Author: Mnemosyne [email protected]
Disclaimer: I want to own them. Then I could play Mistress. ;)
Summary: Kinkiness.... ;)
Author's Notes: Written just for the girls at RoswellBDSM! Just a quickie, with no plot, no point, no beginning, and very little in terms of an ending. So, in general, it's one big middle! LOL!
Dedication: To all the crazy chicks at RoswellBDSM!
Muse-ic: Bad Girl by Madonna
"You can stratch my back and rule me
You can push me or just pull me..."
-Ludacris
"What's Your Fantasy?"
********
I know the room by the smell, even before I open my eyes, because it smells like us. It's our Lust Room. Where he makes love to me every Monday/Wednesday, fucks me every Tuesday/Thursday, switch-hits Fridays, and Saturday we play dress-up. Sunday is our day of rest.
When I do open my eyes, I might as well not have bothered. The blindfold is light and airy, but thick enough to block out the moonlight. It doesn't block out the feel of steel on my wrists, however. Or my ankles.
Shackles. I must have been a naughty girl.
I don't know how I got here. I don't know what time it is. All I know is it's a Wednesday. I'm wearing shackles on a Wednesday. That thought sends a ripple of pleasure through my tightly-clad body.
I sense him next to the bed a split second before the edge of the mattress tilts, and my wrists tug at their bonds. I feel his hot flesh next to mine, and I know he's naked as he leans over me.
"Hey, baby," he murmurs against my eyes, over the silk. "Do you know why you're here?"
I shake my head, and know immediately that's not the answer he wants, because his hand slips under my tight fitting t-shirt. His fingers squeeze my nipple, hard, fast, and I gasp.
"I ask you again-- do you know why you're here?"
I shake my head, and stammer, "N-no, sir. No, I don't."
"Do you want to know?" He's idly rolling my nipple now, and it's hard for me to think. My denim shorts are sticking to my legs-- they were tight to begin with, but now they feel unbearable.
"Y-yes, sir. Please, sir, why am I here? What did I do?"
His hand leaves my nipple, but only long enough to hike up my close-fitting black tee. It's pulled above my breasts now. They're bare-- he doesn't like me to wear a bra. I feel his palm sculpt my left breast, and I tremble.
"You didn't change the toilet paper, dearest," he says, and his voice is completely serious, but I can hear the sparkle in his eye even as he says it. "That's a naughty, NAUGHTY thing to do."
I know I shouldn't laugh; not in this position, that of his pen-ultimate submissive. The only way I could be more vulnerable to him would be if he'd bound me on my stomach. I've been there before. I can still feel the leather lick across my calves.
But the thought that all this is over toilet paper-- and on a Wednesday!-- is too much, and I grin.
I hear his hitching breath as he chuckles. "So you like the reason for your punishment, baby?"
I don't know how he wants me to answer, so I take a chance. "Yes, sir. Yes, I do."
His breath crests over my cheekbone. "Good."
I made the right choice.
His hands are on my shorts, and for the first time, I find myself wondering how he's going to take my clothes off. He won't unshackle me-- not now. Not yet. Not until he feels the time is right.
I hear a flickering noise, and then something is slipping along the seam of the tight denim, and I understand. It's a knife-- his pen-knife. He always keeps it sharp. Razor sharp.
Expertly, he slices away my shorts. My muscles tense, and I bite my lip for fear that he might miss and nick my thigh. But he must have practiced on balloons and mannequins, because his cut is true, and the denim falls apart. He pulls it away from my legs.
My sex is bare. He doesn't believe in panties, either.
I feel his expert fingers stroke my slit, and I jump with surprise.
"Already wet, baby," he observes. "Have you been thinking about me?"
I nod quickly, afraid he'll stop touching me if I say no. He's done that before. "Y-yes, sir."
"Don't call me sir," he instructs. "Call me baby, too."
"Yes, s- Baby."
"Very good." He swipes at my clit with infuriating delicacy, and my hips shift unconciously toward his hand. I hear him laugh softly.
"Baby's a horny little girl tonight, isn't she?" he observes. "Does baby want more?"
I nod again. "Yes! Please!"
"But baby's been a bad girl," he says gently, and I feel him swivel up onto the bed beside me, so he's stretched out along my side. His erection presses into my thigh. I want to touch it. I want to taste it. I lick my lips hungrily.
I hear the flicker of the knife again, and feel its sleek edge slice through the thin cotton of my t-shirt. It splits apart easily-- faster and cleaner than my shorts. Soon it's removed, and I'm bare before him
This is always a moment I long for. No matter how many times he's seen my body naked, prone, I'm always eager to hear his voice when he sees me again. I'm not disappointed.
"You look like sexual cherry pie," he murmurs against my ear, and I squirm happily.
One hand trails down my stomach as his mouth finds my nipple, and he begins to suckle. Sweet cords of bliss wrap themselves around my rib cage, and then explode when his fingers begin to firmly massage my clit. I groan, and grind my pelvis against his hand.
"Shhh...." he silences my moans, raising his lips from my breast for a moment. "Don't say anything, baby. Just let me watch you."
I have to bite my lip to keep in a shriek as he grazes his teeth over my nipple again, then begins kissing his way down my stomach. My fingers itch to bury themselves in his hair, but all I can do is fret at my cuffs and moan internally. My stomach muscles flutter.
His lips find their way to the top of my moist cleft, and I stop breathing for the ten seconds that he teases me there. His tongue darts out to lick my folds, and I let out a small shriek.
Immediately I regret it, as I feel him sit up. "I said no speaking, kitten," he says, and I can tell that this reaction is what he wanted. I wonder what he has planned as punishment.
I feel him stand then, and the bed rocks a little as he leaves. I chew my lip again, suddenly excited by the prospects of what is to come.
When he comes back, I can feel the air around him. It is charged with electricity, and I know it's because of me. He likes to see me bound like this. He likes to see me completely helpless.
Suddenly, something cold touches my chest. I gasp, but keep myself from calling out. It's small, and metallic.
"Do you know what this is?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"It's a new toy," he says, and begins to graze the item down my body. "One of a set of three. Do you know what it is now?"
I begin to think I have an idea, but shake my head anyway.
He manipulates the item, and I feel it nibble at my belly, just above the navel, and now I know what it is. My heart speeds up. We've never done this before.
"It's a clamp, kitten," he says softly, and the metal object continues nipping at the tender flesh of my belly, moving in concentric circles out from my navel. "Used to punish naughty little girls like you."
He slips the clamp down over my pelvis, and it lingers at the top of my slit. I want to whimper, but don't let myself.
"I'm going to clamp your clit, kitten," he says, and I feel my nipples harden even more at the thought. "Do you like that idea?"
I nod vigorously, anxious to feel its cold bite on my tender bud.
I can hear him smiling when he speaks. "You're eager tonight, aren't you?" he asks, but it's rhetorical, and I don't answer. "But," he continues, and I feel him climb onto the foot of the bed again, between my ankles, "to be sure you really enjoy it...." He trails off and I hold my breath, waiting. When his mouth closes over my core, I can't help but gasp. His breath is warm and wet, but still cool against my own pulsing heat. He sucks with gentle, soft lips, his tongue toying with my clit. My legs are already spread wide by the posts of the bed, but I move them further apart, and my hips begin to undulate against his mouth. In my head, I'm begging him for more. //Yes! Yes, baby, yes!//
I feel my clit growing and hardening beneath his tender mouth and skilled teeth, and soon enough, he's played me into ultimate arousal. My thighs quiver with the effort of holding in my orgasm. I know he doesn't want me to climax yet. He'll tell me when I can do that.
When his mouth pulls away, I almost let out a shriek of loss, but bite my tongue in time to stop myself.
"Your clit looks so sensitive, baby," he tells me. "Does it feel good? Do you want me to touch it again?"
I nod with my whole body.
He laughs. "Not yet," he says. "But you're ready for this."
The cold metal of the clamp returns, brushing lightly against the throbbing heat of my clit, and I gasp again.
"I'll set it to a light pressure this time," he says gently, his free hand brushing my hip. "Maybe later we'll go higher. But right now, this should be enough punishment."
I feel the jaws of the clamp open, and then he is sliding it over my distended clit, and then it's closing, and I let out a shriek of surprise as it grasps me. It isn't sharp, and it has no teeth-- just a flat edge, like a clothespin. But it seems to surround the tender nubbin completely, and air disappears as the sensation explodes.
"I'll let that go," he says, and I suddenly realize that I just made a noise, and blush. "It's your first time being clamped. I'll make an exception. But don't do it again, understood?"
I nod quickly, eager to please my Master.
He fiddles with the clamp, twitching it back and forth, and I feel my body try to bend in two to assuage the agonizing pleasure. The pain is nominal-- I've felt worse. Perhaps if the tension in the clamp were stronger, it would be close to unbearable, but this is I could take.
"I'm going to leave you like this for an hour," he says, and I feel my heart beat faster. An hour? Can I survive an hour? Can I go that long without coming? "I'm going to sit over there, in our Fuck Me chair, and I'm going to watch you squirm. Do you like that? Your master watching your hot little body get hotter and hotter?"
My throat strains to release a cry of lust, but I keep it in, and manage yet another nod.
"Good." I feel his hands again, and they twist my nipples-- twice each-- as if to send me a message. "Have fun, baby."
********
It is close to an hour later, and my body is a live wire of lust.
The clamp is a white hot pleasure center on my abused clit. It sends pulses of electric sensation through my body, like lightning bolts. I want to ease the pressure. I want to touch myself; so badly, I actually struggle at my bonds, though I know it's futile. In my head, I picture my fingers pumping between my own legs, working me into a frenzy. It is impossible to widen my legs any further, but I've taken them to the maximum, waiting.
He sits in our Fuck Me chair-- which he's pulled up beside the bed-- and strokes me now and then.
"Does baby enjoy our little game?" he asks, his fingers massaging the base of my breast. "You can speak."
Finally. I can speak. I try to say something coherent, but all that emerges is a whimpering groan.
He laughs softly, and I blush. "I think that means yes," he says.
I feel his fingers trail down my stomach to the juncture of my legs, and he plays with the clamp, squeezing it tighter, releasing, squeezing again.
My hips start to buck and a low cry begins to build in my throat. It grows more and more strident with each squeeze, until I am screaming.
"Tell me what you want, baby doll," he instructs me. "What do you want?"
"FUCK ME!" I scream. "PLEASE, baby! Oh, PLEASE!!! I NEED you IN me!!"
"Do you feel empty?"
"YES! So...so em...EMPTY!!"
"Do you really want me to fuck you?"
"PLEASE! Oh, SHIT, NOW!!"
My hips are thrusting at his hand, my petal pink lower lips trying desperately to pull him in and bury his fingers within me. He pulls his hand away, and I let out a long, despairing cry of anguish.
Until I feel him climb onto the bed again, his body straddling mine.
"You've been such a good girl this hour," he tells me, and I can feel how hot and hard he is. I wonder how he's kept his voice so steady, but decide not to focus on it when his breath coasts over my hardened nipple.
"God, you're so fucking incredible," he murmurs, placing a kiss on first one nipple, then the other. I whimper, and try to grind my lower body into his, but he doesn't let me. He keeps talking.
"I want to tell everyone about this, did you know that? I want to let them all know what we do every night. How beautiful you look chained to this bed. How gorgeous it is to watch you beg and beg, until you finally climax. I want to describe how tight you are-- how amazing it is to stretch you. I love to stretch you, baby. Do you want me to stretch you now?"
My back is arched to the degree that I can't curve any further, and I'm balanced on my shoulders. His throbbing heat is pressed against my folds, and adds to the chaotic sensations that are chasing themselves around my clit.
"Yes!" I sob, wondering why I'm crying. "Yes, please!"
"Lie still."
It is the hardest thing I've ever done. My body refuses to remain motionless, and it's several minutes before I manage to still completely. My thighs continue to quiver, but he says nothing, and I'm thankful.
"Good girl," he says soothingly, one hand stroking my hair. "You're such a good girl. I think I'll make love to you for being such a good girl. It's Wednesday, after all. Do you want me to make love to you?"
Nothing has ever sounded so beautiful. "Yes, baby. Oh, God, yes, PLEASE!"
When his lips cover mine, it's with almost maddening slowness. I want to thrust my tongue into his mouth, but check myself last minute, and let him guide us together.
Slowly, he begins to enter my passage, simultaneously pushing his tongue between my lips with the same leisurely speed. The double eroticism of the moment almost makes me come, but I force it down, and back, and hold it in, alongside the others that wait to be released.
Finally, he is fully within me, his body pressing the clamp harder on my clit, and I begin to sob with the added need. I know he can feel my body flutter around his, because he opens his mouth wider on mine, allowing me access to his teeth.
I eagerly explore the cavern of his mouth as his lower body begins to thrust slowly with mine. I lick his teeth, then close my mouth a little and suck his tongue.
The pressure is building in my abdomen, readying to explode. It won't take much to send me over the edge- just the word. Just the signal that I can come. That's all I need. In my head, I'm begging him for it.
Eventually, he draws his satin tongue from my mouth, and the loss of that distraction means all my attention automatically focuses between my legs. I start to moan again; over and over.
"I'm going to take the clamp off now," he tells me, his own breathing coming faster. I like to know that I can do this to him. "It might hurt a little, kitten. But ride it, take it in. I'll let you know...when to let go."
I give him a hitching sigh in response, and feel his hand slip between our bodies to take hold of the clamp. He opens it, and pulls it away from my clit.
For a moment, there seems to be no change.
Then, my clit explodes.
In a rush of agony like fire needles, the blood that has been blocked off for the past hour comes rushing into the hard nubbin, and my lower body ignites. I scream-- really let loose. My head snaps back against the pillow, and my body mashes against his. Bucking my hips wildly, I force him to slide in and out of my dripping sheath.
"HOLY FUCK!!!!" I scream. "OH, SHIT! NO! GIVE ME MORE!!"
He has begun to move faster within me, and I hear him groaning in response. "Oh, yeah...Yeah, baby, that's it. Pull me in. Let me ride you like my own pretty racehorse!"
I can't take it much longer. The world has begun to fuzz around the edges, and while I can't see, I can hear the resulting static. I feel nothing except the burning, agonized need between my legs. I smell nothing but my own wet desire, and his sweat.
"Pleeeeeeeaaase....!" I beg.
His lips graze mine-- so gentle, it's virtually chaste.
"You may come," he murmurs, and I begin to sob.
*******
My body has become attuned to those words. It knows what to do when he says them. Once, sitting in a small corner cafe, he leaned over as if to tell me a secret, and whispered, "You may come," in my ear. I immediately soaked my panties-- this was back when I still wore them-- and all it took was a kiss to my earlobe and a soft nip on my throat for my body to spasm in response. People at the other tables must have wondered what was wrong with me, because I gripped the table so hard, so suddenly. I've never had to fight harder to remain motionless-- as it was, my hips rocked for several seconds beneath the checkered tablecloth.
I remember him slipping a hand up my thigh under the table, and running a finger over my crotch to touch the wetness there.
"Dessert," he murmured.
********
It is no different now. The words cause a fresh gush of moisture to coat my canal.
"That's it," he whispers hoarsely in my ear. "Just come, baby. Come for me."
It's happening. That inexorable tightening of every single muscle in my body. The focusing of sensation, swirling into a maelstrom around our coupling. "Gahhhhhh!"
"Bring me with you," he adds, his breath rushed and eager, and I fly apart.
"YES! YES! YES!" I scream to the ceiling as my hips slam upwards over and over, and my body milks his.
"Oh, god, BABY!" I hear him choke, and feel him release inside me, his warmth flowing deep and pushing up against my womb.
My body wants to curl around his, forcing him further into my sheath, but the shackles on my hands and feet prevent this. All I can do is strain my wrists and ankles to try and clamp him between my thighs and suck on his throat.
"Thank you..." I moan against his jugular, and feel his heartbeat against my lips. Not surprisingly, it triphammers in time with my own.
*********
We lay together in peaceful silence a few minutes later. His fingers are idly rubbing my clit, and my passage continues to stroke his shaft gently with each touch. I don't care that he's heavy on top of me-- he makes me complete.
When he tries to pull his body from mine, I groan, and feel my core tighten in response, holding him in.
He chuckles, and rests back on me again. I sigh happily, and snuggle my face into his throat.
"Did you like the change from routine?" he asks me, and I run my tongue over his Adam's apple.
"Mm-hmm," I murmur, too busy tasting his skin to form actual words.
I feel his lips lightly brush my hair, and I coo softly.
He laughs as I nuzzle him. "God, I love you," he tells me.
"Love you, too," I say back.
There's a short silence as I nibble his collarbone.
Then he says, "Now maybe it's time to talk about how I didn't hand you the salt yesterday when you asked for it. How do you think we should handle that?"
I pause, pull back, and look into his eyes.
We grin at each other.
"Do you chafe?" I ask.
He shrugs above me. "I don't know."
I jangle my wrists, and giggle. "Then let's find out."
THE END