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.
