by Lily Harlem
“You have to take what I give you, whore, don’t you? And right now I want you to take this.”
It was the butt plug. Where the hell had he kept that hidden all day?
I rose onto my tiptoes as the narrow, lubed end traced down my cleft and poked at my puckered hole. Oh, God, I hadn’t expected any anal play tonight. I thought we were doing something else. I wasn’t psyched up for it, hadn’t thought about it enough.
He nipped the ball of my shoulder with his teeth as the first section eased into my dark opening. I could say the safe word, but that would mean stopping our game, which, of course, I didn’t want. So it seemed, again, I had no choice in the matter but to take it. Jacob could and would do to me whatever he wanted.
Willing myself to relax, because I’d taken the plug plenty of times now, I breathed in the sharp, pungent air and concentrated on my tight ring as it expanded.
The plug eased in some more and I shuddered at the carnal bite of pain that besieged me. I was so turned on my entire pelvis was humming for more, but this caused the muscles to grasp the plug in an entirely different way to when I was lying on my bed, relaxed and alone, inserting it.
“I’m going to fill your arse then spank you,” Jacob said into my ear, his hot breath instantly turning damp and cool. “Spank you, whip you, make you wish you weren’t such a fucking prick tease.”
I whimpered and hung my head low, the tendons in my neck stretched as my arsehole widened around the ever-increasing tapered length of the plug. He kept on pushing, on and on, paying no regard to my tightness until finally it popped into me, leaving just the wide arms poking at the underside of my buttocks.
“That’s it,” he said, almost soothingly. “That’s you full.”
Full!
Full was hardly the word. Stuffed, penetrated, out of control. They were the words that sprang to mind.
I’d become aware as I accommodated the plug that I was standing completely on my toes, like a ballerina. Glancing down through the flickering light, I saw my toenails had sunk into the ground. Dried leaves and jagged ends of twigs poked at the pale skin on the top of my feet and around my ankles. It was a sandpit of nature, the wood’s own carpet, claiming me, becoming part of me. I was becoming part of it.
Arching my head up to the sky, I stared at the stark winter treetops. The moon had come out to play too. Its shimmering light fractured through branches as it stared down at our naughty game.
“Argh!” I couldn’t help my shocked scream, and my whole body tensed. The wild, searing pain whipping over my buttocks was agony—tormented, frantic agony.
“Shh,” Jacob whispered as he ran the barkless branch over my tortured skin. “You’ll earn more strikes if you cry out.”
I sank my teeth into my bottom lip and willed my arse to release around its invasion. The involuntary clenching of my cheeks as he’d struck me had created a spasm around the plug, shoving it into the membrane separating my vagina and rectum. The sensation was both exquisite and tormenting. The more I clenched, the sweeter the internal pain.
“Brace,” he muttered.
Brace! That was the problem.
Another stinging slap connected. Its thin, mean line created a cross-section of burnt flesh over both my buttocks.
“Oh, yes,” he said, running his cool palm over my arse. “It’s raised and swollen already.”
I didn’t doubt if for a second.
“It’s a hot mark on cold flesh,” he said. “A sweet line of possession.”
No sooner had the pain retreated than another swinging slap rained down on my vulnerable skin. Owning me, blasting through me, releasing a huge shot of adrenaline into my system.
“Oh, God, Jacob,” I murmured.
“I didn’t say you could speak. Take it,” he said hotly. “Take it where you need it most.”
My befuddled brain tried to make sense of his words. Take it where I needed it most?
He struck again, the very top of my thighs this time. Oh my God! The flames of pain shot to my clit. Scorching the swollen flesh and making it bob within its hood. As I jerked away from the torture, I also found myself shunting back for more. The agony was like an electric circuit to my cunt, filling it with fizzing fire and wild, pulsing blood.
“Let it go,” he said, thrashing my arse again and again.
“Ah, ah,” I panted, absorbing the heat that bloomed across my skin and settled deep in my pelvis. The pain was like another living, breathing part of me, and I began to feel floaty as endorphins were released into my system. The world dropped away; I was drifting on a sea of sensation.
A sudden gust of breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders, and I flung my head back, relaxed my knees and allowed the ropes to hold my weight. The wind rustled around the branches and whipped over the leaf-littered floor. To my left the trees darkened, and I guessed one of the candles had blown out.
Jacob smoothed his hands over my arse, as if caressing the pains he’d inflicted. My clit was engorged. Moisture had seeped from my pussy and dampened the inside of my legs. I needed him to touch me again. I needed him to touch my clit and fuck my cunt.
“Soon,” he said as if reading my hazy thoughts. “Soon.”
The branch he wielded swung down again, the cold air shifting out of its way just a fraction of a second before it hit.
I moaned long and low, no longer mustering the energy to remain completely silent.
He picked up the pace, striking me fast and hard—they weren’t pansy hits, they had real male muscle behind them and each lash bit like a snake. Before long they all blurred, each cruel sting meshing with the last until my arse was just one thrumming mass of pain.
A barrage of emotions overwhelmed me as I hung there, in the dark woods, my arse penetrated and being beaten by Jacob’s branch. I never would have thought I’d have this experience, but it was so liberating. Jacob inflicting this erotic pain had given me a whole new level of sensation. A whole new understanding of myself.
As suddenly as it started, the beating stopped.
I didn’t move, just allowed myself to be suspended by the ropes as I panted through the pain and listened to my pulse raging in my ears. My buttocks and the tops of my thighs were on fire, burning, and as the cold night stroked over them they sizzled and stung.
“Look at me.”
Jacob pinched my jaw between his fingers, and I opened my eyes. He was naked now, and the shadows from the candles flickered across his wide, defined chest. He reminded me in that instant of a Roman soldier, bronzed and sculpted. A thin layer of sweat shone in the hollow of his throat and over his top lip, and his fringe was jagged over his forehead.
I loved him like I knew I would never love anyone else.
He stooped and slotted his strong, corded forearms under my thighs, hoisting me into the air so that my spread pussy was directly over his cock. “You can speak now. Tell me what you want, bitch.”
“I-I want you to, oh, please, please just fuck me.” Winding my fingers around the ropes I could reach with my new elevated position, I jerked and tried to impale myself on him.
He grunted and allowed the first inch of his cock to push in. But he had me in a tight hold and I couldn’t drop down any further than he would allow.
“You gonna tease me again?” he asked harshly.
“Jacob, I… I…please, yes, yes. Whatever you want.” My pussy was contracting around nothing—I needed filling, now.
“Because whenever you want tying up and punishing, all you’ve got to do is tease me and you’ll get it.” He pressed his mouth to mine in a heated kiss. “And, just so you know, whenever I want to put that plug in your tight little arse and fuck your pussy, I will. You’re mine; I will do to you whatever the hell I want, whenever I want.”
His words were like an aphrodisiac and my arse clenched around the plug, stimulating me so much that an orgasm hovered. If only he would…
He thrust in, right to the hilt.
I cried out. My channel was so tight. With the
plug in place his cock felt so much thicker, so much wider. The stab of pain was deliciously bad, and the sensation of being invaded and filled overwhelmed me so much that tears fell.
“Shh,” he soothed against my cheek. “Shh.”
But I didn’t want to be quiet or soothed. I felt wonderful, and no one would hear us. I wanted to shout and scream and let Jacob know how fantastic he made me feel. They were tears of joy. “Jacob, Jacob, please, oh God, yes, yes!” I shouted. My orgasm was so close. One more stroke.
He pulled me off his cock, then, using the ropes I was harnessed to, swung me back down on to him.
For an aching, eternal second I stiffened, my body waiting, suspended, knowing it was there, finally. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I panted, staring down at where we were joined. His dark pubic hair was mashed against my clit; his hips had reared upwards as he thrust as deep as possible into me.
“Fuck it, yes, yes,” he hissed.
He shoved me up and banged me down onto him again, the penetration bordering on violent.
“Argh!” I erupted in a rolling, hanging mass of ecstasy. My anus clenched around the plug and my pussy squeezed and milked his cock. My clit sent shockwaves of wanton bliss careering through me.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he cried out, his voice now every bit as loud as mine and his head thrown back. “That is fucking it!” He came deep inside me, ramming my body down onto his over and over.
I split apart again, my body reeling in a million different directions in the cold, dark woods. It travelled from the tips of my fingers, frantic and bloodless, right to the ends of my filthy toes.
What on earth had we become?
Chapter Nine
I’d decided to try and persuade Jacob to confess his deepest desires. It struck me that it hardly seemed fair, him accommodating every one of my fantasies so far and me not doing the same for him. Our relationship had always been based on sharing, and, although I was delirious with happiness that he was willing to cater to my needs, it didn’t feel right. Off balance, somehow. The challenge was whether he would express aloud what he’d previously kept in his head. Granted, my opening up had shown me a side to him I never knew had existed, and his reaction, the way he played the part so well, that dominant, brute of a male, told me I’d tapped into one of his desires already. And then there was the blowjob, him holding my head, choosing the pace and directing exactly how he wanted it to be. I had no idea he’d wanted to act like that. I’d supposed he was just a gentleman, wanting it sweet and sexy as opposed to rough and ready.
Again, I wondered—were there more sexual secrets he’d kept hidden, lingering under the surface, him waiting for the right moment to let them out? Was he like I’d been, wishing he could blurt it out but fearful of my reaction?
I thought about how well things had gone recently, how each new sexual scenario had worked as though we’d acted them out before, even though it was only me that had read about someone else enjoying them.
But we’d always known what the other had wanted and needed on this journey so surely that should tell him it was okay to push for more. Did he need courage? A little prodding?
I aimed to find out. Imagine if his needs matched mine or sparked ones I had no idea I’d wanted until he’d spoken…
I recalled how I’d felt in that hotel room when I’d told him about the rape fantasy. It had been embarrassing, awkward even, to utter the first words. But once I knew he understood, didn’t think me dirty, I relaxed. Perhaps he needed the same from me.
I’d coax the words out of him if it was the last thing I did.
The opportunity presented itself, once again convincing me fate was on our side. Jacob was working late. I’d cooked a delicious meal, set the table, and planned on bringing his fantasies out into the open.
I imagined his voice, hesitating at first to tell me what he wanted, and I swear my heart swelled with love for him as I placed the girls’ school uniforms in the washer and switched it on. He was such a beautiful person, and I knew him becoming that rough, domineering man in the bedroom must have been like wearing clothes he’d never have chosen without someone telling him they suited him.
But, my God, he’d settled into that role so well, so easily. I could only imagine what the future held. So many fantasies to play out, so many to combine to make new ones. The possibilities were endless.
With the washing machine humming and sloshing, our dinner—chicken chasseur—cooking in the oven, and the girls already in bed, I made my way upstairs for a quick shower. Taking my clothes off sent a frisson of excitement through me. I’d become more comfortable with myself naked lately, despite the jiggling thighs and wobbly belly. Jacob didn’t seem to notice. His adoration of my shape, the way he brushed his fingertips over my skin, following the contours—the incline, apex, and downward slant of my hipbone; the curving dip of my waist; the rounded swell of my breasts—told me all I needed to know. He loved me as I was. The new clothes I’d bought while we’d been away had helped too. I still wore my favourite jeans and tops, but every couple of days I put on a dress or a skirt with a blouse instead. Jacob’s reaction when he came home and saw me wearing them made me want to buy a whole new wardrobe.
Maybe I would next week.
I shaved my pussy again, reminding myself to find the courage to have it professionally waxed. If he liked it this way, I’d keep doing it. I admitted I liked the idea of never having hair there again. Besides, it felt good against my fingers when I fondled myself. When I was alone, masturbating, I tilted my hips so I could look down at myself and see my fleshy wet lips, fingers gliding between them. The sight always made me come quickly.
Dried and dressed in a calf-length black négligée, I went back downstairs to await my man, idling away the final minutes by tweaking the white roses in the vase on the table, straightening the polished cutlery, opening the oven to check the food. Repeating those actions until I was sick of them.
The wait was killing me.
At lunch, Jacob had telephoned to say he’d be late—he always did if his arrival home would be after seven—and the routine of that had made me smile. We had a pattern, things we always did, ways we always followed, and they brought security. Too much security. I knew that now, because we’d almost let it overwhelm us, take us where it wanted. We’d allowed life to direct which road we took instead of us choosing. Now, although the same routines were in place, new ones had arrived, yet they hadn’t upset the balance. If anything, they’d enhanced it.
I was so thankful for that. We still had it, still wanted each other as much as we had when we’d first met. More, even. And wasn’t that saying something? The first flush of love had been a heady rush of emotions, all-consuming, threatening to cut off my breath, and every thought in my head was about him. I could think of nothing else, and now it was the same way. I liked to think we’d fallen in love again, rediscovered why we’d become a couple in the first place, and God, it felt so damn good.
His key scraped into the lock, and my stomach rolled over then clenched so tight I thought I might be sick. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in forever, had waited years to be with him again. Excitement bubbled inside me, my knees weakening at the sound of his tread on the stairs, the faint squeak of the girls’ bedroom door opening, the soft thud as he closed it after checking on them. He’d be down here soon, standing in the kitchen doorway, filling the frame as well as he filled my cunt—to capacity.
Absurdly, I had the urge to position myself, a seductive pose that would have him thinking of nothing but me. The hunger in his belly would vanish, replaced by an entirely different kind that tightened his balls and lengthened his cock. I felt like a schoolgirl again, giddy with anticipation, and darted about the kitchen trying to find somewhere to drape myself before he appeared. Why was I doing this? Why, all of a sudden, was it so important that I be different? Was taking the dinner out of the oven not an act I wanted him to see anymore?
I admitted that it wasn’t, not on
these nights anyway. They were for us, domesticity thrown out the goddamned window. I wanted to be the woman of his dreams, sexy and someone he couldn’t wait to run his hands over. He’d say I already was, but I wanted to feel it.
I spotted a rose petal on the rug beneath the table, a stray lemon-shaped splash of whiteness against the red pile. I wanted this to be perfect, right, and went down on hands and knees to pick it up before he came in.
“Well, hello, love!”
His voice sent shivers down my spine, knotted my tummy again, and brought a blush to my cheeks. He’d caught me being domestic, and I hadn’t wanted that.
“Are you waiting down there for me?” he asked.
That sentence, it had a touch of laughter in it, yet at the same time was husky and all kinds of wonderful. The burn of anger at being caught like this melted away. I turned to look at him, not in the doorway as I’d imagined but by my side, propping himself up with one broad hand grasping a dining chair.
The sight of him, all wide shoulders and tapered waist, his suit crumpled from sitting at his desk and the drive home, brought on a spear of love so violent I wanted to cry. This man was mine, all mine, and I was one lucky woman.
I clutched the rose petal in my fist, likening its silky feel to that of his hard cock, and feigned nonchalance, as though he caught me on my hands and knees every day of the week. “Oh, I just spotted something under the table.” I stood, conscious of my négligée swaying, the fabric brushing my legs. “Hungry?”
The gleam in his eye expressed his desire and my nerves settled a little. It would play out just as I’d hoped, wouldn’t it? I cursed myself for this sudden uncertainty—did I want everything to be so perfect that badly? Yes, I did. I needed the mood to be right so Jacob would confess without feeling exposed. Baring his soul would take a lot—he wasn’t used to it.
“I see we’re sticking to our evenings alone when I work late, then.”
