Fate

by Nikki Sex

  Chapter 7. Paul

  The thin light of dawn was just coming through the windows. It would be another clear, blue sky day in Cabo.

  Paul hadn’t visited a fetish club for almost two years, yet how easy had it been for him to fall into full Dom mode, even with vanilla sex?

  His sweet little sub lay curled trustingly toward him, her hands under her face. Limp and exhausted, her chest rose and fell evenly as she slept. Paul felt strangely at peace, soothed by the gentle rhythm.

  His lips curved at the use of the possessive pronoun. ‘His sub.’ Since when had he ever considered a woman to be his?

  And what a woman. Together, they had been going at it all night, but he wasn’t yet sated. It might take weeks to have his fill of her. His cock twitched, still partially erect. He considered waking her up and taking her again, but decided to allow the poor girl to rest for now.

  The earthy smell of male musk, sweat and Candy’s heady, feminine scent filled the room, teasing his nostrils. Paul recalled the feel of her speeding pulse under his hand, her silken wetness, her soft sighs, whimpers, moans, and screams. Her body had trembled at his touch.

  Could he ever forget the thrilling sound of her pleading to push himself deep inside her? Or to be allowed her release when he held back, intentionally tantalizing her on the edge of orgasm?

  Beautiful.

  She was such a turn on. Candy moved him at both a physical and emotional level. Her skin was soft, her hair like silk. When she climaxed the desperate, grateful sounds she made were perfect. She was an unexpected treasure, this passionate little beauty. So responsive, so sweet.

  He’d taken her on the bed from the front and from the side. He’d bent her over the couch, with her back arched and her delectable ass high in the air. At midnight, rather than using room service, he let her rest and went out to get a couple of burritos and some soda pop.

  After bringing it back to their room and eating it, he spread her out on the table, deciding to eat her, too.

  Initially when he dominated her, she seemed confused and uncertain. That soon changed. She progressed to the point where her body quivered with desire when he commanded her.

  Her body knew its master – it just took a little interval for her mind to get the memo. Eventually, and quite unexpectedly, Candy had surrendered to him completely.

  Throughout the night he gave her numerous orders that she instantly obeyed – commands that she never even questioned. “Hands over your head, hold on to the headboard.” “Bend over, spread your legs. Wider. Good girl.”

  Unquestioned obedience flowed naturally from her. Candy trusted him completely, when there was no logical reason to do so.

  By the time their sexual marathon ended, she looked at him with awe and adoration. Why? What did she see in him other than an evening of good sex? But God dammit, the woman was addictive.

  Over the course of the night, they had taken several breathers where they talked. During these interludes they laughed and chatted like old friends. Paul admired her quick and easy laughter, and the way eyes sparkled with mischief. How did she do that? It seemed an inherent part of her personality, this deep and natural joy.

  Paul had too much anger smoldering in him to be that happy. He could do the social thing, conversing on various subjects – that was easy for him. Yet, opening up and talking about personal subjects had always been difficult, probably because he’d spent his childhood pretending.

  Deceiving himself as much as he deceived others.

  Candy made him lose that ingrained reticence. How had she made it so effortless to talk to her? She was sincere, light-hearted and easy to confide in. He rubbed his sternum, aware of an inexplicable knot in his chest.

  Everything about Candy seemed open and honest, as if she was incapable of guile. She trusted him, for no good reason. It made him want to trust her, too.

  Paul tended toward cynicism. Had his doubts, particularly when it came to women. He was skeptical of relationships, especially growing up with the farce that was his parents’ marriage. He’d never met anyone that he immediately felt close to.

  It was different with Candy. He was different. Why was he so comfortable with her?

  He gently stroked her short blonde hair, careful not to wake her. An image of him pulling that hair slammed into him. It was so vivid that he shut his eyes, in order to more fully absorb the pleasure of it.

  The memory was of the first time he’d allowed himself release last night, and it had almost brought him to his knees.

  ~~~

  Paul had already allowed her two orgasms, one with his fingers, and one with his mouth. But that was over an hour ago. Since then he simply tormented her by bringing her right to the edge of orgasm again and again, but not allowing her to go over.

  He was good at that, creating short, sharp vaginal contractions that gave no relief. The throbbing tension from Candy’s building orgasm would be excruciating for her.

  Initially, she’d been shocked by this cruelty. Then outraged with hurt feelings and indignation. Candy’s opinions made no difference. There was only one person in charge. Paul was in control of the whip so to speak, and her pleasure was at his whim.

  Candy would climax only when he allowed her to; it was something she needed to learn. Why? Because that was the way he liked it.

  Soon enough, she was begging for it. Wild and desperate. Vulnerable and needy. Goddamn it, he loved her that way. With gritted teeth, Paul cursed under his breath as he suppressed his own needs.

  He moved her body around like a toy or possession, and by God, she enjoyed that, too. The woman was fully fleshed and curvy, yet so small, that it was easy for him to effortlessly place her however he wished.

  She was a fully poseable mannequin; his own, hot little sex doll.

  He stood before her naked, his shaft huge and throbbing.

  “Lie over the couch, face down, right now,” he told her, his voice soft yet stern. Candy was quick, rushing to do as he asked, quivering in her eagerness to comply.

  “I think it’s time to fuck you. What do you say?”

  Bent over, her head was turned toward him. He could see the whites of her eyes as they widened. They had a total wired, adrenaline pumped, distracted look to them. He’d intentionally kept her frantic and off balance all night. When she saw that he meant it, she exhaled sharply with relief. “Oh! Thank you! God, thank you!”

  Paul’s lips curved in a slow smile.

  He liked to make a woman wait for it, to let the anticipation build. All night she’d been pleading for him to push himself inside her, begging to be fucked.

  At first she’d started with humor, “Alright already! Just fuck me, please!” Then she had been very persuasive, using reason and logic with him, “C’mon, you know you want to,” comments.

  Finally the poor girl had slid into mindless abject begging, reduced to animalistic pleas, moans and whimpers.

  Paul never pushed inside a woman until they begged. That way, getting fucked was a privilege they had to work for – a pleasure they had to earn. Besides, women could have a number of orgasms for every one of his.

  Making a sub come over and over was one of his favorite things. It was an undeniable truth that nothing satisfied a woman like the feel of a man inside them. Not a vibrator, nor a mouth, or fingers. That was probably some genetic or visceral need somewhere, to have their empty holes filled.

  Whatever it was, Paul used that to his advantage as a Dom.

  Candy lay over the couch, her arms under her breasts, her ass perched up high in the air. When he repositioned her, just because he could, she moaned. God, he loved the small helpless little sounds she made from deep in her throat. She was such a needy little thing.

  He rearranged her limbs, moving her like a doll once more. His sexy toy to place exactly as he liked. Putting each of her hands under a breast, he said, “Pinch your nipples.” When she did, he watched to ensure that she was doing it right. When he was satisfied, he patted her back approvingly.
“That’s right, just like that. Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, a little,” she replied in a subdued voice.

  “Good. That’s good,” he told her. “Don’t you dare let those nipples go,” he warned. “I want them red and sore. I want you to feel it, as I fuck you.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered, and her entire body tightened.

  Paul laughed at her needy response, put a condom on, and moved behind her. Candy trembled when his thighs brushed up against her skin, her entire body quivering with need.

  Keeping her legs pressed close together, he put one foot on either side of hers. This was the perfect height to make it a tight ride. If she was taller he’d have parted those legs of hers. When he put her on a spanking bench she’d be spread and perfect, but that would have to wait.

  Paul took his time, moving her, smoothing over her back, then caressing and concentrating on her gorgeous pale ass. She was tan everywhere except there. Those white globes would become a burning red someday. He was planning on it. He trailed a finger down between her buttocks, rubbing the round puckered rim of that tight little ass. Candy squirmed.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “You’ve never had anal play?”

  “No!”

  He shrugged and let it go for now. He would have to teach her to like it, but that would be no hardship. Already he knew he wasn’t going to let her get away with just one night with him. Shit. An anal virgin. An innocent to kink. Yet she was a woman who craved his domination.

  The obvious was there, right before him – an unseen force, as natural and inexorable as gravity. Candy was submissive. Right from the start she had surrendered, freely giving all her power and everything she was to him.

  This sweet little sub had been virtually begging for him to take it.

  Chapter 8. Unexpected

  Paul positioned himself behind Emily. When the tip of his cock touched her soft feminine flesh, he couldn’t prevent a low groan. He had a lot of self-control, but he was well at the end of it.

  His palm grazed her flank, cupped her swollen feminine mound, then flicked and teased her outer lips and clit. Paul slipped two fingers into her dripping sheath. It pulsed, clamping down, tightening against him and pulling him in.

  "Oh!" Candy cried out. He instantly withdrew his fingers.

  “Don’t you dare come,” he said in a stern voice. “You can climax when I’m inside you, not before. Understand?”

  When she didn’t answer, he gave one of her butt cheeks a hard slap. “I didn’t hear your reply,” he said, swallowing at the sight of the lovely pink handprint he’d made. What an erotic sight. It took all of his self-control not to plunge deep inside of her, for a quick and much-needed release.

  “No climax…got it.” Candy gasped breathlessly and choked off… what? Paul’s brows drew down suspiciously, as he frowned. Was that a giggle? It was! He had no idea what she’d say or do next.

  Paul suppressed his own desire to chuckle. How did she do that to him? How did she make him want to laugh out loud at the most inopportune moments?

  This had never happened to him before. His authority, his demand for her not to climax, and that hard butt slap had amused her. She was certainly poles apart from any other woman he’d ever met. He’d never had such an ill-behaved little sub. Yet he enjoyed her unexpected levity.

  Candy’s impertinent joy was lacking from his life. He had a tendency to be too serious.

  Paul stroked himself with a firm grip, and then he positioned the head just inside her slick soft slit. When he stroked her with it, she whimpered, “Oh, please, yes! I need you, please!”

  Not laughing now, was she? he mused happily. She was so wet, so soft and tight! His buttocks, hips and thighs flexed hard, while his testicles drew up.

  Fuck.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said in a harsh voice.

  “Please…” she begged. “Please, fuck me.”

  “Very nice,” he growled, his voice deep with lust. “Are you ready, Candy? Ready to take me?”

  She replied in an affirmative moan, her entire body quivering. She was dripping wet and ready. Paul grabbed her hips in a bruising grip. With one fast thrust, he slammed deep inside her.

  "Oh, oh, oh! Ahhhh!" she cried out in a delightful squeal, followed by a strong vaginal pulse.

  Once buried, right to the hilt, he held himself there.

  Pure concentrated pleasure assaulted him, travelling from his shaft and balls in waves throughout his body. An involuntary animal sound tore from his throat, something like a grunt. With intense effort, he prevented himself from ejaculating. Candy’s sweet erotic sounds reverberated through him.

  Focusing on her and battling to maintain his own control, Paul clenched his jaw and stilled.

  Was she calling out and squirming from the joy of finally being filled by a man? Or was that cry simply a feminine response to his invasion? The adjustment her swollen channel was forced to make, in order to accommodate him?

  Vanilla or not, she was his right now. Candy had no will of her own. A powerful dominant buzz flowed through him, adding to his pleasure.

  “So good,” she panted, her words almost an inaudible, drunken slur. Her entire body quivered. “God, oh, thank you… oh, God… you feel so good.”

  Chest heaving, Paul held perfectly still. “That’s it, that’s right. Shush, shush,” he murmured in a soothing caress. His voice was rough with desire, while he ran his hands over her flanks, buttocks and back. Bending lower, he fondled her swollen breasts. As ordered, she was still squeezing her nipples. His fingers caressed her hands, in a gesture of approval.

  “Such a good girl, obeying me,” he breathed into her ear. “You took me so well, Candy. I’m deep inside you now. Tell me what you want.”

  Candy moaned and whimpered, something that sounded like, “Please. Let me come.”

  He smiled and straightened, gripping her hips once more. “Poor thing. You were so empty. You needed my cock in that unfilled hole of yours, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, oh yes!” Candy squirmed and moaned, bucking backwards, trying to get him to move.

  He slapped her ass hard on the other cheek this time, leaving another lovely red mark. “Be still,” he admonished and she became motionless instantly. “You have to wait on my pleasure. You take what I give you, when I want to give it to you. I’m in charge, remember?”

  Her pitiful moan was so desperate, that despite his tenuous control, Paul’s lips curled into an even broader grin.

  He wanted to thrust, he wanted to hammer himself inside her until he came, but he forced himself to hold back. Once more, he stroked her feminine contours, admiring his hand prints on her buttocks.

  Realizing he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled in a rush. Because Candy was in a hurry, he would make her wait, even though he personally preferred not to. Her pleasure was by his command… and his whim. That was a very important lesson for her to learn.

  Paul took a deep, steadying breath.

  Dismayed by his lack of control, he knew that it was because of her. She was different, this impertinent woman. Too innocent. Too sweet. Too funny. Too perfect. Candy’s entire body was trembling, her hot sheath gripping, holding him tight. God dammit, she felt so good.

  “How close are you, Candy?” he managed the gruff question in a somewhat even voice.

  “Can I come now?” she pleaded.

  Unexpected laughter bubbled out of him. Candy asked so sweetly, similar to the character from “Oliver.” “Please, Sir, can I have more?”

  “Try to hold off,” he said, in his most stern Dom voice. “I want you to climax by my command. Do you want to please me?”

  “Yes, Paul, for the love of God, yes!”

  “Good. Are you still squeezing your nipples?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good girl.”

  Paul stroked her now familiar contours: her back, her hips, her flank, tracing the shape of those soft round buttocks. Candy moaned and her body quivered.
Jesus, she loved his touch.

  Gripping her hips, Paul slowly began to thrust, moving out, then in, with steady, measured, strokes. The rhythmic suck and pull of their coupling made heady liquid sounds. His flesh throbbed and twitched inside her firm, swollen channel. Every stroke brought an ecstatic gasp from her. The muscles deep within her feminine core contracted, squeezing him.

  It was delicious.

  “You’re so good,” Paul growled. “You’re trying very hard not to come, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, yes!” The woman made constant noise now, a cross between sobbing and whimpering, and she seemed incapable of holding still. Candy writhed, and pushed against him.

  A trained submissive, she was not, he mused with dark irony. But fucking hell, she sure was a lot of fun.

  Paul held on tight, fisting her short hair with one hand, the other gripping her hip. He rocked against her for a few minutes, the sensation of it making them both groan. Then he slammed against her, riding her as she bucked. No longer holding back, he thrust hard inside her, again and again, with powerful savage strokes.

  Her whole body suddenly tightened.

  “Not yet, Candy. Not yet,” he growled as she trembled and shook beneath him. Paul was pretty sure that his cock had found her G spot. Her breathing changed, as her body tensed – ready to explode.

  Waves of intense sensation rushed into his testicles, thighs and shaft, along with the pounding pulse of blood. Pushed beyond his limits, Paul felt the familiar sensation of cramping in the internal muscles of his groin and gut. Every muscle in his buttocks clenched. He had only a thread of control left.

  Reaching down slid a hand under her belly, and fondled her clit. “Come for me. Now,” he gave the rough command. Candy, already keening… shrieked. Deep inside her, Paul felt her internal muscles grip him, exerting a powerful force that clamped down on him, squeezing him hard.

  Her scream continued, unbroken, one long, anguished wail: “Pauuuuuullll!” Exquisite pulsing pressure milked him, in rapidly contracting waves: tighten, release; tighten, release… on and on and on.

  She said my name.