K is for Kinky (7 page)

Her orgasm arrived before the second ring. Daniel picked up on the third.

She told him she was tired, and suggested they call it a night. They arranged to have dinner the following Friday. That was what she wanted, Kara affirmed to herself as she hung up. To wet herself for Daniel some other time. Because tonight, she was not to be the seducer, but the seduced. Tonight, she had a date at home with a very articulate voice in her head.

She took a large gulp from her water bottle and started the engine.

RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL

 

 

 

 

 

K
ELLY WALKED INTO CLIFF'S ROOM and almost had an orgasm. Or at least, that's how she remembered it later. She was in college, a perky junior with the body of a cheerleader and the dirty mind of a stripper. By day, she was a chemistry major, huddled over lab work that would make a lesser student balk, but she was diligent, never missing a class, going to office hours, probing her experiments and poring over her studies almost religiously. Because she was so intensely focused on her schoolwork, she didn't have much time for traditional dating, and besides, the guys she met at school simply seemed lacking. It was all about football, beer, and scoring, and on the few occasions she allowed them the latter, they didn't seem to know what to do with her body aside from groan, thrust, and come.

She found her fantasies turning increasingly kinky, increasingly dirty, and increasingly hot. When she woke up for the third time that
week with her hands above her head, her body poised in a position of pure submission, ass in the air, the image of her getting her butt spanked good and hard still filling her mind, she knew it was time to do something about it. She was a smart cookie, and applied her usual rigor to finding just the right guy to deflower her ass. She didn't want there to be any confusion on the matter; didn't want him to treat her too delicately, or assume she was signing on to be his full-time slave. She wanted an expert, a man who truly knew his way around a woman's bottom, knew how to make it sing and soar and sting and blossom.

In her diligent research, she'd sought out those she'd heard went to dungeons and sex parties, including the girl who'd written an entire column in the school paper about how she liked to get tied up. They were more than happy to talk, amusement lurking in their features as Kelly took out her pen and notepad, scribbling things like
safeword
and
consent
and
totally fucking hot
between the ruled lines. She kept her professional face on, a mask of pleasant interest that was so far removed from the way she jerked off wildly later that her interviewees would've been shocked, or so she thought. But Kelly was good at leading a double life, or at least keeping her true self under wraps. She knew she'd never be like these outspoken, brazen scenesters, strutting their love for beatings and submission all across town. She liked being the good girl and, in fact, she was the good girl, through and through; she just knew, with increasing fervor, that she needed to surrender every once in a while, to play at being a bad girl with someone who'd properly reward her for it.

All her subjects told her that if she really wanted to find out more, she should contact Cliff. Just “Cliff,” no last name; he didn't need one.
He'd graduated a few years ago and worked from home creating video games and computer programs and performing other technical tasks that were beyond her comprehension. She didn't really care about that, anyway; she barely even asked what he looked like. The girls had such glowing praise, their excitement was catching. She was entranced by the way their eyes had lit up, every last one who told her about Cliff. “He's just such a natural top.” “He's incredible.” “I never wanted to leave,” said one particularly punky, tough-looking girl, her spiky hair, holes in her ears and visible nipple piercings giving way to a look of tenderness when she spoke about Cliff.

Nothing came up about him online, so Kelly didn't have any photos to fuel her fantasies, but that didn't stop her from turning off all the lights, lying facedown and naked, and slipping her hands between her legs as she pictured this mysterious, kinky Cliff beating her ass something fierce. She pictured him climbing on top of her, pinning her down, telling her he knew how big a slut she really was. Before she'd even met him, she was ready to give him whatever he wanted if he'd make even a fraction of her fantasies come true.

It wasn't exactly easy getting in touch with him; the girls were happy to regale her with stories, but getting his contact information was a bit trickier. Kelly suspected that despite her efforts to disguise her very personal interest in the topic, once she probed further, asking details about his methods, they could read her naughty intentions beneath her professional poise and they knew just how wet the idea of submitting to Cliff was making her. But finally Donna, who Kelly had pestered several times, took pity on her. “But don't go to his place unless you're ready to offer yourself to him one hundred percent,”
she said. Her words could have been ominous but to Kelly they were musical, magical. She didn't know precisely what they meant, but she wanted to find out as soon as possible.

Cliff didn't exactly sound thrilled by her call. “What do you want?” he growled, his voice deep but not in the sexy way she'd imagined.

“Well, um, Donna gave me your number and I'm doing a story on kink on campus and I wanted to see if I could interview you,” she blurted, using the lie she'd given to all the other people she'd talked to. Though she didn't really consider it a lie, because if all went well, she would fashion her personal research into something worthy of a news story.

“I don't give interviews, sorry.”

“Well, this could be off the record. I do have a…personal interest in the topic. A curiosity, if you will.”

“If it's personal, I could fit you in. And by that I mean, if you think you have what it takes to submit to me, to surrender that professional poise you've got down and let me show you something truly new. I especially like virgins,” he said. Kelly wasn't technically a virgin, but at this new game, she certainly felt like one. “Is there something else you want, Kelly?” he asked, the way he said her name sending shivers along her neck even through the phone.

It was his way of flirting, but his voice was still flat. She knew this was her one chance to get what she most desperately craved. “Yes, there is.” She paused, not sure how to phrase it. “I've never done anything kinky in my life but now it's all I can think about. I want to be tied up, gagged, spanked, beaten. All of it.” She was mortified that she'd lost control like that, let it spew out so quickly rather than doing a slow reveal.

Kelly was rewarded with a laugh from the other end of the phone. “You just made my cock hard, Kelly, so that means I'm going to let you come over. I only top girls who turn me on, girls I want to fuck, and I won't know that until I see you. So you should really get your ass over here right now.” He gave her the address, which was only a mile away. “Wear a short skirt, and don't wear panties. And be ready for what you asked for and more. I'm not gonna go easy on you, little girl. And nobody will be around to hear you scream.”

If his words were intended to scare her, they did the exact opposite. “Yes, Sir,” she said, the three-letter final word sounding foreign coming from her lips, yet totally natural in her own way. She was dripping wet and wanted to jerk off but knew that if she didn't race over there, Cliff might be gone. He hung up without saying anything further.

She stripped completely, taking a moment to peek at her large breasts, the nipples already hard, the flat stomach giving way to her lightly fuzzed pussy, freckles dotting her legs, her short red hair seeming brighter in the mirror than usual. Naked, she looked cute, a word she'd always gotten flung her way, rather than the desired beautiful, or even pretty. She hoped Cliff thought she was beautiful, worthy.

Kelly found a very short tennis skirt, the white pleats beaming an innocence she knew she didn't possess. She also knew the curves of her tight ass were almost visible beneath it as she slipped on flip-flops and grabbed a white tank top, not bothering with a bra. She hurried out the door after a swipe of lip-gloss and one quick glance in the mirror. Kelly held her head high as she walked rapidly across town, ignoring the whistles from boys on bikes or leaning out of car windows.
None of them knew how to give her what she really wanted, she was sure. She wanted it hard, she wanted it to hurt.

As she rang the doorbell at a small white house, she smiled to herself. It looked like someplace she'd go to babysit, not get tied up. She fidgeted, feeling her wet, swollen pussy lips between her legs. The door opened and there was Cliff. He pulled her roughly inside, not bothering with a hello, then shut the door and dragged her down a hallway to his room. It happened so fast she barely had time to look around or take in anything more than the fact that he was over a foot taller than her, but when she saw what hung on his walls, her whole body went cold, then hot. Hanging from hooks were knives, handcuffs, paddles, and floggers. It looked like a sex toy store, and it was almost too much for her to take in. Almost, but not quite. He turned to stare at her, assessing her body. “Turn around and lift up your skirt, Kelly. I want to make sure you can follow instructions.”

She liked that he jumped right into their play, not letting her pause to question it. Her body was humming in a way it never had with any of the guys she'd fucked. She'd enjoyed herself with them, but she'd never felt like her pussy was literally dripping, never felt like she had found exactly what she'd been craving. She turned away from him, bent slightly at the waist, and lifted her skirt. She'd recently shaved her pussy, and knew he could see that as well as her buttcheeks. “Very good,” he said, then walked toward her. Before Kelly knew what was happening, he was slicing the tank top with a pair of scissors, then ripping the rest with his bare hands.

She whimpered. “You won't be needing this but I might,” he said. She just nodded, already too aroused to properly speak. He turned her
around so she was facing him, staring into her eyes. She figured she probably looked a little scared, which she was, but she was even more aroused, standing there in just her skirt and flip-flops. She got a good look at his face. He had a short brown beard and a thick head of hair, and big brown eyes that seemed to swallow her. He reached down and pinched one nipple, then tugged her forward with it. The pressure kept getting more intense, but he didn't say anything to acknowledge what he was doing. She chanced to look down, watching as he twisted her nipple between his fingers. Seeing him do it made her gasp, and he tugged on the other, pressing each nub as flat as he could between his fingers. It was starting to really hurt, but the harder he did it, the more Kelly wanted to see how much she could take.

“Yeah,” he said softly as he took things up a notch, pulling and twisting at the same time. She began to pant, quick outbursts of breath that helped her deal with the pain. She felt a trickle of wetness running down her leg. When he finally let go, even though she was relieved, she wished he'd kept doing it. “Put your hands behind your back, and keep them there,” he said. She was still facing him, her nipples recovering from the brief torture session.

“You wanted more, didn't you, Kelly? You're not as innocent as you look, are you?” he asked, pinching her cheek with all the roughness he'd used on her nipple. That hurt, too, but in a different way, like he was trying to let her know that he was in control of every part of her body and could touch her any way he wanted to.

“Yes, Cliff,” she said, then moaned when she was rewarded with a smack across her left breast. His free hand clutched her short hair, barely able to grasp her there, while he moved so that he was
perpendicular to her, then hit her breast head-on. Cliff pulled Kelly's head back and then struck her other breast. This was something she hadn't thought about beforehand, hadn't imagined anyone doing, but she liked it. A lot. She liked the way his strokes hit her nipples but also the rest of each breast. He alternated those big, open-handed smacks with flicks of his middle finger against her nubs, a constant barrage of pain that seemed to blend into heat and pleasure almost immediately.

She'd begun breathing through her nose—deep, shuddering breaths, her eyes closed—while Cliff spanked her breasts. She'd have laughed if someone had told her a year ago she'd be submitting to this, and laughed even harder at the idea that it was making her unbearably wet. She finally opened her eyes, staring up at his wall of kink, just before the last blow landed. Kelly looked down at her breasts only to find her normally pale, milky skin adorned with flashes of red, a few spots of purple. She furrowed her brow, looking up at him with shock as she realized she wanted even more. Kelly didn't know how to say it, exactly, but when Cliff leaned down and sucked each nipple between his teeth, slapping his tongue against one while pinching the other, then switching, she knew he understood.

“Lift up your skirt for me,” he said after a few minutes of suckling. He knelt on the ground in front of her, his back against his bed, while Kelly stood there, feeling red rise to her cheeks. It was one thing for him to spank her, even her breasts, but to stare like that, so close-up, at her shaved pussy, made her burn. “Now put your hand here,” he said, indicating the area just above her clit. “Pull it tight.” She didn't question his orders, didn't question anything that was happening
because every word from his lips was music to her cunt. She pulled, feeling the stretch of her skin down there just as she felt the corresponding ache deep inside. That's when he spanked her. There. Right on her pussy lips. Hard. Kelly was holding her skirt up with one hand and her cunt tight with the other, and she wished she had something to lean on.