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She wanted to be quiet. A foolhardy notion. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Uh.” Each time his cock pierced her, driving up into her belly, she muttered and moaned.
Throughout his torment of her breasts, Gemma had been fired up below. It never happened as a conscious effort; it was instinctive, almost innate in her to find his sadism aroused her masochistic needs. Her pleasure in being used by him, knowing that he desired her in the wanton state, crept into her clitoris, enticing it into near orgasm. She gave him her body, and he took it without compunction, guilt, or empathy. Far from being disgusted at the idea he was using her for his own gratification, it ramped up her own natural desire to come. She couldn’t resist him.
“Please, may I come,” A bead of sweat formed on her upper lip. She felt ashamed to ask. A few minutes earlier, he’d been berating her for ignoring him. Now, her own selfish pleasure occupied her thoughts. His reply didn’t surprise her.
“No.” A small huff of laughter, as if to remind her the fuck was his and not hers. She couldn’t face coming without permission. Would such an indulgence result in punishment? She couldn’t risk finding out.
He slapped her bottom, alternating cheeks, forcing her away from the epicentre of her discomfort, her breasts, to another, her arse. Gemma desperately wanted the endorphins propelling about her bloodstream to take her into a different place, where she would fly, like a bird in the sky. He permitted it, usually. During sensual pain play, floating off on her pain cloud to the numbing world of subspace didn’t displease him. Sometimes, he actively sought to put her there. The onslaught of the spanking confused her brain. It kept her grounded, and she lacked the wherewithal to drift off. Her ludicrous body still demanded an orgasm. It remained on a precipice, teetering on the brink.
She changed tack. “Please, Sir. Please. May I come for you?”
“Tell me when you’re coming.” No pause. He ground into her.
She gulped. She understood the instruction, the reason behind it. Her belly burst with a fresh flow of adrenaline sending her heart rate soaring.
His hands worked in tandem. Sliding over her flesh, sending ripples of goose bumps across her back. Hot and cold sensations intermingled, a bizarre sensation. She panted as his palms crept closer to their chosen target. She heard the soft growl from his lips. All too tempting. Her squished nipples, now numb from the clamps, were about to be awoken.
He cupped his hands under her breasts, taking the weight, and supporting them. The chain lost its tension, and she sighed in relief. He chuckled.
Damn, damn him! She whimpered, twisting her head and trying to glance behind. Out of sight. His face hidden behind and the descending ropes impeded her ability to turn any further.
The gentle caress around her swollen breasts continued. She knew it to be a false hope.
“What you going to do, babe?” he teased.
The soft touch went. He pinched the chain between a finger and thumb and held it, poised, before sliding his other hand between her legs and rubbing her clit, rotating in a circular motion. The dilemma: not to come, be left needy, or have him pull the retched clamps off as she came. She let out a sob of indecisiveness and he kissed the sweaty hairs on her head. A moment of tenderness in the midst of his little sadistic game. It triggered a sense of acceptance at her predicament. In the end, her body decided. The humiliation pushed her over the edge.
“I’m coming, Sir!” Contractions, tiny at first then passing over her whole body. With one brisk tug, the clamps flew off and clattered onto the table. She hollered, almost a scream.
Blood rushed into her nipples having been backed up behind in her swollen breasts. Excruciating! Heavenly! The orgasm went on for several minutes, rising and falling as waves of spasms cascaded over her bound body. He didn’t stop. Throughout, his cock pounded in a rapid succession of thrusts. The sound of her cries, the tightening around his hardness, finished him. He bucked hard against her, clawing at her flesh with his fingernails as he tormented her further. He shouted her name. Juddering and seeming to stop breathing, he pumped his come deep inside her.
A brutal orgasm for the both of them, and she suspected she’d carry the marks of his fingers for several days on her back and arms. As his submissive, she had given him what he needed. She glowed with the realisation then her eyelids drooped with fatigue. The ropes chafed her skin, and she no longer wanted the constraints.
Her sensual sadist departed. In a blink of an eye, that element of him was satiated, content, and no longer required. In his place, her caring Dominant untied her, rubbed her down, and carried her on to the bed, wrapping her up in a fleece and spooning himself around her trembling body. Now, the post-scene bedlam of emotions struck her down. Tearful and apologetic, she muttered crazy words of contriteness in a daze of post-coital confusion. The throbbing pain remained in her breasts, and her sore nipples made their presence felt. She felt dizzy with the disorientating neurochemicals zipping about her body.
Jason spoke to her, but she didn’t hear the exact words. He had tested her pain threshold, endurance, and desire to orgasm under pressure, the first time since their cruise, and it had been a long time since he had done such a demanding and intense scene. She hoped
she’d pleased him because her body felt like it was paying a high price for his demands on her.
Gradually the trembling stopped, her breathing regulated, and she became sleepy.
She jerked. A tiny cry filled the room. It grew into a persistent bleat. Its origin—the speaker installed in the wall. Joshua had woken up.
“Don’t move,” said Jason as he slipped his pants on. He left the room.
It wasn’t long before he reached the nursery. The speakers remained on. She could hear Jason chatting quietly to his son. The cause of the problem? Joshua’s favourite cuddly had escaped through the cot bars onto the floor. The matter was resolved. She peered at the monitor screen, squinting across the room at the image recorded by the fixed camera. She saw Jason rock Joshua in his arms. Then she heard it. Quiet, almost inaudible. A singing Jason. A sweet voice, perfectly in tune, and delivered in a soft timbre. A gorgeous masculine rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”.
Tears re-formed in her eyes. She’d never had the privilege of Jason serenading her. However, he happily blessed Joshua with the honour. Pangs of jealousy? Perhaps, but they passed quickly. The song worked its magic, and Joshua nodded off in his cot.
She lay back on the bed and pondered her multi-faceted husband. How did he do it? Be so many things?
Jason returned and slipped back next to her, kissing her cheek as he drew her into his embrace.
After a few minutes, he threw back the fleece blanket. She wondered for a second if he planned to do anything else with her body. No, it was an inspection. He checked all the rope marks, the breasts, nipples, and, turning her over, he traced the marks left by his ravishing fingers, which had pinched and plucked as he came.
“These are minor. Don’t go swanning around in that changing room of yours with a bare back.”
“No.” Nothing more would be said on that subject. She’d barricade herself behind the cubicle curtain.
