by JR King
“Say it,” he snarled. He thrust hard, quickening his pace.
“I’m…coming.” His mouth finally came back to mine, his unbelievably soft lips teasing, his tongue skillfully caressing.
“Fuck.” He slammed the mattress and came right after me, prolonging the excitement of my own orgasm. I felt him swell and pulsate, and then he was kissing me purposefully to keep my screams from echoing. He cried out with his own completion, pressing his mouth firmly against mine as his seed erupted, thrusting throughout his orgasm.
When he rolled off me, I felt lost somehow. I slithered over to him, and he gently pulled me in. He was panting beneath me, catching his breath. We didn’t say much more, and I watched as he fell asleep. I gazed at him for a long time, and it struck me as odd that an insanely drunk man could look so beatific when he slept. I wrapped myself around his arm and, eventually, I fell asleep too, smiling at the thought of him waking me in the middle of the night for another round.
Alexander Turner
The Scene
Home sweet home. Claudia was a finished story. Elena and I were on an upswing. These days, I was home at a decent hour and it seemed as if I might be able to clear my calendar of official engagements in December for a two-week holiday.
I spent time catching up on bestsellers I’d missed and movies I wanted to see but was unable to do so. I was pretty much done with the movies, most of them weren’t all that great, but for The King’s Speech. TV programs were so mindless that I didn’t bother except for a few series. I started binge-watching The Big Bang Theory and the Blu-ray version of HBO’s Rome. I seriously recommend both if you are up for comedy and ancient culture—read: rough sex. Elena, the little minx, rewound a certain Rome scene just to see James Purevoy naked again. Okay, so he looks good naked, but did she have to be so giddy about his cock? Had I rewound parts to watch tits and ass, she’d be sulking.
I attempted to gauge her mood while watching Mad Men, season four. She’d surrounded herself with tapestry pillows. Crassly grabbing the ass of a secretary is an offense, she yelled at the screen. The corners of my mouth quirked up vaguely. In her quest for justice, her dress had ridden up the length of her thighs. Being a hot-blooded male, of course the transpicuous cloth of her underwear distracted me. Could hardly serve as a gag, I concluded.
“Elena?”
She made a noncommittal noise.
“Boring you, aren’t I?” I put the home theater system on standby. “Go to playroom, pet.”
“Can I watch the end?” It was a broken, breathless, hungry insistence.
A cruel smile glinted across my lips. “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: do as I say.”
“If we’re going to do more of a vanilla thingy up there, we might as well do it down here so I can catch up on TVD afterward.”
My heartbeat rocketed. “You want to do a scene?” I avoided scening on Sunday evening, mostly to steer clear of fresh bruises the next day. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. “Come.” I took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. From one moment to the next, we were standing in front of the door to the playroom. I unlocked it, stepping back for Elena to walk through.
She went on to remove her dress, folding it.
“Lose the panties. Keep the ponytail.”
“Yes, sir.”
She put her clothes on the Regency chest of drawers near the entrance.
Standing behind her, I ran my nose down her bare neck, inhaling her scent. “Are you sure you’d rather have kinky sex than watch Don Draper’s privates?”
She giggled. “You mean his giant package, sir?”
“Giant, you say?” I moved us beneath the grid, reaching up to take down some shackles with leather restraints. Trussed up, she wriggled against the black leather cuffs; the way the straps of the elongated chains were buckled made it so that she had to stand flat on her feet, legs parted to relax her shoulders. “One minute,” I excused myself.
She yelped in horror when I returned, silver jewelry glinting in one hand, a thick butt plug in the other. Her pupils were huge, dilated by fear alone.
“Giant—isn’t that what you wanted, babe?” She screwed her eyes shut as I lubed the plug and began inserting it.
“Make it stop, Alex,” she keened loudly.
I stopped at once and brought my lips to her ear, urging her to calm down. “Be a good girl,” I murmured in a rapid, crisp staccato. “Good girl.”
She murmured wordless sounds against my shoulder.
“Good girl,” I said again, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll slow down. Don’t fight the invading feeling, expand around it.” I smoothed her hair back and made shh noises while she heaved sobs into my shoulder. Its girth looked intimidating, but the six-inch silicone toy had plenty of give in it. I finally shifted when the tight ring of muscles locked around the base of the plug.
I picked up the nipple clamps. Each clamp had decorative semi-precious gemstone beads that hung on silver chains from the rear end. They didn’t open like a clothespin; jaw-like disks turned in circles. Opening one jaw, I trapped her nipple between the disks, holding it in position as I slowly rotated them. I maneuvered the other end to her other breasts, increasing the pressure until she cried out.
The first fall of the flogger came from behind, moving across her upper back. It was a soft thud, an almost gentle impact that hopefully didn’t sting too much. Another blow fell, leaving her skin blushing as if heated under the gaze of leather. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as I kept decorating her behind with pinkish stripes. I made sure not to overlap the hits. I changed sides and directions, smacking her breasts, raining small licks of fire down her belly. No welts. I was only touching her with the leather-covered end of the crop, rather than the length of it, so each blow was delivered with the full force and control of my swing, testing my stamina.
“How does it feel, pet?”
“Please,” she breathed.
“Please what?” I delivered a careful blow across her pubic bone before hitting her clitoris.
“Finish it,” she whined.
“Quiet!”
“I won’t let you enjoy this,” she threatened me.
“You enjoy having a wolf by the ear, don’t you?” I dragged the tongue of the crop between her pussy lips. “Go ahead, safeword. See if I care.” With eyes closed, she started rubbing herself against the implement. “Look at that. Open your eyes and mouth, slut. Now.” She did. Shining with her own juices, I pushed the tip of the crop into her mouth. “Suck hard. Clean your mess.” Dutifully, her tongue mopped up her arousal. To increase the distress on the distended buds, I tugged the chain connecting the two clamps. Removing the leather from her mouth, I leaned forward and kissed her fast and hard, wanting to taste the saltiness of her sex.
“Make me come, Alex,” she moaned into my mouth.
I took a step back, holding up the crop. “Can you come with this? It’s all I have to offer.”
She nodded hesitantly.
Trying to either escape or enjoy the flurry of biting snaps against her clit, she squirmed and writhed in her restraints. Her tears flowed faster, dripping down her breasts, and her struggles became wilder, which made it harder for me to aim correctly.
The moment she stiffened and sagged, gloriously coming due to the crop, I dropped it and held her. It was so gorgeously erotic that I nearly came in my trousers. Carina had given me the chance to witness some damn explosive female orgasms, but Elena took giving me my heart’s desire to a whole new level. Her head on my shoulder, she was mewling and whimpering sweet little things.
I unbuckled her cuffs, freeing her nipples and her wrists. “Well done, little one. That was fantastic. Are you in pain?” She barely answered as I laid her on the bed and lay down beside her. I snuggled up behind her, sliding my hand down her side and over her hip. “Have I unwittingly hurt you?” She stirred as I lifted the raven tendrils off the curvature of her neck and cosseted it with soft kisses.
; “No, sir.”
“Don’t move.” I nuzzled into her neck and let my weight settle over her. “You’re tired, I’ll make this quick.” I took out the plug and replaced it with my cock, acquainting her with my size.
There’s a certain euphoria when it comes to a man feeling a woman’s hot, rosebud-tight silkiness wrapped around his cock. Feeling Elena move against me, a triumphant grimace surfaced on my face. I peppered her shoulder with kisses and feather-soft licks. Her cuffed neck in my hand was pressured to match my rhythm and have her submit her body unhindered, unquestioned.
When I had my fill, I kissed her neck and said, “Good night, sweetheart.” Although my mind was still awash with vivid sexual imagery, I had to wait for her body to draw level once more. I sani-wiped the playroom and cleaned us up. It was totally out of character for me to bring about a bedspread in this room. I fluffed it, drawing it as high as Elena’s upper back, snugging it under her chin. Climbing in the bed to hold her, wide ripples of black cotton billowed around the red leather as we huddled together in the warm dimension. It seemed that sleep tenaciously refused to claim Elena. Her eyes were clamped shut but there’s no question that she was awake. Her body trembled with each breath she took. She didn’t say it—and she didn’t have to—but I understood she wanted to talk.
Funnily enough, so did I.
I smacked her shoulder. “Don’t trivialize, tell me what’s on your mind.”
She rolled over on top of me and pulled the bedspread up over our heads so we were inside our own spidersilk-strong cocoon.
“What were you thinking? What was it?”
“The crop. The pain. The orgasm, too. It felt exquisite and that…,”
“Is wrong. It baffled you. Popped your bubble.”
She let out a wistful sigh. “Yes.”
“Because a human shouldn’t be gratified by that kind of barbaric practice. Or more specifically, a woman shouldn’t be gratified by that kind of sadistic practice.”
“Yes. I feel ashamed.”
“There’s no place for shame in this playroom, kitten. I told you once and I’ll say it again: you can be yourself in here. Whatever you enjoy, if it feels good then it’s simply good. Don’t make me explain this again.”
“But you’re a good ’splainer,” she giggled, “I like listening to a man-o’-the-world.”
I grinned. “Ask me anything.”
“Do you think Christopher is capable of cheating on Sophia?”
I swallowed past the knot in my throat. Where did that come from?
“In the wrong circumstances, I think any man is capable of cheating on the woman he loves.”
Everything about my life felt great…until, in NYC, I ran into Christopher at a political fundraiser. It wasn’t the awkwardness of seeing him with a young girl that worried me, it was his killer look. He was furious; his cheeks were red, his grey eyes blacker than I’d ever seen before. My greatest love story was unraveling fast, like a speeding car heading straight for a redbrick wall. Either you get Elena in line, or I will. Listening to his angry voice echoing in the hotel’s courtyard, I did the one thing a sane person should do when mad dogs fight over a bone.
Elena Anderson
The Plan
I ran the gauntlet of a quick-timed shower and, in a haze, slipped into a racy mint-green garden party dress and nude heels. After tipping my cheeks and lips with lilac and several swipes of the mascara wand, I secured my hair in a high ponytail and was on my way.
At Drink, I transected through the crowd until I reached the bar, and ordered three vodka martinis. I specified Grey Goose vodka and Noilly Prat vermouth. With a soft smile, I rejected the offer of a lemon curl and asked for two olives on a proper martini pick instead. The long-limbed, rangy barman nodded appreciatively as he went about preparing the drinks. I couldn’t make up my mind if he was experienced enough to genuinely prepare the drinks, challenging my knowledge of cocktails. In the end, I was impressed by the confidence of his moves and execution. There were more or less a dozen men sitting at or standing near the bar, a few of them staring at me. I ignored the unsettling gazes, feeling a shimmer of disappointment. If Alexander were here, they’d be less obvious.
Alexander was going to join us, but very late because I’d told him I wanted to catch up with my friends. What he didn’t know is that I was here to ask them for advice and help.
As I contemplated all of this, Sara slipped her arm into mine and spun me toward her. She leaned closer and kissed my cheek. “Great initiative, kiddo.”
“Sara,” someone yelled. A spiky-haired fellow with tattoos and leather cuff wristbands flanked an airbrushed model dressed in a beaded halter gold bikini top and angora-style dress slacks. Two indisputably lean blondes with long hair stood beside the couple, giggling like girls seeking a seedy hookup.
Sara emulated his elegant wave. “Upcoming rockstar,” she told me.
The space was infused with the ghost of crisply scattered rosemary. Minimal lighting complemented the spotlit red brick walls and the wood slat ceiling. I comprehended early on that we were being othered. Compared to the occupied spaces further away around the bar, ours was the only one the bartenders paid scrupulous attention to. To my complete humiliation, as I remembered picking up a guy here once—Harvey, I laughed like a loon.
“What has happened?” Sara pinched my arm.
A last sliver of a snort escaped me. “Double penetration-guy.”
We both laughed. The jitters in my belly and tingles of sexual arousal in my limbs multiplied—by a hundred, a thousand, a million—as I mused about a threesome.
Drink was a nice, homey place, in spite of the rich expat crowd. Unfortunately for me, the harmony ended once Michael saw us. He looked flipped out. I watched him in stunned silence; he wore a gingham shirt with a leather jacket, and in brisk pace, he plowed through the crowd like a bulldozer. His hair was blonde, and depending on his mood, his aquiline nose flared. Sara was the one who’d told me that his eyes turned cinder black in the throes of passion.
“My two favorite girls.” Michael always greeted us with a warm smile around his eyes, and a lively voice. “What is this place?”
“Don’t be so blasé,” snorted Sara. “Cat Silirie did the wine list here.”
I stuck my chin out my chin at him. “Designed for rockstars. Have you no sense of logic whatsoever?”
He looked us up and down, finishing with a half-servile bow. “Well, in that case, let’s party.”
Sara laughed and roughed up his hair.
“Ladies, here we go.” The barman placed the drinks in front of us, his scruffy, unfastened surfer hair snapping behind him like a flag.
I lifted the wide glass to my mouth and sipped. The drink was very cold and very strong. I sipped some more with relish. The glass was almost half empty by the time I put it down.
“Sara,” I toyed with the circular part of the Tiffany bloom key pendant on my necklace, “I need five minutes with Michael.” I looked over at him but he hadn’t bothered to turn to me, or to respond.
“Gossiping behind my back?” Sara gave me a vulpine smile.
“I’ll fill you in, I need to talk to him first.”
“I’ll place an order for fries, crostinis, and charcuterie.” She grinned and tossed her blonde curls back, absconded before we could add anything else.
“What’s up?” asked Michael. “Wait. Come.” Drink in my hand, I allowed myself to be led by him toward a dark corner. I struggled to keep up with him in the cramped room. He was much taller than me, over six foot two, to be exact.
“It’s about Alexander,” I began.
“I thought so. Don’t look so morose. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, and I can give you a fresh, lean, and mean perspective. Out with it.”
My stomach was aflutter as the dangerousness of the situation settled in my chest. “It might be that his uncle, Christopher, staged everything. He was the one having an affair with my mother. Explains why his wife’s so tarred with scorn.
He persuaded me to sign the papers, and I think he took evidence from the safe deposit box in Zürich.”
His jaw dropped, his eyes blank. He continued in an icy tone, “Based on his behavior, I predicate that Alexander wouldn’t date you because his uncle needed access to a box. He himself wouldn’t date you if he needed access to a box.”
Nothing was going to dampen my spirit. “I know you have friends at that bank.”
“You want reassurance? Watch the security tape?”
Electric tingles mounted my spine. “Yes.”
“And if your hunch is correct? What then?”
With fear clawing at my gut and ache lancing through me, I thought I might drop the investigation. I breathed through it all and felt it ebb. Having inspected my recent French manicure, I touched my martini glass to my lips. “Then I’ll have to deal with it, once and for all. Kill two birds with one stone. Daddy dialed a number that evening, only a powerful family like the Turners can have records wiped. Revenge is a dish served warm if you want to quell and decimate, not cold. I won’t play games, I’ll simply obliterate them.”
“Thank God I never pissed you off. Castration frightens me.” He laughed amiably before a thoughtful look emerged on his face. “It’s all so incongruous with Alexander’s caring approach. He truly loves you, baby girl. Don’t punish him for something his uncle might have done.”
“I won’t. I love him more.” I motioned to Sara with my free hand. “Roadtrip?”
Her smile was warm as she pointed a finger at me, “Where! Where are we going?” she howled.
“The three of us are going jetsetting in Zürich, beautiful,” Michael concluded, pecking her cheek when she was close enough.
By the time our food got delivered, Alexander had arrived. He stood leaning against a wall, wearing a light grey three-piece and swigging bottled water. If he’d post a selfie with this particular brand of water, the company needn’t bother with paid ads.
Michael asked, “Are you sure, El?”
