Blackestnights (2 page)

“What do you need me to do?” I chewed at the inside of my cheek.

“I need you to stop making that face.” He shook his head, his lips pursed a little. “It’s not ladylike and it’s a sign of doubt and weakness.”

The admonishment flustered me. Who said something like that? Clearly, Black did. I’d have to get used to his brutal honesty.

I shrugged. “I thought I was supposed to be the weak one.”

“Submissives are not weak. It takes more strength to endure a whipping than to give one.”

The realization broke over me that he was right. A seed of appreciation sprouted inside me. With just a few words, he had changed my view of myself. What would an entire evening with this extraordinary man do?

“What else can I do to give you what you need?” I asked.

He ran his hand over my cheek. “So eager to please already. I like that. All you have to do is give me honest feedback and obey the rules.”

He went on to detail what his rules were.

No one else was to touch me now that I was his. He did not share.

Black entered his cell number into my phone, but instructed me never to use it.

“I’ll contact you when I want you,” he said, handing me my cell.

I wanted to ask why, then, had he given me his number, but he answered the question before I could voice it.

“You need to know I’m the one calling.”

Well, that made sense and I felt foolish that I hadn’t guessed as much.

“I don’t do degradation—no crude names, no bodily functions, no dog collars—it’s a base form of dominance and I prefer more…
sophisticated
methods of controlling you.”

I nodded, a little relieved. Words like bitch, slut, whore didn’t appeal to me either, but I’d been willing to put up with them as part of the process.

“Have you had an STD panel since your last partner?” he asked.

His bluntness surprised me. “Yes—as part of my annual physical—and I haven’t been sexually active in almost a year.”

“I’ve been tested too and I’m negative. I prefer no condoms.”

“I’m on the Pill.” To be honest, I wanted him to fill me with his cum—wet, hot and sticky—dripping down my leg. “No condoms is fine with me.”

“Good. And you need to pick safe words. One that means ease up but don’t stop and one that means stop now.”

Our chosen pseudonyms flashed through my mind. “Scarlet for slow and midnight for stop.”

“You will spend the next weekend with me. Here is my address.” He handed me a cream-colored business card with raised gold lettering. “Feel free to tell family members or friends that this is where you will be next Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”

I nodded. He’d allayed some of my concern that he was a serial killer, trolling for victims at the local kinkster munch. Perhaps I watched too many TV crime dramas.

“Thanks.”

“If we’re a good fit, I’ll let you know if I want you to stay. I’m not talking TPE, but we’ll need to make more permanent living arrangements.”

What in the world did that mean? “TPE?”

“Total power exchange. Not my thing, really. I don’t want you chained in the basement or at my beck and call…outside of playtime anyway.” A devilish grin lit up his face.

“Ah. Well, that’s a good thing. I’m thinking of this as a sexual experiment myself, not a lifestyle choice.”

“Any more questions?”

I shook my head.

“Then we’re all set to play.”

I glanced around the restaurant. “Here?”

“Here.” He gave a curt nod. “Are you wearing panties?”

“Yeah.” I furrowed my brow.

“Take them off and give them to me.”

Excited that the training had begun, I rose to head to the bathroom, but he grabbed my wrist, forcing me to sit.

“Take them off here.”

“At the table?” I looked around. The restaurant was packed. No way in hell was I going to strip off my undies right here, right now.

“Was I unclear?” His grip on my arm tightened.

I couldn’t do this, could I? Frozen by my inhibitions, I couldn’t have complied even if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to…did I? Was I the kind of woman who could do something so brazen in a public place?

Staring at me, he didn’t blink nor did his expression change. His grip on my arm didn’t let up.
Get on with it
, he conveyed without words.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I had to peel it off before I could speak. “I…I don’t feel comfortable.”

Digging his fingers into my skin, he tightened his grasp on my wrist, twisting a little. I gasped, half surprised and half aroused. He was going to force me to do this.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you twice.” He didn’t raise his voice and he didn’t seem angry, but all the same I was intimidated by his demeanor. His expression darkened, his mouth firmly set in a line, and then there was that penetrating stare.

“I want to do what you’re telling me to do, but I can’t. I really can’t.”

Releasing my arm, he slipped his hands beneath the tablecloth. A tremor passed through me as he hitched my skirt up my thighs. One yank and he’d tugged my panties to my knees. My throat clenched, my cheeks burning almost as hotly as my pussy. My pulse quickened and I struggled to catch my breath.

“Slip them to the floor, step out of them and give them to me.”

I did as I was told, passing them to Black under the table. Using his napkin as cover, he held the silky garment to his nose and inhaled.

“Your cunt smells delicious.” He closed his eyes as if savoring the moment.

Tracing my lips, he tucked the panties into his pocket. “Aside from your initial disobedience, you did well. I expect you to comply more readily next time I tell you to do something.”

“It’s just we’re in public. I was uncomfortable—”

Clamping his fingers against my cheeks, he said, “You aren’t supposed to be comfortable. No excuses.”

When he released me, he motioned to the waitress. She scurried over. Black ordered for both of us—ahi sashimi and calamari to start with. I didn’t bother to mention I don’t like calamari. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

* * * * *

After dinner—during which I discovered that properly prepared calamari is delicious—Black walked me to my apartment building. Folding me in his arms, he kissed me gently. His tenderness surprised me. Was he supposed to be kind to me? I didn’t understand, but clearly he could do as he pleased.

As he receded, a half-smile played on his lips. “Good night, little Red.”

“When will I hear from you?” I asked.

“When you hear from me.”

With that, he turned to leave.

I watched him disappear down the block. He didn’t look back.

For our first play session, I arrived early, reciting, “Scarlet, slow. Midnight, stop,” as I parked in his driveway. Once I’d inspected my makeup and smoothed my black skirt and spaghetti-strap blouse, I propelled myself out of the car. The humid night air threatened to kink up my hair. A smile on my lips, I hoped my hair wouldn’t be the only thing kinked up that night. My stomach did flip-flops at the thought of what Black had in store for me.

At 8:55, I knocked on his door. I heard him moving inside the house, but he didn’t answer.

A couple minutes passed and still I stood on his porch, the crickets chirping in the cooling night air. Maybe he hadn’t heard my knock. I rang the doorbell.

Another minute or so passed and every second that ticked by left me feeling foolish. Why was he making me wait? Finally out of patience, I fished my cell phone out of my purse and hit the auto-dial for his number.

As soon as Black jerked open the door, I knew I’d made a mistake. Lips downturned, eyes narrowed, he folded his arms over his chest.

The intensity of his stare unnerved me.

Fixing my gaze on the ground, I offered an explanation though he hadn’t demanded one. “I wanted to be sure I was on time.”

“But you aren’t on time, you’re early. Nine o’clock means nine o’clock.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Go into the dining room and sit.” He moved aside to let me pass. “To your left.”

Hurrying to do as instructed, I didn’t have much time to take in the decor of the house. Once I’d taken a seat, I studied the austerity of the mission-style dining table, chairs and china cabinet. One massive photo—at least four feet by six feet—hung on an otherwise bare wall. It depicted a close-up of a fig sliced in half. So suggestive of female genitalia was the imagery that I found myself averting my eyes, sneaking furtive glances. Every time I dared to look at it for more than a couple of seconds, my cheeks burned and butterflies flitted around my stomach.

The door clicked shut and I heard his footsteps head in the opposite direction. Then he returned, cell phone in hand. Drawing his finger across the screen, he turned it so I could read. The glowing display showed his call log.

“Read the most recent entry,” he said.

“It says Red.”

“And is it an incoming call or an outgoing one?”

“Incoming,” I mumbled. I knew exactly what I’d done wrong.

“I said never to call me.” He grabbed me by the hair and I flinched, more out of surprise than pain. He wasn’t pulling all that hard…yet.

“I’m sorry.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, excited by the control he exerted over me.

Setting the phone aside, he moved behind me. Leaning down, he let his lips brush past my ear. I could feel his breath on my cheek and neck. Inhaling his cologne, I closed my eyes, my heartbeat quickening.

“You don’t listen.” He tightened his grasp, shaking me a little. I gasped, the pain sharper now, the throbbing of my pussy radiating throughout my body.

I didn’t reply, struggling to suppress a smile though I couldn’t figure out just why I felt like grinning.

“What’s funny?” He tugged at my hair.

The tug hurt so much my eyes watered. “Nothing.”

“Say it. Say ‘I don’t listen’.” His hand held my head back, forcing me to make eye contact.

“I—” My voice cracked, arousal and agony gripping my throat. “I don’t listen.”

“Do you need me to make you?”

“Yes…please.” My legs trembled, my pussy quivering at the thought of what he would do to punish me.

Pulling me up and bending me over the table, he pressed my cheek to the cool surface, hand still tangled in my hair, but he’d eased up on the agonizing hold.

The skirt I’d taken so much care to pick out wound up crumpled around my waist. He ripped off my panties then caressed the swell of my ass. I heard the jangle of his belt buckle and the
whoosh
of it sliding out of his belt loops. Oh God, he was going to—

Crack!

I cried out and squirmed, the initial sting so intense I could hardly stand it, but he held me down.

Crack!

The belt smacked against my ass, heat spreading over the entire cheek. I yelped and whimpered. A sharp burning sensation ran along the junction of my buttock and my thigh and I was sure he’d given me a welt. The thought turned me on to no end. I was bare-assed, splayed out across a table and one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever met was punishing me. Oh yes, I wanted more.

Another crack of the belt and I could feel my juices wetting my pussy lips. The pain transformed from an unpleasant sensation to the heat of a lover’s touch. Instead of a cry of objection, I moaned, writhing against the table.

“You like that?” He growled the words, his voice even deeper than usual.

“Yes.” I arched my back, thrusting my ass toward him.

“Yes, what?” He caught me by the hair again.

“Yes sir.”

He whipped my buttock again and I called out, the skin raw now. My cunt contracted, so swollen and wet he could have easily slid inside me, no more foreplay needed, but I knew he wouldn’t give me that kind of pleasure yet. I hadn’t earned it.

“Your pretty little ass is the most lovely shade of red.”

I felt him drop to his knees, running his tongue over the areas that stung the most. A hiss escaped me. Parting my labia with two fingers, he swiped at my slit.

“You’re so wet. You’re going to be fun to play with.”

I panted, desperate that he continue my training, but instead he righted my skirt and helped me up. Swiping the finger coated in my cream over my lips, he moved in for a kiss. His tongue flicked at the musky fluid then plunged inside my mouth. I inhaled the scent of pussy mingled with his cologne, unable to get enough of the heady scent.

As the kiss tapered off, a smile formed on his full lips. He took my hand, gently interlacing our fingers. “Let’s go to the playroom.”

“Yes…sir.” Dizzy with arousal, I’d almost forgotten to tack on the salutation.

“You only have to call me sir when I’m punishing you.”

“Oh.” I nodded. So many rules. I’d never keep them all straight, but most likely he was counting on that fact. How else would he have the chance to correct me?

Black led me down the hall. I noted more suggestive photos—close-ups of fruit or flowers, abstract shapes that hinted at the female body—though none of them depicted any actual nudity.

“Are you a photographer?” I asked, but he didn’t reply.

Okay—so no questions about his personal life.

He opened a door at the end of the hall and flicked on a light. At first it looked like a dance studio, mirrors lining three of the walls, but then I noticed the various tools and devices. Some were obviously for binding me in contorted positions, some looked like overstuffed beanbags or loungers and some were just downright alarming.

“What’s this?” I removed a U-shaped metal rod from the wall. It had a ball on one end and a large eye at the other.

Plucking it out of my hand, he replaced it on its peg. “An anal hook. Do you want to experience it firsthand?”

“I don’t know. What’s it designed to do?”

“I slip it into your ass, attach it to a posture bar and then lash your hands to the bar. It forces you to try to be as still as possible while I flog you or fuck you. I hear it’s wonderfully painful as the ball bobs around inside you.”

I swallowed hard. While the thought of this device in my ass while being bound and fucked sent waves of excitement through me, no way was I ready for anything quite so hard-core.

“I think we’ll have to work up to that one.”

“I agree.” He chuckled softly. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh. The sound rippled through me. I loved the deep richness of it and I was happy I’d amused him.

“May I pick out something else?”

“Yes, you may. I like that you asked first. You’re learning.”

He swept my hair from my shoulder and placed a kiss there.

A thrill fluttered in the pit of my stomach. I was starting to understand my role and what was expected of me.

Walking over to a strange machine, I ran my hand over the metal framework. There were bars on either side with shackles presumably for my arms and legs. Toward the back, a latex phallus extended from a cylinder, the height of which was adjustable.

“What’s this?”

“You like the advanced toys, don’t you?”

“I find them…intriguing. What does it do?”

Black moved behind me, wrapping his arms around me. His scent filled my nostrils as he bent me over, his chest pressed to my back.

Hitching my skirt over my hips, he rubbed a hand between my ass cheeks. “I put you on all fours, lock you into the restraints, and slide the dildo in your pussy. The machine pounds your cunt while I pound your ass.”

Electricity coursed through my veins, my pussy clenched. My breathing quickened and I closed my eyes, imagining myself impaled on this machine.

“You like that,” he said, toying with my swollen labia.

“Yes.” The word escaped me with a heavy exhalation. Need flooded my entire body, my nipples drawing to tight buds, my mound so tight and swollen it hurt. I wanted him to fuck me, to own me, to push me beyond the brink. The pain would bring sweet release, of this much I was sure.

Easing me up, he smoothed my hair and skirt. “You aren’t ready for that either. I’ll see how you do with what I have planned for you tonight.”

I turned to face him, my lips brushing against his as I wrapped a leg around him.

In a split second, he’d grabbed me by the hair, spun me around and slammed me against a table in the center of the room.

“No,” he said firmly, but didn’t raise his voice. “You don’t touch me unless I give you permission. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

His belt buckle jangled and I knew what would come next. Black pushed up my skirt and held me down, whipping my ass—the left cheek this time. The leather strap lashed again my skin several times without a break between blows. I squealed, writhing in his grasp.

“Stop, please, stop,” I cried, but this only seemed to spur him on. And really, I didn’t want him to stop. The agony of each strike flooded me with arousal. My cunt throbbed. I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but I knew better. He’d never give me what I wanted if I asked for it. Not like this.

“I’m sorry, sir.” I panted, a tear running down my cheek, my own juices dripping down my thighs.

After a few more licks, he did stop. I heard the belt drop to the floor and the rasp of his breathing. He was moving behind me but I couldn’t make out what he was doing. Without warning, he pushed his cock inside me. I squirmed, dying to ride his hard shaft, but he held me firmly in place.

“Don’t move.”

Pressing my hands against the table, I braced myself. Black pounded in and out of me, my ass stinging worse as his pelvis slapped against it. Every stroke took me higher. I longed to cream all over his cock. I wanted him to fill me with his cum. I’d do anything he ordered me to do, if only he’d bring me to climax.

The force with which he drove into me shook the table. I yelped and gasped, struggling to manage the simultaneous agony and ecstasy, but I didn’t move. I would show him I could take it, that I could do as he commanded.

Suddenly, he slowed his rhythm, toying with my opening, only the tip of his shaft bobbing in and out of me. I groaned my objection, but I didn’t move. Every inch of me longed to impale myself on his thick cock, for him to stretch and fill me as he had moments ago.

The teasing continued for what seemed like forever. My pussy felt on the verge of exploding and I wanted to explode. I couldn’t take the pulsing tension between my thighs much longer. My legs shook, I couldn’t control them and I hoped he understood that. My body vibrated with unadulterated need.

“Please,” I whispered, unable to speak in a normal tone.

Snaking a hand around my waist, he strummed my clit and drove into me. I moaned, so close to coming. I needed the release, I craved it and would have done anything to have it.

“Don’t come,” he rasped.

My pussy clamped his cock. I panted, struggling to hold out. “I can’t—”

“Do not come.”

I spasmed, fighting against the ripples of pleasure emanating from my core. Any second they would break loose and I’d orgasm, failing him once again.

“I can’t stop it. I’m going to come,” I whimpered.

At once he withdrew, leaving me empty and so disappointed I thought I might cry. The aching pulse between my legs was relentless.

“Black, please.” My pussy quivered as if trying to draw him back inside.

He didn’t reply. Instead he jostled me to my feet then pressed me down onto my knees, shoving his cock in my mouth.

“Make me come.”

Not something I’d ever been good at, I tried to suck at his shaft while moving it in and out. Immediately I gagged, catching his head on one of my teeth.

A sharp slap to my cheek startled me. He withdrew from my mouth.

“Cover your teeth with your lips. Don’t suck, just run your mouth and tongue up and down the shaft.”

I nodded. “Yes sir.”

Again, he pushed his cock into my mouth. It took me a second to figure out how to cover my teeth with my lips, but once I did, I found it much easier to slide him in and out. Once I’d gotten his cock wet, he pushed deep into my throat then paused. As I knew I would, I gagged a few times, my eyes watering, and I choked, struggling to breathe. But then as I grew used to his head touching the opening of my throat, the spasms subsided.

“Look at me,” he said.

I peered up, meeting his gaze. His stare bored into me, his face aglow, jaw slack. He looked drunk on his own power.

Bending me back a little so that I was a bit off balance, Black held on to my head, pumping in and out of my mouth so quickly I struggled to keep my teeth covered and I couldn’t suck in a full breath. A burst of panic gripped me. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burned. Instinct took over and I pulled free of his grasp.

Sure he would punish me, I panted, trying to catch my breath and holding up a hand. If only I could explain…

But before I could say anything, he told me, “Alternate two quick inhalations with two quick exhalations in time with my thrusting. Like this—”