Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection (11 page)

"And what will you do to please me?" He's the one who sounds happy now, even though he's doing his best to put on his "fierce master" act.

"I'll bare my bottom so you can spank me and make me cry."

"An admirable sentiment, my love... but would you do it right here? Where we stand?"

I glance around anxiously, and he gives me a squeeze that makes me yelp. The path is deserted, but down below, on the lane that leads to the village, I can see people walking, braving the cold as we are. If he were to throw my coat up over my back, and pull down my jeans and knickers, there's nothing to say that any number of brave walkers wouldn't suddenly decide to ramble up this track.

And yet... it's so exciting. My pussy flutters are the thought of being found, so deliciously exposed in a public place. Especially so if my husband has put roses in my cheeks by the time they arrive.

"Yes. Yes, I'd do it here, if you wish it."

Sebastian laughs, and it's a husky thrilling sound. "I bet you would too, you trollop. I bet you'd enjoy showing yourself off to all and sundry... you fantasize about it often enough, judging by the tall stories you tell me all the time."

It's true. We both have the best fucks ever when I tell him my outrageous erotic daydreams, and the topic of exhibitionism is always a winner.

We stand, frozen in time, while he decides if we should really take a risk. My hands are still upon him, one touching his hair, the other on his strong shoulder, so solid beneath the superb cloth of his Belstaff. He's still holding my pussy through my clothes, the pressure firm, reminding me of the unyielding balls inside me.

"Come on... let's walk a little further," he says, making a sudden decision which he marks with another rough squeeze of my crotch, before letting that go, and grabbing my hand to lead me along. I suppress my moans as he makes me hurry again, jostling the obstructions that rock against my womb.

A little way up the path, just over the brow of the hill, we come to a little stone structure, a sort of shelter for walkers to rest in, after the climb up, and enjoy magnificent views of the valley. The view isn't all that great today, as it's misty and foggy, but the shelter is welcome. Sebastian's grin tells me we've found the perfect venue.

"In there," he orders, hustling me in.

It's a strange, damp, gloomy little building, on this dim day. Open at the front, but with a wall, about waist high, and at the back there's a green-painted bench, a little worse for wear. Despite the fact it's so exposed and windswept, there's a suspicious odor of urine floating about. Ugh!

"You bring me to the nicest places," I mutter.

"Cheeky cow! The Rook's Nest isn't cheap you know," he counters. He's right; it's a very nice place, and quite exclusive. A real treat. "I'll have to punish you even more severely for your lack of gratitude."

As if you wouldn't anyway?

His pale eyes are glinting in the gloom, and just the sight of them affects my body. My sex clenches in longing, clamping down on the balls and making me gasp. Those eyes narrow as he perfectly reads my responses.

"And you're a horny minx too, aren't you? I bet you're wet through."

I refrain from pointing out that any woman with a tantalizing love toy inside her would be dripping. Not to mention having been kissed to within an inch of her life by the most gorgeous and most kinky man imaginable.

"Tell me. Are you wet?"

I'm quivering all over. He doesn't shout at me. He doesn't even sound cross or displeased. But somehow I'm a complete jelly of apprehension.

"Yes. Um... yes, master, I'm very wet."

"That's better," he says, approving the title. "I think we'd better inspect you now, hadn't we?"

I nod. I can't speak any more. I feel as if I'm going to explode with excitement and surging lust any second.

Manhandling me, Sebastian makes me lean forward, with my elbows on the low wall, my chin resting on my arms, and my bottom pushed out. Then, with no further ado, he throws my coat up over my back, and reaches around to unfasten my jeans. These, he drags hurriedly all the way down my legs to my ankles, taking my knickers with them.

I'm left standing there with my bum, my thighs and my legs all on show to whomsoever might amble past the shelter. The cold air feels like a dank film clinging to my nakedness, and my own moisture is so copious it starts to trickle down my inner thigh.

Sebastian tests me immediately, sticking two fingers peremptorily into my sex from behind. The tips knock against the Chinese balls inside me, and the balls in turn knock the root of my clitoris.

I make a gurgling sound and come a bit, clamping down on him.

"Dirty, undisciplined, intemperate girl," he hisses in my ear, rummaging around from the front for my clit and when he finds it, giving it a little pinch as it jumps. "You'll pay for that. I never said you could come, did I?"

"I'm sorry," I half stammer, half gulp; not feeling the least bit sorry at all. In fact I feel deliciously aglow and proud of myself and happy, and just dying for him to bring it on, and punish me.

He withdraws his fingers, giving the cord of the love balls a little tweak, but not pulling them out. The way they jump inside me makes me squeak, and nearly come again.

"Careful..." he warns, wiping his sticky fingers on my bare bottom. Oh, he's a prince. "I was going to just spank you, but because you're so willful I think we need a few refinements, don't you?"

Whatever, I think, but don't say so. I'm half off my head already.

Fishing around in his pocket, he gives me a baleful glare as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He's clearly got some other fiendishness in there that I wasn't aware of, and it doesn't surprise me at all when he draws out our favorite set of nipple clamps.

"Oh no," I gasp, thinking, oh yes.

"Wicked little tart," he breathes against my neck as he reaches under me, pushing up my sweater and T-shirt right up, out of the way, and then unclipping the front fastening of my bra to free my breasts. My nipples are hard as little stones already, but he plays with them just a bit to be sure.

Then, the next torment begins. He screws first one clip in place then the other, and tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. They really hurt, and what's more, they're weighted, so they pull on breasts as they dangle. Worse, or perhaps better in a dark twisted way, that pulling sensation seems to drag my clit too.

What a state he's got me in. Here I am, presented, subjugated for his pleasure with a bare, vulnerable bottom and remorseless nipple clamps plaguing my breasts. I love it, being his "object", his plaything. My pussy drips. I'm almost ready to come, just from being here.

"Now stay where you are. Don't move a muscle. And most especially, don't touch yourself or climax."

Where's he going? Where the hell is he going? With a swish of his long dark greatcoat he strides out of the shelter and right out of view.

For a few minutes I'm completely alone. I'm fearful, yet absurdly, even more excited than ever. I imagine people, mainly men, coming along the path, and stopping to stare at my bum, and my breasts, perhaps fondling me. But I can't do a thing because Sebastian's told me not to move.

My heart nearly stops when I hear footsteps approaching, but then it speeds up even more when I recognize the tread. He swirls back into the shelter, a couple of freshly pulled and trimmed switches, mini branchlets, in his hands.

"These should do nicely," he says, sounding pleased with himself as he hefts the instruments of my forthcoming punishment, assessing their weight and flight like the expert he is.

Oh, those are going to smart! He's a master with any implement, and with his hand, but he'll really make those beauties fly.

"Have you moved while I was away?" He lays one of the switches across my bottom, just letting it rest there. "Have you fiddled with yourself, you naughty girl?"

I haven't, but part of me wants to say that I have. I love playing the wicked, helpless, hopeless little strumpet to his stern disciplinarian.

"No matter..." He preempts my answer. "Even if you haven't done it, you've thought about it, and that's enough. The thought is misbehavior too." He reaches beneath me, tugging a nipple clip, and making me moan and jiggle my hips; which, of course, makes everything worse than ever, because of what's inside me. I really am in a terrible, yet wonderful state.

I'm dying to come again.

"Right, that's it... It's time to beat the wickedness out of you, you mucky little trollop." He taps my bottom ever so lightly, as if sighting for the real blows. "Assume a better position. You're not really trying here. Dish your back and stick your bottom out. Present yourself, woman."

I do the best I can, but it's difficult with my panties and jeans around my ankles, and it's cold too, even though I am burning up with desire.

Ow! Ow! Ow!

While I'm still trying to flex myself into a better shape for him, he lands three hard slashes, right across the crown of both buttocks at once, all parallel. After a split second of shock, they explode in white fire, and I keen out, "Nooo!"

"Yes!" he corrects, swishing again, another three.

Already sobbing, I rock my hips and that makes everything worse. The pain is fierce, but the love balls and the swing of the weighted nipple clips are demonic. I simply don't know if I'm coming... or going mad from the raging hurt in my bottom, and the torment of my breasts.

"Keep still, Megan. Be good. For me..." His voice is quiet, almost tender, sweetly beguiling.

I strain to obey him, and to please him. It's all I want to do right now. I have a real life, a normal life where I'm in control of my own destiny and I do what I want as a Twenty First Century woman, but in this precious magic world of ours, all I want to do, all I live for, is to be what
he
wants me to be.

His. His plaything. His object. His perfect submissive.

"There, that's better," he almost croons, punctuating it with another hard cut, right across the under-hang of my bottom, close to my sex. He would never hit me there, but getting within millimeters of it is a skill he's polished; that and striking me right across the vent of my anus... something he does now, in two sharp blows.

I'm crying freely now. My bottom is incandescent, agonized. But within, I'm rippling lightly around the solid spheres inside me as if I'm having a delicate, unstoppable, ongoing orgasm, fired by the pain.

Not being allowed to rub my clit is far more taxing to me than any amount of blows to my bottom.

I gasp. I gulp. I whimper. I'm not doing very well. I should really take this quietly. Sebastian belabors the sides of my buttocks and my thighs, spreading the heat and pain around. I wriggle and jerk, making the love spheres dance and the nipple pendants swing.

Suddenly, it's too much. I lose my head, and any semblance of control over my own sexual response. With a garbled cry... his name, I think... I surrender to a huge orgasm, and unable to stop myself I reach down and start fondling my clitoris in rough, hard strokes, working myself through it.

"Oh baby," Sebastian gasps, and the switch hits the floor. A heartbeat later, I almost faint when he wrenches the balls out of me by their cord and after an instant or two of rustling and fumbling... I'm filled again.

Stuffed to the brim with his hot, hard, dearly beloved cock...

"My darling, my darling..." he sighs, almost sobs into the back of my neck as he throws himself over my back like cloak of grace in his big, dark coat.

Sebastian, my husband, jams himself into me, again and again, in long, staccato strokes. It hurts where he's hit me, but I barely notice it. I'm still coming and it's better, infinitely better, than before. Especially when he reaches around, knocks away my fingers, and takes over in the pleasuring of my clit. He rubs me, circling and teasing and loving, somehow managing to stay exquisitely on target while he's half out of his head, and fucking and slamming into me.

A typhoon of love like this can't last long, and after a few moments, he snarls and buries his face in the side of my neck. I think he bites me, but I'm so far out of it, and so full of sublime ecstasy myself, that I can't quantify a different kind of feeling.

All I register is joy, and the pulse and leap of his cock inside my body.

We lie there, sort of thrown over the low wall together, in a heap of thunderstruck sensation, for what must be several minutes. My nipples are pulsating and bottom feels like it's been roasted, but I don't care. I love the throbbing heat and the sensation of Sebastian's belly and his rumpled clothing shoved haphazardly against the site of his handiwork.

"That was sensational, love," he whispers, recovering first as he almost but not quite always does. I feel his mouth on my neck again, gently kissing this time, not biting, "You're a wonder." He's still inside me, albeit soft, and it's as if he doesn't want to part us. His hand is on my bare belly, fingers spread, just holding us together.

"I love you," I whisper. The words seem most apposite. Always true, and applicable in any situation where my husband is concerned.

We linger like that, murmuring sweet nothings, Sebastian adorably solicitous after what he did with the switch. He promises gentleness, a soothing bath with an expensive essence that always soothes in these cases, and decrees that we can fuck with me on top for the rest of the holiday.