Forbidden - A Story of Love, BDSM and Infidelity (3 page)

My ability to analyze vanished when the pain
from his slap wrapped around my senses.

“
I think I’ll have that
tight tail of yours now.”

He reached between my legs, finding my
wetness, spreading it.

His slick finger traced lightly over my
anus, slowly pushing harder and harder until I relaxed enough to
allow its entry, making me shiver in anticipation.

“
How do you feel about
that? Do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“
If…if it pleases you.” I
thought of my husband, who’d never ask me a question like
that.

I moaned, rocking my hips, the need to be
filled increasing with every move of his finger.

“
Yes,” he said, “you please
me.” He ran his other hand up and down my back, stroking me, giving
me chills. “There was a wound here, once.” He sounded oddly
detached, as if he were only thinking out loud.

Once more, he ran the tips of his fingers
along my back, crisscrossing back and forth. “Are those
scars
?”

I swallowed, the gentle touch of his fingers
throwing me for a loop. But I knew what he meant of course. I had
paid good money to have a clinic reduce the appearance of the
scars.

“
Who did that?” he asked,
getting up and moving away from me, which was absolutely
frustrating.

“
A man I used to…date. I
was very young and long before I met my husband.” I kept my voice
neutral while I fought to control my emotions. “He cut
me.”

“
Yes,” he said quietly. “I
can feel that.” I heard the snap of the leather crop as if he had
flicked it against his palm, and then felt how he traced the crop
down my back. “How? Why?”

“
He did it because I agreed
to, agreed to…” I shut my mouth. The memory wasn’t as hurtful
anymore, yet I didn’t like to think back to the evening where I had
agreed to let this guy tie me up. It had excited me, I had longed
for it. I had longed to submit to him. I should have stayed in a
chat room with him, but I had wanted the real deal.

And paid for it.

It was long ago—what girl had never made an
error in judgment when it came to trusting a man?

But here I was, trusting a man again.

My throat closed and my limbs started to
shake the longer I thought about it.

The guy had eventually stopped torturing me.
And I had gone straight to the police. Knowing the guy was locked
up had never quite soothed me. I had moved cities and changed jobs.
And eventually moved on from that nightmare.

But here I was again, bound and helpless on
the bed of a male a hundred times more intimidating than the
bastard who had used the knife on me.

A sharp slap from the crop landed on my ass
that made me scream out.

Pain blurred my mind, blurred the images and
the memory of the night where I had thought I would die. Another
slap landed on my other buttock, softer this time, and he made a
hushing sound as if I were an animal he was trying to soothe.

If he had said, “You can trust me,” I
probably would have started to cry.

But he didn’t say those words. Instead, he
trailed the crop from my neck down my ass, tickling me.

And when he knelt behind me, his hands
wrapping around my middle, I felt only need cursing through my
veins, not fear.

He already knew what I wanted, what I
craved. And I wasn’t sure anymore if that was reason to fear or to
trust him.

His hands slipped between my legs, finding
my cunt, and he plunged his fingers inside me. “I want you wet and
ready and begging for me. Do you understand? Please me.”

I let out a strangled cry, aroused at his
demanding touch, but it was his words that got to me most.

I wanted to please him.

My breath came hard as his cock slipped
between my legs, rubbing over my clit. I

rocked myself against the hard ridge as he
pushed his knee between my legs, spreading me wider.

He guided the thick head of his cock into
me, but the sudden invasion left me desperate for more.

“
Do it,” I pressed through
my teeth, my body shaking with suppressed need. “Fuck
me.”

His low laugh sent shivers down my spine as
he raked his fingernails across my back.

It hurt, and fear clouded my senses. I
barely sensed him getting up, but what I felt when he returned had
me holding my breath. Cold metal pressed against my back, the tip
of a knife.

I bowed away from the bed, instinctively.
The rope holding my wrists dug into my skin as I tried to break
free.

Grabbing me by the neck as if I were a cat,
he pressed me into the mattress.

It was as if all my senses increased tenfold
as fear slammed into my body. He ran the metal tip up and down my
back, and it was so terribly familiar, I knew that any moment now
he would use the knife to slice my skin open.

It took me another second or two to get what
he was doing. He cut the rope holding my wrists. When my hands came
free, he reminded me with a tug at the leash that I was still
wearing his choker.

“
On the floor,” he said,
and I obeyed without thinking. Sliding from the bed, coming up on
hands and knees on the floor. He took off the blindfold.

I lifted my head, looked at him towering
over me, the crop in his hand. He flicked it against his leg in
steady rhythm.

“
Bow your head to the
ground.”

I did, rested my forehead against the
smooth, cold floor. A light slap landed against my flank.

“
Raise your
ass.”

I wanted to spread my legs but didn’t in
fear he would notice how desperately I wanted his touch, wanted the
release of tension, fear and sexual arousal.

He stepped behind me, lowered himself to one
knee, pushed my legs farther apart.

He thrust the length of his cock into my wet
heat in one hard stroke. Making sure he filled me completely, he
pulled me hard against his groin.

Everything inside me coiled tight as he
began to fuck me in raw and hard strokes. I heard myself say his
name, even if I hadn’t meant to.

He reached forward and wrapped his arms
around me, covering my breasts in his hands.

He rolled my nipples in his fingers while he
pumped his cock into my cunt. And with each stroke he twisted my
breasts a little harder, and the pain twisted my lust into an
unbearable need for release.

He fucked me almost brutally, as I so wanted
him to. When he pinched my nipple again, I groaned out, my internal
muscles clenching around him while he worked his cock deep into
me.

Helplessly, I surrendered to his thrusts and
pinches and the twisted way he played with my lust.

The way he played with my fear. Closing my
eyes, I reveled in the feeling of his thick cock pounding into
me.

His hand closed around my neck, grasping the
collar, reminding me that he had put it around my neck, and that I
had let him.

That I was his.

I was close, so close, but he pulled out of
me, rose to his feet while I rested my cheek against the cool
floor, cursing him, thanking him for his cruelty of not giving me
satisfaction.

Slowly, my heartbeat calmed, my breathing
too. I glanced up at him. His skin glowed, his cock rested hard
against his stomach, glistened from my juices.

He hadn’t come inside me, and I had the
sudden fear that I hadn’t pleased him enough.

“
I know what you need, know
what you fear too,” he said quietly.

He reached down, brushed his hand against my
cheek, removed the leash from the choker. “I’ll push you to the
edge, but I’ll never let you fall. Do you understand?”

I lowered my gaze. “Yes.”

I couldn’t see his smile, but I heard it in
his voice. “That will do—for tonight.”

* * * * *

I walked into my home, sought out the
shower. Christopher wasn’t at home yet, was working late tonight as
I knew he would.

I undressed, stepped into the shower. I let
ice-cold water come down on me until I shivered, my skin pebbling
with chills. I scrubbed my skin with a brush and soap.

I felt I deserved this kind of punishment
for the pleasures I had just received from another man. Deserved to
be punished for it even more.

I went to bed. After another hour of staring
into the dark, I heard my husband come home. And then after a
while, he slipped into bed with me. I let him draw me into his arms
while I pretended to be asleep, and drowned in the love and
affection we had for each other.

I could never do it again.

And yet, I knew that Tom
knew
that I
would be back.

That I would go back to him for more.

Chapter Seven

Tom

I am not a vanilla kind of guy.

I like it rough, and I like women who like
to be tied up, spanked, brought down to their hands and knees,
dominated.

Who find their pleasure in pleasing me.

Women who do as I say.

A woman like Jules, who hides her raw
sexuality behind modest clothing, shy smiles and a simple life.

A woman unaware that with every step she
makes, every shake of her hips, men stare at her perfect ass, her
full mouth and her round shoulders.

I dream about holding her by her hips, my
fingers digging into her flesh, hearing her cry out.

Jules, who craves a hard touch, a cruel
smile, a dominant hand and sweet pain.

Jules.

I couldn’t get her out of my head.

Ever since I had her that one night. That
night she submitted to me, despite her being ashamed and
humiliated.

Despite her being married.

She gave herself to me.

And I would never betray a gift like
that.

I would never complicate her life by
threatening her with romantic feelings, threatening her marriage
and security.

But I want her again, want her again
kneeling in front of me, looking up at me, eyes dark with lust.

Does she know how much I want her?

It has been almost a month when I last saw
her, when I let a riding crop kiss her skin. I remember to vividly
the tight fit when I thrust inside her. Remember the unsure tone of
her voice, her downcast eyes.

The way she came, the needy sounds she made,
the taste of her pussy.

I needed her back in my control, needed her
like a junkie needing their fix.

In my most violent fantasies, I make her my
whore and take her by force while she cries out my name.

Since I was nineteen, I haven’t been this
hard for a woman.

And what does she do?

Nothing.

It’s been a
month
.

A month without a word from her. A month she
let pass by without showing up on my doorstep.

But I know she wants me again, know that she
thinks about me as much as I think about her. How could she not? We
are each other’s match.

We complete each other, sexually.

And I will have her again, will have her on
her hands and knees. Will have her naked, for my taking. I will
hear her sob with need again. I will bring her pain and so much
shame.

I will make her give into her darkest,
deepest, forbidden desires.

I will make her submit.

And I will make her mine.

Chapter Eight

Jules

I turned into Christopher and let him scoop
me up into an embrace. I yawned, not feeling quite awake yet.

Kicking off the covers, I gave a sigh as
cool air touched my too warm skin.

He kissed me playfully on the forehead while
his hands started exploring, dipping between my thighs.

“
Good morning, beautiful,”
he whispered against my ear, a laugh at the back of his throat.
“I’m already late to work.”

But his hands were telling me a different
story. Leisurely, he explored my body, while his hard-on rested
against my stomach. I closed my hand around him and gave him a
stroke that made him groan.

Pulling up my t-shirt over my head, I
pressed my breasts against chest, knowing how much he loved to play
with them.

His hands came around them, then he moved
lower. His mouth closed over my nipple.

I laid back, closed my eyes and enjoyed the
attention he gave me, letting myself be turned on by his need to
have me.

His hard-on rested against my inner thigh as
he moved up to my neck. I giggled as he kissed my ear while his
fingers got busy dipping into my pussy.

I was wet, his hornyness for me turning me
on.

I could feel him nudging at me, and then he
slid slowly and smoothly into me. He groaned in my ear, one hand
around my breast, massaging it.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and
pushed up my hips to meet his thrusts. I loved the weight of his
body, how he pushed me into the mattress. Loved how urgently he
fucked me, steady strokes that made him groan with pleasure.

I wished he’d flip me over, his hand against
the back of my neck to keep me down. I wished he’d fuck me hard
from behind, spanking me.

The thought alone made me moan and I closed
my eyes, imagining a woman who was being held down by two guys
against her will.

My breath came faster, and as always, I felt
guilty for not having normal sexual fantasies. I’d read somewhere
that rape fantasies were normal, but it didn’t feel normal to
me.

His hand clamped around my breast and
startled me out of my thoughts. It felt good, to be held like this,
to return his deep kisses.

He tensed under my hands, his thrusts
becoming slower and when he grunted out loud, I could feel his cock
throbbing inside me as he came.