Another way (2 page)

When she fell pregnant with twins, however, things between the three of us became strained. I wasn’t happy with giving up on a D/s relationship I’d given two and a half years of my life to, but even I could accept that she just couldn’t continue to take on the responsibility of a submissive when she’d soon have two babies to care for.

That was when she suggested that I meet Will.

Despite my submersion into the world of bondage and discipline, I’d never really been a member of the wider community, even though Laura was. I’d heard his name before in conversation, but I’d never met the man until I was forced to choose between subbing for Will or being alone. My initial reaction to her suggestion was no—there was no way I was going to submit to another man. My previously open thoughts, when pushed, backfired on me.

And then I met him. Will was charismatic and kind, and he was funny and nice and had an inner steel that was apparent even over beers in a regular bar downtown. I immediately liked him as a person, and we agreed to meet again, as friends, to see how our relationship panned out.

“I’ll push you,” he said one night, “in ways that Laura has never pushed you before, just by the sheer nature of our relationship. But I think it’s something you should consider.”

The chemistry between us was undeniable, and in the back of my mind I was curious. I ended up taking two weeks’ vacation from work, lying to my girlfriend as to my whereabouts, and moving in with Will. Those were, without any doubt, the most intense two weeks of my life.

When they were done, I moved out again, back to my own apartment, and he told me that if I wanted to continue our relationship, I should be waiting for him, on my knees, the following Saturday. I was there, and our relationship started to grow over the following eight months.

“What are you thinking about so intently, Jesse?” Master asked while tipping my chin up with his finger so I was looking at him.

“You, Master,” I said truthfully. “About how I came to be yours.”

Master smiled, and I could see his inner warmth, despite all the pressure he put on me to perform for him. “You always know what to say,” he said with a slight laugh, and reached down to stroke my cheek gently.

Instead of helping me to stand this time, Master had me follow him on my knees to the south wall, and I rose to standing by resting my shoulders on the knee supports of the bench and pushing back onto my feet. Once I was upright, Master bent me over by placing one hand on my chest and another on my lower back, forcing me to bend over facedown on the bench. He quickly restrained my ankles and then began to work a length of rope around my waist, between my legs, and back up to attach to my restrained arms and wrists.

Master took hold of my hands, making sure my circulation was still good, then left me for a moment to go and select a toy. I took slow breaths, reminding myself that he’d never really hurt me before, not beyond my limits, and that I trusted him implicitly.

His soft footfalls signified his return to my side, and from this position of my chest pressed into the bench, I could feel every thundering beat of my heart. I wondered if he’d show me the toy first, or if he’d just hit me, or if he’d run it over my body. Maybe he’d put it between my fingers or my lips or my legs….

There was a dull thud across my backside, followed by a familiar warmth as blood rushed to the area. Master trailed the flogger across my ass and thighs, the ends of the soft suede tickling slightly before the sensation disappeared, and I prepared myself for the next blow.

“Let me hear you, Jesse,” Master commanded, and with the next fall of the flogger, I let out a low moan.

From the position I was restrained in, he could only aim his blows across my ass and thighs—not that I was complaining. Rather than hurting, the sensations he caused just turned me on, more than I was before, and especially while he was only warming me up with light thuds. Too soon, though, he stopped, and I couldn’t help but whimper at the loss.

“Don’t worry, it’s not the end,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

Rather than letting me down, Master left me in position and released my arms from the cuffs, leaving them around my wrists and retying them to the bottom legs of the bench. I was now stretched out with my back exposed to him, and Master retied the ropes so my thighs and biceps were included in the intricate web.

He disappeared for a moment, and I was left alone with my thoughts again, although this time they didn’t stray far from the feeling of friction around my body and how I could wriggle to make the rope chafe against me. Then he was back, demanding that I open and sliding the ball gag into my mouth, securing the straps around my face so they were tight but not biting into my skin.

I was dubious the first time he gagged me; it wasn’t something Laura was fond of because it limited my ability to stick my tongue in her pussy. But Master liked it, so it was something I frequently found pressed between my teeth, forcing my mouth open and my tongue down. He pressed a soft, red square of fabric into my hand; since I couldn’t shout
red
at him (my safeword), which would make him stop whatever he was doing, dropping the cloth would have the same effect.

Another thing I had learned was to never predict what Master would do next. Just when I was expecting him to pick up the flogger again and start laying into my back, I felt his well-oiled hands come down on my shoulders. He gently rubbed them, easing out my tension, and I relaxed under his skillful manipulation of my muscles. It seemed like he had used some kind of warming oil, because it was leaving an amazing tingling sensation on my skin.

After his hands left me, I felt a trickle of warm liquid that started at my spine and slid down between my ass cheeks. From there I felt tiny amounts slide down between the hairs on my thighs, pushing me into a frenzied need. I jerked my hips forward, but there was no relief, nothing for me to buck up against, and my whimpers were now those of frustration.

I couldn’t relax, not really, even as his hands came down and continued to knead my back, along my spine, and down my biceps, eventually working down to my waist and lower, gently rubbing the skin that he’d beaten not so long before.

“Are you okay, Jesse?” he asked, checking in on me. I nodded. “Good.”

For long moments I was left alone again to only the sounds of my breathing, harsh over the gag, and the feel of the air in the attic cooling my oiled skin. He must have taken his boots off because I didn’t hear him approach, so the sting of the riding crop against my ass made me scream and jerk in my bonds.

Instead of continuing to deliver strong, stinging blows, he started to tap the fold of leather over the most sensitive parts of my body—the soles of my feet, under my arms, my ribs, just above my navel, the crease where my buttocks met my thighs, my inner thighs.

I was trembling with need and would have been begging for his touch if I were able to get the words out. Then he rearranged my knees so they were wider, and gently started tapping on my scrotum.

Thanks to the ropes I didn’t go through the roof, but I made a fair attempt at it. The sensations were getting too much for me, and I feared I would orgasm from this alone. Then Master started to intersperse these light taps with harder whips, and I felt myself sink deeper into subspace.

“Oh, and you can come when you’re ready,” Master said, almost absently, and I sighed in relief. I wasn’t letting myself get close to orgasm, but as soon as I relaxed, the strain of holding it back became apparent.

Master continued to tap my balls with the crop and leaned around, taking my cock in his hand, which was still slick with oil. It only took a few strokes for me to come, screaming into the gag. It was so intense I was left trembling and shaking all over. Master quickly undid the straps on the gag and stroked my hair, allowing me to come down gently.

When I was done, laid out languid on the bench, he worked to get me free of my bondage, leaving the wrist and neck cuffs in place. His hands were always on my skin, letting me know he was close and taking care of me. It was this act of submission that I reveled in—being taken care of by someone who loved me deeply.

I knew that the session could end at this point; both of us had orgasmed, and we had fulfilled our mutual needs. Some days our session
would
end at that point, with no penetrative sex whatsoever. That was fine with both of us. There were some days when I found myself literally aching for his touch and for the feeling of completion as he fucked me, and other days when I didn’t want to go there. But the point of being a submissive is yielding to the desires of another, so once I was free of my rope restraints, I stood on shaky feet and laced my hands behind my head again.

Master leaned forward and brushed soft kisses over my mouth, then up the lines of where the straps of the gag had been, soothing away the ache from where they had been pressed into my skin. I was ready for whatever he wanted to do to me next.

“On your knees, Jesse,” he said in a soft but authoritative voice, and I immediately complied, sinking down while holding my position with my hands behind my neck. “All fours.”

I dropped forward and held myself perfectly still as he circled me slowly. Then, with a snap of his fingers that indicated I should follow, he walked toward the pulley equipment to my right. Master was the first one to use suspension bondage on me, and although my first experience had been vaguely terrifying, I’d grown to love it.

There were plenty of different ways he could tie me up; some of the more intricate forms of bondage took up to an hour to get into. Master was accomplished in many different types of
shibari
—rope bondage—and he liked to keep me on my toes by manipulating my body into different positions each time we played.

Master had me stand again, and I dropped my eyes to the floor once I was stable. He had me hold my arms out to the sides as he wound the rope around my chest and upper body, and after a few minutes, this simple task caused my biceps to burn with the effort. Once the first point for the suspension hook was tied, he lowered my arms and cuffed my wrists together so they were held at my lower back. From here, another length of rope was worked over my shoulders, around my sternum and arms, binding them behind me.

The two lengths of rope were left on the floor, and Master left my eyesight for a moment, coming back with two more padded tan leather cuffs, which were secured just above my knees. Two more ropes were then tied to those cuffs, and I was ready.

Master gathered the four ropes in his hands and deftly threw them over his shoulder, out of the way, as he helped me sit down again. The pulley system was lowered until it was a few feet above me, then Master went about securing all of the ropes together through the steel loop and again to a second “safety” point on the ceiling. He pulled my legs up so they were off the ground, and pulled them apart. I could still close them, but why would I want to do that?

Once he was satisfied I was secure, Master pushed the button on the pulley to raise me up, stopping when I was just at the right height for him to fuck me. He left my side for long moments, letting me settle into the ropes, looking up at the black ceiling as he changed the music to a heavier, grittier rock—fucking music. When he returned, I could see a glint of silver in his hand, and he took my chin, tilting it so I was looking at him, and dangled a chain in front of my eyes. He was smirking. They were nipple clamps.

Of course, he knew how fucking sensitive I was there. I glared at him as he brushed his palms against my chest to get my nipples to tighten, and he chuckled at my expression.

“Oh, Jesse,” he sighed. “We’re going to fuck that attitude right out of you.”

And… I was hard again. Dominating Will, my Master, was sexy as all fuck.

It didn’t really hurt when he attached the clamps; it was more like a consistent pressure, which actually felt really good, like he was constantly, gently pinching my nipples. I groaned as he stepped away and left the chain resting on my chest.

It had been too long since he’d fucked me.
That was all I could think.
Just too long
.

He rubbed at my anus with a soft finger, teasing all around the area until I was bucking in my ropes, silently begging him for more. He chuckled softly, and cool, wet lube was added as he slid his finger in to the first knuckle. That was somehow worse; I wanted his cock, not his finger, even as I appreciated his need to prepare me. More lube and a second finger caused me to moan and whimper out loud, earning me a sharp, stinging slap to my ass.

“Shush,” Master reprimanded, and I gritted my teeth against the sounds begging to be released from my throat.

He turned his fingers over and pushed them all the way into me, thrusting a few times before his third finger joined the other two. Despite my earlier orgasm, my balls were aching for another release, and I had to work on all my self-control to remain silent and calm under his clever fingers.

Finally,
finally,
Master removed his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against my entrance. His grip on my hips was almost painful, and he moved torturously slow, pressing just inside me and then stopping, then pushing more and stopping again.

“Please, Master, please,” I begged, earning three more sharp slaps to my ass, one for each word, which may have been what I wanted anyway.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“You to fuck me, please, Master,” I told him.

He slapped me again, but that was feeling nice already, then he plunged himself all the rest of the way inside me. My heart was beating so hard in my chest and my breath was coming out in gasps, but to be filled by him again was amazing, so I could forget everything else.

In that moment I belonged to him, totally, completely, consumed by him. Nothing mattered, no one mattered except the man behind me, taking me to a whole different level of arousal and sex and need, pushing his body into mine over and over, forcing me to submit on a physical and emotional and mental level.

His arm snaked around my body, and he leaned over me, reaching for the chain that connected the clamps on my nipples and yanking them off in a swift move. I screamed out as the blood rushed back to the area—partly from the pain, mostly from the surge of need.