Falloir (Passion Noire Book 2) (12 page)

What I do when I achieve that is a fucking mystery to me. I’m out of my comfort zone. I have no point of reference. I feel something, not exactly
for
her but
about
her, if that makes any sense. I feel a need to protect her, to keep her from the harm that could well be lurking out there. I feel a need to impress her in everything I do, but especially when it comes to sex. She’s such a sexual creature. I dare not disappoint. I know she’ll push me to the edge of my limits. I wonder if she has any inclination that I’ll push back. I think that maybe she does. I suspect that’s why I’m here. Naked. Anticipating. Ready.

Yet she’s just sitting there, sipping from her glass as her eyes drink in the sight of my naked body. I know women find me attractive. I know I have a good physique, one that I’ve begun to neglect since I met Veuve but I won’t let it slide. Pumping iron is another challenge I push to the max. I love the adrenaline high when I’ve beaten a record or reached a target. The fact that I’m in my late thirties isn’t an excuse to go easy, I see it as a reason to push harder. It’s addictive; the challenge, the conquest, the climax ... a lot like sex.

Or rather, a lot like how sex used to be for me ... before I got bored. Before I knew there was more. The challenge I’ve set myself with Veuve isn’t like a simple visit to the gym, it’s more like entering a strongman competition where winner takes all. An epic challenge. And I don’t like to lose.

She’s walking towards me now; her puckered nipples and lascivious gaze make my cock flex wildly under my hand. I take in her creamy, voluptuous curves, offset by her black boots, corset and hair ... she’s a modern day Rubens masterpiece, created by a lustful paintbrush, dipped in sin.

She stands over me, hands on her hips and a haughty expression on her face as she looks down at me. It’s a provocative pose, especially since she’s radiating pure sex beneath those dominant overtones. I’m standing at the starting line, looking at my potential prize. I catch her gaze and convey my silent messages: I’m more than ready for this; failure is not an option; bring it the hell on.

I see her eyebrow hitch momentarily in response before she leans over, making those tits swing back and forth, right in front of my eyes. I swear they’re hypnotic because I barely feel her lifting my arm. I do feel the wide, cold band slowly slide around my wrist. She’s cuffing me and she’s taking her time, giving me the opportunity to back out. Like hell I am. I loose my cock and offer her that wrist. I’ve never been restrained by a woman before. For a long while, I’ve thought it would be hot but I’ve never found one strong enough—not physically, mentally. Until now.

She cuffs all four limbs. I pull against the wide leather bands, connected to the frame of the bed by solid chains, and find that I am securely restrained. There’s no way for me to escape. The cuffs have strong, thick buckles that I don’t have a chance of unfastening now. She stands back, surveying her handiwork but she’s distracted; she’s still not convinced that I can do this. This whole thing is beginning to feel perfunctory and fake.

‘Stop it,’ I demand.

She gives me the look that a teacher gives an insolent pupil. ‘What?’

‘Stop second guessing. Stop worrying that this is wrong, that I can’t handle it. It feels like we’re going through the motions and that, at any second, you’re expecting me to change my mind and back out.’

Her mouth purses slightly.
Surely she can feel it. Surely she knows I’m right.

‘Veuve, the one thing that will make me call an end to this is if I feel you holding back. It makes a mockery of the whole, damned thing. It’s a fucking turn off—look at my cock if you want evidence. And you feel the same. Watching me undress, you were practically salivating, now you look like a frantic parent watching their child on a climbing frame for the first time. It’s about as far from horny as you can get.’

Her eyes narrow but she’s a stubborn creature.

‘Are you sure you’ve done this before?’ I taunt.

I see her nostrils flare.

‘Don’t push your luck,’ she says, ‘Or I might forget you’re a virgin where kink’s concerned.’

‘I didn’t say I was a kink virgin.’ I smirk. ‘Far from it, except where Femdom’s concerned. I’m used to calling the shots, dictating the act, the pace, the end result.’

‘And what is your preferred act and pace?’ she asks.

Gritting my teeth, I reply, deliberately goading her. ‘I like it rough. Brutally so. A woman has three warm, soft targets ... I like to make use of them all, but it depends on my mood and her skill level. If she’s a disappointment, I’ll just want to empty my balls and discard her. If she’s talented, I’ll allow her the pleasure of experiencing my cock ... everywhere.’

‘Well, well, well,’ she says, sounding both pissed off and pleased in equal measure. ‘I have before me a self-confessed misogynistic man-whore who likes brutally rough fucking and who empties his balls when he feels like it with no regard for his partner’s pleasure. Yet, he’s lying here before me, restrained to my bed ... I wonder, Jones, whether you got tired of one-way pleasure, perfunctory fucking as I like to call it.’

I manage to shrug a little. I’ve got her rattled. I’ve fired some life back into her. But she’s right. My sexual experiences have become increasingly selfish and it’s only now that it occurs to me that my boredom, my lack of any real pleasure, beyond that of the fleeting satisfaction of shooting my load, may not be coincidental.

The smirk slides off my face. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Wouldn’t it be easier to show your partner some consideration than to put yourself through this? You’re naturally dominant. You could become
a
Dominant. But you’d need to put someone else’s needs before your own. I’d crush you if you attempted to treat me like that. Unlike those pathetic sluts you’ve been drawn to, I’m not easily satisfied.’

‘It would be easier—if I had the inclination and if I knew how. But I don’t. It holds little appeal. Whereas you, forcing me to put your needs first and coming down hard on me if I fail, that’s what appeals. I want to experience a real woman who isn’t easily satisfied and who isn’t afraid to make her needs known and to make sure she damn well gets them met. I want to be re-educated. I need to be challenged. And I need to succeed.’

She purses her lips again. ‘Well, since you put it like that, we can get started. As a Domme, I put your needs before my own. Your needs happen to be learning to put someone else’s before your own. So our needs are compatible. For now. I hope you’re ready for this, Jones, because you’ve just talked me into letting go of the restraint I
was
going to show you.’

‘Good. Show me no mercy. Condition me to put your needs first and mine second. Take my brutality and turn it into something meaningful, something immensely satisfying for both of us. I want to blow your mind, Veuve. I want to leave you breathless, spent, sated ... and craving me like a drug. I want to dominate your thoughts so that you’re counting the minutes until I’m back at your feet, preparing to astound you once more.’ I can feel my cock hardening at the mere thought.

She smiles as though I’ve asked for something unreasonable. ‘I’d never knock anyone for aiming high but there’s no motivation in aiming for the impossible.’

‘Open your mind, Veuve. There are few things in life which are impossible. And don’t write me off so soon. You have no idea what I’m capable of, with the right teacher. Surely, you’re at risk of underestimating both of us ... that could be a fundamental misjudgement on your part, which ultimately leads to your downfall.’

She leans forward and spits on my cock, making me have to stifle the temptation to growl at her crudeness. Clasping my cock firmly, she looks me in the eye. ‘Shut the fuck up, your naivety is pitiful, Jones.’

Before I can reply, she begins to stroke my cock with such determined firmness that, despite the vulgar lubrication, it’s enough to make me keep my mouth closed.

Man, she’s skilled. Her grip twists on occasion and she somehow manages to squeeze the base of my cock and the edge of my cock-head tightly, yet her grip relaxes somewhat along the length. Given the pace she’s stroking me, that’s not easy. Her other hand begins to massage my balls, none too gently. It’s intense and so foreign to me. I’m way outside my comfort zone already.

‘Lesson one. Your orgasms now belong to me. You will come only when you’re given permission, regardless of whether you’re with me, whether you’re alone or whether you’re with someone else. Do you understand?’ Her tone brooks no argument.

I can barely catch my breath to reply. I’m not used to such talented hands or this feeling of being so exposed and vulnerable. I tear my eyes away from her bouncing breasts and nod my acceptance but feel her grip tighten further as she glowers at me.

‘Yes ... I ... understand.’ Since when was speaking so difficult? Since a Domme got physical with my man-parts.

I could come quickly. Easily. But she’s forbidden me. This is a test—or an audit of my stamina. Male pride flares down to my loins, serving to strengthen my resolve. Once again, it’s like she’s reading my mind because she decides to up the ante.

‘You have a gorgeous cock,’ she purrs, then she licks her lips and leans down further so that her tits are bouncing off my stomach. ‘And big, masculine balls that I can feel tightening in my hand. You want to come, don’t you Jones? You can feel the sensation in your balls, each time my hand pumps your cock ... release is getting closer ... and I haven’t wrapped my lips around your cock yet.’

My eyes flick down to her mouth. Her lips are parted and I can’t take my eyes off them ... those wet lips are mesmerising. Then, she runs her tongue slowly over her top lip—something that’s always seemed corny and sleazy but right now, it almost makes me blow my load.

‘Tell me if you get close and I don’t spot it. You do not come.’ The finality in her tone challenges me to argue but, as I feel my balls prepare to release, I can’t.

‘I’m close.’ My voice sounds alien to me and I think she’s deliberately going to make me come against her wishes because she pumps my cock twice more.

I moan. I’m coming ... a guttural sound forces its way out of my mouth and I pull against my restraints. Abruptly, she lets go of me and steps back, picks up her drink and regards me over the rim as she takes a sip.

It’s fucking agony. I was so close. I swear I was coming. My cock’s throbbing and my balls ache as surely as though someone’s just booted them but I don’t come. She’s making her point, I’m not stupid. She controls when I come now. But what’s this crazy ass provocation shit?

Before I can ask her, she’s back, gripping my cock and I think she’s going to finish the job now she’s got the message across. But her head dips down and she closes her mouth around my cock. Her mouth, which is freezing fucking cold from her drink. Shock rages out from my cock to my toes, sending my balls to take shelter up, inside me. I feel solid, colder blocks and realise that she has a couple of ice cubes in her mouth.

My cock doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s as horny as fuck but genetic programming dictates that blood is pumped elsewhere—makes sense, when you’re freezing to death, what use is a boner? But Mother Nature hadn’t considered this particular scenario ... right now, having blood diverted to my vital organs as a priority is a mockery ... her mouth on my cock makes it a vital fucking organ! It should take priority.

Blissfully, her mouth starts to warm up and my body forgets all about survival instinct and starts to get its priorities straight but Veuve raises her head. My cock thuds back against my lower abs and my temptress gives me a wicked smile as I grit my teeth in frustration. She pulls her hair back that was feeling so silky soft against my sensitised skin and begins to brush her sensual lips along my inner thigh. I can feel her warm breath as she nuzzles the space between my thigh and my balls before she moves lower again, dammit!

Ouch! She nips me. Ahh. And again. It’s gentle but takes me by surprise. She transfers her attention to my other leg as my cock begins to flex wildly, infuriated that her mouth is so close by, ignoring it. Those tiny nibbles continue until she reaches the top of my leg.

Fuck! She’s dragging her tongue slowly up the crease where my leg meets my body. She licks over my hip bone, pausing to nibble and graze her teeth now and again. She’s so close to my cock that any moment now she’s going to pay it some attention, otherwise it’s going to explode. I’ve never felt so desperate for relief ... my fucking balls are aching with need. Yet she just keeps on winding me up.

She turns her attention instead to the sensitive flesh of my groin ... right next to, but not including, my cock. Licks, nips, the feeling of her tits brushing against my thigh and her nails lightly raking down my sides ... how can something so minor feel so intensely erotic? For the first time in a long time, I’m experiencing foreplay. That’s not to say that I don’t make sure a woman’s good and wet before I plough into her. I’m not a complete bastard ... I prefer that women enjoy it when I’m taking what I need but any foreplay is simply a means to an end.

Foreplay is never aimed at me. I don’t have time for that shit. I fuck when I need the release. And right now, I need a release ... desperately. My balls feel like landmines ... one touch and they’re going to blow. So what does she do? She takes one of my balls into her mouth and sucks on it like it’s a gobstopper. It’s too much. How the fuck can something so pleasurable be such excruciating torture? I find myself pulling against my restraints as my heart pounds in my ears, my ragged breathing burning my lungs.

‘Enough,’ I snap. ‘I need to come. Now.’

She pauses, my bollock slipping from her mouth with an audible pop.

‘Did you say something?’ Her tone is a combination of disbelief and annoyance, to put it mildly.

‘My balls are going to fucking explode. I need to come,’ I cry, straining against my restraints. My brain is screaming for my hand to go do my cock and finish it. Now.

‘You’ll come when I say it’s time. Relax, your balls aren’t going to explode ... you’re used to instant gratification. Basic pleasure that those sluts with such limited experiences give you. Now you’re in the hands of a real woman. Are you telling me you can’t handle it?’