“Don’t tell me to relax, you hoyden!” he roared just as they were pulling into the garage. She had been listening to him alternately rage, beseech and threaten since he’d hauled her out of the room he’d found her in forty minutes ago. Had it really been forty minutes!? It felt more like
hours. She hadn’t said a word (well, till just now, anyway) in 38 and that was only to say farewell to their hosts. At least 26 minutes had passed and his hand was still on her thigh, his thumb absently circling, lazy and slow and dangerously close to something she’d rather not have him find until they were home. Perhaps even as many as 18 since she stopped craving a smoke. No smoking in the car, he’d say. Fucks up the electronics, he’d say. Stinks up the leather, he’d say. Oh well. So what? He’s anal about certain things, that’s OK. Didn’t matter anyway, she’d left her smokes at home. Tiny yet sexy sequined evening bags were just not made to accommodate a pack of Kools.
Thinking of not wanting a smoke perversely made her want a smoke. Need one, even. Remembering her emergency stash in the junk drawer she opened her door to step out and he grabbed her arm. (Oh yes, and he also had a temper. We mustn’t forget his temper.)
Damn, there goes my chance for a hit of nicotine. He jerked her roughly back inside.
“We aren’t through yet!!!” he shouted. She meekly lowered her eyes, twisted her arm free and made a beeline for the door to the house, poking the garage door opener on her way in. She had hoped that keeping quiet would have kept
him quiet but his temper was rising right along with his voice and it wouldn’t do to have the neighbors hear. Oh no, that wouldn’t do
at all. Because word travels. Her uppity next door neighbors never saw this much excitement in their entire, prudish lives. And wouldn’t Joan just love to spread her vicious tales before the next meeting? Those smarmy women in the Junior League would never actually say anything (wimps that they were) but there would be looks. Looks that would want to make her smile smugly at their petty gossip, flip ‘em off, and walk out the door. And although she would never admit it, those Junior League meetings were the closest she ever came to feeling like a part of something, anything, besides her family. So she needed to get him inside, and quick.
He followed her through the garage door into the kitchen, hurling his keys onto the counter. They skittered into the tile back-splash with a telling crack and he muttered a low oath. She used the distraction to put some more distance between them even as, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if the keys broke, too. The door behind him closed, cutting off the light from the garage, and the jangling echo of the keys died. Just like that the house felt deserted. It carried that preserved silence that settles itself around abandoned buildings…and traps. Silence that somehow seemed louder behind the sounds of their breathing and the ticking kitchen clock.
He stalked her around the island actually toppling over a stool in his pursuit and the resounding crash clamored louder than it should have in the quiet. He was gaining on her and she backpedaled clumsily. She came up against something smooth and solid, plastered herself against it and sucked in a hissing breath; the thin fabric of her blouse did little to insulate her back from the shock of cold metal. He was in front of her less then an instant later. She risked a glance over her shoulder and when she turned back he loomed above her. His nostrils flared with his breath, his eyes narrowed with anger. He jabbed his hands into his hair and yanked it up into wild spikes. The image made him look doubly reckless.
She tried to back up even more, flattening her body against the huge refrigerator. She reminded herself she wasn’t really frightened of him: she knew he wouldn’t lose control. Even still, when he leaned in closer so that they were almost nose to nose, and leveled his gaze at her, she could see her own unfeigned, anxious expression reflected back. A muscle jumped in his cheek and she could feel his hot breath on her mouth. Ooooo, he was sexy when he was pissed. Her heartbeat stumbled and a delicious flutter rippled through her loins. She almost smiled and that would have been foolish indeed.
“I didn’t--”
“DON’T…say…a word!” he barked and poked her in the tender spot of a shoulder with a solid finger. He punctuated his words with harder jabs at her flesh. “Can…you…even…guess what I was thinking when I walked into that ROOM and I saw you on your KNEES for that PRICK?!?” She winced, that last was going to leave a bruise. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Don’t I give you enough? Isn’t my cock enough for you anymore?” he almost pleaded. Then he sneered, “More likely that you just wanna fuck the first guy who looks at your tits.” He towered above her again and grabbed her chin in his hand. His voice was deadly quiet as he forced her head back so she had to look up at him. “You broke…the rules.”
“I did not. It was just a little lick. I didn’t even let him cum,” she quipped. It was true she’d pushed the game a touch too far tonight. He liked to be there, to watch her, but it didn’t always work out that way. Kisses and strokes had been exchanged without him seeing but never without him knowing. Tonight was the first time she’d done more than just hold another man’s cock. Tonight was the first time she’d actually taken it into her mouth. So, yes, this was unexplored territory for them but it wasn’t forbidden. They both knew what she did tonight didn’t cross any of the real boundaries they had. Simply put, she knew he trusted her. But she was also aware of the desire he had for it to be real. Or as real as he could handle at least. He wanted her to stretch the limits, if only a little. She wanted to test those limits, push him a bit. “I was waiting for you,” she purred.
He scoffed at that. Then, “Are you telling me there’s a distinction between letting a stranger fuck your mouth and letting a stranger fuck your pussy?”
She tried to jerk her chin out of his hand but he held her still. “Yes,” she snapped. Remembering her role, she injected a little mewl into her voice. ”It was just a taste, baby. He never touched the back of my throat or felt my tongue wrapped around his cock like you have.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he accused, loving this new twist to their game. He kicked her legs apart and put his knee between them. “You still have to answer for what you did. You know you should have let me watch while you played.” He lifted her and yanked her hips forward. She was unprepared for the sudden movement and though she grabbed onto his arms, her head was pitched back against the refrigerator with a thud. She stayed like that, staring at the ceiling and moaning, and he ground her against the top of his thigh. The material of his pants abraded the wet lips of her pussy and he felt the distinct absence of material. “Where did you leave them?” he demanded. “Did you give them away? Were they damp?” He pinned her back against the hard metal of the refrigerator door. She whimpered her disappointment when he stopped her from riding his leg.
Her panties weren’t in anyone’s pocket. They were damp, that much was true, but they were in her handbag. She knew, though, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Yes,” she breathed.
He pressed his knee bone hard against her pelvic bone and another small sound escaped her throat. “Why? Tell me. What made you so wet? Or is it that you just like playing the slut?”
“Because he was so willing. Because when we danced I felt him getting hard against my hip and I knew I’d have to taste him. Because by the time I got him alone he was
begging me to taste him. Because I knew you would find me.” He dug his fingers harder into her hips and she hissed. Dropping her feet back to the floor he gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. The other he put beneath her jawbone and pressed a finger and thumb into the base of her skull just behind her ears, cutting off any more words. Her mouth parted on a groan and her eyes rolled back. She swallowed hard against his palm and he watched her face. The way her pink tongue was just visible behind the white teeth, the whites of her eyes between narrowed lids that were outlined in black…god
damn. His cock throbbed and he shifted his weight, reaching down to adjust his pants. A flashback of her on her knees in front of that guy with her tongue just touching the tip of his cock plastered itself in his mind once more and he thought about how that could make him so angry and so crazy for her at the same time. Looking at her now, he felt more desire than anger. He needed to cum. Soon. No, make that now. If he didn’t, he’d be plunging inside her within 2 minutes, too busy fucking her to care that he hadn’t had her defenseless and moaning for him.
And he so wanted her defenseless.
“I think you need to be tied up and spanked. Whipped maybe. Don’t move from this spot,” he warned her and then crossed the room. He flicked a switch on the wall and light flooded the doorway to the pantry. “And stay quiet,” he threw over his shoulder as he disappeared inside. She heard him rummaging around and kept her hands obediently above her head. The ache between her thighs pulsed painfully in anticipation and all she wanted to do was touch herself. She tried squeezing the muscles together but it didn’t relieve her need, just the opposite; she felt a warm trickle of liquid wetting the skin at the apex of her thighs. She swallowed against the moan in her throat. Her own heartbeat pounded on a drum inside her head.
The rummaging stopped and she could hear soft rustling as he took off his jacket and tie, then a zipper unzipping. She expected to hear more rustling but he was silent. She held her breath, commanding her heart to slow, and strained her ears. She could hear it now; quiet panting that grew slowly louder and faster. She smiled softly and, because these would likely be the only sounds of satisfaction he’d let himself voice, closed her eyes to listen…prolonged, wet slurps as he stroked his cock: low-pitched groans: faster strokes now: a sharp hiss: and at the last a coarse groan. She shuddered knowing he just came into his hands. For her, the quickness of the moment only enhanced its’ allure. When he stepped out of the small room his shirt was unbuttoned and open and his cock was protruding from his fly. He hadn’t bothered to clean it off and it glistened, making her shudder again. In his hands he carried heavy-duty packing tape, a dishtowel and a yardstick. She looked at them with greed, barely containing an eager cry.
“Good girl,” he told her when he saw she hadn’t moved. “I’ll consider letting you touch me later.” She whimpered a thankful sob. He ignored her and put his findings on the island, taking his time, lining them up just so. He ripped the towel in half and meticulously folded each into a long, precise rectangle. He turned to look at her. “Are you sorry?”
“Noooo,” she breathed.
“Why?”
“Because now I have this.” she told him.
“Are you wet for me? I think maybe, just maybe, you’re wet for someone else,” he charged.
“Noooo…youuuu,” she swore. She still hadn’t moved her hands, she hadn’t moved at all except to squeeze her thighs tighter together. Whether to relieve her need or heighten it she didn’t know.
He cocked his head to study her and stared at her face as he picked up the roll of tape, measured off a length and cut it with his teeth. She shivered in anticipation when the ripping sound rent the dead-of-the-night silence in the kitchen. He tore off several more lengths and secured all but the last two to the side of the island. These he used to pick up the towel halves, tightly wrapping each one around a wrist to protect the soft flesh from the adhesive. He took one of the longer lengths of tape and lashed her wrists together. “Reach up higher,” he commanded. When her arms were stretched high above her head, he plastered the ends of the tape to the top of the door, leaving a long a long line of creased tape on each side, enough so that she could turn. He tangled her up the same way with a few more pieces and then pulled down on her arms. Satisfied she was secure he stepped back to look at her.
She was stretched upon the huge metal door like an offering, almost dangling there, her toes barely touching the floor. Her black tulle blouse revealed a simple but low-cut black camisole beneath. Beneath that he could see the curve of her breasts filling out the silk and the hard peaks of her nipples in the center. Her tops had risen slightly to expose the creamy skin of her belly and the dark hollow of her navel. He took a moment to tear through the tulle and it parted easily, hanging to her sides in tattered shreds. With every breath her breasts rose behind the camisole making the flesh around her nipples gather. The dim light reflected off the smooth silk weave and accentuated the more voluptuous curves. He watched the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest. Her skirt had hitched up a bit, showing off her long legs, and the sexy lines of a garter disappeared at the hem like an invitation…or a tease.
He reached behind himself to pick up the yardstick. Casually slapping it against his palm he said, “I guess we don’t keep whips and cuffs in the kitchen. I’ll have to improvise.” His hand shot forward lightning quick and the stick cracked against her hip. She cried out. He brought the tip up and caressed the side of her face with it. Her tongue slithered between her lips and she turned towards it to try and lick the polished wood. He let her just barely taste it before he brought it down in an arc and spanked her again, this time against the side of her ribs. She moaned.
He had to see her breasts. He walked towards her, running the ruler down the outside of a thigh. Then holding his weapon between his teeth, he tore through her camisole and it joined the remains of her blouse to hang at her sides. He prodded the thin rectangular mark on her ribs with a gentle finger and then caressed the newer red lines on her shoulders where the straps had cut into her skin. He took the ruler from his mouth and used it to lift a breast and bite down painfully on the nipple.
She whimpered. The incongruity between his strokes here and his stings there made her feel swamped with sensations. To be touched with tenderness and hostility, pleasured and hurt, worshipped and subjugated. All of these feelings stacked up, one upon the other, with dizzying, sensual confusion.
He slipped the yardstick under her skirt and prodded her with it, jolting her out of her thoughts. The smooth wood dipped between her labia and she cried out. “Did he touch you here?” he whispered, leaning in close, stroking her slowly. He withdrew abruptly and turned her around. He stepped back and casually propped a hip against the island. He lifted the back of her skirt with the stick and studied her bared ass. He let the skirt fall only to lift it again. This time he started her knees. He slid the tip of the stick up and down, up and down, along the crease of her thighs and then followed their line oh so slowly through the crease of her bottom, stopping to nudge her tailbone. She sighed and spread her legs a bit more, her toes searching for purchase atop the floor, and flattened herself against the refrigerator door. The cold metal cooled the hot skin of her cheek and breasts and her breath left puffs of condensation on the surface. He nudged her harder, reminding her he had asked a question.
Dammit! What was the question? Oh, yeah. “Yes!…yes. I let him touch me through my panties and then he took them off.” She was shivering with the chill and the expectation. He pulled the stick back and spanked her bottom. “Oh!”
“And did you like it?” he asked, caressing her with the stick again.
“You know i did” she said. He pulled back and spanked her again. “Oh!”
He came up right behind her and pushed the stick suggestively between the tops of her thighs over and over. Never quite touching her pussy but close enough to keep her squirming. “But you didn’t get everything you wanted, did you?” he said into her ear. “You wanted to get fucked.”
“You’ll fuck me. I know you will,” she tempted.
“True, but not until
I’m ready.” He put a hand to her hip and unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor so she stepped out of it and he flicked it away with the ruler. “Nice,” he said, moving the stick along her body. “Look at you; all in black. Very provoking little outfit you’ve got on there, although I think it’s ruined now,” he looked at her ruined tops and chuckled, “Those black stockings and garters, and those fuck-me black heels. It suits you.” He snapped a garter with the ruler. “I like these.” He ran a hand along her stockinged thigh. “And soon, these will be wrapped around my back.” She let out an inarticulate begging sound. Reaching around to cup a breast in his hand he pinched the nipple painfully. “Did you let him touch these, too?”
“Yes.” she panted. He had touched her only through her blouse but…“With his mouth.”
He pinched her harder. “Not like this, though, did he? Not the way you like it.”
”Yes. He did. He touched me
just the way I like it.” She wanted him to fuck her soon, needed it, so she egged him on. He could try to make her wait until he was ready but she could always entice him.
If she chose to,
whenever she chose to, she could make him need to be inside her. This was her control.
He heard the arrogance in her voice and released her breast to grab her hair. He twisted it around his fist until her head was forced all the way back, almost cutting off her air. He brought the yardstick down on her bottom in three swift successive smacks.
“Oh!…God!…Yes!” she screamed and her body jerked violently. “I begged him bite me, too. And he did! And I loved it!” she said with a flippancy that set his temper off.
He tossed the stick away, dropped his pants and spun her around. Her body banged off the 'fridge as she fought for balance so he stilled her with one hand and took his cock in the other. She wrapped her legs high on his hips and he guided the tip inside. Bending his head to a breast, he held her hips in his hands and plunged even as he bit down cruelly on her nipple. She yelled and tried to pull him deeper with her legs but he withdrew. Still biting, he waited a few beats before impaling her again. This time he didn’t stop but increased his pace. His growls vibrated against the nipple clenched painfully between his teeth as he pounded inside her. His broad shoulders were hunched over. The muscles of his back and arms flexed rhythmically with his thrusts. He drove himself inside her body and he drove her body against the door.
A layer of sweat formed between their skin and her legs started to slip down over his hips. He grabbed under her thighs and held them, never slowing for a moment. Her heels scratched bloody lines into his skin. Her stockings caressed his hips. He shouted angrily and leaned back, pulled out of her to the tip once more and held himself there. He waited for control and watched. Her pussy convulsed once, lightly, around him. He spread her legs wider and it flexed again, more aggressively this time. He tried not to moan but nevertheless a noise rumbled through his chest. The primal and possessive reaction he had to the sight of her open wet folds trying to draw the thick head of his cock inside was too instinctive to stifle.
Her arms and hands were numb with tingling sleep, her thighs and calves were on fire, her tailbone was sore with bruises and her back was stiff with strain. She was relishing every single moment. “Oh…God…Why did you
stop? Don’t stop. Please! I need to touch you…or fuck you…please…need…” Her voice trailed off.
He loved it when she begged him, but he hardly even heard her. He could only see her body struggling to bring him inside. He was going to keep her just like this and watch and then he was going to fuck her until he exploded. He kissed her briefly, surprising her with it and shifted to look again to the spot where they came together. He held still until she realized what he was waiting for and pulsed around him. “That’s right,” he mumbled, nodding.
She looked down at his cock. It still had the sheen of her juices on the shaft but she couldn’t see the tip. She flexed and he hissed and she realized she’d rather watch him instead. For what seemed like an erotic eternity she just watched his body and face, squeezing and flexing and opening her pussy, trying different pressures and paces, teasing the most sensitive part of his cock with every intimate touch she could think of. The tip of his tongue was clamped between his teeth so hard it should have hurt but he seemed oblivious to anything besides his cock touching her pussy. Tendons stood out on his neck and his expression was frozen between a grin a grimace. His stomach and arms vibrated with the exertion of holding her suspended and spread for so long. A drop of sweat that had been threatening to fall from his brow finally did so, landing on his cheek. Intending to lick the salt from his skin she stretched forward with her tongue out. He captured it with his teeth and sucked it deeply and painfully into his mouth. He moved his mouth to her neck and bit her, leaving a perfect cast of his front teeth.
“Ah, god. Just come inside me. Please,” she begged again. He nibbled her collarbone and then licked her wounds. He licked her swollen lips and the mark of his teeth on her neck. He kissed and tongued the bruise his finger made that was already visible on her shoulder. His lips closed around the nipples he’d abused so roughly before. And always her pussy massaged him. She shivered and moaned, “Inside me.”
He slid his cock inside her, pulled out and pushed back in. He set a slow, deep pace…out…in…and angled his thrusts…out…in…so her clit was caught…out…in… against his cock…out…in…getting pulled and dragged…out…in…as he fucked her. He added a pause at the end of every thrust to grind his pelvis into hers, gradually slowing until he was pressed inside her, moving his hips in circles, fusing their bones together and she came hard, shouting, gripping his cock with her orgasm. He moved to plunge into her one last time and she felt his body stiffen and his cock jerk inside her. A brief staccato of grunts spilled from his mouth as pulses of liquid pooled inside her cunt. He sagged against her, the refrigerator holding their weight, until his soft cock slipped from her and she moaned in discomfort. He turned to a drawer to get the kitchen shears and cut easily through the tape and towels. Finally she was standing flat on the floor, shaking the sleep out of her arms, a satisfied, glazed look in her eyes and a secret smile on her lips.
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