Brat and Master (10 page)

He hadn’t been planning to tie her further, but he did have more rope. He’d have to improvise. He was glad he had taken the cores out of his rope, though, because for what he had in mind, he’d have to tie tightly, and his knots couldn’t slip at all. He wrapped rope around her right thigh and the leg of the frame. If the knots weren’t good, it would easily slip right down the cross. Even so, he’d have to tie it tight around her thigh to stop it from slipping down her leg.

“Can you have marks?” he asked.

“No one will see them except the people here, as long as they are in reasonably discreet places. Rope marks?”

“Yes.”

“On my thigh is fine. I’ll wear long skirts or pants. I save my short ones for the club anyway.”

That was all he needed to know. He tied her thighs to the frame. “How much freedom do you have now?” he asked.

She tried to wiggle her butt, and all she could do was quiver. It was almost a shame. It would have been enjoyable to see those two round globes gyrate.
Next time.

He chided himself for the thought. He needed to enjoy the present moment for what it was. He was intending to take it one play session at a time. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that, and he didn’t want to rush into anything so soon after getting back in the game. But he’d fished before, when he met Cheri, and he was becoming more and more convinced that Amanda was a catch worth keeping. He couldn’t fool himself. He wanted more.

He put his hand on her back to ground her. Her skin was so soft he couldn’t resist gliding his hand along it. When he found himself at the small of her back, her bottom beckoned. He cupped first one cheek, then the other. Then he slipped his hand between her thighs and felt the slick wetness of her pussy. Yes, she liked rope, all right. And anticipation. It was delicious.

“Ready for a flogging now?” he asked, sure of the answer. Although if she’d wanted to beg him to fuck her, it would be awfully tempting.

“Yes, Sir. And Sir?”

“Yes, Amanda?”

“I’m not a wimp.”

“I know that from spanking you.”

“Good.” She relaxed her shoulders.

He took his shirt off. Flogging could be sweaty work. He pulled out two beautifully crafted floggers, one red, one black. The black one was soft deerskin. The red was somewhat tougher elk. He clipped the elk flogger to his belt and laid the other flogger softly over her shoulder, drawing it back so she could feel the tails and get used to their texture.

She sighed and turned her head away, bowing it slightly.

He lifted the flogger and swished it softly across her back, using overhand strokes, and then against her ass, coming from below. Slowly, he built intensity. He was aware there wasn’t the grace that Amanda’s technique had, but he didn’t care that much about how it looked. He wasn’t trying to solicit approaches from other play partners, who might marvel at the beauty of his flogging. He just wanted a response from the woman in front of him.

Her back was turning a soft pink. She stood there almost stoically, and he felt he was starting to lose contact with her. He put his hand on her back, and she purred. He moved in closer, flicking the flogger upward against her ass while staying in touch. She seemed to need the grounding of his presence, and he wanted to give her what she needed. Besides, he enjoyed the warmth of her skin and the smell of her arousal.

He flicked the flogger softly between her legs, nothing more than a soft caress. She jerked against the frame in response.

“Wow,” he said.

“Do that again.”

“When I want to.” He wasn’t about to let her take control of the scene. “Someone’s a little sensitive.”

“I’m a little wet,” she said.

He slipped his hand down and slid his fingers inside her. They encountered no resistance. “Try again.”

“I’m a lot wet. Sir.”

“More truthful. Here’s what good girls get.” He slid his finger up between her nether lips until he could rub her clit.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it nice to be a good girl?”

“I always thought it was best to be a bad one.”

He chuckled. “Maybe you can be both. You are letting someone play with your pussy in public, after all.”

“I am. But only because you do it so well.”

He rubbed her more, listening to her breath get more ragged. She couldn’t move or twitch away or do much to intensify it either. It was totally under his control.

She was muttering. “Yes, yes, yes, almost, almost…”

He pulled his hand away. “You need to earn your reward, my little toy.”

“Fuck me?”

So tempting. But not part of his plan. And definitely not a good way to keep some distance. “No, not that way.”

“How?” she moaned. “How?”

“Take more.” He unclipped the elk flogger and draped it over her shoulder the way he had the other, attaching the deerskin flogger to his belt. She was experienced, and she’d be able to feel the difference. Tougher leather. Less rounded edges to the tails.

“If it means I get your fingers again, you can hit me as hard as you want, Sir.”

She had been close to coming. In that state she might say things she would regret later. He wasn’t going to take her word for it. He started gently. There were nastier floggers, with knotted tails that would cause dark round marks, or thinner tails that cut into skin. But this was as hard as he chose to use for fun. Amanda didn’t need to be punished for anything. She needed to be cherished. And he wanted to be the man to do it, in his own strange way. He hadn’t expected to feel that way.

He flicked the flogger harder against her back. A back flogging helped serve as a deep tissue massage and released endorphins that created a natural high, a mix of pain and pleasure that didn’t have to be erotic. In this situation, however, he was sure it would be. Amanda quieted, matching her breathing to the rhythm of the strokes. He stayed next to her, rubbing his hand over the places he had struck in between lashes. She drifted off, floating on the sensation. He moved slightly to the side and wrapped his hand around the cross, cupping a breast, wanting to meld sex and touch with the experience of subspace. She moaned softly, showing her appreciation.

His crotch nudged against her thigh, and that touch reminded him of his own sexual need. He pushed the thought to the side. This was about
her
pleasure.

He switched the flogger from an overhand whirl to a horizontal plane, striking against her upper thigh and the curve of her bottom. The underhand strokes he’d used with the other flogger created a chance that a stray tail would snake between her legs and flick against her pussy, and while a little of that could be arousing, only a few masochists enjoyed hard, stingy blows in such a sensitive area.

From the side, he could see her face better. The muscles of her jaw were relaxed. Her eyes were closed. And a soft smile played on her lips.
Perfect.
She was blissed out, in subspace. He softened his blows but didn’t stop. He wanted her trip to be a nice long one.

Her mouth moved as if she was mumbling something. He leaned forward, worried that he might have misjudged the situation, that she might be in real pain.

“Fuck me,” she said, softly. “Take me. Fuck me. Take me.” She repeated the words over and over.

He shifted the flogger to his other hand for a moment so that he could feel between her thighs. He’d never felt a pussy so wet, so ready, so inviting. His cock ached to be inside her.

Why not?

He asked the question of himself but felt as if Cheri was asking the question too. A sense of weight was lifted from his shoulders. “Yes, Amanda. I will take you.”

Amanda gave a soft, contented purr.

He hated to leave her for even a second, but he hadn’t intended to have intercourse with anyone. He set the flogger down, then walked quickly to the table and grabbed a condom. Lube certainly wasn’t needed. He moved back to Amanda and put his hands on her waist, leaning in close. “Are you sure, Amanda?”

“Yes.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have accepted a sub’s word for anything when they were that blissed out. It was his job to take care of her at that point, not her job to make decisions. But she’d asked earlier, when she was in a more normal frame of mind. And he couldn’t resist any longer. He kissed her neck while he unzipped his pants, freeing his massive, aching hard-on. He tore open the condom and found he had to look down to make sure he was rolling it on right. He was out of practice. Fortunately, some things one never entirely forgot.

He positioned himself at her entrance. Spread out on the cross, her pussy was very available to him. Then he pushed forward. She was wet, but she was still somewhat tight. He could have plunged in, breaking down all resistance, but he wanted to give her a moment to become accustomed to him.

AMANDA HAD KNOWN Jeremy was big from the moment his erection had pressed against her belly when he was spanking her. But she hadn’t had a sense of how big until then. His cock stretched her, filled her, and still he was pushing farther in.
Oh my God.

Usually after being flogged, she felt no particular need for sex. The endorphin rush alone was sufficient. She wasn’t sure why it was different with Jeremy. She wanted him. Badly. All day long she’d been thinking about him and what would have happened had the woods provided more privacy.

She felt the bump of his pubic bone against her bottom and was almost thankful there wasn’t any more of him to take. She could move against him, but even raising or lowering herself a fraction of an inch caused the ropes on her thigh to chafe.
Just a fuck toy. That’s all I have to be right now. A channel for him to fuck.
It was freeing. And besides, his cock felt so good.

He was moving slowly. Whether that was out of consideration or if he wanted to take it easy, she didn’t know. But each inch of friction felt delicious. He pulled back almost all the way, and then pushed in, this time not taking as much time. Her pussy accepted his return greedily. She gave him a squeeze to try to hold him in.

She turned her head to look back at him. He surprised her by kissing her. Their gaze met for a moment, and then she turned away, afraid that any emotional intimacy might drive him away. Right now, she wanted to focus on the sensations of him sliding.

He wrapped an arm around the cross to settle a hand on her belly, sliding it down her mound. She couldn’t move toward him or away; she could only wait while his fingers approached her clit. He drew his other hand across her breasts, his thumb brushing against a nipple. He tugged it to one side, and then as his thumb passed, it sprang back into place. Her nipples were so hard. Her pussy was so wet. The touch on her breasts both distracted from and enhanced the sensations below.

He thrust inside her, filling her pussy repeatedly. It started to feel more natural, but he still felt awfully big. And good. Better than anyone she’d ever felt before. Part of the reason she’d come to BDSM is that actual sex was usually a disappointment, nice enough but not worth getting all worked up about. Better to have all the variety of kink and the occasional surprise of new things. But if sex had all been like this… Well, it wasn’t exactly vanilla, with her tied to a cross. There was nothing to do but feel.

And oh what a feeling. I’m so full.

He pushed against her clit, which felt huge and swollen. She felt as if she was going to explode. “Can I?” she asked. “Can I?” She knew her habit of repeating herself annoyed some doms, who took it for impatience. But she never knew whether she was speaking loud enough or clearly enough. And she needed to do something to hold off her impending orgasm, and talking was one way. “Can I come, Sir? Or…”
Or do you want to come first?
As hot as the idea was that his pleasure came first, she didn’t complete the thought because the idea of trying to hold off was almost unbearable.

“Just a moment longer,” he whispered. She groaned, not sure whether to be happy that he would let her come or upset at the agony of holding off. His fingers slowed. His thrusts became more deliberate, deeper. She could feel his hot breath against her neck and smell the pleasant musk of his sweat.

She had to talk, to focus on the words and distract herself from the delicious sensations of his cock in her pussy. “Use me, use me, use me,” she babbled on, despite trying to be more imaginative. He growled, and she bit her lip, hard, to stop from talking. He didn’t like it either, it seemed. Then suddenly he sped up, thrusting hard into her, his stomach slamming into her ass with each stroke, and she knew his growl had little to do with her speech.

“Now, ’Manda,” he grunted.

“Yesss!” She screamed as everything let go all at once. She could feel him pulsing inside her even as her pussy contracted. Her muscles flexed against her bonds, but the rope didn’t yield. All she could do was throw her back into him, stretching her arms around the cross. But his body wasn’t any more yielding than the rope. He pounded into her ferociously, grunting as he emptied his balls. She wanted to squeeze every last drop, but her body no longer felt like her own. She was swimming in a bright haze, feeling her pussy squeeze around him but having no control. At least at last she was at a loss for words. There didn’t seem to be anything she could add.
Wow. Oh my God. That felt so good.
None of it seemed adequate.

He nibbled on her neck and held her. The cross and the bondage all seemed in the way now, but she was grateful for his warmth. His chest hairs were remarkably soft and felt wonderful on her skin.

She felt him hold the condom at its base and slowly pull out of her. He was still half-hard, and she couldn’t resist a small pout when he left her empty. Even at less than his full length, his presence was still satisfying. But she appreciated that he was doing the safe thing, as well.

“Please don’t leave me.”

She hadn’t meant to say it. He was back against her in a flash. “Why would I leave you?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but please don’t.” The words started spilling out of her, and they didn’t express the amazement she’d felt a moment before. “This is why I don’t fuck in the club. It leaves me feeling so vulnerable. Please don’t leave.” Saying it only made her feel worse, more in need.