Just A Spanking: Tales of Dominance and Submission (7 page)

James had a smooth, wiry body, far less massive than Greg’s, but still muscular. And his cock–well, it wasn’t in proportion to his relatively modest stature. It was at least as long as my husband’s, and possibly thicker. I swallowed hard, imagining that massive prick cleaving my flesh.

Greg flipped James a condom. “Front or back?” he asked, trailing his fingers down my spine and tapping the base of the plug. James faced me, playing with my still-tender nipples.

“I’d love to fuck her ass, but you’re her husband. You’ve got first claim.”

“Hey, you’re our guest. And I suspect she’d love to have you in her ass. Wouldn’t you, darling?”

I nodded vaguely, transfixed by the idea of James’ enormous cock in my rear hole.

“Ask him then, Bella. Give him an invitation.”

I thought I’d shrivel up and die. James searched my face. I saw sympathy in those brown eyes, slightly unfocused without the glasses.

“You don’t have to, Bella,” he murmured. “It’s up to you.” I saw then what Greg had seen all along, a kindred spirit aching to enact his lurid fantasies, but afraid, too–the way I was.

“Please, James,” I told him, knowing that my husband fully approved. “Please take my ass.”

“That’s my girl.” Without warning, Greg yanked the plug from my rear. The sudden emptiness almost overwhelmed me. “I don’t think you’ll need any more lube, man. Go ahead–she’s more than ready.”

Things moved so fast after that, I scarcely had a chance to breathe. James opened my rear cheeks with those knowing hands of his. With one jerk, he was embedded deep in my rear, seeming twice as large as the plug. He held still while Greg crouched to position his cock at the entrance to my pussy. A quick stab upward and Greg was inside me too. My husband wrapped my legs around his waist to take the strain off my arms.

The two men began to thrust. I know they tried to move slowly, to give me a chance to adjust, but they couldn’t hold back. I didn’t want them to. Front and rear, they rammed into me, again and again, taking me over. My husband claimed my pussy directly and my ass by proxy
–
 
his
to bestow to his closest friend. I let go, opened to their fierce assault, filled to the hilt with cock, exactly where I wanted to be.

James came first, with a yell that made me grateful we’d soundproofed the condo. Through the haze of my own pleasure, I felt his rod pulsing in my passage, pouring his spunk into me. Greg must have felt it too. I sensed the familiar tightening as
his own
crisis became imminent. He slammed into me, deep as he could, and let go.

I held on as long as I could,
determined
to wait for Greg’s command. My beloved did not disappoint me. As he ground his cock into my cunt, he moaned my name. “Now, Isabella. Come now.”

Pleasure roared through me like a runaway train. I came undone, my body thrashing, pinned still between my two lovers. Then all at once I was floating, or so it seemed, looking down from near the ceiling at a tableau so erotic it triggered a new explosion of delight: two men and a woman, wrapped around one another, holding nothing back.

We slept together, the three of us, exhausted by an excess of pleasure. We woke near dawn and coupled again, more tenderly, James in the front, Greg in the rear. Sweet, perverse visions haunted my slumber.

When my eyes opened again, I found winter sunlight streaming in the window. I seemed to be alone. My muscles felt as though I’d spent half a day at the gym. I desperately needed a shower. And I had to do the party clean up, too.

I swung my stiff limbs over the edge of the bed and stood up with a groan. I might have believed the previous night was all a lascivious dream, but my battered, sated body told me otherwise. I hummed with remembered pleasure.

I heard voices coming from the den. When I padded in, barefoot and naked, I found Greg and James bent over the toy box, James exclaiming in delight as Greg displayed various implements of discipline.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

Greg looked up.
“Bella!
I was just showing James our collection.”

“So I see.”

“I’d like to try this one.” James held up a single-tail whip, sounding as excited as a teenager. “And this one,” he added, indicating a rubber paddle sprinkled with steel studs.

A shiver of pleasure raced down to tickle my clit.

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Please!” I protested. “Give me a chance to recover!”

“Of course, my dear.
We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Oh? I thought you told me James’ plane left this evening.”

James gave me a boyish grin. “I’ve decided to stay in New York until New Year’s.”

“As our guest,” Greg added. “Actually, I thought we might take him up to the cabin in Vermont for a long weekend.
Along with an assortment of toys, of course.”

I swallowed hard, remembering our last trip to that isolated spot. “But...um...we’ve got to work during the day...”

“Nobody really works between Christmas and New Year’s. Anyway, you’ve got some vacation time coming, and so do I. If I tell you to take it now, you will. Won’t you, Bella?”

The two men gazed at me, pleading for my assent. Love and lust welled up as I saw the gift I’d given them. Finally I understood. I was the one in control.

“Whatever you want, Sir,” I sank to my knees on the floor between them, bowing my head like the good submissive I was. I didn’t want them to see my grin.

Sundae, Bloody Sundae

It took me a while to understand.

I fell hard for Jana the night I met her. I guess the feeling was mutual, since she let me cuff her and spank her taut little ass to the color of rare steak within hours of our introduction. Then she begged for the privilege of eating my pussy, sending me straight into the stratosphere when I acquiesced. In her winter-gray eyes, I read a profound need to submit. I wanted nothing more than to satisfy that need.

Our physical relationship went from zero to sixty in that single lightning encounter. Before I could catch my breath, she was spending almost every night in my bed–or fastened to the wrought iron frame on my wall (cleverly disguised as a clothes rack–or suspended from one of the hooks in my ceiling. I was so entranced by the way her slender, flexible form writhed against my ropes, by her sweet soprano wails and her grateful kisses, that I didn't realize we'd never shared a meal in nearly four weeks together.

On the one month anniversary of our meeting, I announced that I was going to treat her to dinner at one of the swankiest eateries in the city. “Ponticelli's has the most exquisite seafood you've ever tasted,” I told her over the phone.
“Pure ambrosia.
I'll pick you up at seven.”

“Mel, you don't need to take me out,” she replied, an odd edge to her voice. “I'd much rather stay home with you and play.”

“I want to show you off, kitten. Wear the dress you had on the night we met, that forest-green jersey, and heels.
And no underwear.
Who says we have to keep our games in the bedroom?”

“But Mel...”
 

“Are you arguing with me?” The desperation I heard coming from the other end of the line puzzled me. Meanwhile,
her
 
uncharacteristic
resistance tried my patience. Normally she'd follow my instructions to the letter.

“Well...”

“If you're not going to obey me, we might as well break this off right now, Jana.” The thought of losing her made me cringe, but I couldn't let her know that. ”Is that what you want?”

“No, oh, no...
please
, I'd just rather not eat out.”

“Well, I want to eat out, and I'm the one in charge. You promised to do whatever I said, baby.
You
 
said
that was your deepest desire. Have you changed your mind?”

“No...”

“I told you. I know what's best for you–what you really need. Don't you believe that anymore?”

“Oh, I do! I love you, Mel. I want to please you...”

“Good. Be ready at seven, then.”

“All right.”
She stifled a sigh.
“Whatever you say, Mel.”

I hung up feeling just the slightest bit smug. When she walked down the stairs of her apartment building toward my vintage Mustang, though, I almost changed my mind about the evening's activities. I wanted to hustle her back inside, peel off that slinky dress and bury my face between her creamy thighs to enjoy my own private seafood dinner. At the same time, I really did think our past month together was worth celebrating.

I kissed her as she settled onto the leather seat, my tongue probing while my fingers sought out the stiff nipples I'd glimpsed poking through the stretchy fabric. My pinch made her moan into my mouth. That strangled cry of pain/pleasure made my own nipples tingle and throb. I slipped my other hand under her skirt, plunging two fingers into the soaked heat I knew I'd find there. Inside my tailored slacks, I was at least as wet.

Jana squirmed on my pinioning digits, trying to take me deeper. I dug my fingernails into her flesh. She yelped, sending a bolt of arousal straight to my clit.

“Miss me, baby?”
 

She nodded with enthusiasm as she licked her juices off my fingers. “I couldn't stop thinking about you today,” she said, in that velvet-soft voice that drives me wild. “I sat there watching my
students
do
grandes pliés,
their thighs opening and closing, and remembered the feel of your fist deep in my cunt. Every time one of them performed a
porte
de bras
I imagined my arms stretched up, shackled to your headboard. By the time I'd finished my last class, the crotch of my leotard was drenched.”

“But you didn't touch yourself?”

“Of course not.”
She snuggled against me shoulder, making it a bit difficult for me to shift gears. “I know it's always a lot more intense when you make me come–even if you sometimes make me wait.”

I glowed as though someone had lit a bonfire in my belly. The purr of the engine echoed my own buzz of satisfaction. Jana was my long-time dream come true, a naturally submissive femme who seemed willing to fulfill my every wish.

Ponticelli's was at least as good as I'd remembered. I ordered baked stuffed lobster for both of us,
  
with a Caesar salad and a delightful bottle of fumé
blanc
. Jana was even livelier than usual, talking
with
 
her
hands in the way she does when she's really excited. I ache to capture her birdlike wrists in my bonds and force her to stillness.

I must have been a bit drunk. Certainly I was hungry. In no time, I'd transformed my lobster into a pile of polished shell. Leaning back in my chair, satisfied and content, I noticed that Jana was not nearly so far along.

“Girl, you're not doing justice to this fine crustacean,” I laughed. “Come here.” I grabbed one of the claws from her plate, extracted a succulent chunk of meat and dunked it in melted butter. I held the dripping morsel to her lips. “Open wide,” I ordered.

If I'd consumed a bit less wine, I'd probably have been able to label her expression. Recalling that instant now, I realize that what I saw on her face was pure terror. At the time, I thought that she was simply being stubborn, refusing to part her rosebud lips.

“Jana? Come on now, eat it.”

She shook her head. “Please, I'm not hungry, Mel.”

“It's delicious. Have a bite.”

“No, really...”

“Do I need to pull you onto my lap, flip up your skirt and wallop your skinny ass right here in front of everyone?”
 
A spark of lust mingled with the dread in her eyes, hardening my resolve. “Do as you're told.”

I smeared some of the butter over her lips. She shrank back in her chair, away from the laden fork. “Jana,” I warned, struggling to keep my temper in check. “You're disappointing me. I want you to eat the lobster.”

She knew me well enough by then to recognize that I was not going to back down. Like a slow motion film, she opened her mouth and allowed me to place the butter-drenched meat on her tongue. I watched her chew and swallow,
then
presented her with another piece.

“No...”

“Jana...”

Reluctantly, she accepted the tidbit.

“That's my girl.” She favored me with a weak smile. “Again, now...”
 
I stopped feeding her after another few bites. She looked so uncomfortable that I thought she might not be well. I wasn't terribly surprised when she excused herself to go to the ladies' room.