Sasha's Portrait
Sasha’s Portrait: The Art of Submission
by BJ Wane
ISBN 13: 978-1-934349-68-7
ISBN 10: 1-934349-68-2
A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication
Copyright © 2006, All rights reserved
Chapter One
“You’re an hour late with this report, Mrs. Johnston.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mrs. Johnston replied to her boss. “I finished it as fast as I could.”
Her boss stared at her, not believing a word she said. He knew her too well. “Not good enough. You know the rules and the consequences for breaking them.”
Maria quivered, excitement flaring. A whole week he had made her wait, denied her the feel of his belt on her naked ass. He knew she needed his discipline, how she craved the painful stimulation and the degradation of his ruthless treatment. They both knew her report was late on purpose, just as they both knew what he would do.
Rising from behind his desk, he moved slowly around it to where she stood trembling with arousal and need. When his strong hands went to the buckle of his wide leather belt and slowly released it, she licked her lips in nervous anticipation and waited for the words that never ceased to thrill her.
“Pull down your pants and assume the position,” his cold voice matched the ice in his eyes as he slowly folded the thick leather belt in half.
Bowing her head in submission, Maria unsnapped her pants and pushed them to her mid thighs before bending over the desk and laying her face on her folded arms. She never tired of this position, never tired of having him torment the rounded globes of her cheeks, or the instant arousal the fiery pain gave her. She never felt more vulnerable than when they were completely clothed, her ass the only part on display, exposed for his abusive pleasure.
When the belt lightly caressed her buttocks, she couldn’t prevent the moan of need from escaping her. He loved making her wait and making her pay.
“This is going to hurt, Mrs. Johnston. But, you knew that, didn’t you?” he asked softly as he ran his belt over her quivering backside. How he loved seeing her like this, shaking, needy and begging for that which only he could give her.
“Yes, sir, I know,” she whispered fearfully, longingly.
The first stroke of the belt caused her to cry out; her eyes tearing at the instant gratification from the fiery sting. Again, the belt landed across her ass; and again, she cried out, loving the feel of the leather, the sound of his harsh breathing, knowing how turned on he was getting. He held nothing back as he raised the strap again and again, his blows hard, leaving her aching for more. A whole week, she wept, he had denied her this pleasure, this release that only he could give her.
He stopped at half a dozen and eyed her red buttocks with lust. She colored magnificently. “What do you think, Mrs. Johnston? Have you had enough?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be.
Maria cringed, knowing what he wanted, knowing she would give it to him just so he wouldn’t stop yet. “Please, sir, I deserve more. There’s no excuse for my tardiness.”
“Yes, you’re quite right,” he said smugly. “Another dozen ought to do it.”
If she thought the first six were hard, they were nothing compared to the rest of her punishment. His strokes came fast and hard, covering her ass and the top of her thighs until she was wiggling and gasping in pain. Her buttocks felt hot and swollen, the same as her wet pussy. By the time he landed the last stroke, she was weeping in relief, that familiar feeling of peaceful acceptance coming over her.
He laid the belt on the desk next to her, and she heard the sound of his pants being opened. She knew his cock would be big and hard, and she knew what he was going to do with it.
“You know what to do next, Mrs. Johnston. Don’t make me tell you,” he said sternly as he rubbed lubricant over his straining erection.
Even though this was nothing new, she never ceased to be mortified as she reached behind her, grabbed her sore buttocks, and spread them for his penetration. She loved the feel of his cock up her ass, loved being taken hard and fast in her forbidden hole especially after she had been whipped. Her only regret will be the sure denial of her own release.
Moving behind her, his eyes glued to her exposed, puckered hole, he grabbed her hips and thrust into her anus in one deep stroke, burying himself balls deep inside her tight depths. “You’re not to come, you know that, don’t you?” he breathed harshly as he pulled back and then thrust into her again.
“Yes, sir,” she replied miserably, wishing he would relent this once and let her orgasm as he took her ass. He fucked her hard, as promised, and took his time, burying himself up her rectum over and over again as she continued to keep herself spread for him. He liked to watch his cock as it tunneled in and out of her back hole. He wanted nothing to obstruct his view of the way he coldly and ruthlessly took her ass. She loved knowing she had brought him to this, turning him on so much that he had to have her, take her hard and fast, reaffirming his control over her.
Maria whimpered in painful need as he continued to fuck her, thrusting her hips back at him, loving the feel of his hard flesh buried so deep inside her. The only thing that would make this better would be an audience. The feel of his cock jerking, his come spewing inside her, and his shout of pleasure made her ache to join him, her neglected pussy seeping onto her thighs.
“You may go clean up now,” he said as he adjusted his clothes. The sight of his come oozing out of her well fucked hole caused his cock to twitch. He knew what she would do. She would go to the restroom and masturbate, purposely not washing her fingers so when he checked them before heading home, they would still carry the evidence of her disobedience.
“If you disobey me,” he warned her as she pulled up her pants and turned to face him, “I’ll call Mike over when we get home and let him witness me using the flogger on that pretty ass of yours. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?” he asked his wife, knowing that was exactly what she would want.
Maria reached up and kissed her husband. “I’ll try to be good,” she promised him insincerely. They both knew that she wouldn’t…
Sasha’s building orgasm caused her to toss the erotic paperback onto the sand so she could concentrate on her own pleasure. Her hand was buried in her loose shorts; her fingers tunneling in her wet pussy as she felt her contractions grip her. Gasping, she thrust against her hand, wishing she had the nerve to bare herself as she masturbated on this secluded part of the beach. Her other hand was under her loose t-shirt; her fingers gripping her right nipple hard.
Panting, head thrown back, she leaned against the large boulder that kept her hidden from the road above her. She didn’t try to stifle her cry as she climaxed; the ripples of pleasure too intense to hold back her shout. She continued to fondle her wet folds as the tremors subsided, loving the feel of her damp heat. Her pussy was warm and sopping; and, as she caught her breath, she sat there with her bent knees spread, and her hand down her pants as she dreamed of a man doing this to her, taking her out in the open, his hard cock fucking her instead of her own fingers.
Only, he wouldn’t let her hide, she thought. He would ruthlessly bare her body outdoors, heedless of who might see, and take her roughly, fucking her hard until she screamed out her release. Sighing, she glanced at the paperback that had set her off. She had a collection of erotic novels, books about strong dominate men that brought their women to their knees to serve them obediently. Fantasies many women had but few indulged in. She was a realist. She knew lifestyles such as those depicted in the stories that turned her on so much were real, but only to those brave enough to seek them out and indulge in them. She could never be that brave.
An unexpected raindrop fell on her face, followed by another and then another. Gathering up her blanket and novel, she glanced at the darkening sky. She had a good fifteen minute hike back to her cottage, and it looked like she was going to be drenched by the time she got there. Hastily climbing up the steep, sandy embankment, she quickly reached the road and started jogging towards home.
By the time she was a block from her house, the storm was a downpour, and she was drenched. Luckily, she had a waterproof beach bag that held her book, sunglasses, and towel. She was moving swiftly, her head down against the rain, when a loud crash startled her. Glancing up, she saw a car smashed against a telephone pole with steam coming out of the buckled hood. The driver’s door opened, and a large man stumbled out.
Sasha quickly ran to his side and put her arm around his waist as he seemed to sag against the door frame. She saw a large bump forming on his forehead but could detect no other injuries.
“Sir, are you all right?” she asked shakily as the rain soaked them both.
“Shit,” he mumbled, shaking his head, “I must’ve fallen asleep.”
Sasha was having trouble holding onto him. He was a big man, easily six feet two. His waist was rock hard, and his short sleeved shirt revealed heavily muscled arms. His coal black hair was long and plastered wetly to his scalp; his black mustache dripped onto his chin. His head was still down so she couldn’t see his eyes, but he was easily the most handsome man she had ever met.
Get your head out of the clouds,
she admonished herself as she tried to help the stranger stay upright. “Sir, my house is just up the road. Can you make it?”
He looked at her and Sasha gasped. His eyes were gunmetal gray, clear, and so damn sexy she felt her pussy dampen as he stared down at her. “I can if you help me,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that caused her toes to curl.
Sasha just nodded, not trusting her voice
.
The stuff fantasies were made of was all she could think as she helped him up the road and into her small house. “You need to lie down while I call an ambulance.” She led him down the hall to the spare bedroom.
“No ambulance. I’m fine. I’m just exhausted, and the bump on my head isn’t helping. If I could just crash for an hour, I’ll get out of your hair.”
But as he collapsed on the bed and passed out, Sasha had a feeling he would need more than an hour to recuperate. Swinging his long, heavy legs up onto the bed, she stared down at him and wondered what to do next. When a shiver racked her body, she quickly ran to her room and got out of her wet clothes and into some dry ones, drying her long, sable hair as best she could with a towel. Returning to the stranger, she realized she was going to have to divest him of his wet clothes if she didn’t want him battling pneumonia along with that nasty bump and obvious weariness.
Sasha wasn’t strong, and it took her nearly fifteen minutes to get his wet shirt and jeans off. She hesitated when it came to his briefs, but they were soaked too. Taking a deep breath, she quickly pulled them down his long, hard legs and threw the comforter over his nude body, refusing to glance at his crotch.
Gathering up the wet clothes, Sash tossed them in the dryer and made herself a cup of hot tea, wondering what she should do. They were lucky it was mid September and the weather was still warm here on Nantucket. Once fall hit, which would be soon, the island would cool off dramatically; the tourists would leave, and Sasha would have to endure another long, lonely winter, something she didn’t want to think about right now.
Her tea had warmed her, and she returned to the spare bedroom to check on her houseguest. Shock held her immobile in the doorway as she was confronted with the sight of his naked body, his cock stiffly erect, his balls lying softly between his spread legs. He groaned but didn’t awaken. Sasha moved quietly to the bed and gingerly sat next to him, unable to keep her eyes from straying to the beautiful sight of his erection.
He had kicked the blanket completely off and still slept soundly. He must be totally exhausted, she thought, if the chill air and that hard on didn’t awaken him. He was magnificent was all she could think, and the desire to touch him was overwhelming. How often would she get this chance, she reasoned as she gave in to temptation and cautiously reached out one finger and ran it down the length of his cock. He twitched, and a drop of pre-come seeped from the tip of his round, purple head.
Sasha peered at his face and saw he was still sleeping soundly. She doubted if a bulldozer would rouse him and that thought gave her courage to wrap her hand around his shaft. He was huge, long and wide, and her hand couldn’t even fit around him. He was warm, silky hard, and she wondered what it would feel like to have such a large cock in her pussy, fucking her hard.
Sasha wasn’t a virgin, but a quick fumbling in the back seat of a car on her high school graduation night, and a brief, unsatisfying two-week affair in college was the extent of her sexual experience. For the last three years, it had been just her and her hand, and the sight of all that male flesh made her neglected pussy weep in need. She moved her hand up and down his length, keeping one eye on his face in case he stirred. When he moaned, she jumped, startled, but kept a hold of his cock.