The Playboy's Proposition (2 page)

“I love your body,” he said. Then he removed his shirt.

I was pretty fond of his body, too, and reached out to touch
his sculpted chest. He pushed my hand away.

“No, you don’t touch unless I tell you to,” he said. He kicked
off his shoes and socks, then removed his jeans and underwear. “You have to
earn that privilege.”

We stood there, looking at one another, naked. His cock
stood out stiff and proud. My breath grew ragged, and I noticed Michael’s, too,
was getting harsher.

“Tell me again,” he said, “that you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me.” And I definitely meant it.

“Call me Master,” he demanded. “Say, I want you to fuck me,
please, Master.”

This was more difficult for me. Calling him Master was not
something I felt wholly comfortable doing. Still, I had done my reading, and
knew Master was a common honorific.

I took a deep breath and said, “I want you to fuck me,
please, Master,” as smoothly as I could. It wasn’t as awkward to say as I had
feared.

He said, “When we’re in private, you will address me as
Master, unless I tell you otherwise.”

I nodded.

He said, “Say, yes, Master.”

I did.

He made a low sound that revealed his pleasure. He said,
“Now come here and put your arms around my neck and kiss me.”

This was an easy order to obey. He wrapped his arms around
my waist, pulled me tight against his chest and returned my kiss. He tasted
minty and clean, and I savored the pleasure of his tongue pushing into my
mouth, the force of him claiming this particular hole. His hole, he had called
it. I shivered in his arms.

His hands roamed over my back and ass while he deepened our
kisses. I slipped my fingers into his hair, glad finally to get the chance to
feel the texture and weight of it.

We kissed and explored some more, then his hands gripped me
under my ass and he lifted me up, telling me to wrap my legs around his waist.
His erection pressed against my stomach as he carried me to the sofa and sat
down. I unwrapped my legs before he leaned back, leaving me straddling his lap.

He pulled my hips toward him, grinding me against his hard
dick that was trapped between our bodies.

He said, “Put your hands on your head, lock your fingers
together like that. Yes. Now, ask me to suck your tits. Say, please suck my
tits, Master.”

I grabbed some air and managed to say, “Please, suck my ...
tits, Master.”

“Say it again, like you mean it.”

“Please, suck my tits, Master.”

“Gladly, sweet one,” and he leaned forward and sucked one of
my nipples into his mouth.

I panted and melted into the sensations of his hot mouth on
my breasts and his hands gripping my hips, pushing and pulling me against his
engorged cock, and me joining in the rhythm of the grind, my wetness smoothing
the ride.

Michael nibbled at my breasts and nipples. Tiny little
bites, soft love bites. In between nibbles, he asked, “Do you like that?”

I moaned out a yes.

He bit down harder then said, “Yes what.”

I gasped. “Yes ... Master.”

He murmured, then continued suckling and nibbling my
breasts. I closed my eyes and rode him.

When he finally pulled away from me, he told me to put my
hands on his shoulders for balance, then he had me rise up onto my feet into a
crouched position over his lap. He held his dick and had me lower my body until
the head of his cock was pressed against my opening. He told me to hold the
position.

It was not an easy thing to do. I was trying to hold a low
squat, my knees spread wide to either side. I had a tight grip on his
shoulders, and within a minute my thigh muscles were beginning to ache from the
pressure of crouching. But the worst of it was having his dick right there,
teasing me. I wanted him inside me.

Michael, meanwhile, was eyeing my pussy. I could not have
been more open to his view. He pinched and pulled at my labia.

My legs began to quiver. He said, “Keep holding it. I love
seeing you like this. You’re all wet and slick, and ready for me, but you can’t
have it, not quite yet.”

He pulled and pinched and pulled. I moaned. He smiled and
licked his lips. He said, “Tell me you want my dick.”

I panted and answered, “Yes, I want your dick.”

“No,” he said.

I quickly responded, “Yes, I want your dick, please,
Master.”

“How do you want it?”

“I want it inside me, Master ... please.”

“No, say it filthy and raw, and real.”

I said, “Please, Master. I want your dick in my pussy.”

“Whose pussy is it? You’re forgetting what’s what.”

“Okay. Yes. Right. Please, Master, I want your dick in my
hole. I mean your hole. Fuck me, Master.”

He growled and ran a thumb over my clit. I fought to hold my
position with my quivering legs.

He gave me one last sharp pinch then said, “Lower yourself,
Sweet. Slowly.”

I did. I felt myself stretch to take in the size of him, the
hard width and length. I groaned.

He said, “Take it all. All the way. Yes, like that.”

I could feel the head of his penis pushing deeply into me,
all the way down to the hilt. He filled me and then some.

“Move your hips in little circles,” he said.

I did. Mmm, so good. So good having him inside me. Then he
had me rise up again, back into my former position, and he had me hold it for a
few moments while he played with me, then I was allowed to lower myself back
down again and circle my hips. Then up again. Hold. Then down. And circle. Up.
Hold. Down. Circle.

Every time he flicked my clit I was in danger of coming. He
warned me not to orgasm, ordering me to wait until he told me to come. I hadn’t
expected anything different. But it was hard. It was hard to take in all these
sensations, to feel the heat and pressure growing in my lower belly, and know I
couldn’t release it. So hard.

He said, “I love seeing my dick slide into you. Your pussy
spreading open to take it all. Tell me you want to please me.”

“I do,” I managed to say between my gasps. “I do want to
please you, Master.”

“Good. Then take it all. Yes. Now switch to your knees ...
like that, yes. Hands back on your head. Arch your back. Perfect. Look at those
tits. You have beautiful tits. Stick them out for me. Ahh, yes.”

His hands closed around my waist and he lifted me then
shoved me back down hard. I gasped. Again. I made a mmph sound.

“Up and down hard,” he ordered. “I want to see those tits
shake. Up and down. Hard! Fuck your master’s dick. That’s right.”

I rode him as hard as I could, needing his assistance at my
waist for additional force and balance. His hips jerked under me and rose up to
meet me when I pushed down onto him. His eyes watched my bouncing breasts, and
my pussy, and a few times, my face.

I panted for breath while the pressure began to grow
unbearable. Finally, with one of his hands, he rubbed my clit. Catching my eye,
he said, “You can come now.”

I worked my hips and tightened my muscles, feeling the force
of my impending orgasm begin to flow outward. Pure pleasure washed over me and
I cried out, throwing back my head and shutting my eyes then ...

Pain. Harsh pain on my breast. I cried out and jerked
backwards, trying to yank away from the pain. I looked down. Michael was biting
my right breast. His mouth was open wide, clamped down over nipple and areola.
His lips were pulled back and I could see his white teeth sunk into my flesh,
not breaking the skin, but pressed deep. Deep enough to hurt. To hurt badly.

I cried out, “No!” The pain blended with the pleasure of my
orgasm, pleasure that hadn’t stopped just because I hurt. Pain and pleasure,
both at the same time.

Michael released me, pulling back and looking sharply into
my eyes. He saw my pain and smiled a wicked smile that only grew wider when I
covered my aching breast with my hands. He clamped down hard on my waist,
pounding me up and down on his cock. He held my gaze and fucked me.

Then he came. The last of my orgasm faded as his semen
spurted into me. He groaned, and drew heavy breaths as he finished. And all the
while, he never looked away from me.

I was still holding my breast, a bit in shock, I think, from
what had happened. Michael pulled my hands away and when he leaned his head
toward me, I pulled back, thinking he was going to bite me again. He laughed
and pulled me forward, stretched out his tongue and licked my breast.

He licked me and suckled and soothed the ache away. Because
of the intensity of the pain, I expected to see deep indented teeth marks on my
breast, but there wasn’t much of a mark at all, just a circle of reddened
flesh.

His hands skimmed over my back and down my hips. I began to
calm down.

At last, I said, “I don’t understand why you did that. Why
you bit me.”

He smiled and gave a little shrug. “I did it because I
wanted to. Was it that terrible for you?”

“Yes, it was. It scared me.”

“Nothing wrong with a little fear, Sweet. It heightens the
passion.”

“And it hurt. I don’t like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. What kind of question is that?”

He said, “Don’t you think maybe the pleasure is greater with
a bit of pain thrown in for an extra boost?”

“No, I don’t.”

He laughed. “You just came like a freight train and you’re
telling me it wasn’t pleasurable ... you are completely charming.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t pleasurable. I meant I don’t need
pain for pleasure. Unlike you, I guess.”

“Oh, I don’t need to be in pain to get pleasure. I don’t see
how you’ve gotten that idea.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that you need me to be in
pain for you to get pleasure.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not true at all. Yes, your pain is
something of a boost for me, but I don’t have to have it. I just want it when I
want it. Don’t look like that. You can’t blame me for it. You’re spectacular
when you’re in pain, did you know that? Spectacular. And fear, ahh. Your pretty
brown eyes, they grow even bigger and wider when you’re afraid and in pain.
Lovely. So lovely.”

He stroked a thumb down my cheek with his last words. I
hardly knew what to think. He pulled me down toward him and nuzzled my neck.
His breath warmed my skin when he said, “It wasn’t so bad, really, was it?”

I made a noncommittal sound.

One of his hands gently cupped the breast he had bitten. His
fingers played lightly over my nipple. He said, “The pain is already gone. It
was nothing after all. You were more surprised than anything else.”

I mumbled a maybe. It was hard to think when he was doing
these things to my body. His kisses on my neck, one hand on my breast, the
other stroking my hip. A tendril of heat curled in my belly. I wanted to know
more about his need to hurt me, I had questions ... I just couldn’t remember
what those questions were anymore.

Michael said, “You’re already getting excited again, ready
for more, aren’t you? Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s wonderful. I think
you’re wonderful. I’d like to take you again, right now. Can’t you feel my cock
getting hard again, already?”

Yes, oh yes I certainly could.

He said, “I swear I had plans for us this evening. If we
don’t get up now, I’ll have to fuck you again. Come on. Let’s get up. We’ve got
things to do.”

He lifted me off of his lap and set me down beside him on
the sofa. He immediately got up and looked around my apartment.

“Where’s your shower? We’ll clean up, get dressed and be
off. What do you say?”

I tried to shake myself out of the passion stupor he had put
me in and said, “Okay.”

I led him back to my bathroom.

Things didn’t go quite as he planned there, either. It
wasn’t a quick shower at all. Perhaps if we had showered separately ... oh well.
Slick and wet bodies aren’t exactly deterrents to sexual arousal. I was given
free rein to explore his taut body, the planes of his flat stomach, the curve
of his hard ass. I guessed I must have earned the right to touch him, and it
made me happy, actually did feel like something of a reward.

He eventually pushed me against the shower wall and took me
from behind, all slow and silky and sweet, his hands on my belly and breasts,
mine on his tight buttocks. No pain this time. Just the pleasure. Our orgasms,
like the warm water, streamed over our bodies.

So it wasn’t a quick process, the cleaning up and the drying
off and the getting dressed again. He picked out a skirt for me, which he had
me wear without any panties underneath, and a shirt, which he wanted me to wear
without a bra under it. I felt dressed and naked all at once.

Then we were outside, in his dark blue sports car, tearing
down the streets of the city, headed I didn’t know where. I didn’t much care. I
laughed easily at the teasing things he said, and I enjoyed my quick heartbeats
whenever he slid a hand up my thigh and under my skirt, teasing me in this
other way.

I felt beautiful and free and alive ... and young, younger
than I had felt in years. This was youth, riding in a fast car with a powerful
and handsome man who wanted me, and who I wanted in return. At least, it’s what
youth should be. It was what every day should be.

He asked if I was hungry, but since I wasn’t, he said we
would go straight to the mystery location he had planned for our first date,
though date wasn’t really the right word for what we were doing, was it?

I half-noticed the passing buildings becoming shoddier, the
neighborhoods becoming poorer. Soon, I realized we were in one of the more
dangerous parts of the city. I asked Michael where we were going, but he only
smiled and said I would find out soon.

He pulled into the parking lot of a garishly-lit building,
all neon and flashing lights. A strip club? No. Close, though. It was an adult
book store, in other words, a porn shop. And not a nice one. It was tacky and
sleazy, and didn’t look altogether savory.