Freed (4 page)

“One,” I whispered into the sheets. “Thank you Sir.”

Two hard slaps followed, where ass met thigh. I jumped a little in his lap, and yelped, but quickly voiced a count and thanks.

He yanked my panties up the crack of my ass, giving me a very grown-up wedgie. With my ass cheeks exposed, two quick smacks landed, the clap of sound echoing around the room, followed quickly by a soothing rub of that aching spot. “Check in for me, pain-wise,” he asked.

“I’m good,” I replied, unable to keep the note of surprise out of my voice at his concern.

“Another thing your previous Dom didn’t bother to do?” He sounded disgusted.

I didn’t want to talk about Dylan. I wanted to stay submerged in this moment with Alexander. I wiggled my ass at him and he obligingly spanked me again. When I forgot to count it out, he spanked me harder. “Are you going to be rebellious,
cherie
?” he asked. This time, I heard the definite note of steel in his voice. Rather than make me afraid, it just made me melt.

“No Sir,” I said. “Six and seven, Sir. Thank you.”

My spanking continued. My ass felt aflame, though I didn’t call a stop. While each spank hurt, the pain was bearable. And the pleasure? Oh, the pleasure of his palms gliding over my skin, his fingers teasing at my pussy and anus, his nails raking down my thighs with a sharpness that caused me to moan out aloud, his mouth biting at my red ass, sending twin bolts of pleasure and pain shuddering through me...

When I’d gasped out ‘
twenty’
, he relented and brought me to my first screaming orgasm.

As I recovered, I felt his strong hands turn me over to face him. I looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Sir,” I said softly.

He smiled and kissed my lips. “We are just getting started,” he said. He lifted me off his lap and set me down on the bed on my side, so that my tied hands wouldn’t make lying down awkward. I watched with eager eyes as he took off his clothes. “Open,” he ordered, and thrust his dick in my mouth.

My eyes widened in surprised pleasure as I sucked his hard shaft. This wasn’t something he allowed very often and it felt like a treat. But if the act of blowing him off was supposed to take my mind of my own desire, it didn’t work. As I heard his throaty groans and saw each and every expression flit across his face, my own arousal spiralled alarmingly high. I told myself I couldn’t come from just sucking him off, but my body was so,
so
close to making a liar out of me.

His hands curled in my hair as he pumped in and out of my mouth. I heard myself make slurping, gagging sounds as I felt him go deeper and push into my throat. I should have been terrified.

Instead, some part of me was exultant. Alexander never lost control, but he was painfully close to losing it now, and I was the person who had taken him to the very edge. In that moment, it was impossible to feel anything other than purely sexual.

He pulled out before he came and I whimpered, feeling an acute sense of loss. “Not yet,” he said, with a wry twist of his lips. “I’m not quite done with your punishment.”

Don’t punish me, just take me,
I wanted to scream out. Instead, I stayed silent as he helped me off the bed and onto my knees, his hands steadying me as I struggled for balance. Once I was in position, I looked up at him, waiting for him to tell me what to do.

This was what I’d never experienced with Dylan. The peacefulness of my surrender, the utter relaxation that came knowing that I’d given him my trust and my control. The security of knowing that I was following my instincts and everything told me that Alexander wouldn’t hurt me.

Not unless I begged for it and even then, it would all stop if I used my safe word.  

He walked away for a moment and I could hear him rummaging through the dresser for some toys. He’d openly invited me to explore the playroom any time I wanted. “Look through everything,” he’d said, earlier this week. “If there’s something you want to try, let me know.”

I hadn’t taken advantage of his offer. Now, as I waited on my knees, with anticipation and heavy desire running through my veins, I wished I had. He would help me learn. His eyes were always warm, a smile never far from his lips. Exactly the way he’d been in Paris two years ago, on a summer night in Saint Denis.

When he returned, he carried a flogger and a medium-sized stainless steel butt plug in his hands. “Relax,” he chided with a smile. “I do have lube. Your eyes became as round as saucers.”  

I smothered my own answering smile. “Sorry, Sir,” I said meekly.

“Mmm.” He made a noise of approval as he walked around me. I was kneeling on the floor, my breasts hanging out of my bra, my swollen pussy lips bisected by the crotch of the panties I was, against all odds, still wearing. “This is a very nice sight,” he mused.

My lips fell open as his cock nudged at my face. My tongue reached out to lap at his fat head and he shook his head. “No, no. Wait for permission.”

Then give me permission, damn it,
I fought from crying out. My burning need was back, the relief from my orgasm only temporary. I wanted his cock in my throat again. I wanted to feel a certain helplessness when he held my hair in his hands and pummelled my mouth with his dick. A powerlessness that was only illusory, because as soon as I wanted him to stop, he would.

The words I was waiting for didn’t come. “Bend over the bed,” he said instead. “Hold your cheeks open for me,
cherie.”

His order was symbolic - tied up as I was, I could hardly part my cheeks effectively. My face coloured as I did as he asked, my hands awkward in their bindings. I felt the cool trickle of lube between my cheeks, then his fingers followed. First just one finger, then another, finally a third. At each stage, I forced myself to ease my tensed muscles. If I reminded myself I had no reason to be afraid and if I allowed myself to simply relax, I had to admit that this felt amazing. Intimate and naughty, a delicious morsel of illicit pleasure between two lovers.

“Now, the plug,” he said. His voice was rough with pleasure. I felt his fingers hold my panties aside, then I felt the steady intrusion of the plug. My breath caught and his hand descended sharply on my ass. “Jenny.” The voice was a warning and a promise, all rolled in one.
Trust him
.

I bit the inside of my cheek and exhaled and the plug slid past the tight ring of my asshole and nestled in place. I could feel its weight and its size in my body. I felt filled, controlled,
his.

The plug was preparing me for his cock. My entire body heated at that mental image. Alexander would hold down my hips as his shaft split me open. I would moan in mingled pleasure and pain and he would either spank me or kiss me as he desired. Yet whatever he did, it would be exactly what I needed in that moment.

His fingers tapped at the base of the plug, embedding it deeper in me. “How’s that?”

“Good, Sir,” I panted out.

“No, no,” he corrected. “Tell me. No one-word answers.”

His hand skated over my ass, setting each nerve ending tingling. My skin was already prepped for his touch by his spanking and I was intensely aware of the way his palm caressed me. “I feel full,” I started. “I feel owned by you.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “I like it.”

His large hand closed over the back of my neck, and he held me down on the bed. I could hear his approval at my words in his voice when he spoke next, though he didn’t directly answer me. “Flogger now. Ten strokes.”

“Yes, Sir.” I smiled slightly. His voice was raspy and hoarse. Alexander’s impeccable control was fraying, ever so slightly. I wondered how long it would take before it snapped entirely.

He ran the tails of the flogger over my already reddened ass before bringing it down in one hard swipe. I hissed as a thousand little fires erupted all over my skin, but on the heels of pain came pleasure, sure and swift.

“Give me a number for the pain,” he said. “One through ten. Ten’s high.”

“Four,” I responded. Madame Lorraine’s dominants had done the same test for pain. I supposed it made sense – every person’s pain tolerance was different and Alexander had never used the flogger on me. Some part of me was still expecting dominance and submission to be just another version of everything I’d endured at Dylan’s stronghold. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly clearer that this was a very different thing. This was about consent and mutual pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure, my panties had been reduced to a sodden lace scrap of fabric. Alexander’s fingers teased at my folds and he chuckled. “So tasty,” he muttered and my insides clenched in longing as I imagined him licking my juices from his fingers.

“Sir, please,” I begged. “Please fuck me. Please, I can’t hold on…”

“And yet,” his voice was firm, “hold on you will. Isn’t that right, Jenny? You are going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir.”

Warmth pooled in my body as the flogger made stinging contact with my skin. Each stroke made me moan, gasp and whimper. Yet, my pussy was soaked. Little shockwaves of lust radiated through my entire body each time the tails of the flogger touched me.

My ass felt like it was on fire when he was done. His hands stroked my skin and soothed me, his lips kissing each aching bit of skin until it all melded into a pool of want and need and desire so deep that I was convinced I would drown in it.

“Let’s slide your panties off your ass. You’ve been so good,
cherie
, you deserve a reward.”

“Thank you Sir,” I gasped gratefully.

His arms helped reposition me so I was sitting on the floor, my back leaning against the bed. He kneeled down next to me and he kissed me deeply, passionately. His fingers tweaked at my nipples; his hands cupped my breasts. His nails scraped at my skin and I moaned into his mouth at the tsunami of sensation he was causing in me.

“You okay, Jenny?” His voice was all warmth and calm reassurance.

“Yes Sir,” I responded instantly. I was more than okay. I was burning up, teetering at the edge of a chasm of need.
He had to push me over.
I needed to explode and shake and quiver all over him as he too climbed to his climax.

But at the same time, I was eyeing the flogger that he’d casually thrown at the side of the bed. He noticed my gaze and he grinned at me, stifling his chuckles. “Want more?”

I flushed, gulping with nerves. It felt so strange to ask for what I wanted.

“Remember the rules, Jenny,” he said firmly. “Open, honest communication.”

“When Madame Lorraine’s trainers tested me, they used the flogger against my breasts,” I whispered, mortified.

“And you’d like to repeat that?” His voice was deep.

I nodded. His fingers touched my chin, tipping my face up so that I could meet his eyes. In his gaze, I saw pleasure. “Thank you for telling me what you’d like, Jenny,” he said, his voice filled with approval. Then, the timbre of it changed and the smoother, firmer tones of the dominant was back. “Five strokes, I think, to start.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered.

His fingers finally lifted the chain containing the priceless diamond pendant from my neck and he tossed it on the bed. His lips twitched at my words. “You might not be thanking me at the end,
cherie
.” And with that, the flogger slapped down on my right breast and then my left.

Pain bloomed instantly, but so did impossible lust. I groaned and rested my head on the bed, biting my lip and taking a deep breath, letting the sensation flow through me.

Slap. Slap.
Two hard strokes and I twitched. The movement set the butt plug moving in me. I’d almost forgotten about it, I’d been so lost in every other sensation that Alexander was causing.

“Three more to go,” he announced.

“You said five, Sir,” I protested, wincing almost instantly as I realized I had contradicted my dominant. I braced for anger and punishment, but he just shook his head calmly.

“Five per breast, Jenny.” The flogger descended over and over and I let it wash over me. A strange languor filled my entire body. I still wanted to come, I still wanted to feel his dick in me, but in that moment, all my own wants receded and what was left was Alexander’s desire.

The flogger thudded to the floor; Alexander sat on the bed, his hip touching the side of my face. His hands caressed my heated flesh, his fingers teased each red, tender nipple. He kissed me. My mouth, my neck, my shoulders, my breasts. His breath was hot against me; his stubble scratched at my sensitive skin. “Sir,” I sighed, unable to hide the pleasure in my voice.

His hand stroked my cheek. “You are so beautiful like this,” he said quietly. “So wet. So ready for me.” His touch shifted lower, tracing a slow path from my breasts, down my stomach, past my belly button, to cup my mound. My thighs were damp with my juices; my pussy dripped with desire. I watched him touch me, my entire body yearning for him. My lips were parted, but my plea remained unvoiced.

But he was finally done making me wait. I was helped up onto the bed, positioned on my side. My panties were roughly pushed down to my knees. The butt plug was removed and a fresh drizzle of lube was slicked on my asshole. I heard the sound of a condom wrapper tear, then I felt the fat head of Alexander’s cock strain at my tight rosebud.