Kink

by Nikki Sex

“You’re mine, Em,” I say in a low voice. “Mine to take when, and where, and however I want.” I feel her swallow under my palm. Just slightly, I tighten my grip. “I own you,” I say with soft menace. A shiver of arousal moves through her body. “What do you say?”

  She clears her throat and gives me a tentative, yet cheeky smile. “Thank you, Paul.”

  Chapter 14.

  “A submissive longs to serve and please another.”

  – André Chevalier

  ~~~

  “Sit on me. Straddle my legs,” I order her as I sit down.

  Emily sits upon me with her thighs parted, facing me. I clasp her arms behind her with one hand. This pulls her shoulders up, and back. It makes her breasts push forward, so they’re on prominent display.

  “Very nice,” I murmur appreciatively, studying her body. I run the tips of my fingers around her nipples and cup each heavy breast, teasing and fondling. She whimpers, and sighs, loving my attention.

  “I’m going to fuck these beautiful breasts later tonight,” I say. “Or I may just shoot my cum over them, or in your mouth, or on your pretty face. Would you like that? Do you want my hot cum?”

  She shuts her eyes for a moment, as if looking at an inner vision of my plans. When she opens her eyes and says, “Hell yes.”

  With one hand keeping a firm grip on her wrists behind her back, my other hand grips her jaw and pulls her against me for a kiss. Her breasts feel cool upon my warm chest.

  Our kiss starts soft and sweet.

  As I become more urgent, I squeeze one breast with rough demand, then find and pinch a nipple. Em moans and I swallow the sound with my mouth. My tongue fucks her and when I catch her tongue, I suck on it, while continuing to tease and torment her nipples, twisting and pulling.

  She sighs and whimpers with desire; a constant carnal melody.

  I pull back from her mouth and my lips move down her throat, along her collar bone, until I’m able to bite and suck her nipples. Holding her tightly, I have her captured upon my lap.

  I understand the submissive mind. Being forcefully held, imprisoned in my arms, makes her feel secure, desirable and wanted.

  Emily is under my protection and care. She’s mine.

  My palm trails down along her waist, and between her legs. My fingers gently stroke her outer lips. As she swells, I easily open her folds. Using her plentiful juices, I circle and tease. Her breath becomes shallow and speeds up, until she’s panting. The pulse in her throat is visible. The room is saturated with her unique heady scent.

  “Fuck, I love your cunt and the way it reacts to my touch,” I say, my voice husky with lust. “Do you like me enjoying your pretty little cunt?”

  “Oh yes,” she breathes a little desperately.

  She’s a needy little thing and I adore her. I remind myself that I get to play with her for hours tonight.

  No one has ever absorbed my attention as fully as my little rabbit does. I always feel powerful when acting as a Dom, but I feel a hundred times more powerful dominating Emily. Partially this is because of how I feel toward her. Yet a large part is just because it’s her.

  Em brings out something in my inner nature that I never knew was there. I feel dominant, yet loving, trusting and protective, all at the same time. No one has ever given themselves so completely to me. Emily’s total surrender is beautiful. This is more than submission… it’s love.

  Man, she’s dripping. I put my soaked fingers near her lips. “Open,” I growl. Lust makes my voice hoarse. She complies. I place two fingers inside of her mouth and stroke her tongue.

  “Suck my fingers clean,” I demand. Moaning, she vigorously works me. She licks her soft pink tongue assiduously, like a cat, and sucks my digits like a vacuum cleaner.

  “Good girl,” I say. I sink my teeth into a nipple, then lap and I soothe her breast. My fingers return to her swollen mound and throbbing clit. I tap the erect, pulsing flesh – just once, and she cries out. She’s near climax, so I hold back, cupping her mound.

  “Tell me what happened while you were sucking me off today.”

  I see her mental gears shift, while she attempts to swim up from her sensual daze. “What?” she gasps. I orient her, and get her on track. It takes a while for her to surface and then to focus and process what I asked.

  Bemused, she shakes her head and giggles. “Really, Paul? Now? You want to know now?”

  I smirk. “Can you string your thoughts together enough to explain?” While she reflects, I gently fondle her between her legs.

  Her eyebrows rise. “How am I supposed to concentrate?”

  I shrug. “Do your best. Do you know why you should?”

  “Because you want me to?”

  “Oh, you are so very clever, my wonderful little rabbit. That’s exactly why you should answer my question.” I bend forward and whisper with dark seduction in her ear, “Because it would please me.”

  Her body trembles. This beautiful woman wants to please me with everything she is. I’m high from the powerful buzz this gives me. Em is under my care. I can take her and use her any way I choose. I’d want this even if sex wasn’t part of the equation.

  I need it.

  I wonder about her fantasies. I’ll get her to confess them in time. All of this is new to her, so I doubt that Em will surprise me… but she might.

  I’ve seen a variety of kinks. I’ve met subs who crave humiliation and masochists who can easily be taken too far. Some women can’t climax unless they’re called derogatory names.

  From my eyes, unless it’s a criminal act, I admire anyone who is brave enough to admit a desire, and go out and fulfill that desire, no matter how unacceptable it is to society.

  So many people who aren’t in the lifestyle think that D/s is only about sex. They think it’s all about getting off, or even worse, the abuse of ‘weak’ men or women. I’ve tried to explain it many times, but some people just don’t get it.

  Being a Dom is a responsibility. Submissives have a truckload of power, but they choose to give their power to someone else. The courage and ability to submit, to trust enough to be vulnerable to another is an incredible strength, not a weakness.

  I’ve acted as a sub during Dom training, so I have personal insight. It takes a mad combination of bravery and faith. Even knowing that I had the power of a safeword, I hated being under another’s control.

  Being bound and blindfolded was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done. I only did it because I was made to. I swear that I’ll never do it again.

  I despise feeling helpless.

  Dominating a woman fulfills me, mind, heart and soul. And dominating the woman I love? It’s the most intense high that I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine anything being as addictive. Emily owns me, just as much as I own her. I suspect this overwhelming urge to possess, care for, punish and protect her is built somewhere right into my DNA.

  I remove my hand from her mound and place it on her thigh. There’s no need to distract her right now.

  “Okay,” she says. Her eyes glance down and drift to the left. I can tell that her mind’s focus is no longer on the present. Em licks her lips. “I… I had a moment there, where everything became clear to me. I finally figured out what submission was and why it was a turn on. I loved you giving me orders. I loved you using my body to get off.”

  She shifts restlessly. The pink tip of her tongue runs over her top and bottom lips, thoroughly wetting them. I bite back a groan.

  “Um. It…well,” she says. “It had nothing to do with me. It was all about you. It wasn’t about sex, although it kind of was. I didn’t have an orgasm, but it felt better than if I did, because I pleased you.”

  Em’s brows draw down and she has a faraway look. Unexpectedly she meets my gaze and smiles. “It suddenly seemed as if that was why I was here, simply to please you.”

  My sweet girl is so eloquent. I’m blown away by how much she understands already. God, I love her. She deserves a reward. The kiss I give her is soft and l
oving. My hand gets busy again between her legs, bringing her close. She’s almost there.

  “Ah, ah, ah…,” she gasps.

  “That’s right, that’s my good girl,” I coax her. I have two fingers pumping her, while my thumb works her wet, swollen clit. “Eyes on me.”

  Her eyes meet mine, glittering wildly with lust. Emily whimpers and gasps while her face contorts in an agony of ecstasy. I swear that I can see her soul through those pale blue eyes.

  “Let me hear you come,” I growl. “Come for me.”

  A loud desperate cry escapes her lips.

  Her arms pull hard against me, from where I’ve captured them behind her. I tighten my grip. She stiffens suddenly in my embrace. I enjoy the straining tension in her body for an instant, before her hips jerk, thrusting into my fingers.

  “Good, good girl,” I croon. “That’s right. Give it to me.” Her eyes focus on mine. They flash with blue fire as she comes. I continue to gently caress her slick flesh as she rides out her orgasm.

  “Hold me rabbit,” I whisper as I let her hands loose.

  Her arms wrap around me as if I were a lifeline. She shudders and gasps, filling her lungs with air, while shivering and trembling in a succession of erotic convulsions. Her entire body flushes and she sags against me.

  I pull her across my legs, and she nuzzles into my neck. I stroke her hair, and shoulders, patting and soothing, while murmuring how beautiful she is, and how much I cherish her, and how she’s pleased me. Emily will do anything I ask of her.

  Her submission is such a gift.

  While in the San Francisco fetish club, I trained a number of subs. With Emily, I’m not following my usual methods. Is it because I know her so well? That sounds like a rationalization.

  I know I’m being soft on her, but I want to be soft. I love her, and that’s the difference. I want her to enjoy every minute, while I teach her what I need as my submissive.

  When she comes back to herself, she looks into my eyes, and smiles. “Mmm. That was very nice. Thank you, Paul.”

  “We aren’t finished,” I murmur quietly. “That was one orgasm, a little one, too. I think we can do better, don’t you?”

  Em giggles, as I knew she would. I’ve always been too serious all my life. Somehow, I’m lighthearted with her, even during sex. She’s a good influence.

  “Well, okay,” she smirks. “You’re the boss.”

  “That’s right,” I agree, and narrow my eyes. My plan is to set the bar higher tonight, and push her a little. “I want to see you slowly crawl over to the dresser, and bring me your hairbrush.”

  There’s surprise in her expression, and then shock sets in. A tangle of emotions cross her features, with shyness, or embarrassment perhaps, being on the top of the list.

  “I want you to crawl. Be as sexy as you can while wiggling that extremely tempting ass of yours,” I tell her. “Then put the brush in your mouth and crawl back. Bring it to me.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Yes. You want to know why you should do as I say? The main reason is, because I want you to.” I grin. I could leave it at that, but I don’t mind explaining. Its early days in this new relationship. Emily is learning what I want. I intend to slowly and carefully train her.

  As her Dom, I consider her mine. I’ll teach her, care for her, cherish and protect her. Oh, and punish her. I really want to punish her, for her pleasure and mine. My cock jerks with that thought.

  There’s no rush. This whole experience is rewarding. My regime is going to be full of fun and plentiful orgasms, while I dominate the hell out of her.

  “Two things. One, seeing you crawl will be super hot. Two, watching you do exactly as I tell you makes me hard. You’re very sexy, Em.”

  “And my hairbrush?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You know why. I’m going to give you a spanking.”

  Chapter 15.

  “Much can be done with skin. Flesh contains countless nerve endings, all providing a sense of touch, pain, heat and cold. A most beautiful red can be brought to the surface through increased blood flow after stimulation, such as pinching, brushing, or striking. To the over-sensitized skin, the brush of a feather can feel as intense as a slap.”

  – André Chevalier

  ~~~

  EMILY

  Paul’s hazel eyes are hard upon me, so aware and intense. He resonates with power. I struggle to concentrate, to hold back a part of myself, but it’s hopeless. I can only give in.

  I’m lost.

  How did I wind up here?

  Paul Jarman is the original ‘lay them and leave them’ kind of guy. Every girl he meets seems to instantly fall in love with him, probably because he refuses to commit to anyone. Ever.

  Luckily for me, Paul became obsessed with my assumed slutty persona, Candy. That’s how we first got together as lovers, through my intentional deception. I was so bad. But now, here we are, and I’ve been on such a high ever since.

  It wasn’t until I saw him with that woman in the parking lot that I began to remember who he’d been all of his life. That was a wake up call for me.

  I’d been obsessing over Paul, an unattainable man, for years. Has he been my excuse for avoiding intimacy with other guys, and actually letting go sexually? I’ve never invested myself in another relationship or given another guy a real chance. I’ve always been crazy about Paul.

  I love him with all of my heart, but my head tells me that this is a mistake. As much as I love him, I doubt that he can ever be faithful over time.

  If we ever did get married and he cheated on me, I’d be devastated. I don’t think that I’d survive it. I wouldn’t just be heartbroken, I’d suffer cardiac arrest. The kind where someone rips my heart right out of my chest and stomps on it.

  Infidelity is a soul-destroying act. I honestly think it would kill me. I’d lose my will to live.

  When my father left my mother, she fell apart and never got over it. And I don’t think that my mom ever loved my dad anywhere near the degree that I love Paul. They never seemed that ‘into’ each other or connected.

  I've seen the devastation caused from the collapse of a marriage when one is unfaithful. I can’t marry Paul. My head tells me that I have to continue to say no. It’s the only sensible thing I can do. And my heart? Well. That’s another matter.

  I have to protect myself. I refuse to trust him completely.

  The love that Paul feels toward me right now is real, but I doubt that it will last. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen his history first-hand. Temptation is everywhere. Someday, some gorgeous hottie with a nice smile and big tits will come along and that will be that.

  It’s not a case of if he’ll cheat on me, but when.

  Some people forgive unfaithful partners as a one-time mistake. In many cases I’m sure that the cheater is remorseful and it will never happen again. Paul had never been monogamous. Why would this change?

  My mom would have taken my father back in an instant, but I’m not like my mother. Infidelity is something I won’t forgive. Not even for love. I have more pride than that. But right now I’m sticking my neck out. The safety is off. I’m in way too deep. It’s official: Paul can, and probably will, break my heart.

  I have to remember that what we have is temporary.

  Right now I’m having the most intense sexual experiences of my life. Not only that, I’ve discovered that I like to be controlled, commanded, and used. This new sex life of domination and submission is incredible. It’s something that I can understand and embrace.

  I’ll submit, but I can’t give him everything.

  All of these thoughts go through my head in an instant of decision. I’m a practical woman. I must hold back. Paul can’t have my future. I won’t marry him. But he can have my body. And if he hurts me? Using his whips or whatever? Well, that kind of pain is only skin deep. Welts heal.

  My heart and soul will be safe.

  “Start crawling, rabbit,” he says. “Arch that beautiful ass of yours up into
the air. Flaunt it. Tempt me. Make me want you.”

  “Yes, Paul,” I say respectfully, to the man who loves being in control.

  As I slide to the floor, I’m grinning. The idea of teasing him is fun. I stretch out like a cat, and push my ass up, moving it back and forth, as I crawl toward the dresser. I feel desirable, and sexy. My breasts swing back and forth as I move.

  His eyes focus on my tits and my butt. I swear that I can feel his searing gaze. Paul really wants me. Just how hot is that?

  The man has already taught me to be shameless sexually. I’ve done things for him that I’d never thought I’d do for anyone and enjoyed every second. I’m happy about that.

  I used to be a little shy and so inhibited, but now I believe that there’s no sin in relishing sex. It’s a good and natural thing to do. I’ve also discovered that I enjoy sex much better as a submissive. When I do as I’m told, I can totally let go. I just feel and respond.

  “You’re a fast learner, you wanton little slut,” Paul says.

  I grin. Those offensive words, from his lips, sound more like a lover’s endearments. “Thank you,” I say.

  I rise up on my knees, in order to reach my hairbrush. I have a half-rounded head on my brush, with nine rows of stiff natural boar bristles, and a six inch wooden handle. I used to have long hair, and it was useful for that. Now that my hair is shorter, I’ll probably buy something smaller and lighter.

  This brush is heavy. I’ve an idea that being spanked with this will hurt.

  I take the wooden handle between my teeth. As instructed I begin my suggestive crawl back to Paul where he sits on the bed. He’s firm-lipped, but there’s a glint of approval in his greenish eyes. I’m excited, apprehensive, and determined to let him do as he likes.

  That strange submissive headspace – that I’ve only just discovered, invades my consciousness. I don’t think and this is a relief. Instead, I experience an odd combination of inner mental silence, and an off the charts adrenaline rush of lust.

  “Good,” he says, and strokes the hair on my head appreciatively. “That was very sexy. Now stand up.”