Submissive Desires (16 page)

At one point, Simon leaned up and over her as he plunged his fingers in and out of her, whispering into her ear harshly, “Don’t you come without permission, Maura, or I’ll cane you again.”

She couldn’t help it. She keened long and low against the imposition of his will. Maura knew that he did not make idle threats. She had not one doubt in her mind that he would do exactly what he said, despite the current condition of her bottom.

And she was right. He continued the thrust his hand inside her, hard, deliberately bumping his knuckles up against her protruding clit, and she was barely able to keep herself from coming, but then he backed off a little and began to kiss her swollen and sore bottom, and that pleasure/pain kept her distracted enough that she wasn’t in imminent danger of losing control.

Then he started up again, adding a third finger to stretch her further, to remind her that he could.

But the itchy pain he’d stirred in her bottom was riding her high, and it helped her to not immediately jump into having to fight her own orgasm.

But, eventually, she caught up. He caught her up. Forcibly. Relentlessly. Oh-so-pleasurably. His mouth settling at the small of her back, then descending slowly, wetly down her cleft. Finally, he positioned himself beneath her, mouth open and eager, a big hand sprawled over those sore mounds, pressing firmly, holding her to him so that she couldn’t escape his loving attentions, not that she wanted to. Three fingers remained deep inside her, reaching and wiggling and screwing insistently in and out of her.

The orgasm began at her toes and washed over her in a huge, crashing wave that dug a scream out of her from the bottom of her lungs. “Si-monnnnnnnnnnnn,” scraped out of her throat gutturally, and it seemed she couldn’t let go of his name, repeating it in fading refrain until her lack of breath overtook her 66

and all she could do was convulse helplessly on his mouth and hand as they worked another orgasm from her, and sent her well on the way to another.

When he left her, still trying to come to grips with what he’d done to her, it was only to grab some lubricant and seconds later she felt him separating her cheeks with the gentlest of thumbs and presenting the large head of his impressive erection against her bottom hole.

Automatically clenching against him, futilely trying to deny him entry although she knew in her heart that she had no hope of stopping him, her head whipped around, but she couldn’t see his face. She could only feel the increased pressure against that small opening, knowing that there was nothing she could do but try to remember to relax, although she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to do it – and also knowing that it was going to happen regardless, unless she used the safe word.

He was being careful, but still, being opened back there, no matter how gentle he was or slick he’d made himself artificially, it never felt any other way than strange and unusual and humiliating and shameful and horridly, embarrassingly hot – especially bound as she was.

Slowly, very slowly, he maneuvered the very tip in, always pushing firmly, hooking his fingers around her hips and pulling them back so it would have looked to a third party as if she was mounting him, when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Simon wasn’t hurting her at all, but there was all that unexpected pressure and almost discomfort, enough that she had to groan in protest when he was about a third of the way in. “Unnnnn –

no – Simon – please.”

It was as if her complaint spurred him on – in the opposite direction from what she had wanted.

His hips pulsed forwards just as he brought hers back against him, and, in a sure swift movement he buried himself deep inside her tight channel, as far as he possibly could.

He was so big in general – especially for that particular location – that Maura felt that she was being split in two. But it wasn’t a stabbing, sharp pain – more of an unpleasant burning - and it was already receding. Simon waited a few minutes, groping her bottom cheeks and enjoying the way she looked all restrained and helpless and full of him in the least expected of areas, the rounded flesh that cradled him all red and mottled with the results of his own disciplinary efforts.

He reflected for a long, luxuriating moment that there was very little better in this life than to be buried crotch deep in your submissives’s well-beaten behind. Except, perhaps, to explode within that very same safe, secure harbor, which he proceeded to do.

And there was nothing Maura could do but be fucked by him.

Hard. Never hard enough to cause any damage, but certainly not gently.

He raped her ass, and that was the only way to put it.

And he apparently enjoyed it enormously, because his orgasm overtook him in just a few minutes, making him grunt loudly and groan as he spasmed and bucked into her.

Maura felt him coat her insides over and over, and he took his time leaving her, rubbing her back possessively as he shrank and naturally escaped her clench.

He untied her immediately, then flopped down on his side of the bed, one eye watching her warily. The first thing she did was try to scamper off the bed, but he grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?”

She bit her lip as she looked back over her shoulder at him. “To the bathroom.”

“To pee?”

Maura’s face brightened to match the complexion of her bottom. “Yes, as if that’s any of your business.”

He leaned forwards and caught her chin. “Everything about you is my business from this weekend on, as far as I’m concerned. Leave the door open, do your business, and come right back. Don’t be long. You don’t want me to come get you.”

No, she knew she didn’t want that. Exhausted, she did exactly as she was told. When she got back to the bed and tried to roll over onto her side, facing away from him, just to get a little time to herself, 67

some time to digest what had happened, he reached a strong arm out and dragged her against him, her back to his front, keeping her close regardless of what she wanted.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

His mouth was at her ear as his arms contracted around her. “No. I want you here. End of discussion.”

She learned that weekend that he was largely implacable, and, in case she’d had any delusions to the contrary, that he meant what he said. She was caned twice, and no matter how she tried to avoid them by behaving as perfectly as possible there were also innumerable spankings in between.

And the sex!

Maura had never had so many orgasms in a three day period in her life! It seemed like all he had to do was look at her and she was most of the way there. Of course, the atmosphere of sex and submission and punishment that permeated the very air in that room certainly helped a lot, Maura mused as she drove home Sunday afternoon, after they checked out at the last possible moment.

She had to shift in the driver’s seat at the thought, which set of small explosions all over her, as well as reminding her of how sore the muscles on the insides of her thighs and her shoulders and biceps were, to say nothing of her bottom and the backs of her thighs. And her breasts . . . dear God, he hadn’t even punished them formally, promising that for later. But he’d suckled and pinched and rolled so avidly that they were chafing on the inside of her bra.

They had parted slowly – very slowly, kissing and nibbling and touching until the very last minute

- until he’d tucked her into the driver’s seat of her car and sent her on her way with a last, searing kiss, after extracting her promise to call his cell when she got home, and a staunch warning that if she didn’t, there’d be hell to pay when they got together next.

He’d been quite interested in setting another weekend aside, but Maura had stalled him, saying she needed to look at the calendar on her computer before she could commit to anything, not wanting to be wrong and everything and earn a spanking.

The thought of spanking her had distracted him a little, but not much, because he’d mentioned it again before she’d left. “Check on weekend after next. That’s the next time I’m free.”

Leave it to Mr. Organization to have his schedule memorized in his head. Well, she did to a certain extent, too, though, and she was pretty sure that – since she never had much of a social whirl – she was free. But she did want some breathing room before saying “yes.” He was just . . . too damned much of a good thing for her comfort. He came too close to being and doing everything she wanted. That was never a good thing, as far as she was concerned. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There had to be something wrong with him. Maybe he was a mass murder, maybe he wrote bad checks – no, scratch that thought. You couldn’t be in the military for long and exhibit that type of behavior. They had no sense of humor about that kind stuff. Sociopath? She didn’t think so. If he was some sort of homicidal maniac, then she’d already be dead. He’d had ample opportunity to kill her if he’d wanted to this weekend, considering that she’d spent most of her time tied to the bedposts, or otherwise unable to stop him from having his way with her.

Ways, she corrected in her mind. Imaginative, often painful, but always sexual on some level, ways. And there were some things they hadn’t even done yet – hence his interest in getting together again as quickly as possible. He was dying to try out all of his toys on her. Maura wasn’t so sure about that, even though she admitted quietly to herself that she’d probably end up enjoying it anyway, as long as she was with him.

She shivered at the memories that flooded through her body, setting off fires everywhere, but concentrating between her legs. Her panties were already soaking through her jeans and onto the drivers’

seat from kissing and groping him goodbye.

He could affect her without even being there. No phone, no IM’s, no letters no nothing. Just her avid memories of his voice and his hands and his lips and his . . . everything. Simon set and maintained just the exact tone and atmosphere she craved – submission. He wasn’t gratuitously cruel, but certainly never 68

went easy on her when he felt she needed to be corrected. He’d taken her when he the mood struck him, not asking whether she wanted it or not, just reaching out and taking what was his – sometimes hurtfully, but not in a manner that didn’t make her tingle madly.

He wasn’t a control freak . . . quite. But he certainly did take pleasure in controlling her. The bit about the bathroom drove her crazy all weekend. Granted, she never closed the door in her own house, but that was her own house and she was alone in it. She hated the idea that he could simply come and stand in the doorway and watch her – which, to her complete mortification, he had done at times.

And she was his. She wanted to be his. Badly. But . . . there was that pesky shoe hanging over her. If she could just identify what his problem was going to be, she’d feel a lot better.

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The shoe really didn’t show itself until much later, and then it ended up being more of a sandal, really. The time they spent together did nothing but get better – explosively better. Maura tried to put him off about their next meeting – she intended to do so, anyway . . . feeling somehow that throwback to the fifties feeling about being to readily available might somehow make him take her for granted. But she shunned those feelings as too old-fashioned; Maura could tell she was starting to channel her mother again and ruthlessly squelched the impulse.

But innumerable phone calls and chats later and she was wetting her panties just seeing his name pop up as available in her chat program. One of the first things he’d done was totally forbidden her to touch herself unless he’d given her permission – which he doled out very stringently. She practically had to beg to get some relief from the white hot passions he stirred in her; knowing him he loved it when she pleaded with him. But there was a fine line, she’d found out the hard way the first time she tried to wheedle permission out of him, between begging and asking politely and respectfully and what he considered whining.

And misjudging that line meant big problems for her nether parts.

“Please please please please please! I’m about to explode, Simon!”

She could hear the self-satisfied smile in his voice, and wanted to wipe it off his face with her wet panties. “I’d love to see that, Maura. I’d pay money to see it, matter of fact.”

“Si-mon!”

Nothing.

“You have got to let me sate myself.”

More silence, but with a much different tenor. Finally, he spoke, sending a shiver of fear down her spine to settle at her oft spanked bottom. “No, I don’t have to do anything.”

Biting her lip, she replied, “Yes, Sir.”

“You, on the other hand, have to obey me, don’t you?”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Yes, Sir.”

“So, if I say no touching yourself – and that includes your breasts – “ He’d found out that her breasts were almost as sensitive as her clit and could be used to bring her off almost as readily. “ – until we’re together again, then you will obey me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but still she answered in the affirmative. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Then no touching. We’re getting together in less than two weeks. You should be able to hold out until then.”

Maura whimpered – she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t at all sure she would be able to do it. Nope.

Maybe, just possibly, if she didn’t communicate with him between now and then – no emails, no phone, no chats. But even then it was iffy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to agree to that.

So she had to resign herself to having to change her panties every five minutes, and climbing into bed very late at night, throbbing and aching for a release that she knew she could not grant herself – and that he would not allow her until he could do it to her for himself. It actually got to the point, a few days before their second weekend together, that her incessant libido began to keep her awake at night, and by the time they lay down in a bed next to each other, she fell asleep in his arms almost as he was making love to her.

Her mortification when she awoke in the middle of the night could not have been more complete.