The Alpha Men's Secret Club: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (5 page)

10

Does he remember me?

Does he not remember me?

Does he know who I am?

Does he not know who I am?

These questions churned in her
mind, like the plucked petals of a flower thrown into a wind of chance. And
still, she didn’t move.

How long had he been gone for?
Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? It was an eternity. Her thighs ached from being
opened for so long. She wondered if there was a hidden camera in her room. If
she hadn’t been here, she would be in her dorm room now with Michaela, snoring
away.

Did Michaela miss her? Or would
she chalk it up to the fact that her roommate and best friend might have gotten
lucky? Kate did mention she might pull an all-nighter to catch up with her prep
work.

The door opened again. She hadn’t
heard any footsteps. She raised her head.

Rust came back into the room.

Her anticipation pricked up,
along with a tangible fear. She was afraid of this man, and yet she desired him
more than anything. He was still naked, even though his cock was no longer
erect.

Where did he go? she wanted to
ask him. Did he fuck someone else out there? Did he transform into that fluid,
lethal and magnificent tiger and finish off his fight against the red wolf? Her
pulse accelerated. So much she didn’t know about this man. So much she wanted
to find out.

Some objects glinted in his hand.
Metal. He came back upon the bed, between her legs.

“You haven’t yelled ‘uncle’ yet,”
he said.

No, she hadn’t.

“Do you want me to stop now?” he
added, his green eyes imposing jewels in his orbs.

“No.” This came out whispery.
There was a frog in her throat that she hadn’t cleared.

He showed her the objects. They
were pretty pieces of metal jewelry. Earrings, she reckoned. He got me a
present, her elated mind told her.

He posited one of the jewelry
pieces on her right nipple. There was a clamp there, something she had mistaken
for an earring clip. The clamp bit down on her nipple, indenting the flesh.

“Oh!” she cried at the sudden
pain.

He smiled at her.

“You like that?” he said.

She didn’t know how to answer.

“It’s quite a sensory
experience,” he said, clamping her other nipple with an identical piece. Little
shiny crosses trailed from the nipple clamps. He tugged at them both, pulling
the tactile flesh of her nipples along. Little spools of pleasure and pressure
shot through the tips of her breasts.

“You’re a good girl,” he said,
looking down between her legs – at the splayed, messy pussy with its
betraying font of ever flowing juices. “You follow orders well, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

He took hold of her left labia
and pulled it apart. Then he pinched it with a smaller but no less tight clamp.
He did the same with her right labia. Now four of her erotic zones were inundated
with unyielding traps, and the pressure on them was intimate and omnipresent.

The pad of his finger slid down
her clit. Her soft morsel of wrinkled flesh began to swell to his firm touch.
She squirmed in ecstasy. Please, she begged him with silent eyes, please don’t
torture me so.

He rubbed her clit with up and
down strokes, until it was warm and hard between her clipped labia. Then he
bent down his head and licked it.

“Arrrr!” she cried out with the
pleasure. Her hands flew to his hair.

“No!” he rapped sharply.

Her hands clambered, uncertain.
Did he not want her to touch him? She desperately needed to touch him. He was a
god.

“Don’t move until I ask you to,”
he said.

Her arms flailed at her sides and
she turned her head. Forbidden, she understood. He was forbidden to her, unless
he allowed her to touch him.

He resumed his oral
ministrations. His tongue, his teeth, his lips were all contrasting textures
upon her flesh. His tongue wedged in between her labia where it was the wettest
and most tactile. Her hips bucked and her throat issued little mewls of
pleasure. His teeth bit softly down on the hood of her clit.

And all this while, his fingers
worked her labia through the clamps. Pulling them apart, letting them come
together again. Scissoring one up and the other down. All sorts of
combinations, like a ritual dance. Her pussy was a marionette, controlled by
his strings.

Teeth, tongue, fingers, lips
– all working in unison to bring her further, higher . . . until she was
spiraling out of control. Her groin clenched, and her pelvic muscles all
contracted to throw her into a stratosphere of dizzying pleasure.

“Oh!” she cried out. Her orgasm
was swift and blinding. “Oh, oh, oh,oh!”

She almost bit her own tongue in
her rapture.

He seized her clit with his teeth
and inserted two of his fingers into her pussy hole to prolong her climax. It
succeeded. The spear of white hot pleasure lanced through her spine,
culminating in waves and waves which spread throughout her entire friable body.

“Fuck me!” The words were out of
her mouth before she could stop herself. She sobbed. “Oh please, please fuck
me.”

Too late, she realized it was a
mistake. She opened her eyes and saw his face. On it was a mixture of amusement
and hardness.

He grabbed her waist. “You don’t tell
me what to do.”

“N-no,” she whimpered.

“You got that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll fuck you when I want to.
If
I want to.”

“Y-yes.”

“You like playing games, huh,
little girl? You like following me around?”

So he knew who she was! A surge
of elation ran through her.

He knew I existed before this!

“No,” she said.

He gripped her breasts and
tweaked her nipple clamps painfully. “Liar!”

“I-I mean . . . I . . .
admired
you from afar.”

“Admired me.” The amusement was
apparent in his voice. “Just what did you admire about me?”

“Everything.” She licked her
lips. It was the truth. “Everything about you.”

“My mind? Did you admire me for
my mind . . . or something else?” he said harshly.

She sensed that they were at an
impasse here. There was something significant going on with him. She wasn’t the
only one with complex issues. He needed to hear
something
from her . . .
what exactly, she didn’t know.

Was he someone who had always
been prided for his obvious good looks, and never applauded for all the other
gifts he had to offer? Did he crave someone to see who he really was underneath
that beautiful veneer? Did the fact that he was a paranormal being alter those
perceptions? Was he alienated by his parents for who he was? An outcast?

So many questions. She didn’t
know where to begin.

So she decided to tell the truth.

She said, “You’re beautiful.
Anyone can see that. Anyone would be attracted to you for that. But . . . but
there’s always been something more about you. You’re brilliant. You’re a
scholar. And there are some people who admire you for that.”

“Like
you
?” He was tense,
waiting.

“Yes. I admire you for everything
you are.”

He relaxed his grip on her teats.

“Would you be following me around
so much if I weren’t beautiful?” he said harshly.

She paused.

“I don’t know. Your beauty is
part of what you are. You can’t take it away, as much as you can’t cut off your
own thumb to spite yourself.”

He took this in.

“Cut off my thumb. Good metaphor.”
He seemed suitably impressed. “You’re more than I thought you were.”

She breathed in deeply, her
breasts moving.

“I want you,” she pleaded.

“Even now that you know who I
am?” He was breathing hard too.

She thought of the lithe tiger. “Yes.”

“Are you curious how I came to
be? How all of us here came to be?”

“Yes.”

“But not as much as you are
curious about me . . . the
man
. Am I right?”

“Yes.” It was as if he could read
right into her mind.

His hands moved to her neck. His
touch was gentle, and yet there was a subtext here. A lurking menace.

He said softly, “If you tell
anyone about us . . . ”

She held her breath. She was
waiting for those large hands to circle her neck . . . and squeeze. And yet she
wasn’t afraid of his implied threat. She would never betray him, and she sensed
he knew that.

He finished, “ – no one
would believe you.”

She said, “I’m not going to tell
anyone about you. Or this place.”

He arrested her eyes for a long
time.

Then he said, “You know, I
actually believe you.”

She let out a whoosh of breath.
This man was unsettling. His intensity was unsettling. It must be the beast in
him, she decided. The chameleon of all his parts.

He sat up suddenly –
another abrupt about turn which startled her.

He said, “Turn around?”

“What?”

“Turn around.”

Without warning, he flipped her
roughly onto her belly. The clamps squished against her soft flesh. She cried
out. The pressure on her pussy lips and nipples intensified in a new direction.

His fingers stubbed her pussy
hole from behind. God help her, but she was wet again. Miserably, wantonly wet.

“You want a fantasy?” he said.
“I’ll give you a fantasy.”

Her spirits lifted. Was he going
to fuck her from behind? But he didn’t say he was going to give her
her
fantasy.

He said, “Don’t move.”

He slipped off the bed and went
to the dresser. She craned her neck to watch him. He opened the top drawer. His
body obscured whatever object he was taking out.

Then he turned, and she saw that
he had a red paddle in his right hand.

He held it up for her to see.

“Isn’t this what you’ve always
wanted your Professor to do to you?”

11

She had to confess she was
scared.

She had never been beaten before.
Not even once.

He advanced towards the bed. The
red paddle was a slim thing. It had a handle and a flat surface which looked
frankly unyielding.

Rust climbed onto the bed again.

“Get up on your elbows and
knees.”

He wanted her on all fours. Like
an animal.

She obeyed, even though her limbs
were like jelly. Her buttocks protruded outward, soft flesh just waiting to be
smacked. Her elbows were flat on the bed while her knees dug in.

He gazed at her with undisguised
hunger, and she was momentarily gratified that he seemed to want her s much as
she wanted him. His cock was now erect. Extremely so. The great vein on top of
its shaft was engorged, as was its uncircumcised head. He stroked the head and
shaft once, twice, as he gazed down upon her.

He was a left hander. It was the
way he held the paddle. Something she had never noticed before because she had
never seen him write anything down.

“Have you ever been spanked
before?” he asked her.

She shook her head mutely. Her
inner thighs clenched. She was scared.

“There’s always a first,” he
said.

“Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

He gave a low laugh. “On the
contrary . . . you might like being
hurt
.”

He raised the paddle, and with
one fell swoop of his left hand, brought it down against her pale, pale
buttocks.

K-r-a-a-c-k!

The pain flowered in her butt, as
did the telltale red band across her moons. Tears crept into her eyes. Oh, the
sting! The paddle looked so slim, and yet it hurt more than she could have
thought possible.

He brought it down again before
she knew what was happening.

K-r-a-a-c-k!

“No!” she cried out.

“Do you want me to stop?” he challenged.

Therein lay her psychological
dilemma. She didn’t want him to stop, but she didn’t like this part of the
package. She wasn’t sure she liked the pain of being spanked. Certainly, her
position of submissiveness was beguiling. The fact that his cock was so hard
was empowering to her.

Then again, it was the whole
package. The pain, the domination, the submissiveness, the empowerment of
submissiveness. It was Jungian and Freudian theory rolled into one. She never
understood the archetypes until now.

“No,” she whispered.

“What was that again?” He brought
the paddle down on her buttocks. Again and again.

“No!”

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

K-r-a-a-a-a-a-c-k!

“Good girl.” He caressed her
face. Lovingly.

She was confused. Did he have
feelings for her aside from lust?

He placed the paddle down. Her
buttocks were a flaming mass of redness and stinging heat. Tears flowered in
her eyes but he made no move to wipe them away. Then he stroked his cock and
moved it towards her face.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
“Suck me.”

She eagerly opened her mouth wide
and took his huge, tumescent organ into it. His flesh filled her mouth, grazed
against her teeth and flattened her tongue.

“Lick me,” he said. “Worship me.”

She was still on her elbows and
knees. She sucked at his cock, the way she had seen the women and men do in the
chambers outside. Her cheeks hollowed and sucked, and she put all the strength
of her facial muscles into it. She sensed that if she didn’t go a good job, he
was going to send her packing.

“Mmmmm,” he said.

Emboldened by his pleasure, she
put her tongue against his crown. She licked his tip, tasted the salty
sweetness of the pre-cum on his aperture. The tip of her tongue dipped into his
orifice, and he gasped out loud as he combed his fingers through her hair.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

She couldn’t even if she wanted
to. All the aching hunger of her fantasies was now fueled. She was with the man
of her dreams. The muscled and corded hero of her daydreams. And she was
sucking his cock. The cock of a god.

He crammed as much of his flesh
as he possibly could deeper into her mouth, until her throat was forced to
unleash its gag reflex. She almost coughed, but stopped herself by taking his
cock in further. Deep throat, she told herself. How far could she let him go?
She angled her neck so that she could fit him in deeper. She needed him. She
sensed he needed her too.  He grinded his hips against her mouth.

Deeper, he seemed to say. Take me
deeper. Into your throat. Into your soul.

She funneled her mouth so that
her entire orifice became a passage of pleasure, and he bucked against this.
Fucked her mouth. It was such a dirty act, and yet so beautiful. So much
connection – mouth to cock to heart.

He threw back his head and gasped
in pleasure. His fingers in her hair gripped hard. His pads indented her scalp.
He was close to coming, she could sense it. She could smell his pubic hair,
that deep pungent sweaty scent of it. Smell his skin. Smell the pheromones he
was giving out. Smell him like she had never smelled the world.

He shot his load into her mouth
before she could understand what was happening.

Thick, stringy bands of cum
pumped into her throat. She had no choice but to swallow it. All of it, before
his seed spilled out of her mouth.

She had never swallowed cum
before. She had never even tasted it. But now she knew. It was a salty,
slightly bitter almond milkshake, rich in concoction, even richer in its
psychological implications. So she drank and drank from his font, which seemed to
go on forever. So much cum. So much rich, milky cream.

Oh, but she never wanted it to
end!

But it had to end at some point.
And finally, his cock sputtered out its last dollops. One spurt. Two spurts.
Like a soda tap giving out its last riches.

He let his cock deflate for a
moment in her mouth. Then he took it out. She gazed at his sweaty, shining
face. His eyes had taken on a dreamy quality, and she had never seen him look
so content.

He took out his cock from her
sodden mouth.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking
her damp hair from her forehead. “Let me see. Let me see your mouth.”

Dutifully, she opened her mouth
for him to inspect. She could still taste the cum on her tongue. He must have
been pleased at what he saw, because he stroked her face.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You are
beautiful.”

Her spirits soared. He found her
beautiful! She could count on the fingers of her hand how many times she had
heard a man say that to her, and so many times itself on this night.

His cock was not detumescent yet.
Not fully. His expression was one of languor as he rolled her over to her back.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he
said. He lazily pinched her nipples and tugged at her clamps. Her skin there
was chafed and numb by now, and she wondered how much longer he was going to
leave the clamps there. Her pussy leaves were sore too. And numb.

His hand strayed to her pussy and
played with her clit and the clamps there. He began to stroke his cock again.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he
repeated, “and I’m going to give you what you want. And I’m going to take from
you what
I
want.”

He got up again. To her shock,
his cock was rapidly filling up again. She had thought men couldn’t get erect
so quickly, not after they just had a full-out, mind-blowing orgasm. But he
did. And she knew he was not an ordinary man. Maybe his tiger genes gave him
super-revival powers. Maybe his cock could get hard at a word . . . or a
thought. Whatever it was, the possibilities were endless and exciting.

“Spread your legs,” he said. He
reached for the drawer in the cabinet beside the bed. He took out a condom
packet.

Her heart leaped. Oh yes, she
needed to be fucked so badly by Rust O’Brien. This was her fantasy – the
stuff dreams were made of.

He rolled the condom onto his
cock. Then he posited himself above her, his sheathed cock pointing at her
pussy hole between her legs.

He was breathing hard.

“Pull your pussy apart using the
clamps,” he ordered. “Pull them apart for me. Let me see you clearly.”

The command was very intimate and
precise. Her hands went to her pussy clamps and she seized the two crosses
there and pulled them apart as far as they would go. She was being treated like
a pure sex object and she had never been more exhilarated in all her life.

So she pulled. The clamps bit
down hard on her red, fragile flesh and tugged at her nether lips. Her pussy
was thrown wide open for his inspection and entry.

“Keep them open that way,” he
instructed.

He bore down on her, and his cock
was poised at her very wet vulva. Her membranes glistened red and violet. Her
entire groin was a smorgasbord of anticipation. This was the moment she had
been waiting for. This!

Fuck me, she wanted to scream. Oh
fuck me!

He did not disappoint her. With
one mighty thrust, he cleaved through her pussy.

“Ohhh!” she screamed.

His intrusion was so sudden, so
immediate, so overpowering that all her senses – her perception of
everything around her – was concentrated on his cock filling and
stretching her pussy. Her eyes fluttered open to focus on his flushed face
above hers.

I love you!
she wanted to
cry out.

Because she did. She truly did.
She had been in lust – in love – with this enigmatic, unknowable
man for a long time. But she could not declare this because it would be
tantamount to him never seeing her again. If there was even a second time for
both of them.

So she had to make this precious
encounter as memorable and remarkable as she possibly could. So he would come
back. And she wanted him to come back again and again. Look at her, she
marveled, making plans for the next time when she hadn’t even finished their
first time together.

His pubic bush rubbed against her
clit as he fucked her. His fucking was very hard – raw and animalistic
and full of power. He was an alpha, she was sure of it. The alpha of his tribe.
His cock pounded and knocked and hammered into her until the bed was creaking
and the bed posts were slamming against the wall. He grunted, as did she. Animalistic
sounds in an animalistic mating environment.

Oh fuck me, she sobbed silently,
fuck me!

His flesh rubbed and rubbed her
clit and displayed labial grooves. The friction was so overwhelming that her
climax seized her rapidly, bringing her to contorted heights and throwing her
further skyward.

She shrieked. The white hot
blinding light boiled in her mind, but he was relentless. He continued to pound
her. The bed slammed against the wall, and she was sure everyone in the club must
have heard them. He punctuated each slam with a grunt, and she came again and
again. Just when she thought she couldn’t go any further, the friction on her
clit and displayed leaves would become more raw, and she would be transcended
to greater and greater heights – until her multiple orgasms became one
continuous blur.

Then she suddenly felt an
emptiness in her vaginal tunnel.

She opened her eyes in surprise.
He had withdrawn his still erect cock. Why did he not want to finish?

“Turn around,” he said.

Without waiting for her, he
flipped her sweaty body over. Alarm sprang to her head. What did he have in
mind? Was he going to fuck her like an animal – on all fours?

But he clambered over the bed to
reach for the drawer in the cabinet again. He took out a bottle of lube.

Why did she need lube? Wasn’t she
wet enough?

He took a generous dollop of it
and smeared it on his condom covered cock. Then he returned to her. He placed
the tip of his cock against her anus, and she suddenly knew what he was about
to do.

But she wasn’t ready! Her mind
went into a feverish spin. Would it hurt? Would his large cock tear her?

“Do you want to stop now?” he said.

He waited. Now she knew what he
meant by taking what he wanted from her. But he was giving her a choice. He was
letting her walk away if she chose to. But oh, he had her, and he knew it too.
She couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Already, she didn’t want to leave
him, and she was already making plans for their dubious future.

Now she knew he was an anal man.
His sexual preferences ran on the wild side, and that was why – in
addition to the secrets he kept – he seemed so enigmatic and elusive. His
cock nudged her bare anus, ready and as hard as an iron rod.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked
her again. One hand was on her waist, steadying her. The other was on his cock,
angling it, ready to ram her if she should so give the word.

And she knew what she would say.
She already knew what she was in for the moment she walked into this room with
him.

“Yes!” she gasped.

He drove his cock into her anus,
and she shrieked again.

The pain was immense. Her anal
sphincter protested as his cock drove it apart. But the lube ensured that
nothing was torn. His organ slid up her rectum, spreading her muscles wide. The
passage there was a lot tighter than her other one, and he now bucked against
her hips, spearing her, thrusting into her, hammering her moons as if his
previous exertions never drained a patch of energy off him.

She couldn’t help crying out repeatedly
as he drove himself in and out of her. The pain abated, and the lube provided a
smooth passage for his thick rod of flesh. After a while, she found the fucking
strangely rhythmic and strangely comforting. Like a taboo being crossed. The clamps
on her pussy were whipped back and forth with the force of his propulsion.

She might even learn to like it,
she reckoned.

He came soon enough. His cock had
been dealt with a lot of friction tonight, and it didn’t take long this time.
He came into the condom, crying out his climax into the ceiling. She felt an
incredible sense of pleasure as he emptied himself into the condom inside her
ass. What pleasured him pleasured her as well, she decided. Gave her a profound
sense of existence, God help her.