not enough time for the sharp pain to dissipate, so the impact grew and built until it overwhelmed her. Zack said nothing, offered no words now of comfort or encouragement or advice. He just continued to drop spank after punishing spank across her smarting buttocks and the backs of her thighs. Imogen knew it would be a while before she could sit again, or even lie on her back probably. Well, she probably wouldn’t need to if he intended to fuck her arse…
At thirty, she knew she was close. Imogen’s body was no longer lifting in welcome, accepting each stroke. She lay still, her body limp, and counted to thirty five.
“Red.” Her voice was breathy, but still strong, still sure.
Zack’s palm dropped once more to her body, but this time he was gentle, lightly tracing her tingling, smarting skin with his fingertips.
“Can you stand?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet. A few moments, please…”
“That’s fine, take your time.” He was carefully untying her wrists, and in seconds her hands were free. Zack pulled them around to rest on the table top, rubbing her wrists to ease the stiffness. Imogen tried to push herself up, but hadn’t the strength yet in her arms.
Lifting her gently by the shoulders, Zack eased her into a standing position.
“Lean back, I have you.” His mouth was close to her ear, his breath tickling her lobe as he murmured reassuring words. She gripped his biceps and allowed her weight to settle against him. The blindfold was still in place, and she lifted her hands intending to remove it.
“No, these first.” Zack cupped and caressed her breasts with his palms, and Imogen gasped in pain as the full impact of the improvised clamps reverberated through her strung out system.
“Please, take them off. I can’t…”
“Hold still.”
He removed both simultaneously, and Imogen shrieked as the blood rushed once more into her flattened, stretched nipples. His hands covered her breasts and he rubbed vigorously to restore circulation quickly. Even so, the pain was blinding for the first few seconds, and Imogen would have crumpled to the floor but for his arms around her. A few moments later, when she’d stopped shaking, he tugged the blindfold over her head. Then he scooped her up into his arms fully and headed for the door.
“Your room? Or mine?”
Imogen thought for a moment, then, “Mine, please.” She wanted him in her most private, inner sanctum. She wanted, later, after he’d gone, to be able to remember him there. He headed straight up the stairs and along the landing then stopped at her bedroom door. Imogen reached for the door handle to open it, and he carried her inside. She wondered how he knew which her room was, but decided to leave that question for another time as he dropped her onto her bed. Her bottom erupted in flames again in protest, and she rolled to her side aware that if she went onto her stomach her nipples would suffer.
Zack just grinned at her, well aware of how sore she was, and where. “Well, Gennie, a four-poster bed. You kept this little gem quiet. Four posters make excellent whipping frames, plenty of places to tie a sub to. Maybe we’ll have time for that tomorrow…”
Imogen could only stare at him, her body already starting to clench in anticipation. Christ, what a glutton for punishment she really must be. She couldn’t recall feeling this—enthusiastic—even when Sean had been alive. She had no time to contemplate that latest curiosity, however, before Zack instructed her to kneel on the bed, on all fours, her bottom turned towards him. Imogen complied and was rewarded by a long, slow stroke of his flattened palm across the entire length of her pussy from clit to arse. He curled his fingers to trail them through her creamy wet folds, gathering her moisture on his hand.
“Yes, nice and wet. We need more, though.”
Imogen gasped gratefully as three fingers plunged deep into her slick channel, which tightened around him. He withdrew only to thrust again, finger-fucking her hard for a few seconds. He pulled his fingers from her, only to run them along her cleft to her waiting anus. He worked one finger quickly inside, ignoring Imogen’s sharp hiss of protest at the indignity.
“With a bit more practice, you won’t need extra lube. This time though…wait there. Do. Not. Move.”
Her bedroom door clicked as he left her, alone, crouched on her bed.
He was gone less than a minute. His footsteps were on the landing, then the door opened. Moments later, his slick hands were on her again. In her. She caught a quick whiff of baby oil, obviously borrowed from her guest bathroom, as he used his left hand to finger-fuck her pussy. Three solid, long digits as before, while he used his right to penetrate her arse. He wasn’t rough, but he was quick. And determined. And very thorough. He probed her rear channel as he had earlier, and slipped one fingertip harmlessly through the tightly curled muscle. Then, moments later, he plunged forward, easing the whole digit fully into her. Imogen gasped, and relaxed instantly as the sensations from her pussy were intensified by the additional, forbidden pressure from behind. He knew where to aim for, just exactly how to caress her inner softness to find just the right place, just that exquisite spot to rub and tease. His single finger in her arse was quickly joined by another, and his strokes there matched those in her pussy. Imogen’s arms gave way, and she fell forward, her bottom lifting even farther in silent offering. Christ, this was good, so bloody good. Never better, not ever…
She came. Quick, powerful, convulsive, all her muscles spasming around the digits buried deep inside her. Zack chuckled in approval, continuing the momentum until she quietened again. Then he withdrew from her pussy and turned his attention to her quivering, thus far neglected clit. “Now we’ll try it this way. Come for me again, Gennie. Quickly.”
As though responding to his gentle command, she felt the familiar lurch and twist in her core as her body readied itself again to fly. Surely not so soon? Yes, indeed so soon. Within seconds she was spinning again, soaring and drifting as Zack played, skilfully thrumming and caressing her responsive clit. As she approached the point of no return, he took her swollen bud within the circle of h
is clustered fingertips and gently squeezed as he pulled, all the while using his other hand to thrust smoothly in and out of her now totally accepting rear channel. The effect was instantaneous—she absolutely erupted in his hands, stiffening and holding her body rigid for several seconds before her scream of ecstatic delight was ripped from her throat. Then she was thrusting her hips madly, blindly, desperately searching—and finding, as Zack matched her urgent demands, providing everything she needed and more as her orgasm scattered her senses once more.
In the hazy post-orgasmic fog, she was dimly aware of the bed beneath her knees, and her suddenly deserted arse and clit. She moaned, whether in protest or relief she was uncertain, and heard the rip and snap of the condom foil.
Zack was careful, positioning her slowly. He placed his hands on her hips, lifted and turned her before he gently parted her buttocks again and placed the thick head of his cock at her rear entrance. He pressed forward, and Imogen felt the already slack sphincter give to admit him. The fog of orgasm finally cleared, and she expected to feel rather more apprehensive than she apparently did. Still, it had been a weekend of distinctly unusual occurrences, and this was just one more. She lifted her bottom up, and willed her muscles to relax. They did, and when Zack pressed again, he slid easily in the next couple of inches. Imogen stretched, her body straining to accept. He waited, gave her the time she needed then pressed again. This time his cock slid right in, to the hilt. Imogen cried out, softly, a sound of delight rather than pain. This sudden fullness was not yet quite comfortable. She felt—stuffed, over-full and deliciously violated. The sense of the forbidden, the wicked, the slightly dirty and definitely naughty, was liberating. She smiled, wriggled her bum as her body softened and relaxed. Zack caressed her buttocks, holding still. She instinctively knew he was waiting for her signal that all was well.
She gave it in the form of a playful squeeze, tightening her muscles around him, and was astonished to find she could. She already felt to be pulled as tight as her body could go, but still she’d found more. Incredible.
