Crazy Eyes

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 23

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My phone buzzed on my bedside table. I picked it up and checked the screen. The notification was a text from Ash. Are you in bed yet, baby?

I sat all the way up so I could answer him. Yes, Sir. I’m just going to bed now.

I’m going to video call you. I want to watch you masturbate with your butt plug.

My heart turned a somersault. He had never done this before.

He only gave me the plugs yesterday. I hadn’t gotten a chance to try them yet.

I put the phone down and opened the drawer in the bedside table to take out the box of plugs he gave me.

The phone rang before I had a chance to take out the first plug. I had to stop what I was doing so I could pick up the phone.

It wasn’t the normal phone ringing. It was the video chat app. I turned it on and Ash’s face appeared in front of me. He was in his apartment. This was different.

“How do you want to do this, baby?” he asked.

“I…..I’m not sure. I was thinking…..” I trailed off.

“You should probably take your pajamas off first.”

I mumbled, “Yes, Sir,” and got out of bed to take off my pajamas.

I had to put the phone down. I wound up putting it face up on the bed where he couldn’t see me.

I realized too late that I probably should have propped it against the lamp so he could watch me get undressed, but it was too late.

I picked up the phone and looked around the room. “How should I do this?” I asked.

“That’s what I’m asking you. How would you be most comfortable? Do you want to lie on the bed? How were you planning to do this?”

“I don’t think lying on the bed is the best way to do it—especially if you want to watch. I would have to hold the phone with one hand. I would only have one other hand free to…….” I trailed off again. I didn’t want to say it.

I didn’t even know how I would begin to masturbate when I had a butt plug in.

I did know, though. He demonstrated it yesterday. I had to use my vibrator while I used the plug on myself.

I saw and felt enough yesterday to know I would need both hands free.

“If you’re leaving it for me decide, then I think I should kneel down on the floor,” I told him. “I think that will be the best way.”

“Do whatever you feel most comfortable doing. I’m only here to watch. You do whatever you want to do.”

I resisted the urge to tell him I didn’t want to do this at all. Using the butt plugs on myself wasn’t even my idea. I wouldn’t be doing it at all if he didn’t tell me to.

Having him watch me do it would only make it harder, but this was the situation I got myself into when I agreed to obey him as his submissive.

I took out the box of plugs and my vibrator, knelt down on the floor to open the box, and took out the smallest plug.

It sure did look small compared to how tight it felt yesterday when Ash used it on me. I wouldn’t have thought something so small could make me feel so stretched.

That feeling lasted for the whole thirty hours since I left Ash’s apartment. I kept feeling something inside my ass for the rest of yesterday.

It was still there when I woke up this morning. It was there all day today while I was at work.

It didn’t feel right, but the wrongness was starting to wear off. The mind-blowing hotness of doing something so forbidden was beginning to erase ahu inhibitions I had about it.

It aroused me in such a different way than normal sex, but anal play aroused me just the same. It wasn’t worse. It was just different.

I unscrewed the cap from the lube, pulled out the smallest plug, and squirted lube around the tip. I had no idea how much to use, so I only used a little bit.

This time, I propped the phone right in front of me so I could see Ash without holding onto the phone with my hands. He stared back at me from his apartment.

“Go ahead and get started whenever you want,” he told me. “Do whatever feels the most natural and the most comfortable.”

Masturbating like this didn’t feel natural or comfortable because I never masturbated like this. I always masturbated in my bed with my pajamas on and the covers pulled all the way up to my neck.

I should be turning this into a performance for Ash’s visual enjoyment.

Another part of me realized it wasn’t about that at all. He didn’t want entertainment or even stimulation. He stayed too quiet even to tell me what to do. He just wanted to watch.

I made sure to position the phone securely enough against the wall that it wouldn’t fall over, took the plug in my right hand, and the vibrator in my left.

I rocked forward, but it turned out to be too awkward to hold both and use both at the same time. It made more sense to hold myself up on all fours.

I wouldn’t be able to do that without putting one of them down. I still needed to hold onto the plug, so I put the vibrator on the floor.

I moved my right hand behind me, touched the tip of the plug to my ass, and spread my knees so I could ride the vibrator right there on the floor.

The vibrations hit me from the front and the cold lube touched my sensitive asshole from behind. The two sensations combined with the view of Ash’s face in the phone camera window.

I locked my eyes on him. Just looking into his eyes like this turned me on instantly and I groaned in an agony of desire.

“Do you feel me fucking you in the ass, baby?” he murmured.

My lips pouted open and I gasped as I slid the plug in. Holy fuck, it felt good.

I rocked on the vibrator feeling myself wind up to an explosion. I worked the plug in and out pushing it in deeper.

The stretching, intrusive sensation plunged me back into that unholy place of pure, raw, unchained madness. I couldn’t speak, but I also couldn’t tear my eyes away from Ash’s face even when I couldn’t completely bring him into focus.

“That’s right,” he murmured under his breath. “Fuck that ass. That’s right. You know you want my cock in your ass right now. You want me to bend you over and pound you ass until you scream. You feel that right now, don’t you?”

I moaned louder. I couldn’t stop panting in desperation. I did want that. The thought of him actually fucking my ass with his fully erect cock sounded like the hottest thing I could possibly imagine.

For some reason, I could imagine him doing that and watching me from the front at the same time. He really was fucking me in the ass right now.

I worked the plug in deeper—until I realized it couldn’t go in any deeper. The flared base touched my asshole. That was as deep as it went.

The realization distracted me and I looked around. “What’s wrong, baby?” Ask asked.

“I just…..” I pulled the plug out and looked it trying to put the pieces together.

For a start, the plug itself was totally clean apart from the lube. It wasn’t smeared with shit the way I thought it would be, but that wasn’t what stopped me from using it.

The plug itself really looked small. It was nowhere near as big as his cock. How would I ever take his cock if this was all I could handle?

I never would have believed it was this small. Now it didn’t look anywhere near big enough. It didn’t feel big enough, either. I needed something bigger.

Ash’s voice cut in on my thoughts. “Baby? Talk to me, Lucy. What’s wrong?”

“I just…..feel like……like I need something bigger.”

“Go ahead,” he told me. “Use the next size up.”

I mumbled, “Yes, Sir,” and switched off the vibrator so I could think straight for this operation.

I pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside table, put the smallest plug on the tissue, and set it aside where I wouldn’t see it. I would deal with all of that later.

Then I put lube on the next larger plug. That one didn’t look big enough, either, but I knew better than to try anything bigger—not on my very first time. I didn’t want to hurt myself.

The tube of lube was only about three inches long and no bigger than my pinkie finger. The second squirt of lube almost emptied the tube. I would have to do something about that.

I would need more lube for all the times I masturbated this week when I used the butt plugs on myself. I would have to get some more lube from the drug store or something.

This was turning into a major project, but that would have to wait, too.

I switched on the vibrator and straddled it in the same position. I extended my right hand behind me—and looked straight at Ash when I started working the plug into my ass.

It started as easily as the smallest plug. The width didn’t challenge me at all. It just felt amazing and deeply, deeply intoxicating.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured. “Take it nice and deep in your ass. You want that, don’t you? You want me to fucking destroy that ass. You feel that, don’t you? You feel me fucking you and making you cum for me.”

I whined in ecstasy as the plug got thicker toward its widest end. The dark, violating feeling overpowered me and skyrocketed me out of my mind. I wanted him. I wanted him to nail my ass as deep and hard as he could.

The vibrator escalated those sensations so much faster.

“Take it all the way in, baby,” he told me. “Take that cock and let me fuck you.”

I pushed the plug in as deep as I could stand and worked it in and out to fuck myself. I couldn’t focus my vision anymore. My eyes rolled back in their sockets and I heard my moans rising to cries of desperation.

He didn’t say anything else. I got lost in all the dizzy waves of pleasure rushing through me. The vibrator excited my clitoris, but this position also sent those vibrations through my pussy and even to my ass.

The vibrations made the plug so much more stimulating and arousing.

My asshole stretched to its limit to take the widest base of the plug, but even that wasn’t enough.

I escalated and started to cascade into a whirlwind of orgasmic pleasure. I couldn’t stop now, but right in that moment, in the moment when I fucked my ass with the widest part of the plug—even then I wanted more.

I wanted his cock. I needed it. I wouldn’t get it tonight, but I would get it. I had to.

The untamed rawness of having him really nail me in the ass—I couldn’t think of anything hotter than that.

All the fantasies I’d been having about someone holding me down and doing whatever they wanted to me—this was it. This was the natural endgame to all of that. What would he be doing if not that?

I didn’t understand half of what I was thinking in that moment, but I did understand this. I needed to something bigger. This plug wasn’t big enough, either.

I didn’t know how big I could go, but I had to try. I just wouldn’t be trying tonight.

I was already spiraling into insanity feeling the plug tear my asshole open. I pushed it in to its widest depth and worked it over my tight asshole so much harder than Ash ever did.

I could do it to myself. He would never do something to hurt me. He played it safe to protect me.

Now I wanted to feel him using me. I actually wanted to feel him hurting me in that way. It felt so wrong—so against everything I thought I wanted.

I could do that and still be perfectly safe because he wasn’t the one hurting me. I was doing it and feeling him do it.

That sensation hurt, but it also blasted me into an earth-shattering orgasm of ultimate carnal bliss. He was using my ass in the most brutal possible way. He was holding me down against my best efforts to struggle free while he took what he wanted.

I couldn’t see him anymore. My head drooped as I screamed out every broken desire pouring out of my heart.

I didn’t have to explain any of this to him because he obviously already knew exactly what I wanted.

I could have kept going. I pushed the plug all the way in. My asshole eased around the base and the plug settled into its place right up against my ass.

This created a brand new sensation with the vibrator. It turned me on in a different way—an easier, less confronting, more comfortable way.

I felt myself starting to get turned on again, but I didn’t want to go there tonight. If I kept going now, I might never stop, so I pulled the plug out, sat up, and turned off the vibrator.

I set the plug on the tissue next to the other one, rested forward on my hands, and shut my eyes. I needed to get myself together, but I also felt myself starting to crash. I really just wanted to be asleep in bed right now.

“That was beautiful, baby,” Ash murmured. “Thank you for sharing that with me tonight. I love the way you take it in the ass.”

I couldn’t think well enough to answer or even to open my eyes. I gulped. Even that small sensation threatened to shatter me into another orgasm. I really needed to go dormant right now.

He read my mind as usual. “Get in bed, baby. Take your phone with you.”

I barely opened my eyes enough to pick up my phone and crawl into bed. I didn’t look closely enough to make sure the phone was even pointed in the right direction so Ash could see me.

I tilted the phone toward me. Maybe he could see me and maybe he couldn’t.

“Good night, baby,” he breathed. “I miss having you in my bed. I’ll be holding you in my arms tonight. Now turn off the lamp, hang up the phone, and go to sleep. I’m with you. I’m with you right now…….”

I couldn’t think well enough even to say, Yes, Sir.

I hung up the phone without even saying goodbye to him, turned off the light, and collapsed. I didn’t even remember to put the phone on the bedside table before I completely passed out.

End of Chapter 23.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 22

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Ash rolled onto the bed next to me still gasping. I trembled and shuddered from the epic waves of orgasm spreading outward from not just my pussy, but my ass, too.

Even now, the plug in my ass somehow turned off my mental functions. I couldn’t really think or decide anything as long as it was in there.

How did he plan to take it out? Would that turn into another event in our session?

It was already the next morning. This whole arrangement of only visiting him on Thursday evening—it all seemed to be falling by the wayside in the biggest possible hurry.

He didn’t move for a second. He went so still and his breathing lengthened in deep relaxation. Was he going to sleep?

He snapped alert so fast that he startled me. He reared off the mattress, shook the fog out of his head, propped himself on his elbow, and peered down at me.

He ran his fingers through my hair a few times and kissed the side of my head. “That was so good,” he murmured. “Did you like that?”

I nodded, but still couldn’t think clearly enough to engage with him. Would it always be like this?

I had heard about people wearing butt plugs in public. That would never work for me.

He leaned back and studied me. I couldn’t fathom what I was supposed to think or say—about any of this.

He frowned at me. “Are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

I had to think really hard just to say the word, “No.” That was probably too evasive an answer for him, but it was the most I could do at the moment.

He kept studying me. Did he even realize what this plug was doing to me?

I marshalled every particle of brain power I could summon and blurted out, “Take it out.”

He responded instantly and pushed himself the rest of the way up. “Get off the bed and squat down on the floor.”

I could move as soon as he told me to do something. I heaved off the mattress onto my feet. The plug made every move an exercise in concentration.

He went over there first and used his foot to push the rope out of the way.

I sank down into a squat on the floor. I had to prop my hands on the carpet to balance myself in that position.

The position put pressure on the plug like I was trying to shit it out. The pressure made the plug feel extra tight and the intensity started to escalate.

I gasped for breath and started to whine. I wanted this thing out of me, but it also turned me on so much I couldn’t stand it.

All this anal play did something to my mind. It turned my sexuality into something I didn’t even recognize anymore.

I never thought any of this would turn me on. Once it started, it wouldn’t stop. Where would it end?

I summoned all my mental power to outright beg Ash to take the plug out. I couldn’t stand this any longer. I needed to reorient myself back to normal reality before I lost my mind completely.

He stood behind me. Was he even paying attention to me? Did he even realize how much distress I was in right now?

I didn’t even get a chance to form the words before he scooted under me from behind. My addled brain took way too long to realize he was lying on his back behind me.

He slid underneath me and positioned his face directly underneath me—right in line with my pussy.

I was still staring down at him in a daze when he pulled my thighs down right on top of his face and started eating me out.

His mouth and tongue spiked me into the stratosphere. The plug enhanced everything so much more than before.

I teetered on the verge of orgasm when he grabbed the plug and tugged it. I screamed as the sensation escalated beyond what I could cope with, but he didn’t pull the plug out—not yet.

He held it there at the limit of its thickness—and doubled down eating me faster and harder.

It took me a minute to switch my brain from one kind of stimulation to the other. As soon as I focused on his tongue and mouth, I started cycling back up again.

He immediately tugged on the plug again—harder this time.

He kept increasing the pressure on both. The intensity overcame my ability even to think about which kind of sensation I was experiencing at any given moment.

They blended together—and then it happened. I felt him fucking me again—in the ass. This was the same combination of stimulation as last night—except somehow in reverse.

I rode down on his face feeling myself about to climax. He pulled the plug just hard enough to pop it over the tight sphincter of my asshole.

That spike in sensation blasted me into orgasming right on his face, but he didn’t pull the plug completely out. He stroked it in and out again and again while I ground myself oblivion on his face.

Those strokes definitely felt like he was fucking me in the ass—hard. The mind-blowing intensity would have kept me reeling in orgasmic madness forever, but he stopped eating me out soon enough.

He also slowed down with the penetrations. I would have kept going, but he didn’t give me that option.

My body matched his rhythm and the pace of his lips and tongue on my swollen tissues. I wound up slowing down at the same rate until he took the plug away completely.

I collapsed forward onto all fours groaning and gasping to try to make sense of all of this.

He left me kneeling there with my head hanging down and my eyes closed. A second later, I heard him in the bathroom. He must have been washing the plug off.

Good. I didn’t want to see what condition it was in after being inside my asshole for all of that time.

He came back into the room, sat on the bed, and tapped me on the shoulder. “Come here,” he told me.

I didn’t know what he meant. He took hold of my arm and guided me toward him, but he didn’t pick me up.

He pulled me between his knees without helping me stand up. I wound up kneeling on the floor in front of him. He pushed my head down on his lap.

I collapsed in turmoil, now that I felt his hand on my head in such a comforting position. My asshole felt even more raw and sensitive than it did last night.

All the emotional and mental mayhem I thought I should have felt during the anal play—it all came back, now that the play was over.

I didn’t understand how any of this worked. I didn’t have to. He was here.

Now I could come back to planet Earth and try to figure all of this out.

The longer I sat here, the longer I started to feel somewhat normal—all except for my ass.

He waited a long time before he tapped me on the shoulder again. “Come downstairs and put your clothes on while I make you breakfast.”

He stood up, and this time, he did pull me to my feet.

That was the moment when I saw all the rope marks all over my body. They left rope-shaped imprints on my arms, my chest, my stomach, and all the way down my legs to my ankles.

Ash didn’t give me any time to dwell on that. He kept his hand on my elbow and steered me downstairs.

He parked me by the chair where I always left my clothes, told me again to get dressed, and went to the kitchen to start making breakfast.

I got dressed slowly. A thousand sensations floated into my brain from every part of my body. It would take me a while to separate and understand them all.

I probably should have taken a shower, but he didn’t tell me to, so I guess I wasn’t going to.

He was still cooking when I finished getting dressed, so I went over there and sat down on one of the stools at the counter.

He had his back to me, and in a few minutes, he put a plate of food in front of me.

I started eating. He finished what he was doing and brought his plate over to sit on the stool next to me.

“Do you feel okay about driving home?” he asked while we ate.

I nodded and then, because I knew he expected me to, I said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Is there anything you want to talk about before you leave?”

I stared down at my plate and shook my head. I couldn’t even think well enough to form a coherent thought. I definitely couldn’t have articulated anything.

He stood up, messed around somewhere in the many different sections of his apartment, and came back with a metal box in his hand.

He put the box on the counter next to my plate. “I want you to use these on yourself when you masturbate this week. Start with the smallest and work your way up as you start to get more comfortable with them.”

I picked up the box. Part of me already knew what I would find inside.

I flipped back the lid. A collection of five graduated butt plugs lay inside, each one surrounded by an indentation that matched its shape.

The smallest was less than half an inch wide. The largest must have been at least two and a half inches wide.

The plugs themselves were all dusky lavender purple in color. A small tube of lubricant rested in the box lid.

“I used the smallest on you this morning,” he told me. “Start with that one. Don’t level up until you’re comfortable with it. When you come next week, I’ll ask you which one you’re currently using and that’s the one we’ll use.”

I mumbled, “Yes, Sir,” shut the box, and put it back on the counter while I finished eating.

He didn’t interrupt me again. He waited until I finished, took my plate to the kitchen, and put everything in the dishwasher before he came back.

I expected him to tell me I could go or something like that. He gave me his instructions for the week. What more was there to say?

He took hold of my stool and turned it around to face him. I thought he might do something—like something sexual or something.

He kept one hand on the back of my stool, stroked my cheek, and kissed me while he kept his eyes open and stared deep into my eyes.

He didn’t say anything. His eyes communicated something beyond words. Was this what I had been trying to say or even think since last night?

Those eyes spoke volumes. They told me all the things I would have liked for him to say last night but didn’t.

He looked so deeply into my eyes that it made up for not being able to see him at all last night. This moment balanced the scales.

The connection reestablished instantaneously as if nothing had ever interrupted it. How did he always know exactly what I needed?

I searched his eyes for something…..and then he said it. “You’re so good for doing this for me. I love that you’re willing to try this to give me what I want.”

Unstoppable emotion overwhelmed me at those words. I never understood anal play before, much less full-blown anal sex.

I didn’t have to understand it. He wanted it. That was enough.

I wanted to do it for him. I wanted to do it because he wanted it. I didn’t need another reason.

I broke eye contact and picked up the box. It meant something completely different now. My brain switched back on. Everything made sense all of a sudden.

I rotated it in my hand…..and looked up at him. I raised the box and had to fight back a grin. “I better get home so I can start practicing.”

He burst out in a huge smile. I didn’t need to see anything else, so I just said, “Bye,” and left.

End of Chapter 22.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 21

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I woke up from a sound sleep—and froze when I saw Ash lying on his side right in front of me. He was wide awake this time.

His eyes traced every shade of my expression. He must have been lying there awake the whole time and watching me sleep.

He didn’t lie with his arms around me now. He left a few inches between us.

The blanket still encased my whole body—and so did the gag in my mouth and the rope around my legs.

He immediately pushed himself up on his elbow. “Good morning,” he told me. “You slept well. That’s good.”

He bent over and started unbuckling the gag. When he finished pulling it out and laying it aside, he peeled off the blanket away and finished untying and unwinding the rope. He threw it over the side of the bed onto the floor and pulled my thighs apart.

“Spread your legs so I can take these out of you,” he told me.

I rolled over on my back while he stuck two fingers inside me. He did it so clinically. This whole operation reminded me of going to a visit with the gynecologist.

He scooped out the two glass balls he put inside me last night. My juices covered them, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He used his other hand to tip me back onto my side, tucked the blanket around me, and went off to the bathroom. I heard him rinsing the balls under the tap followed by a silence. He must be drying them.

He came back into the room, put the two balls on the dresser across the room, and lowered himself onto the mattress in front of me.

The blanket surrounded me in a bubble of comfort. I could finally relax. That was the moment when I realized I wouldn’t have been able to relax like this last night. I was too worked up when he brought me up here.

I wouldn’t have been able to cope with him taking the gag or the rope off or taking those things out of me. He actually did me a huge favor by leaving everything in place until I got some much-needed rest.

He raised his hand and raked his fingers through my hair to push it back out of my face. He trailed his fingers behind my ear to arrange my hair back there.

“How do you feel now?” he asked.

I thought about it. What could I say? I wasn’t sure how I felt except that I felt rested and much more relaxed than I did last night.

“What did you use on me that first night when we did it?” I blurted out.

He frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You put some kind of clamp on my clitoris—but it didn’t feel like a clamp. What was it?”

“Oh, that. It was magnets. They fit on either side and squeeze together to act as a clamp.”

I looked away and wound up rolling onto my back to look up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you okay with everything that happened last night?”

I barely glanced at him. “I’m fine with it. Why? Did I not seem okay with it?”

“I just want to make sure. Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about?”

I didn’t have anything I wanted to talk about. I didn’t have a problem with anything he did to me last night, but it did make me think. All of it made me think a lot more than I realized at the time.

I rolled onto my side to face him, but I didn’t say anything. I studied him trying to figure him out.

My attention unnerved him. His eyebrows jumped together in the middle. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Did you like being tied up?”

“I always like being tied up.”

“I mean did you like being tied up like that—in an uncomfortable position?”

“Yes, I liked it. I didn’t snap my fingers, did I?”

“What about the ben wa balls? Did you like them?”

“Yes, I liked them.”

He hesitated. “What about the anal play? No one has done anal on you before, have they?”

Now I had to look away. I rolled onto my back again so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “No, no one has ever done it on me before.”

“Did you like it?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. I didn’t like it and I didn’t not like it.

I had no opinion about it at all for some reason. It just sort of happened. I had never experienced anything like it before in my life.

I had also never experienced anything I felt this vague about. I didn’t even seem to be able to think about whether I liked it or not.

“Talk to me,” he went on. “I need to know if you liked it or didn’t like it.”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I don’t know if I liked it or didn’t like it.”

“Would you like to try it again?”

‘I’m not sure.”

“Would you be willing to try it again?” he asked. “Is it something you definitely don’t want to do again?”

“No, I don’t feel that way about it.”

“Then would you be willing to try it again?” He changed his tone and a tiny hint of iron crept into it—just enough to let me know I didn’t have a choice but to do what he said. “Turn over and look at me when I talk to you.”

I rolled onto my side facing him and looked up into his eyes. They brimmed with a combination of emotions and expressions. Was he angry? Was he confused? I couldn’t tell that, either.

“Now answer my question. Are you willing to try it again?”

“Yes, I’m willing to try it again.”

“Tell me what you were feeling when I did it.”

“I’m not sure what I was feeling.”

He compressed his lips in a very distinct expression of annoyance. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if you keep stalling me like this, Lucy. I asked you a question and I expect you to answer me. I can’t be your dominant if you don’t tell me what you were feeling when I did something new to you. What were you feeling when I did it? Tell the truth and don’t tell me you don’t know or that you aren’t sure or any other evasive answer.”

That one moment when he pursed his lips put the fear of God into me. It startled me much more than what he said or how he said it.

Making him annoyed at me was the last thing I wanted. I really, really didn’t want to find out what happened if I annoyed him.

“I felt….I don’t know….I felt like….like it was so out of this world that it wasn’t even in the same dimension as any of my senses or whatever apparatus I use to feel things—like my sensations and mind it weren’t wired to process that. It felt like…..like it wasn’t real.”

“Anything else? Did you find it arousing in any way—apart from everything else that was happening, I mean?”

I couldn’t hold eye contact with him at all when I said, “Yes, I found it arousing…..but not in the way I find everything else arousing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean….it was….just….wrong…..and dirty….and uncomfortable…..and….and wrong……I guess…..that’s what I found arousing about it……that it was wrong.”

“I want you to shut your eyes right now,” he told me.

My eyes obeyed that command instantly. I shut my eyes and curled deeper into the blanket.

His voice drifted into my brain. “I want you to concentrate on your asshole right now—on the sensation of me stretching it. Do you feel that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I mumbled.

“You feel me sticking my thumb in your ass while I fuck you. Do you feel that?”

My mind rushed back to last night. I had to steady my voice before I said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Now roll over onto your stomach and lie down flat on your face.”

I did it without opening my eyes. I didn’t know what he planned to do.

He pulled the blanket away and left me lying there naked on the bed. He got up and moved around the room somewhere away from me.

I opened my eyes enough to see him rummaging around at the foot of the bed. I didn’t know what he planned to do, but I kept my eyes open after that.

He stretched out on the bed next to me again and stayed propped up on his elbow.

“Take this,” he told me and pressed something into my hand.

I glanced down at the object. It was the small cylindrical vibrator he used on me previously.

“Stick it between your legs. When I tell you to turn it on, you’ll turn it on. When I tell you to turn it off, you turn it off? Do you understand? Press the button to turn it off and on. Press and hold the button to make the vibrations increase. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Go ahead and put it between your legs, but don’t turn it on until I tell you to.”

I shoved my arm underneath my body and positioned the vibrator right on top of my clitoris. I fingered the cylinder until I found a small, barely detectable raised button sticking out of the silicone surface.

I heard him doing something back there. His voice floated into my brain again from what felt like a long way off.

“I’m going to play with your ass again right now,” he told me. “You’re going to turn on the vibrator and I want you to imagine me fucking you in the ass with my cock. Do you understand that?”

I gulped. “Yes. Sir. I understand?”

“Does that turn you on? Does it turn you on when you think about me fucking your ass?”

I opened my mouth to say I didn’t know, but I stopped myself from saying that. He obviously didn’t want to hear that, so I just said, “Yes, Sir.”

I didn’t know if I wanted him to fuck me in the ass with his cock. That sounded like the most brutal, painful, unhygienic thing ever—but I did find it arousing. I couldn’t even explain why.

The very thought of someone touching a person’s asshole sounded like the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. I never would have gone along with this if he asked me beforehand if I wanted him to—or even if I was willing to.

Now I found myself going along with it—not because I necessarily found the idea arousing but out of pure insatiable curiosity to find out what it would be like.

Obviously I knew about tons of people who loved it—gay men, for example. Plenty of straight people loved it, too. I even vaguely remembered Riley mentioning it.

I must have deliberately purged the conversation from my long-term memory. I didn’t remember what she said about anal sex. I wasn’t sure I wanted to remember.

I couldn’t envision her receiving it. Maybe she did something like that to her submissives.

I didn’t want to know about that, either. I really didn’t want to know anything about Riley’s sex life.

If that many people liked it, maybe I would like it, too. How would I know if I never tried it for myself?

The reality was that I had tried it for myself—only once—last night. Maybe if I tried it again, I would start to like it.

Ash made a good point when he asked if I definitely didn’t want to do it again. I couldn’t say I definitely didn’t want to do it again. Why not try it again?

If I really didn’t like it, I could refuse to do it. He wouldn’t force it on me. I understand him well enough by now to know that.

He controlled himself too well and he proved to me a thousand times that he really did have my best interest at heart.

He never did anything to me that I didn’t want and he swore to me that he never would.

He brought me back to reality real quick. “Turn on the vibrator.”

I pressed the button and the cylinder started vibrating between my legs.

It started as a low buzz—barely enough to warm up my skin. The gentle vibrations spread through me and helped me relax, but they didn’t really turn me on—not much.

I pressed and held the button. The vibrations escalated.

I stopped when they did start to turn me on. I started to float into the clouds of rapture.

I stiffened when he grabbed my ass cheek and pulled it sideways. The air hit my asshole. Here it came.

Something cold and wet touched my sensitive skin. Him playing with me with his thumb last night left the skin ultra delicate and already stretched wider than it should have been.

“Increase the vibrations,” he ordered.

I pressed and held the button again. The vibrator picked up speed and I started cycling higher toward having another orgasm.

He pressed whatever it was tighter into my asshole. The cold slipperiness lubricated it—and something penetrated. It was smaller than his thumb.

“Feel me fucking your asshole,” he rumbled in my ear. “Feel me making you cum from reaming your ass with my cock.”

I gasped and my eyes flew wide open. I could only stare as whatever it was intruded deeper. It stretched me wider.

The sensation of horrible, awful wrongness—the darkness from last night came rushing back—but the vibrator made it all so mind-blowingly hot in a filthy, alien, violating way.

This represented everything I thought I stood against—everything I wanted to fight and work to eradicate from the world.

I became a cop to stop things like this—and yet it turned out to be one of the most blisteringly erotic sensations I had ever experienced.

I pressed and held the button again. The vibrations built to a deep, penetrating buzz. That vibration spread through my body. I couldn’t hold back the tide. I was going to cum any second now.

He worked whatever it was into and out of my asshole faster in an unmistakable fucking motion. He was fucking my ass. Was he using his finger? Something told me it wasn’t that. It felt too smooth.

In that moment, I got a mental flash of him kneeling behind me and holding my hips while I knelt in front of him on all fours.

He pulled me into his thrusts while I slammed his thick cock deep into my ass. Holy fuck, that turned me on! Just thinking it blasted me into madness.

I wanted him to. I really, really wanted him to. I couldn’t even understand why because, even as I thought that, I knew it was wrong.

The wrongness, the forbidden cruelty of it—it made it irresistible.

He wasn’t using his cock on me. He couldn’t be. He lay next to me on the bed fully clothed. He still wore the same suit from last night.

Whatever object he used on me stretched me more and more as he pushed it in. It became uncomfortable, but not painful.

The uncomfortable sensation actually made it so much more arousing. It electrified me. I started to scream.

I screamed louder and harder than ever before. He drove it in harder and deeper as my screams escalating. The sensation that he was violating my asshole became so acute that I didn’t know how to cope with it—but that sensation made me orgasm harder.

He pushed it all the way in—and then the stretching feeling stopped.

Whatever he used on me lay buried deep inside my asshole. It didn’t move.

I couldn’t stop wailing and crying out from all those sensations crashing in on me at the same time.

“Turn off the vibrator,” he told me.

I pressed the button and wilted on the bed still reeling and moaning from all these sensations. I couldn’t decide if they were pleasant sensations. I couldn’t even identify most of these sensations.

He left me lying there for a minute. The feeling of that thing embedded in my ass somehow turned off my rational mind. I couldn’t think even to decide what to do with all of this emotion and sensation.

His voice cut so much deeper now. He sounded dangerous. “Roll over onto your back.”

I had to summon all my willpower just to move. I wouldn’t have been able to move if his voice hadn’t acted on whatever part of my mind he controlled now.

I had to move slowly. I kept waiting for the thing to hurt me even though it didn’t.

I turned over and groaned when I stretched out on my back. My weight pushed the thing deeper into my ass, but I still didn’t feel enough to stop this—not yet.

As soon as I got into that position, I noticed Ash standing at the foot of the bed beyond my feet. He was in the act of taking off all his clothes.

His eyes went deadly hard. “Prop yourself up on your elbows and spread your legs for me,” he ordered.

I had to go through another agonizing process just to summon the brain power to push myself up on my elbows. Everything felt different with that thing in my ass. Everything about my thinking worked differently as long as it lay there inside me.

I pushed myself up and let my thighs fall open. He looked straight up at me with my crotch laid bare right in front of him.

The minute I got into that position, my eyes locked on him. The rush of pure carnal desire nearly made me cum again right then and there.

Holy fuck, he looked hot! He did something to me just from looking at me in that position.

He must be able to see that thing inside me. I still didn’t know what this thing was, but I did know about butt plugs. This must be one.

He crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees, took a position over me, and lowered his stiff, hard cock into my waiting slit.

The plug made my pussy extra tight and skyrocketed me into the cosmos.

“Feel me fucking you in the ass,” he ordered. “This is my cock ramming you in the ass right now.”

Those words worked their charm on me. My eyes slipped out of focus as a colossal wave of pleasure and scorching erotic power took hold.

I felt him. His cock compressed my asshole around the plug and made it feel a thousand times bigger than it was.

He started pumping into me. Each thrust made my ass ride down on the plug. My ass rocked on the bed and drove the plug in tighter—but it never moved.

I felt it. I felt his cock breaking my asshole apart. It didn’t hurt. It just felt so unbelievably thick, hard, hot, and brutal.

The darkness consumed my mind. I fell into a vast sea of pure darkness. He was fucking me in the ass just like all those people I considered so messed up.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I looked up, but the hard, commanding glint in his eye only made me orgasm. I couldn’t focus on holding eye contact.

I floated in and out of focus again and again feeling all the dark, filthy wrongness of his cock violating me. That darkness made me cum so much harder than ever until he shot his load and collapsed on top of me.

End of Chapter 21.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 20

______________

I walked into Ash’s apartment. He wasn’t there, but the usual note on the coffee table was there.

Take your clothes off and put this on.

I picked up what looked like a black leather strap lying on top of the note. A normal chrome metal buckle hung from the end of one strap with holes pierced along the tongue on the other side.

The center of the strap widened into a rectangle with some kind of mouthpiece attached to the inside. I recognized this contraption. It was a gag.

Down at the bottom of the note, Ash had added another message in much smaller handwriting.

For your safeword tonight while you’re wearing this gag, you can snap your fingers to stop all play.

That was it. That was the whole note.

I started taking off my clothes and laid them on the chair with my purse the way I always did. Then I had to figure out how to put on the gag.

I fitted the mouthpiece into my mouth first. It covered my teeth like a sports mouth guard.

I bit down, maneuvered my lips over the mouthpiece so they rested in a comfortable position, and buckled the straps behind my head.

I had to do the whole thing by feel. I had to locate the buckle, slip the tongue through it, and then adjust it a few times to make sure the whole thing fit right.

The rectangle covered my whole mouth with a wide margin above, below, and on either side of my lips. I wouldn’t be able to say anything while I was wearing this or even make a sound.

I started to feel extremely vulnerable even though Ash wasn’t doing anything to me. He wasn’t in the same room or even in the same building.

I glanced around the apartment. It sure sounded quiet all of a sudden.

I jumped out of my skin when I heard the downstairs, outside apartment door open. His footsteps beat up the stairs coming closer.

I trembled. I wanted to turn around and face whatever was coming, but I couldn’t do that. I had to stand with my back to the door—and to him when he came to a stop right behind me.

He stood there for an eternity. What would he do this time? Would it be painful—or arousing—or none of those?

I couldn’t stop shaking—until the moment when he grabbed my arms, pulled my hands together behind my back, and tied my wrists together with something that felt like a length of soft, supple, synthetic rope.

He did it quickly and effortlessly by throwing a slipknot around my wrists and cinching it tight. I yelped from the pain, but the gag muffled the sound.

The sound released something in me. I could scream as loudly as I wanted. No one would hear me.

Wearing this gag freed me in ways I never imagined. I started to reel in ecstasy even though he wasn’t doing anything yet.

He got to work adding more and more loops of rope to my wrists. The more loops he added, the less the binding hurt. The extra loops spread the pressure over a wider area so each loop didn’t bite as deep.

He tied them off and started winding the rope up my arms. He tied my forearms tight together and then did the same thing to my upper arms.

He couldn’t bring them together all the way, but he sure did try. He squeezed them together and made me arch my chest out and my shoulders back so he could secure my arms as closely together as possible.

As soon as he did that, he started winding the rest of the length of rope around my body. I didn’t realize before that he was using one long, long piece of rope.

He wrapped it around my chest and arranged some of the lengths around my breast. He stayed behind me the whole time and did it by feel. He never came in front of me where I could see him.

He pulled the ropes tight and cinched the nooses around my breasts. The rope squeezed my breasts outward so they stood up straight and taut.

The tight binding made my nipples point forward harder and tighter than ever before.

He kept tying the rope around and down my body, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. My arms pulled back to the breaking point and forced me to look up. I couldn’t bend over to look down.

He squatted behind me to tie my legs together. The rope dug into my thighs. I wouldn’t have been able to spread them for anything.

He finished with the same binding of multiple loops around my ankles. He used the entire length of rope and tucked the loose end inside the bindings.

He stood up behind me. I really wished he would say something about what he was going to do.

His silence and not being able to see him was really starting to get to me. He never left me in this vulnerable place without at least talking to me and letting me see him.

He stood back for another long silence. The weight of his eyes traced up and down my bound body. I might as well have been a delivery package for him to unwrap—except that he was the one who just packaged me up. He packaged me up for himself to unwrap.

I panted for air through my nose. The anticipation was more than I could bear.

I jumped again when he touched my head. I had to seriously fight the urge to recoil from that touch and start struggling.

I did yell out in surprise when he touched me, but the gag muffled the sound again.

I sounded like I was having sex. I sounded like a raving slut getting fucked, but I wasn’t any of that.

I sure did look like one, though. I looked bound, trussed up, and totally at his mercy.

He didn’t hurt me when he touched my head. He started gathering my hair into a ponytail.

I couldn’t understand why because he always played with my hair before. He seemed to like it.

He tied my hair into a ponytail and left me standing there for another long moment. It might just have been a few seconds, but it felt it would never end.

When he actually did something, he came up behind me so fast I didn’t have time to brace myself.

His presence radiated that ferocious power into me, and a split second later, he grabbed me by the ponytail and tipped me over at the waist.

Bending over like that tightened all the ropes around me even tighter. They made my breasts stick out straighter and my back arched all the way back.

He used my ponytail as a handle to pull my head up so I had to arch as high as I could possibly go.

The ropes around my legs plus my arms tied behind me made me stick my ass out. My ass was the only part of me not bound.

He rotated to my side without letting go of my hair. He growled under his breath, but he still didn’t speak.

I couldn’t see him in this position, either. I moaned from the strain and the gag once again turned that sound into the most arousing pathetic sob of utter passion.

He responded by rubbing his hand over my ass in big, warm circles. Was he going to spank me like this?

The ropes, the gag, and my total helplessness heightened every sensation. He could definitely do what he wanted with me like this.

He muttered too low for me to hear what he was saying. He couldn’t be talking to me.

He stroked down to my thighs, brushed the ropes, and then dragged his fingertips ever so seductively up my crack.

He brushed my exposed pussy lips, up my ass, and went back to circling.

He did spank me, but only lightly. He didn’t make it hurt. It was just a spank of acknowledgment—to let me know he had me and that I was his to play with any way he wanted.

He did the same thing three more times, stroked down to my thighs, trailed his fingers up my slit, and on the third time, he stopped with his fingertips right there on my trembling pussy lips.

He rubbed—not hard enough to penetrate—just enough to make me groan from the rushes of pleasure and desire sweeping outward from those fingers.

I tried to rock back into his hand, but the ropes and his hand on my hair held me firmly in place. I couldn’t move at all.

My moans turned to whimpers of ragged desperation. The gag made me sound even more agonized and wild than I actually was—except that I really was that agonized and wild. The gag made me that way.

Having my legs bound together squeezed my pussy lips to stick out behind me. Not being able to spread my legs exaggerated every sensation even more.

My legs forced my pussy lips together and also unfurled them toward his probing fingers. The sensation of needing him rose to an epic pitch.

He rubbed faster—and a little deeper. My juices oozed out onto his fingers—and then he shifted them down a little bit to my clitoris.

He rubbed in tighter circles right on top of it—and shoved his fingers all the way in.

Something thick and hard drilling me to my deepest depths—I started to cum, but he pulled out immediately.

That was the moment when I realized he left something inside me. I couldn’t feel very well because he shoved it all the way in and left it there.

I froze. What did he put inside me? Would it be something that would hurt me—on the inside?

He didn’t wait around for me to get used to it. He shifted behind me and did something without letting go of my hair.

A motor buzzed from somewhere. I recognized that sound. It was the ceiling restrain motor he used to hold my arms out last time.

He didn’t give me enough room to turn around. He kept me bent over like that while he tied something to my hair.

It didn’t feel like anything until he activated the motor again. It started to rise and pulled my ponytail up tight.

I would have stood up straight to take the tension off my hair, but he pressed his hand down onto my back to hold me in position.

The restrain pulled my head all the way back. I had to arch my neck just to stop the restraint from hurting me.

He stopped the motor in that position. He kept his hand pinned down between my shoulder blades.

He didn’t give me a chance to get used to that, either. He pressed something else between my pussy lips. It felt hot…..and thick….and unbelievably hard. It was him.

He rubbed the tip up and down my exposed pussy lips. My thighs made my pussy so much tighter. Could I really handle this?

He eased in extra slowly—slowly enough to let me get used to it.

My moans spiked to full-throated cries. I sounded so wretched and needy behind this gag.

He worked his prick in one inch at a time. He didn’t just drive in and start banging. He pulsed just the head in first—in and out, in and out.

These shallow penetrations excited my pussy lips beyond belief. I needed him so much deeper.

The tight squeeze of my thighs scorched every inch of my channel. He plunged in deeper—just a little bit—just enough to give me a taste.

I shrieked for more, but he could barely hear me. I was all alone with my own ravenous need.

He worked in another few inches. His thickness satisfied me more now, but it still wasn’t enough.

He drove a little deeper—and hit whatever it was he left inside me. That added extra length finally let me feel what it was.

It felt like two perfectly round, smooth glass balls. That was it.

They lay embedded deep inside my channel. I could barely feel them until he drove all the way in.

The force of that thrust squeezed the balls sideways. His cock held them tight against the walls of my channel—and then he really started thrusting.

His shaft rolled against the balls. The pressure drove me into a spiraling orgasm. The balls triggered every pleasure spot up and down my channel—and they didn’t stop.

Every thrust blasted me out of this world. I couldn’t cope with this—but I had to. He bound me so tightly that I couldn’t get away.

The tightness of my thighs—the sensation of those balls rolling down his shaft—the tugging of the restraint against my hair—I couldn’t take this.

All those sensations rocketed me into a catastrophic series of orgasms hitting me one right after the other. I screamed, but the gag silenced me.

That tight pressure on my mouth tore down the walls the rest of the way. I didn’t have to hold myself together anymore. I could go completely wild and release everything in this moment.

No one could hear me. No one could blame me for doing anything wrong when I was completely helpless to stop what was happening.

The balls definitely stimulated Ash more than usual, too. He huffed through his open mouth building up to an explosion much faster than usual.

He choked again and again with every thrust. His free hand crushed my hip while his other hand kept holding me down in that position.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even see straight. My whole body convulsed with quaking spasms as the sensation tore me apart.

At that moment, he let go of my hip and placed his other hand right on top of my tailbone. I didn’t think anything about it—until he slipped one of his fingers into my asshole.

The tight, hot, wrong sensation of it got lost in the confusion of all this other mind-blowing sensation, but that one intrusion broke something else in me.

I didn’t exactly like the sensation. It felt so alien. It didn’t feel like a sex act at all—except that everything he did to me felt like a sex act.

No one had ever touched my asshole before—not like this.

He rubbed his finger harder. Was he using his thumb? It felt too thick to be a smaller finger.

That hard, stretching feeling somehow ate a rotten feeling into my guts. The sensation made this whole experience so much more brutal, filthy, and bestial.

He kept thrusting into me and choking from the intensity of the pressure as the balls rolled up and down the underside of his shaft.

They rolled over my G spot and made me cum again—and again—and then he roared out in fury and rammed in extra hard.

His cum flooded me. He stood back there massaging his thumb into my asshole in a slow, steady rhythm while he pumped his load all the way in.

The balls worked both of us into a frenzy until the moment he pulled out. He groaned a few more times, staggered back, and left me bent over in that position—but without his hands on me.

I could only roll my eyes in their sockets trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings covering my whole body.

His cum dripped down my thighs. My asshole felt stretched, but that somehow turned me on. It was so wrong—so dark and forbidden. That darkness made it so sexual and exciting.

It was all over now, though. He stumbled toward me, untied my ponytail, and my hair fell over my face.

He didn’t untie the rest of the rope. He kept everything else exactly the way it was, picked me up in his arms like a giant package, and carried me upstairs to his bedroom.

I kept sobbing and moaning behind my gag the whole way up there. The gag made it okay to be completely fragile and wrung out by all of this. I didn’t have to cope. I just had to experience it all.

He laid me down on top of the bedspread, but the rope around my arms wouldn’t let me lie comfortably.

I stretched out on my side and tried to find a comfortable position while he walked away.

He picked up a velvet blanket from the couch by the windows, brought it back, and wrapped it around me.

He rubbed my hair, kissed me on the head once, and stretched out on the bed in front of me.

He still had all his clothes on. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, but other than that, he still had on his usual business suit. He had already zipped himself up.

He pulled me against him with the blanket separating us from each other.

He would have pulled me into a deep, comforting embrace except that I still had the ropes tied around my arms.

I had to arch my arms and chest all the way back. They made it impossible to lie down.  Did he really plan to just leave me like this?

Almost as an afterthought, he reared off the mattress and tugged something on my wrist loops. They came undone—and all the pressure unwound all the way up my arms.

The tightness around my breasts eased, too. I could finally slump onto the mattress and relax—partially.

The ropes still held my legs together—and I was still wearing this gag.

He didn’t seem to notice. He pulled me in and held me until I fell asleep like that.

End of Chapter 20.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 19

________________

I got that old familiar sense of calm walking up the stairs to Ash’s apartment. I really didn’t care anymore what happened there as long as I was with him.

This part of who I was—I didn’t even understand it anymore. I didn’t have to understand it.

I especially didn’t have to understand how different it was from every other part of my life.

I just wanted it. That’s all I needed to know. I wanted it a lot.

I pushed open the door and found him sitting in the same place on the couch.

So much water seemed to have passed under the bridge since I last saw him sitting there.

It had really only been two weeks—a single session between then and now.

That date night—or whatever it was—it changed a lot of things.

Now we were back to this.

I stopped in my usual spot and put my purse down on the nearest chair before I straightened up to face him.

Whatever he was about to say—I wanted it. I was ready to go where he wanted to take me.

Our eyes met. I didn’t have to say or do anything.

“Take your clothes off and get down on your knees,” he told me.

I looked at the floor while I took my clothes off. I did it robotically. He didn’t tell me to perform a seductive striptease for him. God only knows what I would have done if he did tell me to do that.

I draped my clothes over the chair, too. He never told me to do it differently, so I just stuck with what worked.

I didn’t look at him again. I undressed completely and sank onto my knees on the cold hardwood floor. I kept my eyes down.

He sat there for what seemed like a long time. He might sit there for hours just to see how long I would stay where he told me to stay.

I really didn’t care how long it took. I made up my mind not to move until he told me to do something else.

He stood up sooner than I expected, so I guess he didn’t plan to test me that way.

He walked around the coffee table and stopped in front of me. He went through another long silence just standing there looking down at me.

I concentrated on the lower cuffs of his pants where they touched his shoes. Looking up at him would have felt too forward—too confronting.

He put out his hand and stroked it down the side of my hair. “You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you look kneeling there,” he finally murmured. “I could stand here looking at you all night long and never get tired of it.”

He caressed my hair a dozen more times. He didn’t tell me to answer.

I was beginning to feel the same way about kneeling in front of him. My heart overflowed with so much gratitude that I was the one he allowed to kneel like this.

It obviously meant as much to him as it did to me. What a privilege it was that I could give him that—that I could give him something that meant so much to him.

“Is there anything you want to do or say to me while you’re down there before we start tonight’s session?” he asked.

I had been thinking about this a lot since our date night—or the following morning.

He asked what I wanted to do that day. I had spent a lot of time this week deciding what I would say if he ever asked me that again.

I had also discovered quite a few BDSM activities I wanted to try, but I still lacked the courage to actually open my mouth and ask him to do them.

Now here he was asking me what I wanted to do or say.

I could think of a lot of things I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come, either.

I made up my mind, leaned forward, and placed both hands on his knees. I tilted my head back, made full, unguarded eye contact with him, and sank my mouth into his thigh.

The instant I closed my mouth on his muscle, my desire for him exploded off the charts. I tasted him once. I wanted to taste him again.

Doing things to him—pleasuring him—was that the forbidden fruit—the thing he guarded himself against.

He had no problem doing things to me. Even pleasuring himself when he fucked me was just another example of him doing things to me.

Me doing things to him—that was the next dimension.

I mouthed higher—up to the crease where his leg met his hip. I closed my eyes, buried my face in his crotch, and nuzzled him deeper than deep.

His cock spasmed inside his pants. He was already hard.

I mouthed his package a few times just to tease him before I crawled my mouth to his other thigh.

I didn’t work my way all the way down it before I went back to his crotch.

I held his eyes while I mouthed him. His shaft throbbed in there.

I found it with my teeth and bit extra gently down his length—just enough to get a response from him.

He stared straight down into my eyes while his fingertips and palm kept stroking my hair again and again.

His stiffness felt amazing in my mouth. I wanted him.

He didn’t try to stop me. Was he enjoying this? Was I stepping out of line by doing this?

He asked me if there was anything I wanted to do.

His cock spasmed each time I bit down—never hard enough to hurt him—just enough to make him hard as a rock. Delicious.

I worked to the tip and nibbled around the head even though I couldn’t exactly get to it here. His nostrils flared and his breathing became strained. What would it take to get him to unzip?

I couldn’t do it myself. I understood that at a gut level. However much I wanted it, he had to be the one to give it to me.

His voice cracked with the tension when he finally husked, “Do you want that?”

“Please….” I whispered and nibbled down his shaft toward his balls. “Please…..”

“How long have you been wanting that?” he murmured. “How long have you been dreaming about that?”

I burrowed deeper into his balls, but I didn’t bite this time. I just nuzzled them and then migrated back up to his shaft.

I locked eyes on him and worked my mouth to his zipper pull …..and then up to his belt.

I took hold of the tongue of his belt with my teeth and pulled—but not hard enough to actually pull it out. He had to do that.

I kept a steady hold on his eyes the whole time so he would see how much I wanted him to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly.

He didn’t budge except to keep stroking my hair. “You want that so bad, don’t you?” he rasped. “You want to show me how much you want that. You want so badly to show me how much you serve me and give yourself to me. Don’t you?”

“Please….” I nibbled the tip of his cock again—just enough to show him. “Please…..I need you…..”

“Does that make you hungry, baby?” he murmured. “Does it make your mouth water to feel how hard you make me?”

“Please…..” I worked down his shaft. Holy shit, he was so hard! “Please….”

“What will you do if I give it to you?” he asked.

My eyes drifted half-shut before I could bring myself to look up at him. “Anything….” I breathed. “Anything to please you…..Let me pleasure you….please….”

“Show me,” he told me. “Take it out and show me.”

I couldn’t hold his eyes while I pulled his buckle loose. I wasn’t sure I could take the emotional overwhelm, now that this was actually happening.

I worked myself up into such a state over this. I attached so much meaning and importance to this—and he seemed to do the same thing.

I had to do this right—but he never let me do it before. I had no idea what he liked. What if I did it wrong? What if I didn’t please him at all?

He might never let me do it again. Then I would never get good enough at it to please him. I couldn’t face that.

I unbuckled his belt. I had to gulp when it came to actually sliding the zipper down.

He told me to take him out, but I couldn’t even bring myself to touch him, now that he finally gave me permission to.

Touching him like that would have been asking too much, so I stuck with his pants and shorts.

I slid them down and he helped me by pushing them as far as the middle of his thighs.

His fully rigid cock pointed straight into my face. I asked for this. Now what?

I sank onto my heels just staring at it for a minute. His words magically came true in my mind again. My mouth watered—and yet the same rule held me captive.

I couldn’t start it off by doing what he said.

He extended his hand, cupped the back of my head, and gave me the slightest tug forward. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come.”

That did it. Those words—that one instant of permission—it broke down the wall.

I rose up on my knees, placed my hands on his bare thighs, and wrapped my tongue and lips around the tip of his shaft.

I started slowly by circling my tongue around him to cover him with my saliva. I worked my lips over the tip, coiled my tongue a little farther down his shaft, and sank down on him taking him deeper.

He kept his hand on the back of my head, but he didn’t pull me in again.

Now it was my turn—my turn to show him how much I wanted this. I asked for it. Now it was mine.

I angled him deeper and ran the tip across my palate. His cock touched the back of my throat. I spiraled my head in circles to stimulate his shaft from all sides and slithered my tongue around him to tease him all the way down to his balls.

His body tensed to the breaking point. His breath shortened and became more labored as I picked up the pace.

His fingertips flexed on the back of my head every time I sank down on him, but he still didn’t exert any pressure. He didn’t try to control anything I did.

His lips fell open in an agonized gasp. He breathed through his teeth after that.

The sight of him enjoying this gave me a boost of energy to keep going. I didn’t care how it ended as long as he liked it.

My head kept tipping at an angle where I couldn’t hold eye contact. His thickness blocked me from breathing when I took him all the way into my throat, but he never felt so good.

I could have kept going, but after a few more minutes, he tightened his grip on my hair.

He still didn’t control anything until the exact moment when he gasped out one last tortured breath, held me in position with my mouth near the midpoint of his shaft, and his cock spasmed again when he unloaded in my mouth.

I sucked harder to squeeze every drop from him.

He only clenched his fist for a minute. As soon as he finished, he released his fingers, but he kept his hand there.

That touch felt comforting—guiding.

I kept sucking him even after he finished. I didn’t want to stop—and he didn’t tell me to stop. He let me keep going as long as I wanted.

This feeling of having him in my mouth—of giving him just a little of the pleasure he gave me—this made it all worth it. This was the greatest reward he could give me.

It was the thing I said I wanted when I first asked to be his submissive. Now I got it.

Would he ever let me do it again?

Maybe he would keep it for rare, select occasions when he really wanted to give me something special….

Or maybe he would do it all the time. I guess I would just have to find out.

End of Chapter 19

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 18

________________

Riley tapped her paperwork into a neat stack and set it in the very exact corner of her desk. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her. “Just let me close all these windows.”

She snorted. “You and your windows. I swear you would lose your mind if the Gods of the Internet decreed you could only work on one window at a time.”

I laughed. “I try to multitask.”

“You know multitasking isn’t a thing, right? Human beings can only concentrate on one thing at a time. Multitasking is really another way of saying you’re leaping around from thing to thing and not concentrating on any one thing long enough to get it done.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Can we not go through that lecture all over again, Mother? I can concentrate on one thing longer than you can.”

She shrugged, picked up her purse, and pushed in her desk chair. “I don’t say you’re wrong.”

I fell in next to her on our way out of the Police station. “So what will it be today?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve talked to all of Maynard Sutherland’s friends and business associates. None of them know anything about his BDSM activities and no one can tell us conclusively if he was into auto-asphyxiation.”

“Or asphyxiation in general,” I added.

“Or anything kink-related,” she finished. “We can’t even find anyone he may have played with.”

“Maybe he wasn’t into BDSM at all,” I pointed out.

“Then why did he belong to the club? He paid good money to show up at their monthly play parties and never played with anyone once. He never connected with anyone at the club that he played with outside the club. As far as we know, he never even talked to anyone at the club about anything BDSM-related.”

“Maybe he only did it for the social aspect,” I suggested. “Maybe he did it because he wanted people to think he was edgy—or maybe there was someone at the club he wanted to get to know. Maybe he wanted this person to think they were into the same things so he could establish a personal connection with them—like maybe for his business or something.”

She made a face. “Do people really do that?”

“What other explanation is there if we can’t find any trace of any BDSM activity in any other area of his life?”

“Didn’t you say someone at the club told you Maynard was a switch?”

“Maybe he only said that because he wanted to be vague. Maybe he was trying to misdirect anyone from asking any specific questions about his activities, his tendencies, or his experience.”

She shrugged again and looked away. “You might be right, but if that’s true, then all our investigation into his kink activities is a dead end. We can scratch auto-asphyxiation and consensual asphyxiation off our list of potential motives.”

“That’s something, isn’t it? If we scratch off both of those, then we’re only left with one other possibility.”

She nodded and stopped walking on the sidewalk. “Foul play.”

“Or suicide,” I remind her.

She shakes that thought out of her head and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Let’s go inside. We can talk about it more and see if we come up with anything.”

We both turned toward the building entrance and walked into the gym. We climbed the stairs and entered the racquetball locker room.

Riley opened her locker. “We should probably rule out suicide, too. No one thinks he was suicidal or depressed or even unhappy.”

“And don’t forget that knot on the plastic bag,” I reminded her. “Maynard didn’t tie that on his own—not unless he was looking at it in the mirror.”

“Then we’re talking about murder.”

I faced my locker, pulled out my racquetball bag, and started taking out my workout gear. I unzipped the bag, laid out my workout clothes, and started pulling off the casual suit I wore to work this morning.

“If we’re talking foul play, then someone would have had to be extremely meticulous about erasing all evidence of their existence from Maynard’s apartment,” I pointed out. “They would probably have to have been wearing gloves before they walked in and kept the gloves on the whole time. Wouldn’t Maynard see that as suspicious?”

Riley didn’t answer. It took me a minute to figure out what the problem was.

I turned around to see why she didn’t respond. She stood at the locker next to mine, but she wasn’t changing into her workout gear.

She stared at me with her mouth hanging open in shock. Her eyes kept snapping all over the place.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Then she pointed at me—and her finger jerked down to my body and then back up to my face.

“You…..” she stammered and fell silent again.

I stared at her for a second trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her.

Then she moved her finger down and I realized. She was pointing at the dark purple-black bite mark on my shoulder. I had completely forgotten it was there.

I had pulled off my blazer and blouse and stood in front of my locker in my bra.

I never thought twice before about changing my clothes in front of Riley. I never thought twice about taking off my normal everyday bra to put on my workout bra. We did it around each other all the time. We barely saw each other doing it anymore.

She kept pointing at the bite mark and then up at me. Then her eyes snapped to the second bite mark higher on my shoulder closer to my neck.

It was too late to cover them up. Anyone could see from the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what she was looking at.

They were kind of hard to miss. The two half-circle imprints of Ash’s teeth stood out clearly on both marks. I couldn’t exactly claim I fell down the stairs and accidentally bumped my shoulder into someone’s mouth.

I scrambled in my brain for something to say to explain all of this, but I couldn’t come up with anything. No way in hell would I tell her the truth—like she couldn’t already see the truth.

Someone bit me. That was the truth.

I could just see the wheels turning in her head. Someone bit me—so who did it?

I realized in that moment that Ash’s chain hung around my waist, but the waistband of my skirt still covered it up.

She would have seen the chain if I had taken my skirt off—which is what I would have done any other day we came here for a workout.

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let her see the chain.

I sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to Ash for not putting a real collar on me—or any of the supposedly innocuous substitutes I had read about such as necklaces or innocent-looking chokers.

Riley knew too much about BDSM not to recognize something like that. She would have realized the truth the instant I showed up to work wearing one.

The chain was in a completely different category. It pressed against my skin every hour of every day. It offered a constant, ever-present reminder that I was his even when I wasn’t with him.

The chain kept me teetering on the brink of excitement all the time. I had to concentrate not to get aroused by it in the most non-arousing settings—such as department meetings and case briefings.

I wouldn’t have let Riley see the chain even if Ash hadn’t explicitly told me to keep it just between us.

Riley was my best friend, but she was the absolute last person on the planet I would ever want to explain this to.

Her eyes darted up to meet mine—and we both knew. I didn’t have to say a word.

“Who did it?” she blurted out.

I faced my locker. “Just a guy.”

“Who is he?” she demanded.

“No one you know. I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you down there.”

I grabbed my workout shorts, bra, and top and raced away to the bathroom where I could change out of my skirt without her seeing me.

This was going to get complicated. I wouldn’t be able to start changing in the bathroom every time for no apparent reason when I never had a problem changing in front of her before.

I changed in the bathroom this time, but I made up my mind while I was in there about how I would handle this tomorrow and every other day after that.

I would take off my skirt first and let my blouse hang over my hips to hide the chain. Then I would pull on my shorts and arrange them under my blouse to cover the chain.

Then, after I made sure Riley couldn’t see the chain, I would take off my blouse. That should solve the problem.

I flushed the toilet just to cover my story, washed my hands, and raced downstairs to the racquetball court.

My bra and top left my shoulders bare. Riley gave me some strange looks and her eyes kept darting to the two bite marks.

I restarted the conversation about Maynard Sutherland’s death and she served first. The game started.

I just hoped the discussion would take her mind off the bite marks enough to make her stop wondering where I got them.

End of Chapter 18.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 17 

__________________

I pushed myself up on my elbow and looked around for the second time. I was still lying in Ash’s bed—but facing him this time.

He was awake and looked up at me waiting for me to respond—or do something.

I stared down at him trying to figure this out. He was back to being his usual level-headed, easy-going self.

He lay on his side as relaxed as anyone could hope. He didn’t act dominant at all—not the way I understood it.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned. “What do you mean? I’m lying here.”

“But what are you doing? Why are you just lying there?”

“What would you like me to do?”

“You aren’t treating me like a submissive. You’re just….there.”

He laughed. “I’m here.”

I frowned again. I didn’t understand this.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Am I not acting dominant enough for you?”

“What would you do if I said yes?”

He laughed again, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there with his back to me and talked to me over his shoulder. “You have the day off work today. What would you like to do?”

I frowned at him. I couldn’t understand what he was doing or why he was acting like this.

He acted like we didn’t have a dynamic at all. He didn’t even act like we were dominant and submissive anymore.

Is that what last night was—the end of our dynamic? That sex we just had a few minutes ago seemed to suggest the exact opposite.

I opened my mouth and hesitated to say it. What if he took it the wrong way?

“Are you saying….are you saying I could do anything…like anything I wanted….and you would go along with it?”

“I’m not promising anything, but if it’s something within reason, I don’t see why not.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one deciding what we do?”

He laughed again without turning around. He got busy straightening out his socks and tossing them into the laundry basket in the corner. “I am the one deciding. I just need to know what you want to do so I can decide if that’s what we’re going to do.”

I opened my mouth for the second time, but I still didn’t say it. Should I?

He didn’t see me opening and closing my mouth like a fish while I tried to decide what to say.

I finally blurted out, “Where are you actually from?”

He spun around and frowned at me. “What do you want to know that for?”

“I don’t know anything about you. If you want to know what I want to do today, I would like to get to know you—really get to know you. I want to know everything about you—everything I don’t know about you.”

He burst into a beautiful smile, bent over, and kissed me on the cheek before he stood up and started pacing around the room doing something or other.

“I’m originally from Michigan,” he told me over his shoulder. “I was born and raised in Lansing, moved to the East Coast to go to college at Amherst, and moved here after graduation to pursue my business interests. All of that should be on public record. What else would you like to know?”

I studied him from behind. He went around picking up his clothes off the floor, straightening them out, hanging them in the closet, and putting his shoes away.

He showed no sign of being at all self-conscious about walking around naked in front of me. Why should he? I knew what he looked like. We just spent the night together.

“I guess that’s kinda the point,” I mumbled to myself. “I guess I want to know everything that isn’t public record.”

He smiled and actually blushed, but he didn’t turn to look at me. He looked down at his own hands coiling his belt into a circle.

“Anything you want to know about me, you only have to ask,” he replied over his shoulder. “I have nothing to hide from you.”

“Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He looked up, and seemingly for the first time, he looked right at me. He didn’t look away.

That look—it was definitely a dominant look.

He studied me across the room for a minute, came back, and stood over me while I still lay stretched out on the bed.

He dipped his chin once. “Get up.”

I didn’t know what he wanted me to do or why, but I understood his dominance.

I sat up on the edge of the bed. I was naked, too, so I guess that was how we were doing this now.

I looked up at him. Looking up at him from below seemed the most natural way to face him.

It made much more sense to deal with his dominance like this than to see him stretched out and relaxed on the bed like a normal man.

He slid his hand against my cheek and bent over to kiss me. That kiss built up higher….and hotter….and deeper….and stronger….

I got lost in that kiss…..until the moment when he slid his hand into my hair, clamped down hard into a fist, and pulled away.

His eyes blazed. My heart stopped when I stared up into those hard, dark eyes.

He didn’t slacken his grip on my hair. He straightened up, used his fist to pull me off the bed, and wrenched me down onto my knees in front of him.

He kept my head up so I had no choice but to look straight up into his eyes.

He towered over me glaring down at me smoldering in all his power. He could do anything like this. It could be something brutal. It could be something terrifying. It could be something mind-blowingly sexual.

“This is what I want to know about you,” he muttered under his breath. “This right here. Who do you belong to?”

“You!” I tried to say it out loud, but it came out as a cracked whisper.

“Who do you serve?”

“You!” I barely made any sound at all that time, but the word came from the bottom of my soul.

“Is this what you want—to kneel before me and feel that I own you?”

My lips said, Yes, but my throat hurt too much to make a sound.

“Do you want me to claim you—like this?”

Saying yes to that question hurt too much. Looking up at him like this felt like I might start crying.

I tried to kiss his hand, but he never let go of my hair.

“What will you do for me if I claim you?”

“Anything!” I whispered. “Anything!”

He unwound his fingers from my hair. He had to shake them loose from the tangles.

“Stay there,” he told me and walked off.

I buckled on my knees. The emotion of kneeling before him and saying those things cost me everything.

I never knew I could feel this for anyone—that I could offer myself to someone like this.

I never meant any words more. I never ached so much to make them true even if I didn’t know how.

He actually went downstairs and left me kneeling there. How long should I wait?

He came back upstairs carrying something in his hand. I couldn’t see it. Would it be another sex toy he planned to use on me?

He stopped in front of me and the same enthralling feeling overpowered me.

He really was free to do anything he wanted with me. If it was something brutal, if it was something terrifying, if it was something mind-blowingly sexual—I wanted it all as long as it came from him.

He opened his palm and fiddled with something in it with the fingers of his other hand. “Do you understand what a collar is?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” I choked.

He squatted down in front of me, spread out a long, delicate gold chain between his two hands, and looped it around my waist.

He clasped it at the front with a straight bar that fit through a ring on the other end. It hung cold and close against my skin. That feeling burned into me and left a mark that would never go away.

He stood up straight and clasped his hand behind my head again. His eyes bored into my deepest being.

“This is your chain—the chain that binds you to me and makes you mine. Never take it off under any circumstances unless it’s an emergency or you get my permission first. Do you understand? Keep it on in the shower—at work—when you sleep in your bed—always. If you ever take it off, I expect you to give me a damn good reason why.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”

“It’s less visible than a regular collar. No one will know about this but you and me—but know that this binds you to me always—no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing.”

My throat constricted. This was huge.

I couldn’t face him like this. The emotions became too much to bear.

I looked down at his feet while I forced out the words, “May I….May I please kiss your hand?”

“Of course.”

He held out his hand. I never felt such emotion as when I clasped his hand, shut my eyes, and kissed the back of his knuckles. I never wanted to be anything but his.

This bond—it exceeded any of the so-called love I experienced for any man I ever dated. It grew into something all-consuming and unbearably, almost painfully important.

He cupped my chin and raised my face to look straight into my eyes. His features actually trembled and his voice broke in a low, husky rasp. “I have never been prouder of any submissive ever. You have honored me beyond anything I ever thought possible. You are a blessing and a treasure. I look forward to every question you can ask me and every new layer of your heart I can uncover. I hope you are the last submissive I ever take—and I swear to you I will do everything to make that happen as long as you still want to do this.”

I couldn’t bear to hear those words and I couldn’t look at him with those words hanging in the air. I wrapped my arms around his knees and held on for dear life.

This felt like the best place in the world to me—the place I most belonged.

His hand fell on my head. He didn’t try to make me stand up or let go.

End of Chapter 17.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 16

____________

I floundered out of a deep sleep and squinted the dust out of my eyes. I didn’t feel right—and my brain didn’t seem to be working right.

I tried to sit up and felt a heavy weight holding me down. I frowned at my surroundings trying to recognize where I was and how I got here—and why I found it so difficult to move.

I didn’t recognize what I was seeing at first….and then I realized I was in Ash’s bedroom.

I lay on his bed on my side with his arm draped over me from behind. His arm weighed a ton and held me down. He wasn’t moving.

I tried one hopeless time to squirm out from under it, but I only wound up turning over onto my other side to face him.

He lay curled up on his side, sound asleep, in the same position in which I fell asleep last night—after our date. He brought me to his room—and we spent the night here. Did this mean what I thought it meant?

I didn’t even know what I thought it meant, but it must mean something.

He didn’t wake up. I stayed lying on my side watching his sleep.

He always kept every detail of his appearance immaculately neat. Now his hair got tussled and fell over his eyes.

The muscles of his chest crunched together in the center when his shoulders curled together to cross his chest. He looked like a completely different person lying here.

He actually looked like a real person, not some icon chiseled out of marble the way I always thought of him.

He never seemed like a real person before—not like someone who would sleep with his hair over his eyes like this.

I didn’t know anything about this person. I didn’t know his habits or his idiosyncrasies. I didn’t know what he liked to do to make himself comfortable or what about his daily life annoyed him.

I didn’t know his favorite foods or how he liked his coffee or what he dreamed about or even anything about his background.

I really knew nothing about him. He kept all of that hidden from me—or maybe he only kept it to himself because I never asked.

That one was on me. I never found out anything about him before we started on this…whatever it was we were doing.

Did him bringing me here mean the start of that? Was that what he intended by bringing me here?

I wouldn’t know unless I asked, so I snuggled into his arms and cuddled right up to him.

His arms hung heavy. Everything about him felt soft and heavy. It took all my strength just to move one of his arms and put it over my shoulder.

He didn’t respond and he didn’t wake up. I burrowed closer and kissed him.

He didn’t respond at first—not until I started touching him, caressing him, stroking him, and squeezing him all over his body.

I ran my fingertips down his back, around his waist, stroked my hands up his chest to his shoulders, down to his thighs, and around to squeeze his ass.

He woke up eventually—but he woke up slowly. He started to respond to my kisses. I stroked his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes, but he didn’t open them—not yet.

His arms came to life and wrapped around to me to pull me against him. My body touched his.

The feeling of his body all naked against mine brought back all the passionate desire of last night. My body still felt raw and ached from our session.

My nipples felt especially sensitive. Rubbing them against his chest turned me on again.

I put my thigh over his legs to try to rub against him. Maybe if he felt how wet I was, he would wake up and reciprocate….just a little bit.

I kissed him deeper. He responded more as he woke up.

Without warning, he lunged off the bed, tackled me backward onto the mattress, grabbed my hand off his shoulder, and pinned it down hard.

I stared up at him—and found him staring straight into my eyes. He was wide awake and totally alert.

“You don’t get to do that without asking first,” he growled.

I froze staring up at him. I thought he was too asleep—or maybe I thought this was a special circumstance because he brought me to his room. I thought wrong.

He pulled my arm above my head, locked my wrist in a painfully tight grip, and grabbed my other hand to hold that wrist in the same hand above my head.

“You didn’t think you could break the rules, did you?” he muttered.

I gulped. His eyes flashed with all the dangerous fire of last night.

“No, Sir,” I squeaked.

“What did you think you were doing—touching me like that?”

I blinked up at him trying to get my brain working. The way he was looking at me shut down all rational thought.

I didn’t know what I was thinking except that I wanted him. I wanted to touch him and kiss him and get close to him—and maybe excite him enough to do it with me again.

“I asked you a question,” he snarled. “Did you think you could just do whatever you wanted with me? Is that what you thought? I’m the one who does what I want with you—not the other way around. You said you understood that. Did you miss understand something?”

“No, Sir,” I whimpered.

The tight, crushing grip of his hands on my wrists hurt, but the ferocious glare in his eyes really started to turn me on. This was last night all over again—except that I just spent the night in his bed.

This was the first time he ever expressed any displeasure in anything I did—and holy shit, was it hot!

He grabbed my thigh, rotated me away from him to turn me on my other side with my back to him, and pushed my leg up so my ass stuck out toward him.

He never let go of my wrists. He wrenched them higher and pulled my hip to draw my ass against his body.

“Do you want to know what happens when subs like you think they can turn the tables on their doms and start taking over?” he growled in my ear.

My voice spiked off the charts. “No, Sir!” I squealed.

“They learn their lesson the hard way,” he snarled low—and he drove his hips into my ass from behind. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“No, Sir!” I scrambled to say the right thing. “Please…..”

“Please what?” He bumped my ass against his pelvis—and ran his long, thick, rock-hard cock up between my ass cheeks. How did he get so hard so fast?

“Please….” My voice broke. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

The idea of him punishing me for something I did wrong—that part of it didn’t bother me nearly so much as the idea that I actually did do something wrong.

I broke one of his rules. I couldn’t think of anything worse than that.

“I didn’t mean to….” I stammered. “I thought……”

“What did you think?” he snapped. “Did you think you suddenly became something other than my submissive?”

“No!” I squealed, but right then, he angled his hips downward and stroked his cock between my thighs instead.

He definitely felt how wet I was then. He plowed his thick shaft between my swollen pussy lips, spread them to glide my wetness over his rigid prick, and forced my tissues apart.

He could have stabbed straight into me if he only tilted his hips just a fraction of an inch lower—but of course he didn’t.

I gasped and then practically screamed as his veiny meat pushed up against my sensitive flesh. Everything he did to me last night left me quivering on the brink of insanity.

I couldn’t decide if it hurt or felt good. It did both—and both felt mind-blowingly hot.

I arched my ass back into that stroke and tried to spiral my hips to take him inside. This was exactly what I wanted from him, but he had other ideas.

“Do you really think you can fuck me?!” he snapped. “Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“NO!” I shrieked, but he didn’t give me a chance to change my mind.

He scooped up both my legs in his free arm, hooked his elbow under my knees to hold my legs together, and lifted my whole body off the bed—all except my wrists.

He angled his body slightly higher and put his weight on the hand holding my wrists. He pinned them down extra hard so there was absolutely no way I could break free.

He picked up all the rest of my weight, pulled my thighs and knees together tight against my chest, and drove my ass down on his prick.

His shaft slid between my dripping pussy lips one more time and made me scream again.

He stroked in a second time, and this time, he positioned my body so he could stab in full force.

He didn’t even try to do it gently. His shaft split me in half and he slammed against my ass extra hard.

“This is what happens,” he snarled. “This is how you learn who fucks who in this dynamic. Do you feel that?”

He drove in hard again and then started working in a steadily escalating rhythm that never stopped.

He controlled all my movements with his arm around my legs. I couldn’t move at all. He did everything himself and used my body to fuck himself with my pussy.

His arms clamped around me in a death grip. The harder he held me, the more he squeezed my legs right up against my chest.

That position bent my ass all the way back and left my pussy completely unprotected against his thrusts. He took full advantage of my helplessness to fuck me as hard as he wanted.

I screamed again and again. His brutal thrusts excited all the trembling nerve endings he mistreated last night.

No one had ever fucked me like this—but this was exactly what I wanted. This was the whole reason I asked to learn from him in the first place—so I could feel this—this feeling of being taken—used—owned—controlled—overpowered.

He pounded in unbelievably hard building up speed and power. His thickness drove me to my breaking point and beyond it.

My whole body lay broken and raw for him to take me to the skies on any brutal, twisted, sadistic thing he did to me.

“Do you feel that?” he snapped over my screams. “Do you feel what it feels like for a man to fuck you?”

“YES!!” I shrieked.

“Who fucks you?” he barked.

“YOU!!” I screamed.

“Who decides when and how you get fucked? Huh?” He slammed in again and again to punctuate every word.

“YOU DO!!”

“You’re damn right I do.” He rotated higher onto his knees and planted his left arm on the mattress right there at the angle of my knees. His arm held my legs bent all the way up to my shoulders.

He pivoted on top of me while I lay on my side. He drilled in deep and hard enough to make the whole mattress bounce with me on top of it.

My body jolted upward with every jackhammering stroke. His muscles strained holding me in that position.

One arm extended over his head to pin my wrists down. My hands hurt, but the force of his thrusts and the cruel way he held me down turned me on beyond anything I ever experienced before.

He widened his knees to give himself extra leverage—and then he dove his mouth down to my shoulder and bit me hard.

I screamed again as the pain spiked me out of my mind, but the torrential orgasms from last night came back with a vengeance.

He growled through his teeth was his bite tightened. That growl got louder with the ever-increasing intensity of his thrusts—and then he slammed in hard and his cum flooded me to overflowing.

He roared through his teeth without letting go. The feeling of him holding me in an animal bite while he ravaged my body—it fulfilled so many hidden, forbidden fantasies.

He released his mouth from my shoulder, but he wouldn’t stop pumping into me even as his jiz bubbled out of me around his shaft.

He snarled at me through his teeth as he stroked in the last delicious inches.

I couldn’t stop wailing and whining as each devastating wave of bliss pulsed outward from his shaft. He lit me on fire. Those brutal snarls told me more clearly than his words ever could that he was the one who did the fucking in this dynamic.

He was the one who fucked me—not the other way around.

I learned the hard way. I would never forget that lesson.

I was still sobbing and moaning in orgasmic ecstasy when he let his weight fall back down on the mattress.

He fell in front of me this time, let go with his hands and arms, and pulled me against him.

He kept growling and groaning when he closed his hand on the back of my skull, steered my head alongside his, and buried his hot mouth in my neck.

His other arm clamped around my ribs and held me there.

His prick still dripped with our combined juices—and his cum oozed out of my puffy, saturated slit.

He kept snarling and grumbling like an old bear kissing down my neck—and then he sank his teeth into my shoulder again.

This bite landed in the fleshy place on the upper back of my shoulder toward my neck. He didn’t bite down as hard this time. He just sank his teeth into me and held me there.

I squealed in a combination of shock and surprise—but the feeling of his bite excited me right back to the same pitch of desire and pleasure as before.

I could have taken his cock just as hard all over again if he really wanted to take me—but he didn’t.

I gasped and thrashed in his bite, but he didn’t release me. I couldn’t bring myself to tear out of his mouth.

That would have hurt, but I didn’t want to break away.

That bite communicated so clearly, so intensely that I really was his. It communicated it at a much deeper, more base level than words ever could.

He listed to me whining and yelping from the power of that bite. I thrashed in his arms for him to take me, release me, and save me from this all at the same time.

He released me in his own time when he got good and ready to. When he did, he threw his head back, shut his eyes, and grumbled again in deep satisfaction.

His body started to soften again like he might want to go back to sleep.

I wanted his attention to satisfy this craving for him, but his recent reaction stopped me from going that far.

I didn’t trust myself to crawl up there and kiss him—or to initiate anything else—but I needed him too badly not to do something.

I would almost rather face his displeasure than keep away from him, so I burrowed deeper into his arms and rested my face against his chest.

He growled again, caught me by the back of the head, and hugged me tighter into him.

I sank into his arms and shut my eyes. The bliss of knowing I was his overpowered everything else.

End of Chapter 16.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 15

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Ash led me up the stairs to his apartment. I knew the place so well by now—or so I thought.

He didn’t turn on the lights this time. I had never seen it in darkness before.

Nighttime streetlamps shone on a traffic sign above the other buildings in this neighborhood. The light shone through the living room windows where daylight always shone during my previous visits.

The light gave just enough of a glow for him to find his way to the stairs.

I expected him to take me back to the same bedroom where I stayed last time. He didn’t go in there. He kept walking down the same hall to the far end.

I should have realized that room was just a random room—a guest room, probably. So why did it have restraints attached to the bed?

Maybe he put them there especially for my visit—or maybe whatever guests stayed here never found out he kept restraints, vibrators, and random sex toys under the bed.

I didn’t know what to think until he turned off into a door at the far end of the hall. I realized the minute we walked into it that this must be Ash’s bedroom—his inner sanctum.

This room was easily five times the size of the other bedroom—the only other bedroom I had seen in this apartment. A huge king-sized bed sat against the back wall.

It was so obviously a man’s bed. All the furnishings in the room followed a muted, natural color palette of dark browns with a few tans and the occasional beige thrown in.

Another huge bank of windows looked out over the city in the other direction. A sprawling leather couch sat in front of the window with another low coffee table between the windows and the couch.

This coffee table had a black marble top instead of white like the one downstairs.

The rest of the enormous room was wide, spacious, and empty. It gave the room a magnificent, luxurious feel.

He turned around and walked backward to lead into the room as soon as we crossed the threshold. His eyes told me loud and clear that this was it.

The dress, the dinner date, both times playing in the car—it all led up to this moment. We were crossing a line here by coming into his bedroom.

I didn’t know what I did to make him take this step, but I guess I was about to find out.

He stopped me in the middle of the room—in the middle of the open space. There was nothing around me—no restraint points, no table, no couch—nothing.

He held my eyes while he very slowly, very gently, very deliberately slid my dress straps off my shoulders. They tickled down my arms and made me shiver.

He slid the straps down as far as my bra, unclipped it, and kept sliding the dress down, down, down, hooked my panties, and eventually pushed everything off onto the floor.

He stayed down there on his knees and took my shoes off. I sank onto my bare feet, completely naked except for the leather cuffs.

I expected him to use them restrain me, but he only locked his eyes on me and unbuckled the cuffs next.

They vanished out of my existence and left me feeling even more exposed. So he didn’t plan to restrain me—not with the cuffs, at least.

He surprised me out of my mind by closing both hands around my face and kissing me deeper than deep.

His breath blew into my nostrils as the passion of that kiss expanded and escalating getting hotter by the second.

I raised my hands to touch him back and maybe put my arms around his neck.

I stopped myself in time, though. Whatever we were doing here, I didn’t have his permission to do any of that—not the way I did last time. This was a completely different ball game.

He touched me, but he kept it strictly superficial. He stroked my arms, ran his hand down my back and up to my neck, combed his fingers through my hair, and pulled me closer by wrapping his arms around my waist.

His tongue lit me on fire. I felt myself getting turned on again—or maybe this was just the residual energy from the car.

He eased back, kissed me lightly a few times, and eased back.

He left me shivering with desire. All that play in the car left me extra sensitive and ready for more.

I never dreamed I could have that many orgasms one right after the other—just from him telling me I could.

He clasped both my hands and stared deep into my eyes—and then he let go of my hands.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he told me.

I raised my arms and laced my fingers behind my head. Standing like that exposed my breasts—the way they would be if my hands had been restrained above my head.

“Keep your arms up like that,” he told me. “Don’t put them down until I tell you to. Okay?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He raised his hand and passed his palm back and forth across my nipples again. “Did you like that? Did that make your nipples extra sensitive?”

I gasped and then started whining in desperation at the sensation. The clamps left my nipples raw and painful. He only made it worse by flicking them the way he did.

Just him touching them made them smart again, but that sensation turned me on so much I couldn’t stand it.

He stood back watching me quake and grimace as the energy built to the breaking point. Was I about to orgasm like this?

I trembled on the verge of catastrophe. Every fiber of my being told me to put my arms down to protect myself from this.

I couldn’t put my arms down. This overwhelming feeling kept me captive. I couldn’t break out of it—not as long as he held me here.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he murmured. “You like cumming for me, don’t you?”

I screamed as another spike of excitement went through me, but I didn’t cum—not yet. I dangled over the precipice staring down at my own destruction.

Out of nowhere, he pinched my nipple—the left one. I screamed—not because he pinched hard—but from the extra stimulation.

My stomach contracted, but I still kept my arms above my head.

He only did it once before he pulled away. He walked off and left me standing there moaning and sobbing for….something.

I couldn’t tell if I was moaning for release or for more of whatever he wanted to do to me.

He paced around me in a circle the way he did that first night. His sharp eyes flashed at me when he passed in front of me.

He watched me shake and whimper from all these torturous feelings breaking out of me.

He stopped behind me and grabbed my ass in a hard, firm, crushing grip. He leaned in close to my ear and snarled low in a deadly voice.

“You’re mine,” he hissed. “Do you understand? You’re all mine to take whenever I please. Do you hear that? I’m going to do as I please with you and have my way with you. You belong to me now, body and soul.”

That voice set my hair on end. He never talked to me like this before. He sounded as dangerous and cruel as Graham or maybe even worse.

All the dark, forbidden things I ever feared or fantasized about or thought were too outrageous for me to even consider—they all existed in that voice.

That was the moment when I realized. He really was capable of anything. He was capable of the worst depravities I could possibly imagine. They all lay buried beneath his polished, controlled exterior.

I screamed again when he said it. I didn’t know why—except that it was true.

For some reason I couldn’t even define, I belonged to him. I could walk out that door right now. He didn’t have to tie me up. He didn’t have to blindfold me.

His word—his order to stand still—he didn’t need to bind me with anything else. I couldn’t walk away now.

That realization should have scared me, but it didn’t. His voice didn’t scare me, either. It excited the crap out of me. It excited me because it scared me.

He went back to pacing around me….and around me….and around me. I didn’t let myself look him in the eye. I didn’t want to see him glaring at me with that predatory look.

It was bad enough I was standing in front of him stark naked with my hands behind my head. He could already see that I was his to do whatever he wanted with. Looking into his eyes would have wrecked me.

He walked away behind me. I didn’t dare to turn around to see what he was doing.

I trembled in anticipation when I heard him coming up behind me. I expected him to stay behind me where I couldn’t see what was coming.

I almost wished he would have stayed behind me when he stepped around me and stopped in front of me holding a black leather riding crop. He held it down next to his leg.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked in a dangerous undertone.

I couldn’t look at him or the crop, so I looked away and whimpered, “Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want me to hurt you with this?” he hissed.

“No, Sir,” I whined.

“Do you remember what I told you—that how much pain you receive is my decision?”

My voice cracked with buried sobs. “Yes, Sir.”

He paced back and forth in front of me, but he didn’t raise the crop. “You just heard me say I’m going to do whatever I want to you. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I choked.

“Did you think you would like someone using nipple clamps on you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He raised the crop and pointed it at my chest. “This body is mine to play with. This body is mine to tease…..and to make you cum…..and to hurt you whenever and however I please. Is that clear to you?”

I clamped my eyes shut and grimaced in despair—mostly because it was so true.

I could only moan, “Yes, Sir.”

He strode to one side and stopped two feet to my left. I couldn’t look to see what he was going to do with the crop.

He would probably whip me black and blue with it. I was the idiot who had to sign up to find out what it meant to be a masochist. What else would it mean if not this?

He raised the crop and flicked the stiff shaft up and down across my raw, sensitive, erect nipples. The sensation started lightly with gentle taps getting stronger as he flicked them harder.

The soft little bumps at first just flooded me with blissful pleasure. They felt like his hands flicking those clamps only much less painful.

He escalated slowly and switched back and forth from one nipple to the other. It started to hurt, but not as much as the clamps themselves or even him sucking or caressing my nipples after he took the clamps off.

The stimulation blasted me out of my mind. I screamed—and orgasmed beyond anything I thought possible. I couldn’t stop.

For some reason, standing helpless before him turned me on even more than being restrained. I stood helpless before him, but I did it willingly.

That on its own made this so much more arousing. He held me with his words, with his eyes, and with his will alone.

He kept going, but he eased off the pressure and let me power down from that orgasm. He didn’t keep going until it actually hurt.

He lowered the crop and paced around me in a circle while he watched me spasm and jolt every time another tiny explosion of desire and release went off in me.

He passed behind me—and smacked the crop against my thigh.

He didn’t do it hard enough to hurt. It felt more like a love pat or a light spank—just enough to let me know he was there.

He did the same thing on my other thigh from behind and then swatted both of my thighs from the front as he passed me.

These strikes felt more like he was staking his claim on me—just to prove he could.

I yelped every time he did it—not because it hurt because it didn’t. The simple fact that he was imprinting his will on me—this was everything I ever fantasized about.

He circled one more time, stopped in front of me, and glared down at me shaking and gasping in front of him.

I looked up—and his eyes caught me. I couldn’t look away.

He raised the crop again and started tapping the leather flap against my pussy. “Spread your legs,” he told me.

I stepped apart to give him more space. He tapped harder and made me moan.

He built up the intensity hitting harder and harder. It started to hurt—and then I dissolved in another orgasm.

He stopped escalating as soon as it happened. He powered down, but he didn’t stop striking.

He said he would whip my pussy, make me raw and painful, and then fuck me like that. Just thinking that made me scream in ecstasy. Was that where this was going?

The very thought drove me wild. I wanted him to make it hurt. I wanted every single one of those strikes—no matter how soft—to stamp him into my flesh. I couldn’t think of anything more erotic than that.

He backed off as soon as I orgasmed. He kept tapping, but he did it lightly so I could slump in moaning, sobbing, excruciating turmoil. How much more could I take?

He walked away and disappeared behind me again. What would it be this time?

Why did I even think he would do anything so cruel and inhuman as beating me black and blue? I knew him better than that.

He came back and stopped in front of me again. He leveled me with another hard look—like he really needed to get my attention for whatever he did next.

He put his hands in his pants pockets, waited another second….and started taking off his jacket.

I froze when he threw his jacket on the bed behind me—and started unbuttoning his shirt. Was this really happening?

He locked his eyes on me when he pulled his shirt and tie off and threw them on the bed, too. He tugged his belt loose and kicked off his shoes so he stood in front of me in nothing but his pants.

I didn’t know what this meant, but whatever it is must be big.

He took a step toward me and went down on his knees in front of me. I didn’t have a clue what he would do.

He started fingering my pussy, but not in a way that would stimulate me.

All those strikes from the crop left me swollen and barely holding it together. He prodded my clitoris and overwhelmed me with a combination of pleasure and pain.

I didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish—until something pinched my clitoris. It tightened around the most sensitive little nub at the very center of my pussy—and whatever that thing was did not let go.

It felt like a clamp—but not a clamp.

I screamed as the intense sensation consumed me. I couldn’t get rid of it. I didn’t understand it. It erased all my ability to understand anything that was happening to me.

Ash stood up in front of me, and before I even had a chance to think about what was happening, he hooked one arm behind my back, pulled me against him, ripped his fly open, picked up one of my legs, and drilled into me slow, deep, and hard.

I screamed again as his shaft broke me open. Whatever that thing was holding onto my clitoris drove me out of my mind.

He held one arm under my leg to spread me open for his thrusts, but he always kept it slow, deep, and unbelievably hard.

“Hold onto me,” he panted as he picked up speed.

My arms fell down to his shoulders without me even trying. I couldn’t stop screaming as his cock drove me to the limit.

My head fell on his chest, but he grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head up to make me look at him.

I was cumming too hard to see straight—until he kissed me. His tongue burrowed into my mouth and crumbled the last barrier.

I collapsed in his arms sobbing and shrieking from the intensity of my own orgasms. I couldn’t stop for anything.

He pulled off my mouth—and then his eyes consumed me in so much emotion that I almost cried.

He was actually doing it. He took me. He brought me to the edge and took me.

I really was his. All that talk in the car and in the restaurant—he didn’t just say it to turn me on. He really meant it.

His words came back to me from the very first time he restrained me.

I’m gonna take you…..I’m gonna use your body until you don’t know anything but me. I’m gonna make you scream until you can’t see straight. I’m gonna make you beg me to own you, body and soul.

He actually did it. He didn’t do it then, but he did it. He said in the car that he would make me cum, but not right then.

This was the same thing. He said he would and he did, just not right then when he said so.

All this time, he’d been building up toward this.

He could have taken me that very first night in the club. I probably would have let him and I probably would have loved it.

He didn’t want it like that, though. He wanted this. He wanted to know I was fully his to do whatever he wanted with me.

He wanted to know he owned me.

I couldn’t stop orgasming right up until the moment when he stopped. I didn’t even see him cum. Did he? I was too out of my mind to notice.

He pulled out, picked me up in his arms, and carried me over to the bed—his bed.

He laid me on it still roaring in torrential convulsions. The clamp or whatever it was stimulated my clit to ragged ecstasy.

He left me lying there screaming and thrashing while he kicked his pants onto the floor.

Then he rotated onto his knees, spread my thighs in front of him, and took off whatever it was.

I curled over on my side practically crying from relief….and something else. This was beyond anything I ever saw coming. It shattered everything I knew about myself—about him—about us.

I never thought meeting with him would turn into this. I thought he went into this with some kind of clinical detachment. I didn’t think any of this meant anything to him. I thought that was why he never did it with me.

He curled in behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my neck. His mouth and hot breath made me spasm with another jolt of passion, but he didn’t take it any further.

His naked body surrounded me in warmth. I didn’t even need a blanket because he was here.

I huddled in his arms and shut my eyes. I couldn’t deal with anything right now—but I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to do anything but close my eyes and sink beneath the dark waves.

End of Chapter 15.

A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 14

________________

Ash stopped me next to his car, took both my hands, and turned me to face him.

He peered deep into my eyes. “I’m changing the rules starting tonight, baby. From now on, you don’t need my permission to orgasm. I want you to orgasm at will—whenever you feel like it.”

I blinked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes. We already know you can have multiple orgasms. I want you to have as many as you want. Do you understand?”

I lowered my eyes and mumbled, “Yes, Sir.” I couldn’t look at him.

He opened the passenger door for me to get in, shut it, and went around to his side.

I wasn’t even surprised when he took the cuffs out of the glove box. I didn’t wait for him to tell me to before I held out my wrists so he could buckle the cuffs on.

He clipped the snaffle to one D-ring, but instead of hooking the snaffle over the grab handle, he leaned in and kissed me.

He kissed me deep and hard and hot until he made me gasp in rapidly escalating desire. He said we would go back to his apartment after dinner. What would happen there?

His eyes told me all I needed to know when he leaned back enough for me to see him. He held me captive with those eyes while eased down the spaghetti straps of my dress.

I was wearing a strapless bra underneath. He unclipped it and pushed both my bra and the dress down to my waist.

I shivered when the air hit my skin. My nipples immediately started to harden.

He passed his warm palm back and forth across both of them to tease them even more erect. He never looked away from my eyes once and took in every shiver and moan as I writhed on the seat in front of him.

He waited a long time before he leaned back in his seat and clipped my wrists together over the grab handle, but he still didn’t start the motor. He pulled out something else from his jacket pocket. God only knew what else he had in there.

He opened a small Ziplock baggie and pulled out two small clips. They looked like an electrician’s alligator clamps.

I stiffened when he extended his hands toward me. He had me at his mercy now with my chest exposed.

I could only stare in shock when he took hold of one of my breasts and clipped one of the clamps to my nipple.

It bit into my sensitive skin hard enough to hurt, but not enough to do more than make me gasp. It actually felt like someone sucking my nipples really hard.

The sensation turned me on beyond belief. I squealed in a combination of surprise and overwhelming passion as the sensation swept over me.

He clamped the other clip to my other nipple and sat back to watch me writhe and spasm on the seat.

I tugged my wrists against the cuffs, but I couldn’t move my arms to ease the sensation. I could only sit there gasping and grimacing on the seat.

I couldn’t cope with the sensation. It hurt, but in the most erotic way I could ever have imagined. I never dreamed it would feel like this.

Ash pushed up my dress, slipped his hand between my thighs, and before I even had time to think about what he was doing, he burrowed all the way up inside my panties.

His fingers drilled into me and that sensation exploded me into an bone-crushing orgasm.

I screamed out loud thrashing and squirming on his fingers. He didn’t stop plunging them all the way into me.

The clamps excited me out of my mind. The sensation somehow turned off my rational brain and plunged me into this endless sea of ravenous hungry need.

“That’s right,” he growled in my face. “That’s right. Cum for me. Let me see you cum for me. That’s good. You love that, don’t you? You want me to make you scream for it, don’t you? That’s right. I’m gonna make you scream like you’ve never screamed before. I’m gonna fuck you until you never forget me.”

I barely heard him over my own moans and shrieks. I couldn’t move except to keep twisting in all directions trying to survive this torrent of blissful desire.

That’s what this was—desire. I ached for him even as he brought me to orgasm. I needed more and more. One orgasm would never be enough.

He slipped his fingers out and left me sobbing in agony on the seat. That was the moment when I knew beyond any doubt. He was only getting started.

He would drive me to his apartment. That’s when our real session would start. This was just the warm-up.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out something small, black, and cylindrical. I didn’t get a good look at it until he put his hand back between my legs and slipped whatever it was into my quivering channel.

It filled me just as full as his fingers. He pushed it into place and a ridge around the base locked it inside me. My bones held it there so it didn’t slip out.

He massaged it deeper into me, circled his thumb over my clitoris, and made me howl as another catastrophic wave of orgasm hit me.

“You sit on that and ride it on the way back to my place,” he murmured. “I want you to feel me inside you all the way home. Do you feel me fucking you like this?”

I screamed again as a fresh wave of excruciating pleasure wiped me out. He pushed the cylinder deeper in and excited all my inner nerve endings before he pulled away.

He watched me jolting and quaking for a minute—and then he faced the steering wheel, turned the motor, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove out onto the street.

The car’s vibrations translated through the seat, through this thing inside me, and made me cum again.

I couldn’t stop myself from riding down on it. Every rotation of my ass on the seat drove it in.

He was fucking me like this. The clamps stimulated my nipples as though he really was playing with my breasts and sucking my nipples while he fucked me.

He stopped at a traffic light, took his hand off the steering wheel, and flicked the clamps one after another while he waited for the light to change.

Those casual flicks exploded me apart with another blast of searing pain, but they excited me beyond anything I’d ever experienced.

I couldn’t stop screaming. Was this actually happening to me?

I knew what nipple clamps were before tonight. I never imagined they could feel like this.

The light changed and he went back to driving. The vibrations through my pussy sent me spinning off into the stratosphere. Could anyone outside the car hear me?

He could definitely hear me. My screams echoed through the car. They sounded deafening in such a confined space.

I barely realized what was happening when he pulled into the garage downstairs from his apartment building. He parked and switched off the motor, but that didn’t help me calm down.

The same stimulation kept blasting me out of my mind. Just sitting here on this seat made me climax again and again. What the hell was happening to me?

He bent over me and I screamed again when he unclipped both clamps. The sensation of him unclipping them skyrocketed off the charts to something even more mind-blowing than when he put them on.

He tipped all the way over me and sucked my nipples one after the other. He inhaled them in deep, hot, wet mouthfuls while he rubbed his hand between my legs.

I arched back trying in every possible way to contain this volcanic feeling of endless passion breaking out of me. His mouth drove me insane—and then he started circling his thumb on my clitoris while he rubbed that cylinder deeper into my pussy.

I rocked my hips against his hand. My mind kept telling me to pull it together so I would stop orgasming, but my body wouldn’t listen.

My body responded to everything he did. I couldn’t stop pumping into his hand again and again even when I told myself to stop.

The heat and electric thrill rushing upward through my channel and spreading through my body—it wouldn’t stop until he pulled the cylinder out of me.

It popped out from behind my bones—and that’s when I saw that it wasn’t a cylinder at all. It was some kind of penis-shaped sex toy—and now it dripped with my juices.

I was moaning and squirming too much to see what he did with….well, all of it.

The nipple clamps and the toy vanished out of my life—for now, at least.

He unclipped my wrists, but he didn’t take the cuffs off. He left them on when he pulled my dress and bra back into place and looped the straps over my shoulders.

My body seethed and twitched from so much energy coursing through me. I felt like I might burst into tears from the excruciating intensity of what he made me feel just on this one car ride.

He got out and walked around the car to open my door for me.

I couldn’t look at him when I got out. He shut the door, took my hand, and led me out of the garage. We were on our way inside to his apartment. We were on our way to the main event.

End of Chapter 14.