5 comments/ 6121 views/ 5 favorites An Affair in May By: le_kitty I wasn't sure if I should be posting this under BDSM or Romance, but I figured it'd be safer in BDSM... in any case... there is no bondage, there are however other things. :) It is a short 7.2k word story with an ending. Lol. Cheers! ~*~ There were no stars in the sky tonight, just clouds, but the bridge was amply lit with light from the lamps and leaning against the railing, I brought the cigarette to my lips again, taking a small drag, the soft sound of the cherry burning, a soothing touch the visual. The menthol in the cigarette burned a nice cool trail down the back of my throat before the smoke tickled my lungs in a way that made me want to cough, but the rush was nice. I looked around, the world seemed brighter. Damen started speaking again, something about polar ice caps as I leaned into the railing and I brought the cigarette to my lips again, his words washing past me as I stood there, too focused on the way I was feeling and the way his lips moved. His gaze caught mine and he smiled, indulgently, "You're not listening to me are you." Caught. I smiled and shook my head slowly. Wisps of white smoke trailed from his lips before he asked, "Are you feeling alright?" The nicotine was really doing things to my head now. And not in a bad way. I reached out slowly to grasp the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him closer. He obliged, coming in for a kiss. His lips were soft, same as I remembered, and I kissed him with a strength that desired for more but the more did not come. He smiled, "How was that?" I took another drag, "It felt the same to me." "Oh, that's disappointing." My feeling exactly. Turning I looked at the harbour again, at midnight on a Monday evening it was practically deserted and I stared mesmerised by the lights for a moment, "It's so nice, there's nobody here." "Yeah, it's Monday night." I took another drag of the cigarette, coughing a little this time as I inhaled a bit too much smoke. Damen dropped his to the ground, stepping on it as I glanced at mine almost done. He followed my gaze, "Do you want the rest of it?" I pondered for a moment, Did I? "It's alright, I just don't want you to feel like you have to have it." I smiled at his thoughtfulness, "No it's okay." Then I took two final drags in succession, looking up to notice his gaze trained upon me. I smiled and poked him playfully, "What." "Lets get a hotel tonight." I chuckled. "I'm serious." He was. I cocked my head to look at him, drawling, "Why?" "Because I want you. I want to do things to you." I turned around without moving my gaze away, "What things." His expression revealed the hint of darkness hidden behind them as he came around, his arms pressed against either side of the railing. I liked it. The way it made me feel trapped and cocooned. Safe. It must have been the magic of a Monday evening, almost alone on the bridge with barely anyone on the wharf, the disco lights and loud music absent, the clubbing scene quiet until Thursday. The world was asleep. He learned closer and I brought my gaze down to his lips, I did want to kiss him again. Our lips met softly, and I teased him, coming in for more before pulling away, just lightly out of reach, enough that he lips could skim against mine briefly if he tried. It excited him. His arms came around me, a hand against the back of my neck, body pressing me into the railing as he demanded a real kiss. Then worry hit me, what if somebody saw, we were in public. He released me before I could voice my complaint, though it wasn't out of consideration for me. His hand brushed against the side of my cheek, gently, a contrast to the dark solidity in his eyes, "It's so tempting to ravish you here like this." I smiled, playfully, "Too bad." His face broke into a smile then, darkness diffused, his tone arguably playful to match, "You. Let's get a hotel." "Hmm." "Say yes." I thought about it some more, truth was I really did want to. I'd missed him. He could see the hesitance wavering in my eyes, "I know you want to." "Yeah. How'd you know." He chuckled, "I know you." I smiled at that, it was one of his favourite lines. But how another person could know you so well... possibly more than you knew yourself was a frightening thought. "Okay." He grinned as he pulled out his phone to book. And then realised it was flat. I laughed, "Here, use mine." My thumb dashed across the screen, unlocking it as I passed it to him. "Thanks." Twenty minutes later we were booked for a studio room, the hotel sat just across the bridge, overlooking the harbour. Two hundred something for a 4.5 star room, that seemed decent. My hand drifted into his, our fingers interlocking, it felt natural. We'd finished the last of his Winfield before leaving and the nicotine was making me feel lightheaded again. Almost giddy, but not quite. He'd been quite adamant as he handed me the cigarette, "You have to promise you won't go buy them yourself." I grinned, he should've known promises meant nothing to me, so I promised, but I didn't think I was silly enough to buy myself an addiction. Perhaps when I no longer cared about my body. We reached the lights, crossing after a look told us the road was deserted of cars. The cold didn't bother me and the night held such an allure, like magic. Nothing mattered beyond the present. Then I looked around confused, "I don't see it anymore. Are you sure it's this way?" "Yes. Seriously, your sense of direction is fucked." His tone was playful, "Aren't you glad you have me?" "Yes. Don't be mean." Spontaneously he leaned over to drop a kiss on my cheek, a smile in his voice, "I love you." A small smile dashed over my face as I caught his gaze. "Here we go." The hotel popped into view. It looked empty inside. Pristine, warm, cozy and definitely posh. The turning doors turned at a pace so slow laughter tickled from the corners of our lips as we looked at each other, plain that we shared the same idea of how ridiculous it was. There was nobody there but the escalators invited us up to the next level, snail paced to match. I looked around briefly as Damen approached the reception area. The lighting was nice, warm, the space big enough to feel open without being empty, the seats cut into the walls and the floor to ceiling windows revealed the night lights beyond. It was a nice hotel. I liked it. The receptionists sat behind table counters made of light wood, a colouring that matched the rest of the space, the tables low enough to not intimidate. Something about it drew my mind to another place, another time and another hotel, and vaguely the thought occurred to me that wood felt more intimate than marble. He was asked for his credit card and the man behind the counter typed into a computer. Silence ensured. The television mounted on the wall behind him was broadcasting the latest news of Isis, but it was too soft to really catch. We probably only waited five minutes but it felt a good deal longer. Perhaps because the lobby was bereft of people. No noise. A sense of quiet that might have been comfortable elsewhere, but could not feel comfortable where we stood. Everything sorted, Damen thanked the man and we walked away. He cast me a look, it was a knowing one as we waited for the elevator door to open. I could feel his fingers brush against mine before the doors opened with soft ding and our reflections greeted us with a look of subdued excitement. A touch of desire. Unspoken consent to do things. The door opened for us without a hitch and I slipped into the room, not quite holding any expectations but it was a warmly lit room and hope made itself known that it'd been hiding as I let out a sigh of relief. I turned around to look at him, "I like this room." "Yeah." Walking past me, he moved to the vast window, pulling the white mesh curtains aside to reveal the harbour, the cityscape at night was beautiful, always. I crossed the room to stare. He turned me around, pushing me back and I sat on the window ledge, back pressed into it's coolness as Damen wedged himself between my legs, spreading them forcefully that I could not deny him. His eyes were dark, "I want you." Such simple words, but they carried a wealth of meaning. His lips caught mine, and it was a kiss that held back nothing. That told me in no uncertain terms what he was going to exact from me as the night wore on. I pushed at him. He released me, a wry smile on his face, "I want to wash you. You're having a bath tonight." I arched an eyebrow but he was already moving to untie his Marco Gianni boots. I stood to remove my coat, closing the curtains before my scarf followed the coat to the seat and I turned around. He sat over the red chaise, watching, but then he stood, coming over to wrap me in his arms, just a hug. My hands ran through his hair and I commented absently, in response to the thought that I didn't want to mess it up, "You still have gel in your hair." "It's not gel, it's spray." He walked me backwards until I hit the bed. We tumbled over it. His gaze was tender, brown eyes soft as he looked down at me. I smiled, "What?" "You're beautiful." I pulled him down for a kiss. A simple one, soft, until his hand found my neck, gripping it gently at first before in a frenzy he pulled aside the collar of my shirt to bite my neck. I didn't want to deny him but I struggled. His hands found my wrists, pulling them up harshly as he returned to his task. My struggles ceased and almost as though he knew he had me, his lips began to caress the sensitive area there. The warmth of his tongue made me squirm. Then he released me. I wanted the upper hand in that moment, but mostly I wanted his tender side, I wanted his kindness. In a bid for it I turned quickly, pushing him to his back before I straddled him. He let me. I leaned forward, resting my chin on his chest as I contended with watching him. He smiled, a hand coming up to stroke my hair that I'd left down for him, his eyes speaking before his lips moved, "Hey." A greeting, it was a familiar one. My reply was the same, "Hey." He smiled, observing the look on my face, "What are you thinking about." "I want to role-play tonight." "What kind of role-play. Master, slave?" Those words made me cheeks flame and I nodded, "Yeah." "Okay," his smile still in place as he continued to prod for details, gently, "How do you want to start. Did I purchase you?" Perhaps I didn't trust my voice, but I nodded, going along with it. "Alright, you'll wake up in the bathtub naked when I come in." From past experience I knew I would be shitty at pulling it off so I asked, "Do I have to wake up?" "No, but would be nice if you did. You don't have to, I promise." He leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead before asking, "What else?" Boldly I continued, "No safeword." He acquiesced, "Okay, I think I can do that. I know you well enough by now. So you want me to decide when to stop?" "Yeah." His fingers played with a strand of my hair, "I want to hurt you." Those words made me tingle. I liked it when it said them like that, "I know." There's a smile in his inviting tone, "So what else?" "Um." I looked away, pressing my cheek against his chest and he picked up where I dropped off, "Hey you can tell me. Do you think I'll judge you." "No, of course not." "Then tell me." I looked back up at him, my arms crossed over his chest, "I want to blow you, but I want you to be assertive." He chuckled at that, "Okay." But it felt as though I hadn't quite gotten my point across, "No... I mean — " "You want to be face fucked. You want me to fuck your mouth." Crude words. But utterly... deliciously... correct. Almost embarrassingly too. He looked down at me, his eyes pressing into mine, "I know. So what else." His fingers had found their way underneath my sweater and my shirt to expertly toy with my nipples, and sensitive to his touch, I was being turned on. Slightly breathless I continued, "I want you to spank me." His eyes glittered amusement, "How do you know I wasn't already planning to." "Oh." I quickly move on, "And... I want you to toy with me. And... take pictures..." "That sounds good. I want to take pictures of you." His hands moved to my shoulders, his fingers digging into a tight spot in my neck and I craned for more, wanting more of the the delicious pressure kneading out the knots, I whined softly, "Yes, there, exactly, right there." A feel good moan escaped my lips to be greeted by a soft chuckle before he continued, "What are you going to call me?" "Damen?" "No." It's voiced as such a playful rebuttal. I played it coyly, "Oh. Well, I don't know then." Then without preamble I rolled off him, looking at him with a smile that I knew he could only interpret one way. He followed me, his body draping over me as he called me out, "You cheeky shit. Up." I laughed, pulling my arms around his neck and he sighed, playfully, exaggeratedly as he pulled me up, bearing the full force of my weight. His hands came up to my sweater and I raised my arms for him. It was soon discarded, thrown to the seating by the end of the bed. I fell back to the bed, not about to make his work easy for him. But he smiled, knowing me, and promptly went to work on the button and the zip of my pants. They were black and he asked where I brought them. "Online." He made a small sound of I figured as he worked them over my hips and past my panties, lifting my legs to grasp the ankles, giving it a sharp yank and they slid from my thighs. They were quickly discarded where my sweater was. His fingers began to work at the buttons of my shirt, starting near my neck to slowly work his way down. My naval gradually came into view and suddenly shy I reached for a pillow to hide myself. But he anticipated me, "Aww, are you feeling embarrassed?" I nodded a little. He took the pillow away from me, "Don't be, you have a gorgeous body. I love your belly." As if to prove his point his hand ran across the bump before he leaned down, dropping a quick kiss over it, "It's perfect. Don't be self-conscious." He looked up at me, "Sit up." I propped myself on my elbows for a moment before the warning in his eyes, the arch of his eyebrow, told me to sit up fully. I obliged. He came behind me, his fingers running along my neck gently before pulling the shirt slowly off my shoulders, removing my hands as I tried to help him, "Stop." I ceased. It felt strange being undressed so carefully, but... there was something I really I quite liked about it. He carefully manoeuvred my arms out of the sleeves. I wondered if he enjoyed my pliancy. Nimble fingers found the clasp of my bra, removing it with the same delicacy he treated my shirt. Clothes out of the way, his fingers found my nipples, toying with them gently, running circles over them in a way that he knew I liked. I turned, tried to. He held me in place, pulling me back into him, gently though insistently that I let him play with me. "Are you going to be a good girl tonight?" His lips whispered in my ear, breathing over my skin and I felt seduced but I didn't trust myself with a response. "Shower," I reminded him. He chuckled, "Yep." Then he released me, slipping off the bed and my gaze traveled down to the hard bulge in his jeans. A slow smile slipped over my face as I fell back to the bed, turning on my belly, my ass exposed. His gaze slipped to it briefly before coming back up to meet mine. As if he isn't unaffected, I thought to myself. But his hand didn't come over to wander over my ass, instead he nodded in the direction of them, "I like those ones." I smiled. He was referring to the panties. I'd done that for him too. Chosen a pair of nude lacy ones, revealing the crack of my ass and the top of my smooth pussy. I didn't tell him that. "Hey, you can read some Murakami as I shower. Let me know what you think." He walked to his bag, bringing back a copy of Dance Dance Dance. I flipped through it, noting the various pages that had been dog-eared, he'd only brought the book about two weeks ago but it looked like he was almost done with it. A niggle of guilt wriggles it's way through me, "Crap. I'm still only half way through Austen's Sense and Sensibility." It was a book he brought me, a nice hardcover Penguin's edition that he went to the effort to acquire because I'd enjoyed Pride and Prejudice. I probably started it about two months ago. Poor excuse to have but life and it's various diversions got in the way after that. He came over, lifting my chin to drop a kiss on my forehead, "Well I'm glad you're reading it." His tone became playful, "Now read some Murakami!" I laughed, and he smiled at me as he disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later the water started to run. I ran my finger over the cover of the book. Flipped it open. Commenced reading. Then as I was about to turn the page I noticed I hadn't absorbed a single thing. Slightly amused I brought myself back to the top of the page but rabbit holes have popped up in my mind. More than willing to play victim to them I wander down, thoughts straying to what Damen intended to do to me. A minute later I caught myself, midway through a scenario that was me at his feet. Crap. Read some Murakami! I turned to the book again, attention renewed. This time I was undisturbed by my thoughts. I got up to the last page of chapter one. He really did do surrealism well. The door to the bathroom opened but I pretended to not hear, he would see I looked like I was quite absorbed in the book. "Hey." I looked up. He was wrapped in a towel, still drying off as he sat down and leaned over, commenting, "Nice work, you're up to chapter two." "Yep." "What do you think of it." "It's a bit weird. Like who the hell is the sheep man? But I like the way he writes. The surrealism is good. I think I'd have to get used to Murakami if I wanted to read his books." Damen laughed, "That's magic surrealism for you." Then his hand plucked the book gently from mine, putting it over the drawer by the bed, "The water's running, go take a bath. When it's full enough, turn the taps off and I'll come in." I rolled over to consider this, mockingly, "Hmm." His hand ran down between my breasts, thumb lightly grazing over a nipple, "Don't move." "Why?" I asked genuinely curious. He picked up my phone from the table, "I want a picture." Though I had said I wanted pictures, actually posing for them was quite another thing. So I reached for the pillow but he tugged it away, "No. Lean back." I hit the pillows again, turning my head away so that my hair might hide my face. The camera flashed. His hand came up to part my knees, that I'd pulled up tightly, "Open." I briefly pondered if I wanted to deny him, struggle... but I don't tonight. My legs slide open, the camera flashed again. His hand runs along my calve, "You have such nice legs." I move away in a small act of defiance and tease him with a playful smile, "Yeah, I know." Then before he could consider if he wanted me back I slid off the bed, "I'm gonna have my bath now." The bathroom door closed softly and I stared the tub, bubbles floated in the water, how sweet of him. I couldn't remember the last time I had a bubble bath, was I a kid then? I slid out of my panties, folding them neatly before placing them on the toilet seat. Quickly I pinned my hair up and stepped into the tub. The water was really quite hot, but I adjusted. The bubbles were fun to play with. I swirled them around, bunched them into my chest, popped blobs of bubbles over my nipples. Yeah, I missed out on bubble baths. An Affair in May I was getting deliciously hot and warm and also slightly sweaty. The water had risen more than halfway, but I wanted it a little higher. The steady sound of water streaming into the tub permeated the bathroom. Then it was sufficiently full. Time to turn off the taps. But I hesitated. What was I worried about? Damen? No, I trusted him. I think it must have been myself that I didn't. Pushing the thought away I moved across the tub to turn off the water. It was immediately quiet, peaceful. But not really, I could feel the anticipation in my chest. A moment later the door opened and Damen closed it behind him, watching me. I didn't look away. He walked over slowly, it was only three paces to the tub, then he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, his gaze never wavering from mine. I swallowed. The heat was doing funny things to me. Feeling a combination of light headed and overly heated was... hmm. His hand dipped into the water, beneath the bubbles and I gasped. His fingers found the entrance to my pussy, my clit... and he had no trouble toying with me. I held his gaze, stormy... slightly dark. Deliciously in control. That was the Damen I was looking at. No more lighthearted banter. I shifted in the tub a little, his finger following me, pinning me back, "Legs open." Swallowing again, I spread my legs, his other hand swirled the bubbles aside and I looked down. His hand was pressed against my pussy, thumb lightly over my clit, middle finger deep inside me and the way he held me... He was in character now, "Do you know what you are." I nodded. His voice brought my gaze back. "What are you?" A question that demanded an answer, that I wasn't sure I could give. He repeated it, a dark edge to his tone, invitingly, "What are you, tell me." I looked away. Fingers pinched my right nipple and I gasped, looking back at him sharply, wounded, annoyance in my gaze but he met it head on, unwavering, "Don't look away. What are you." His fingers held my nipple lightly, and then applying a slight pressure he asked again, "What are you." It seemed I could not get out of it, so, lightly I whispered, not quite a straight reply, "Yours," hoping that was enough. He let it go, "Good girl." His finger slipped out of my pussy and he reached for the small towel folded innocently on the bathroom table. I crossed my arms over my chest, slightly self-conscious. "Face the wall." I complied. "On your knees," he admonished. Something fluttered in my chest as I did. "I'm told you're a virgin." I nodded. The hot towel ran over my back, his hand trailing absentmindedly over my skin as the towel dipped over my ass, between my crack. His fingers ran over it, dipping between my pussy to feel up and down my slit. I heard a firm sound of approval and blushed. "Very nice." He commented softly, "Has anyone else touched you here." The question made me want to chuckle, duh, him, and my tone is slightly amused, "Yes, Damen." He knew how to interpret my reply, but nonetheless held his character intact, "Did you enjoy it." "Yes," I teased him. He was silent for a moment before his hand turned my chin towards him, I could see he wanted a kiss. His expression communicated that I was in no position to deny him as his lips slipped over mine. But despite our play, it was a gentle kiss. He wanted it sweet. Then he pulled away slightly, "In character Jean." The towel ran smoothly between me legs, down my thighs to run over my calves in the same slow, languid, precise motions. I didn't want to squirm, but then his fingers traced the lightest of patterns over my skin, and I squirmed, sensitive to the way he touched me. But he knew, he was familiar with my body in ways that I wasn't. "Mm." It's a sound of approval, mixed with a hint of desire as my body came alive under his fingers, and he ran them under me to cup a breast, toying with the nipple and I whined softly, unwilling to moan. His other hand returned to my pussy, his finger slid in easily. "Oh," his voice held just a touch of breathlessness. "You're so wet." I stayed silent, how was I to deny that? He had me in a compromising position, if nothing else, that would be enough to turn me on... in fact the very thought was enough. "Sit back. Face me." I managed to do so without looking at him. His hands part my knees and I resisted, momentarily, before my legs parted, spread open in the tub, hidden beneath the bubbles but that alone managed to be a lewd thought. And lewd thoughts do really funny things to me... "Play with yourself." I look up to search his gaze as my fingers dip between my legs to find my clit. I wasn't a fan of playing with myself spread so open but Damen held them there, ignoring the light strain in my thigh that told him I was trying to close them. I pouted. It fell on him ineffectually. His fingers stirred the bubbles away, giving himself a clear view of the scene between my legs. "Good girl," he breathed. "Finger yourself." My eyes shoot to his, shocked briefly, but he was absolutely serious. "No please," I pleaded. "Do it." "Please." "Now." "Damen, please." His eyes flashed something, then his other hand connected with the side of my face. A light slap. Not enough to hurt. Not enough to do anything except turn me on, a precursor to the strength he might employ if he wanted to hurt me. "Please." Slap. A soft sound, his fingers lightly whipping across my cheek. I move out of the way of the next slap but he gripped my chin, his slap landing on my cheek with a little force, "Darling I'm not asking." My finger drifted lower, I met his expectant gaze, eyes demanding. And slowly my finger found it's way into my pussy until I'd buried it to his satisfaction. Then his thumb ran along my cheek until he was lightly brushing my lips, parting them to run condescendingly over my lower lip. I turned my head away again. His fingers jerked my chin back, thumb dipping into my mouth, "Shh." Don't fight me. That's what he meant. I wondered if my gaze was accusing as I held his but his expression said he didn't care. His thumb continued along my lips, across the tip of my tongue and then all over again, dipping towards the back of my mouth. His hand came over mine, between my legs, manoeuvring me until I was slowly finger fucking myself. I wanted to say something, but it was an effective gag, if I was only going to make half-formed words I wasn't going to try. He withdrew. "Stand up." He reached for a towel. "Wait, can I wash the soap suds off?" A smile curved along his lips, "Yes." Then he proceeded to lean against the bathroom counter, towel over his arm as he watched me. Carefully I leaned down, pulling the plug out to release the water, certain he would get a full view of my pussy. Yes, I was most certainly going to tease him. Then I stood underneath a cascade of warm water, soon clean of the lingering bubbles. I turned around to see him holding the towel out and carefully stepped out of the tub. The towel wrapped around me. White. Fluffy. His hands ran over me slowly. "Come." His hand slipped over mine, pulling me back into the room, but then I noticed the curtains, parted fully. "Can you close the curtains?" I had to ask. "No." Very firm. Quite final sounding. I whined, "Please?" "No." I pouted, refusing to take another step, "Why not." "Because I like them open." I attempted to dash back into the bathroom, and hopefully to be able to lock the door on him, but he anticipated me, an arm circling my waist, the full strength of his arms swinging me back, "No Jean, you're not going anywhere." I didn't really want to, but he understood that I had to try. He half dragged me into the room, throwing me over the bed, the towel wrapped around me in disarray now, but that was soon quickly pulled away. I appealed, "I don't like it. It makes me feel vulnerable." "I know. I like you like that." Damn. Those words were such a turn on. He knew. But I still felt unease, "Can you... turn the bathroom lights off?" He hesitated for a moment before his head tilted a little, a sweet expression on his face, "Yes." A moment later the room was plunged into darkness. It was just us. And the city harbour lights. Two souls in a room on the tenth level of the hotel. The bed dipped with his weight. I could make out his silhouette as he came closer, his hand running along my legs, over my navel, across my breasts, until he pushed me back and I landed amongst the pillows. His hand wrapped around my neck. Then his lips sought mine, kissing sweetly, gently. He smelled like soap, the one the hotel supplied. And him. Lingering dashes of Safari by Ralph Lauren. Just vaguely, but so very signature of him. His kisses gave way to an urgency and his lips sought my neck, fingers running through my hair, pulling until I conceded. He wasn't gentle. It hurt. My cries were muffled as he found places to bite on my neck, hands pressing mine into the bed. Then in a sudden motion he withdrew, "Off the bed." Gingerly I slipped off the edge. His hands gripped my arms, turning me around before pushing me to the bed, a hand over the nape of my neck. I didn't fight him as my breasts pressed into the white sheets, his legs pushing mine apart until they were utterly spread. "Head down." My face pressed into the bed. The sound of a belt being unbuckled greeted my ears. His fingers ran along my back, tracing the curve of my spine and his words were soft, "I want to be sweet tonight, so don't fight me. Otherwise... I will hurt you until you cry." His words made me want to shiver. Perhaps not for the right reason though. The first swish of the belt whistled through the air, momentarily before I felt its sting over my ass. I bit my lips. Then again. His fingers drifted lightly over the curve of my ass before they left. Swish. It wasn't that terrible. And there was something strangely... serene about it... the motion of holding myself plaint against the bed, legs open to him as he ignored my pussy to work his strokes over my ass. Marking it. They began to fall in a rhythm, swish slap pause, swish slap pause, swish slap pause. Almost methodical. It felt like a long stretch of time, as if a clock was ticking somewhere to the strokes of his belt. I laid, un-moving except for the faintest sounds that slipped from my lips. Then his pace increased, notched up with the intensity of his strokes. A cry slipped from my lips. Once. Then again. Then continuously until it was too much and my hands faltered, moving back to cover my abused ass. "No. Hands back." A soft whimper made it's way past my lips as he pushed them away, instructing me to place them above my head. "Good girl." And he continued to mark up my ass. The swish of the belt was loud in the room. He didn't keep at it long. "Are you turned on?" I shook my head. Pain wasn't my thing. His fingers found my spread pussy, slipping in with an ease that was shameful, "How interesting then... that your body tells a different story. Don't you think?" "That's from before!" A soft chuckle was his reply, "So you don't like it? Lying here at my mercy? Legs spread for the whole world to see... " Well... when he put it like that... My voice was accusing, "No, you made me." Another chuckle, "And doesn't that turn you on? Hmm?" My throat worked itself into swallowing. "Don't move." I looked up to see him disappearing into the bathroom, guessing at what he was up to before he returned. A cool towel applied over my ass. "Is that nice?" I admitted, grudgingly, "Yes." He soothed the heated flesh of my ass for a while. "Stand up." I stood. Shakily. He brought over my scarf, it might have been a scarf earlier that night but not now, not... this morning, in the early hours past midnight. The knot slid tightly around my head, obscuring what little there was to be seen in the dark, yet that kind of dark was special, filled only with the distant lights of the harbour... and his silhouette. No monsters underneath the bed. With no sense of sight, Damen walked me across the room until I bumped against the window's sill, wide enough to sit on. His hand pressed me over it. "Put your hands on the window." Shivers whispered down my naked flesh, the window was cold to the touch. And then there was the knowledge that the world was sprawled out before me... asleep in all likelihood, yet still, to be so exposed was... scary. Perhaps that was why he blindfolded me. Was that his kindness? A moment later he was pushing a pillow underneath my arms. I murmured, "Thanks." His hands pushed my legs apart again and I spread them. Then he left. Silence. The back of my neck tingled. He was taking pictures. I knew. But I didn't say it. I didn't move. I laid there the way he positioned me, wondering if I could remember a time I had been so obedient without restraints. Why? A thought surfaced at the back of my mind, perhaps I just missed him and we wouldn't have a night like this again. His hand cupped the right cheek of my ass. Warm. Slightly possessive, like it was his. The way his hand squeezed it, appreciated it, toyed with my flesh. Appraised it. It followed my ass up to the curve of my spine before his other hand slipped between my legs, searching for my clit. Then when he found it he began to play with me, finger pressed over it applying a circular pressure, the way he knew I responded well to. A moment later he spoke, "Jean, we're not going anywhere until I hear you. You're not allowed to be silent." And then I did moan. It wasn't so much the way he played with my clit, but everything else. Leaning over the sill... blindfolded, hands pressed against the cool glass, naked with my legs spread for him. And then after all that, the fact that I was his to play with. He switched hands, leaving his previously occupied hand to finger my hole, dipping into my pussy, burying it until he found my g-spot. Squelch. The sound emitting from between my legs, from the way his finger began to saw back and forth, fluid leaking from my pussy. It was a sound I knew he was quite fond of. If only because it was more proof that my body responded to him. And then that ultimately for however long we were in this moment, my body was his, I belonged to him. His hands left my body. Then the sound of a zipper unfastening. I tensed, "Damen..." His hands returned, gripping my shoulders, massaging a little, "Shh, it's alright." "Wait, you — " I gasped. My words cut off abruptly, the tip of his cock pressed against my pussy, spearing me slightly. "Relax. Whether you like it or not... I am going to fuck you." Abruptly I sucked in a breath. His fingers found their way down my back, along the column of my spine to massage briefly before his hands found purchase over my boobs. And then he groaned softly, his fingers gripping the flesh of my small mounds falling into his hands. Then his hardness slid home. Thrust me forward with the force of his hips slamming against my ass. Then again. Then the rhythm began to kick in. A slow sensual possession, yet more animal than sweet. Primal. His hands slipped over my back again to grip my neck, pressing my forehead against the glass. His hips left my ass briefly to slam back into my pussy. I winced, "It hurts," I breathed, slightly raspy. His lips brushed against my shoulder, "Good. You're incredibly tight." But I liked it. Still. The way he held me down. The way his cock slid in and out of my pussy. His hips slapped against my ass. He settled into a rhythm I was coming to enjoy. "Can... Can you take the scarf off?" He stopped for a moment, considered it, before his fingers slipped it over my head. I blinked, momentarily dazzled by the lights sprawled out before me, chilled by being so exposed... but the cover of darkness reassured me. Damen pressed back into me, "I want to hear you Jean." My gaze was held by the lights, but I toyed with him, "Hear what." "Your moans." Then he returned to his fucking, pace aggressive, demanding. Breath plunged from my lungs as he ensured I had no way to match him, pressing me forcefully down, a hand over my neck, the other pressed firmly into my back so that I could only lie there and accept his invasion. Fuck that was a turn on. Dammit. A moan slipped from my lips. "Good girl." He continued in that way until I was close to coming, his own breaths harsh and jagged as he neared his too. But I needed more and I pressed back against him. He relented, his hands releasing me and then it was us together, mutually fucking each other. It rolled through me. Bliss. But he held still, breathing heavily as I orgasmed around his cock, incoherent sounds escaping from my lips. That only he knew I could make. "Damen?" I asked, when it subsided, slightly unsure. He pulled out, "Get on your knees." It was raspy, authoritative, barely masked his urgency. I turned around and slipped to my knees. He didn't waste his time telling me to open my mouth, I already knew what he wanted as I slipped around his cock. It was hard, rock hard, warm... and... slickly coated with the taste of myself... His hands gripped the back of my head and then for the uncountable time tonight it was not in my control. He plunged into my throat, pumping back and forth until tears welled in eyes and I fought not to gag. But he was unrelenting. And then he groaned, cock buried in my throat. A moment later I felt his cum. He waited before slipping out of my mouth. I knelt there, gazed trained somewhere in the darkness, uncertain. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, hands gently lifting my face to kiss me on the lips. "Wrap your arms around me." He lifted me, carrying me the four steps to the bed. And suddenly I was tired. Very tired. I didn't notice him leave until he was pulling me legs apart again. I started but he ran his hand along my thigh, "Let me clean you up." The warmth of the cloth slipped between my intimate places, light light caresses that made me giggle. "Is it ticklish?" I could hear the amused smile in his tone. "Yeah." "Okay, well I think we're done." The cloth swished briefly through the air to land with a small thwack against my pussy. I gasped, pulling my legs shut, "Hey!" "Just teasing." "Meanie!" I rolled over, away from him in feigned anger. His weight left the bed. Then he came around the other side, leaning over to kiss my cheek, "Do you want anything to eat?" "No." He slipped the covers over me. "Okay. Let me know if you do." Vaguely I could hear the sound of clothes being thrown on. "I'm going out for a smoke." "You'll be back right?" "Of course." I murmured, sleepily, "I'm so tired. Don't go." "I know. Sleep sweetheart. You'll be asleep before I'm gone." Clouds chased me under then. But somewhere from beneath them I felt the touch of his lips, whispered words with no meaning before the sound of the door clicked shut. So this was a bit of an experimental piece for me. If you have any feedback and constructive criticism for me I would love to hear from you!