Authors: Linnea May
Why would I want
All good intentions and thoughts about how to explain this to my nosy roommate are forgotten when we walk up to the hotel room. It is the same hotel as last time and – as it turns out – even the same room. Why we cannot simply go to his place remains a mystery to me, but I decide to leave that question for later. It is a nice hotel after all, and I wouldn't mind using that extravagant whirlpool after our play session again.
He lets me enter first and I place myself standing next to the bed, looking at him with anticipation. Even without touching each other, it feels as if we are fueling the air between us with fire.
He approaches me, displaying a gentle smile as he leans down to plant an innocent kiss on my lips.
"I don't have endless time today," he whispers. "Which is a pity, because there are endless things I want to do to you."
My reply comes as a desperate moan as he starts planting gentle kisses along my neck.
He takes a step back and turns me around so that I am facing the bed on which he takes a seat. He leans back, looking up at me with a satisfied smile and says just one word: "Undress."
I blush, feeling awkward already as I am standing in the middle of the room, exposed even with my clothes on, because he is doing nothing but sitting in front of me, observing and noticing every little move I make, every reaction I show to his commands.
"What are you waiting for," he urges. "Undress. Now."
"Mhm," I mumble and lower my head, unable to make eye contact with him any longer.
That, however, does not please him. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and grabs me at the back of my head. I gasp in surprise as he yanks me forward on to the bed, forcing me on all fours on the edge of it.
Before I fully realize what is happening, I can feel two sharp slaps burning on my behind. I yelp, but more of surprise than pain. His spankings were strong, but they must have hurt him more than me this time since I am still wearing my jeans.
"When I tell you to do something," he reminds me. "You not only do it without hesitation, you also reply with 'Yes, Sir.' Did you forget already?"
"No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir," I blurt out.
"Next time you forget, there won't be any pants protecting that sexy ass," he adds. "I can't wait."
Even I have to smirk at that last remark. Of course it will happen. We both know it. And in a way, I am looking forward to it just as much as he is.
He lets go of me and orders me to stand up.
"Now, let's try this again," he says, placing himself on the bed, facing me as I stand before him. "Undress."
"Yes, Sir," I obediently reply.
"And look at me while you do it," he adds. "Count this as an extra, because you failed during your first attempt."
Damn. This is not making it any easier. On the contrary. But that appears to be the point.
"Yes, Sir," I whisper.
My eyes remain on his as I slip out of my ballerina shoes, trying to look as elegant as possible while I do it. A faint smirk appears on his face when he sees me struggling with my balance.
I blush with embarrassment. I never cared much for being careful or elegant with my movements, ladylike even. But right now, my clumsiness is making this a lot harder than it should be.
I start unbuttoning my jeans. His eyes are still on mine. They are a tight fit and it is not easy to get myself out of them while still looking somewhat sexy. He seems to be satisfied with my efforts, though. His smile broadens when I pull my top over my head.
I pause for a moment, checking for confirmation while I stand in front of him, wearing nothing but my underwear.
"Go on," he whispers. "Everything. I want you naked."
I gulp. "Yes, Sir."
This shouldn't be so hard. He has seen me naked before. We had sex, we shared a bath together, there was no such thing as shame when I rummaged around the room last time, collecting my clothes while he was watching me.
But this exposure is different. I can feel myself tense up as I open my bra and free my breasts in front of him. I am almost offended when he shows no reaction whatsoever upon this revelation.
I take a deep breath as I go for the last piece of clothing, my black panties. I slide my thumbs underneath the waistband on each side and slowly pull them down while my eyes are obediently fixed on his.
My clothes rest in a little pile next to me while I stand naked and exposed as he scans my entire body with his hungry eyes.
"Beautiful," he whispers. "You have no reason to be nervous or tense, Nicky. No reason to feel ashamed about this perfect body. You are one of a kind."
One of a kind? Did he say that to reassure me that I am not a simple reminder of his vanished ex-girlfriend? Or is he building on all the charming things he said during our first night together?
Either way, his words make me feel humble and special.
"Don't move," he says as he gets up from the bed and takes a step forward so that he is standing directly in front of me.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks, looking at me with honest concern.
I cast him a sheepish smile. "Yes, Sir."
"Let's see if you really are," he whispers, moving his right hand between my legs.
I flinch as he touches the skin between my thighs. I am so tense and so built up with a unique kind of arousal that even the slightest touch by him feels electric.
A faint moan escapes my lips when his hand moves further upwards, soon reaching my hot center.
"Spread your legs," he orders.
"Yes, Sir," I breathe, still keeping eye contact as I follow his command.
"Good girl," he whispers, smiling at me with approval.
His fingers wander further, soon reaching my folds and gently spreading them apart. He lets one finger slide between them and smiles as he finds what he has been looking for.
"Oh, you really are a good girl for me," he says as his finger explores my wetness.
I stare up at him. My breathing accelerates and changes into erratic gasps as he continues to explore the most sensitive area between my legs. I instinctively lean in further, yearning for body contact with him, but he shakes his head.
"Don't move," he repeats.
"Yes, Sir," I reply, biting my lower lip as I fight to withstand the urge of touching him, getting closer to him. The tension is almost unbearable – and his fingers only discover more and more to play with. He lets one of them slide inside me. Then two.
I squirm and moan as he starts fucking me with two fingers while I am still standing in the middle of the room – completely naked while he hasn't taken off a single piece of clothing.
He leans in closer to me, planting a kiss on my right cheek before he starts whispering in my ear.
"I am not going to fuck you today," he says. "But I am going to make you come. On my command. Don't you dare come any second earlier than I tell you. Understand?"
I hastily nod. "Yes, Sir."
To be told that he is not going to fuck me tonight feels like a punishment right now – while his hands are working magic between my legs.
He bends them inside me, pushing against my mound from the inside while he presses his thumb against my clit and gently starts to massage it.
I groan and squirm when he finds that sweet spot shortly behind my entrance. My eyes roll back into my head while he is having his way with me, torturing my nerves with penetration and a kind of stimulation that would be too strong under normal circumstances, but feels divine in my current state of arousal.
I am panting and blinking dizzily when he removes his hand, holding me up at the shoulder so I don't fall over.
"Good girl," he whispers. "I love how responsive you are – and how well you can pull yourself together."
"Thank you, Sir," I breathe.
My vision is blurry and my mind only halfway present when he leads me to the bed.
"Lie down," he says with a soft but stern voice. "On your back, legs spread."
"Yes, Sir," I whisper and do as I am told.
"Hold your legs up at your knees," he commands after he has placed himself between my legs. "Present yourself to me."
I blush and close my eyes in embarrassment as I follow his order.
"Beautiful," he assesses. "What a good, obedient girl you are."
His words make my center tingle with excitement. I know he is not going to fuck me, but I yearn for his hand. I am close to begging for him to do what he has been doing while we were still standing up.
Luckily, he does not wait long enough for me to actually beg. My eyes are still closed so I don't realize what is happening until I can feel his tongue on my folds. He licks along the inner side of each of them, moaning with relish as he does.
I squirm and throw my head back into my neck, egging him on to continue. Soon after, I can feel his miraculous hand between my legs again. His tongue is worshipping my clit while he slides two fingers inside of me.
He starts finger fucking me and soon adds a third finger, spreading my insides without warning. I yelp in pain and surprise, trying to escape his grip, but he pins me down on the mattress with his free hand.
I feel like I am about to explode when he starts sucking on my clit while still spreading me with three fingers. The sensation is too strong, too intense! It hurts, it drives me crazy. My body is alternating between trying to get away and leaning into his invasive touch.
Again and again, little sparks of lust make their appearance, threatening for my orgasm to approach much sooner than I expected.
And I am not allowed to come until he tells me to.
I groan and squirm desperately, fighting the urge to come while still taking in as much as possible of what he is doing to me.
He straightens up and I let out a moan of frustration as his tongue leaves my center.
"You are going to come for me now," he announces.
I am about to protest, but quickly get silenced by his skillful hands. He bends his fingers inside me again, pushing against the sweet spot behind my mound. The sensation causes stars to appear in front of my eyes.
And just when I think that the feeling could not possibly get any more intense, he places his other hand on my mound and gently applies pressure on it while massaging my clit with his thumb.
My eyes widen in shock as a giant stream of unleashed tension explodes across my insides, starting from my throbbing center. I am paralyzed by the feeling, trying to grasp what is happening to me when I hear him say the word that sends me over the edge.
I cry out as my orgasm takes over, robbing me of any control I might have had moments before, blinding my sight, deafening my ears. There is nothing but sheer pleasure spreading across my entire body while he keeps his hands exactly in place and continues his erotic massage.
"It doesn't... stop!" I pant helplessly, unsure whether there is a second orgasm taking a hold of me or if Evan just made the miracle of multiple orgasms happen for me.
I'm pretty sure, it's the latter.
The tips of his fingers are gently stroking along the side of my belly, tickling just enough for me to flinch and release exhausted giggles. My reactions are the only sound that fills the room. The evening is still young. The sun is still far from setting and peeks through the closed curtains like a curious child. It is not even dawn yet.
I am completely naked, still recovering from his treatment. This insane row of orgasms that did not stop and felt close to torture in between. My body is sore and tired – but my mind is screaming for more.
I want to return to that surreal bliss, this insanity of pleasure he put me through. But right now, I cannot even look at him, because of the overwhelming sea of sensation I am still trying to grasp – and because I feel ashamed.
I didn't want to be here. Where is all that rational caution, the sassy wall of defense that would usually keep me safe from falling too much? Especially with him. I swore to be careful, to keep my distance.
And I certainly did not plan to end up naked in his arms, apathetically staring at the ceiling above me as I live through my post orgasm high.
It feels as if I am on drugs and for a moment I even find myself questioning whether he might have put something in my drink. Of course, he hasn't. When and how would he have done that? And why is this the first explanation I can come up with? All that has happened is him giving me the first experience of multiple orgasms of my life.
Nothing to lose your mind over, right?
I can feel his eyes on me. He has been watching me the entire time, but neither of us has said a word in minutes. All one can hear is my breathing and the exhausted sighs and giggles I let out every time his hand touches an especially sensitive spot on my body.
He is still fully dressed, wearing everything he had on when we met in front of my door, except for his shoes. I can feel the soft fabric of his pullover on my skin. I wish I could steal it from him and wear it myself, to be wrapped in his scent.
Blood is rushing to my cheeks as my mental screen goes into
-mode. I try to shake it off by finally turning around to look at him.
A loving smile flees across his face when our eyes meet. His hair is still gelled and in order, just as it was at the beginning of our date. He still looks spick and span while I have turned into a crumbling naked mess under his touch.
"This is not fair," I whisper, dreamily staring at him.
He raises his eyebrows. "Not fair?"
"What did you do to me?" I ask.
"I told you," he replies. "I know what I want – and I know how to make you give it to me. Today, I wanted to see you come until you faint. I wanted to see you lose control, see your eyes roll back into your head and your body spasm with pleasure."
I have no words to reply to that.
"Seeing you like this only adds to my pleasure," he continues. "Seeing a girl break under your touch is the most beautiful thing you can imagine."
"You want to break me?" I ask.
He smirks and leans over to plant a little kiss on my cheek.
"A little, yes," he whispers. "But don't worry, you'll want it, too."
I gulp and try to fathom his words. The drug like fog that has dampened my conscious is beginning to clear and I am beginning to feel in control again. It is as if a part of me – the sane and rational part – has temporarily escaped my body and is now making its return, accompanied by threats and warnings.
His words are sweet, but also oddly scary.
"I knew I should be careful with you," I say.
He shrugs. "Yes, be careful. It might be for the better."
"You should know, though," I add. "Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work with me."
He smirks at me. "No? What do you think I am trying to do?"
"You just said it! You want to break me. You want to make me lose control. But that's not what I do. I don't lose myself to guys. Never."
His smile broadens. He pulls me in closer, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pressing my naked body against his as he claims me with another kiss.
His kisses are so greedy, so possessive – and irresistibly hot. I cannot help but moan and squirm as his tongue invades my mouth. My body and mind are fighting a battle that is well known to many – and that the mind is bound to lose.
Fuck, why is this so hot? Why is he so damn compelling?
I am panting helplessly, desperate with longing when he releases me.
And of course, he is displaying that triumphant little smile I have come to loathe so much. So freaking handsome. It drives me mad.
"Don't worry," he whispers. "I know you're hard to conquer. It only makes me want to break you more."
Well, great. Exactly what I wanted to hear.
I clear my throat and adjust myself, gently pushing him away from me, as he is still holding me in a tight grip. He lets it happen, but not without giving me another smug smile.
"Why are you saying these things?" I ask. "Wanting to break me, to make me lose myself. Why are trying to get into my head so much, when you made it clear that you're not looking for a relationship?"
"A relationship in the common sense, yes" he clarifies. "I don't want you to do my laundry or stand next to me while we're washing the dishes. But if you are to become my sub, you will be mine in a different sense."
He pauses and gently strokes my cheek with the tip of his index finger, while I look up at him in anticipation.
"Be yours, huh," I whisper.
"Yes," he confirms. "You would be mine. Mine to take care of, mine to please, mine to spoil – and mine to punish and –"
"Pff, you are pretty full of yourself, mister," I interrupt, laughing at him.
He stops moving for a second, his index finger still resting on my cheek. I hold my breath as a weird tension is filling the air between us. His smile has disappeared and he looks at me with that stern, unyielding face again.
Just as I am about to apologize for my sassy statement, he bends down, pulling me in close with one arm while he uses the other push my face to the side, exposing my neck to him.
I yelp in surprise when his teeth find my skin and he starts sucking and biting on the lower side of my neck.
"No!" I object. "Stop it! It
Instead of letting go, his bite intensifies causing tears to run down my face as I try to process the unexpected pain and confinement he is putting me through. My body is twisting beneath him, trying to get away from his unyielding grip, but instead of winning leeway, I just get pinned down even more. He uses his entire body to keep me in place while continues to sink his teeth into my skin.
I have gotten hickeys before, but none of them ever hurt as much as what he is doing to me right now. And I am pretty sure this is not about giving me a cute little love mark.
I am whimpering and shaking by the time he finally lets go of me. His grip around me loosens, and instead of breaking free and away from him, I just lie there, panting as my muscles relax and my body is processing the aftershock of his bite.
He plants a soft kiss on my tortured skin. I flinch, which makes him smile with accomplishment.
I would never admit it to him – or anybody else – but I am pretty sure that my center is damp. God dammit.
"Don't interrupt me," he says. His voice is soft and loving, in total contrast to his brute bite. "And don't make fun of me. Do you understand?"
I bite my lips and narrow my eyes as I look at him. The spot on my neck is burning and there is no doubt that this will leave a visible mark that won't be easy to hide. Oh, the mocking I will have to endure from Yuka tonight...
"Yes, Sir," I utter, suppressing any smart ass remarks to tease him.
I cannot explain why, but all I want to do right now is to hug and kiss him, asking for forgiveness and showering him with affection.
The throbbing pain in my neck feels as if he has injected me with poison. Some kind of potion that only makes me want him more.
That makes no sense at all
, my conscious warns.
He just hurt you, he silenced you with a painful bite into your neck
"Good girl," he whispers. The way he looks at me now is so different from before. I see nothing but affection and appreciation in his dark eyes.
I want to be close to him and curl up in his arms.
So I do it.
I roll over and shyly wrap my arm around his upper body. He welcomes me by putting his arm around me and placing his hand at the back of my head to gently push my face into his chest.
I sigh in relieve. There is no place I would rather be right now. I have never felt this safe. This feeling of belonging – it is unfamiliar and scary, but so fucking great.
My conscious needs to shut up for just a few minutes. I want to enjoy this without questioning any of it for now. He feels great, he smells good, and he makes me feel like a god damn queen – even with his bites.
"Thank you," I whisper.
I know I can only say it, because he cannot see my face right now. I am hiding in his soft pullover, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric and closing my eyes.
This feeling of transparency is eerie. He knows how I feel; I don't have to tell him. He can see all of it. That damn battle I am fighting. He wants me to feel like this and he enjoys it.
But right now, he is not taking the chance to mock me for it, to show his triumph with a smug smile. I cannot see his face, but I know that he is not deriding me at the moment.
He is comforting me.
His hand caresses the back of my head, stroking through the thick and wild strains of my hair that are ruffled up from our play and my desperate fight.
"It's okay," he whispers.
I smile. Recovering in his arms is surprisingly easy. What he has done to me can be seen as vicious attacks both, the multiple orgasms as well as the painful bite to punish me.
But I took it. Oddly enough, I feel strong and accomplished, as if have earned some kind of reward or climbed the next step on to a bigger achievement.
I release myself from his hug, putting some distance between us and look up at him. Just as I thought, there is no triumph, no sovereign grin on his face that would make my inside boil with fury and shame. If anything, his faint smile conveys care – and a little worry.
"Why did you come to the club that night?" I ask. "You said you have never been there before. Why that night? Change of pace?"
He shrugs. "Yes, in a way. It has been a while since I have been to places like that one. With good music, cheap drinks and real people."
"Real people?" I ask.
"You were right about some things you said that night," he explains. "Your prejudices may not be fair and a little narrow-minded, but they are not completely wrong."
He pauses, visibly enjoying the view as I put on a triumphant smile.
"Elaborate," I say.
"The success I have had by doing the things I love has vaulted me into a world I never wanted to be a part of," he continues. "And you are right, there is a lot of superficiality, a lot of boring cocktail party events, an indefinite amount of pointless small talk and people who are so uninspiring that I feel as if they drain my vital energy. Which they probably do. They are like zombies, brain eaters. So empty themselves that they need the energy and creativity of others to feel alive."
"And you are one of those who feeds them?" I ask.
He laughs. "I know, that must sound arrogant to you. But as you have already pointed out correctly: I am pretty full of myself."
I smile. "You really are."
"In all honesty, I just wanted to dance," he adds. "I wanted to be surrounded by noise and a little filth and people who don't feel the need to impress me, because they have no idea who I am and what I do."
"I felt pretty stupid when I saw that article about you..."
"It only made me like you more," he whispers while gently caressing my cheek with the tip of his finger. "The fact that you had no idea who I was only added to my interest in you. And your sassy comments. God, I wanted to spank that bratty attitude out of you right then and there."
"Well," I say. "It's not like you really tried to blend in. You looked so out of place with your business outfit. And I didn't see you dance at all either."
"Habit," he says, shrugging. "It's not easy to get out of it once you have been accustomed to it for so long. And besides, I don't like rugged jeans and crappy t-shirts with juvenile logos. I never have. Wanting to be surrounded by a certain atmosphere and certain people does not mean that you have to do everything to blend in. I have never been fond of adapting mimicry behavior just to be on the safe side."
"Safe from what?" I teasingly ask.
"Safe from sassy little girls who dump their insecurities and prejudices all over me, because they feel like they know everything there is to know by just looking at me," he replies.