No Safeword: Matte - the Honeymoon (16 page)

Her hands landed on his right hip, and she allowed
her elbows to bend before pushing away. He took a few steps backward, but
didn’t go down. She landed on her feet in a squat, and sprang forward with a
combination right-left-right before retreating. She landed all three, but
figured only one would count as his definition of solid. She said, “One,” as
she retreated, and he nodded as he got his feet under him and brought his hands
up.

The Ethan who fought her wasn’t
her
Ethan. His
face was hard, his arms defensive, and his eyes calculating. He was her foe. He
was the enemy, and her adrenaline kicked up a notch as she danced backward and
looked for an advantage.

They circled each other, eyes sharp, bodies alert and
ready to move in an instant.

The rain ceased to matter.

Sam’s nightgown clung to her, and part of her brain
registered she was clothed while Ethan was nude. His cock was semi-hard in
anticipation, but Ethan was too focused on capturing and controlling Sam for it
to be rock hard just yet.

As tempting as it was to just turn and run again, Sam
knew she needed to keep him in front of her, so she could strike if he came
near. If he came at her from behind he could throw her over his shoulder and
carry her off, or throw her to the ground and fuck her right here. She
suppressed a shudder at the idea of him taking her on the sand.

“What’s the matter, big guy? Afraid to take me?”

Ethan didn’t react, didn’t smile, didn’t frown. He’d
learned her tricks and wouldn’t give her any easy shots.

Well, she could just do it the hard way, then. One
shot at a time. He didn’t know
all
her tactics and maneuvers yet.

Since Ethan didn’t hit her when they fought, it’d
occurred to her she might get away with the self-defense moves designed for
combat against people with no fighting skills. Ethan was trying to grab her and
control her, not knock her out or wear her down with punches.

She stepped in, broadcast for a rib punch, and caught
him just under the jaw instead. His chin went up a few inches with the impact,
and she took the opportunity to step in and catch the back of his knee with a
sweep, strike his ribs where she’d faked earlier, and bash her elbow into the
front of his bent knee before catching his foot with hers and dancing backwards
out of reach.

He hit the sand hard, closed his eyes against the
rain, rolled to the side, and sprung to his feet.

“Two, plus a takedown.”

His face was still emotionless stone, his eyes still
impassively analyzed her, and she could almost see the strategy wheels spinning
in his head.

She managed another combination, figured one strike
and one kick should count, and said, “Three and four,” as she danced back.

He reached for her and she barely evaded him, and
delivered a hard enough downstroke to knock his arm out of the way that she was
tempted to call it the fifth solid hit, but knew he’d meant body and face
shots, so she didn’t.

His stance felt different, and as they circled each
other once more, she realized he wasn’t expecting her to try to take him down
again. It didn’t take her long to recognize this could work in her favor. It
was risky, but her gut told her a repeat of the first time she ever took him
down would work. She telegraphed an intention to sidestep him, but at the last
minute shifted her weight, grabbed for him, and used his own momentum to take
him to the ground.

On his way down she landed a solid right hook to his
jaw, and she fought a wince as her knuckles protested the impact. He wasn’t
down yet though, so she kicked out and landed her heel almost exactly where
she’d elbowed his thigh earlier.

He grunted in pain, and her heart skipped a few beats
as she danced away from him and said, “Five and six.”

Ethan got his feet under him but stayed in a squat.
Sam didn’t meet his eyes, but let her focus go wide, so she could watch his
hands, feet, and body for clues to his next move.  

He dove forward and wrapped his hand around her right
ankle. He’d been aiming for both ankles, but she managed to get her left foot
out of the way before his hand arrived.

He yanked, and she allowed the momentum to pull her
to the ground, but she kicked at his arm with her other foot. He was
determined, though, and ignored the pain as he dragged her to him.

She punched his jaw, but couldn’t get enough leverage
and he totally ignored the strike — a buzzing insect might have bothered
him more.

Sam twisted to the side in an attempt to roll onto
her stomach and hopefully break his grip, but he grabbed her arm with his other
hand and dragged her close. In one swift move he let go of her foot, sat on her
thighs, and reached for her other hand.

Frantic, Sam punched him with her one remaining free
limb. His face was out of reach, so she hit his abs as she aimed for his spine,
and then lifted her arm and slammed her fist into the top of his thigh.

He finally managed to grab her wrist, and he leaned
forward and planted both of her forearms by her ears as he inclined his head
and licked her cheek.

“You’re mine, bitch, and you’ll pay for every time
you hit me.”

Ethan’s voice was terrifying, and his icy expression
almost too much to handle.

Sam lifted a leg and slammed her heel into his lower
back. She couldn’t get enough force behind it to hurt him bad, but she had to keep
fighting. Giving up wasn’t an option.

With no warning, he let go of her hands, flipped her
over on her stomach, and stood with his arm wrapped around her upper legs,
positioning her in an inverted “V.”

Sam’s hands scrabbled in the wet sand as she tried to
keep her head off the ground. The water ran down her body in rivulets, and she
felt his cock at her entrance seconds before he forced his way into her,
pushing hard and fast, whether she wanted him there or not.

Sam screamed at the invasion, helpless to stop it.
She braced her arms better and struggled to breathe as rivers of water ran down
her body and into her face, and Ethan’s huge cock drove into her, jerked out,
and plunged into her again and again.

Her hands scraped back and forth across the wet sand
as he brutally fucked her. She wished she dared lift one of her hands long
enough to brush her hair from her face and maybe redirect the water streaming
into one of her ears. Unable to do anything else, she managed to tilt her head
until the water changed direction.

His hands were beginning to dig into her front thigh
muscles, and she screamed, “You’re hurting me! My thighs!” and hoped he heard
her through the torrential rain.

He shifted his grip and moved his hands closer to her
hips, but didn’t slow. The angle of her legs didn’t allow him to push all the
way into her, but he was going far enough in she could feel him slamming into
something, and it felt as if he were bruising her inside, as well as her inner thighs.

Another couple of minutes passed, and Sam felt tears
forming as she tried to support her weight on her arms while he ravaged her
from behind. Without warning he drove in, held, and lifted her body. One hand
clamped down on her breast and she yelped as he squeezed her left nipple. His
other hand reached for her right wrist, and he folded his arm across her torso,
taking her arm with it. He released her left nipple and spun her around before
taking her to the ground on her back.

Before she had a chance to find her equilibrium, he
pushed forward so her feet were over her head, and had both ankles in one hand
as he maneuvered her like a ragdoll.

Sam tried to strike around her legs as he positioned
at her asshole, but she couldn’t get enough leverage to do any damage as he
forced his way into her.

Just as he sank deep into her ass, he closed his eyes
and dropped his head enough she could get to him, and she landed another strike
to his chin, but refrained from letting him know it was the seventh. His eyes
flew open and he grabbed her hand as he leaned in again and said, “How’s it
feel to get buggered up the ass, little girl? I’m gonna ream your ass good.”

Frantic, Sam hopelessly fought to free her legs, to
strike him with her left hand — still free for the moment — or to
wiggle and move enough to dislodge him, but he’d effectively captured her, and
there was nowhere to go, no way to stop him.

His cock plunged into her, pulled out, shoved back
in, and she screamed into the rain, knowing no one would hear.

It didn’t take him long to come, and his entire
demeanor changed when he did. However, before he dropped to the sand he focused
his green eyes on her and said, “We good?”

Sam smiled. “Well, I didn’t come, but other than
that, yeah.”

He collapsed on the ground beside her and said,
“Thank you for that. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He had to shout a little, to be
heard over the rain.

Sam put her mouth closer to his ear, so she wouldn’t
have to yell. “I was worried more about you; I landed a few hits harder than I
intended.”

He rolled to his side and kissed her cheek. “I’m
good, Darlin’.”

Ethan insisted they shower in different bathrooms,
and told Sam to take her time. “I need to run to the store, so do the shampoo
and conditioner thing, and then take your time with the blow dryer.”

Sam assumed he was leaving to buy plastic wrap, which
meant she was a horny mess while she showered. She didn’t go check on him
before blow-drying her hair, as she figured he wanted some time to set up
without her watching.

When she finally stepped into the great room, she saw
half a dozen rolls of plastic wrap, a scalpel, the first-aid scissors, and a
variety of butt plugs, dildos, and vibrators.

“Thank you, Master.”

He looked up from his tablet and grinned. “You’re
welcome, but we’ll see if you still want to thank me in a few hours. You’ve
used the bathroom and are ready to begin?”

“Yes, Sir. I am.”

He pointed to a rope he’d looped over the rafter, and
Sam obediently walked to it and stood still as he wrapped the filmy plastic
around her abdomen a few times before running it through the rope loop over her
head, and then encircling her abdomen a few more times.

“Grab your elbows behind your back, please.” His
voice, issuing commands, was enough to make her wet even without the plastic
wrap. With it? She had to work to keep from wriggling and twisting her hips.

The plastic wrap went around her chest and arms, and
he took special care to mash her breasts as flat as possible.

“Right knee up, against your belly.”

He bound her abdomen and thigh together, and then
lifted her foot and encased her knee and shoulder, skipped her face, and ran it
around her foot and up to the rope over her head.

Ethan enveloped her shoulders and torso in multiple layers,
and then leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Trust, Samantha. Actions speak so
much louder than words.”

He stepped around her, lifted her by her hipbones
until she was horizontal, and ran the flexible plastic between her torso and
the rope loop a half a dozen times before slowly releasing her and allowing the
plastic wrap to support her weight. Sam worked to stay relaxed and show she
trusted him to take care of her, trusted he’d make sure the plastic would
support her before releasing her.

Most of her weight was on her hipbones, with the rest
spread throughout her torso. The portion on her right foot mostly served to
help with balance, and didn’t bear her weight. Her left leg hung straight down,
though she had a feeling that would soon change as she stared at the floor.

Sure enough, he bent her leg and bound her ankle and
calf to her thigh before looping the plastic through the overhead rope to hold
her leg out to the side and parallel to the floor.

Cool air caressed her spread open pussy as she
watched him gather a large vibrating butt plug, dildo, and butterfly. Sam tried
to relax into the bondage as he inserted the toys and then used plastic wrap to
hold the butterfly over her clit, as well as seal the dildo and plug inside
her. He didn’t turn anything on yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

Even turned off, the toys had her half crazy. Spread
open, dangling, and totally out of control of what happened to her body. Not
even a safe word.

It wouldn’t take much for her to come, and she
hoped
he was in a mood to let her.

* * * *

Ethan stepped away from his new wife and pulled off a
two-foot length of plastic wrap, conflicted about what he was planning to do.
He knew this was one of Sam’s kinks, but he was worried she’d only asked for it
in an attempt to prove how much she trusted him. Still, he’d do it a little and
see where it went.

He casually carried the stepstool to her head, and
sat on it so they were practically eye-to-eye. He smoothed the strip of
cling-wrap over his thighs so he could use it when ready, and said, “How far do
we have to go to prove my ownership of you?”

“Umm, I think you did that by fucking my ass, Master.
And by marrying me. And maybe even fighting with me on the beach. Sir.”

God, she was so beautiful right now, deep into
subspace and forcing herself to form intelligible sentences. “How about the
enemas?”

“Yes, those too. Master.”

He was beginning to see a pattern in her use of
Master versus Sir. She tended to use Master more when she was in subspace, or
feeling especially submissive. They’d need to work on when it was appropriate,
as she might get away with accidentally calling him Sir in front of the
vanillas, but not Master.

“I want to control your breath, Samantha, and I want
you to ask me to do it.”

“I already asked, Master.”

Her eyes were soft, and he didn’t think she was
intentionally being a smart-ass, so he only said, “I’d like to hear it from
your lips.”

“It’s so hard to ask for. It’s scary. Terrifying, and
the knowledge I don’t have a safeword…” She came out of her headspace a little
as she realized this wasn’t an idle request, and her eyes focused on him as she
said, “Please, Master, prove your ownership of me by showing us both you aren’t
afraid to take my breath. Sir.”

Ethan nodded once, lifted the plastic wrap from his
thighs, and pressed it to her cheeks so it covered both her nose and mouth. He
caressed her cheek with his thumb through the plastic as their gazes locked.

Sam tried to stay calm, tried so hard to keep from
struggling and fighting, but eventually the terror took over and she thrashed
in her bondage. Ethan pulled the plastic back and his cock throbbed in his
shorts as she sucked air into her lungs.

“So helpless, all wrapped up. Let’s see if this
helps.” He reached into his pocket and turned the butt plug on high. Her lower
body jerked, but she stayed focused on replenishing her body with oxygen.

He wadded the plastic and tossed it onto a nearby
chair, reached for the roll, and stood to rearrange her. He wanted her body
inclined a little, so her face was easier to get to. It didn’t take long to
loop enough plastic between her chest and the rope to raise her head, and soon
he sat back down with another two-foot length of plastic.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, Master.”

This time he wrapped the plastic around her head,
making sure to keep it below her eyes, as it was important for him to have eye
contact with her during this. He slowly stood and removed his shorts, and
placed the three remotes on the floor by the stepstool before he stepped nearer
and leisurely masturbated in front of her face.

He kept a close eye on her fear and coloring, and a
few seconds after she went into full-on panic he poked a hole twice as big
around as his thumb in the plastic wrap at her mouth. She couldn’t suck air in
as fast through the smaller hole, but it was enough to keep her safe, even if
she didn’t think so. He reached for the remotes and flicked all three to high
for a half a minute, and then randomly took each to low and back to high until
she looked like she’d reach climax if she had more oxygen.

“You don’t have permission to come, by the way.”

Her eyes flew to his, silently begging him to give
her more air and let her orgasm, but he only held his hand over her mouth to a
count of ten before releasing once more.

“Who owns you?”

She sucked in enough air to say, “You do, Master,”
and her muffled voice behind the plastic had his cock pulsing impossibly
larger.

He palmed himself again and said, “You see what this
does to me? Nothing turns me on as much as a raw display of your trust.”

He reached towards her mouth and ripped the plastic
open so he could pull it completely off her head. He made sure she had at least
thirty seconds of clear breathing before he stuck his cock in her warm mouth,
and stayed far enough away from her throat she could still breathe through her
nose for another five minutes. He coached her into using her tongue, reminding
her she wanted to please him enough so he wasn’t tempted to fuck her throat
just yet.

When she no longer seemed more interested in
breathing than pleasuring him, and her coloring had fully returned to normal,
he pushed to the back of her throat and held until she was thrashing once
again. When he finally dragged his cock out of her throat, tears streamed down
her face and saliva flowed from her mouth. He fiddled with the vibrators again
while he let her catch her breath, and left them on high as he grabbed the
scalpel and sat on the stool in front of her breasts.

“You know you need to be very still for this, right?”

It was impossible for her to keep her chest still
while breathing heavily, and they both knew it. She’d have to find enough willpower
to hold her breath while he cut the plastic away from her breasts.

He felt his sadism show in his face as he said, “I
think you need some clamps hanging from your nipples.”

She nodded slowly, took a breath, and held it. Ethan
touched the scalpel to the plastic just outside of her areola, and made a
smooth half circle. Three layers of plastic came away when he peeled them back,
and he let her get a few breaths before repeating the process. He took his time
and made sure he didn’t cut her, though she probably thought he was making her
hold her breath longer just to be sadistic. When her left nipple was exposed
and poking obscenely out of the small hole, he promptly attached a clover clamp
to it before he started on her left nipple.

* * * *

Samantha floated in a haze as she felt her Master
cutting the plastic away from her pussy with the first aid scissors. Thank
goodness he’d put the horrible scalpel away. She had no doubt they’d get around
to actual blood-play at some point, but was glad he’d only cut the plastic
today. Still, it was a mind-fuck, to have the blade mere millimeters from her
skin. She had no idea how he sliced the final layer without cutting her, but
he’d somehow managed.

When he finished cutting the plastic from her pussy
and a portion of her ass, he stepped to her head and released her foot, down to
her knee. Her right thigh was still pressed to her abdomen and chest, but
allowing it to bend at the knee was a huge relief, and she relaxed back into
her bondage.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You’re welcome.”

He walked to a table and returned with what looked
like first aid tape, and stepped back to the lower part of her body. She felt
him applying the tape near her asshole, and it took her a minute to figure out
what he was doing as he ran it over her ass cheek, around her hips, to her
other ass cheek, and cut it as he neared her asshole again.

He’d taped her ass open.

He retrieved the rubber squid whip, stepped back to
her, and laid a warm, comforting hand on her left thigh. It wasn’t
skin-to-skin, as he was on top of the plastic wrap, but it was contact.

“No restrictions, Samantha. Say what you want, even
if it’s to call me a bastard. Come if you want, tell me about it if you want,
or not. Show me respect if you’d like, or not. Unless you tell me about a
problem, something other than ‘
it hurts
’, nothing will make me stop. I
only require you to endure it, and you have no choice in the matter, so there’s
nothing you can do to earn a punishment while I’m flogging your asshole.”

Nothing happened for several seconds, and Sam awkwardly
twisted her neck to look at him. He seemed to expect a response, so she said,
“You’re hoping I show respect, though. Aren’t you, Sir?”

He looked at her a few seconds before responding, “I
can see how you’d come to that conclusion, and I’m sorry if I’ve set things up
so you see this as a test. I plan to take you well past where you think you can
go, and I want to hear honesty from you, both during and after.”

“Okay, Sir. Thank you.” He was fulfilling her wish of
not being required to use self-restraint, and while she had mixed feelings
around being allowed to dictate the scene, it never hurt to say
thank you
,
especially when bound and helpless. They could talk about her feelings around
influencing the scene later.

He retrieved another roll of plastic wrap and raised
her hips even higher in the air, so she was once again parallel with the floor,
and when he placed his hand on her left leg this time, she had the distinct
feeling it was more about holding her in place than in comforting her. She
still valued the contact, but—

The first slash of the cruel rubber flogger to her
asshole interrupted her thoughts and brought an unexpected scream from deep in
her chest. The next strike was mostly tips, and she screamed, “FUCK!” just as
the third strike landed with enough force her asshole spasmed from the impact.

She started rambling, begging him to back off, to
give her time to get used to it, to slow down. Her pleading and jabbering was
peppered with random cuss words given as expletives for the hardest blows, and
while he didn’t seem to be striking harder for her words, he wasn’t easing up,
either.

“I love you, Master!” she screamed, hoping to get
through to him another way, but he kept to the same pace.

“I love you, too, Samantha, but you aren’t going to
control the scene by professing your love for me.”

His words sank in and she realized he was right; she
was trying to control the scene instead of just accepting what he gave her.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she sobbed, true tears forming and
spilling from her eyes. “God, it hurts so bad, but you’re preparing me.” She
tried to breathe through the agony, but the strikes were coming too fast for
her to get on top of the pain, so she finished her thought. “Thank you, Sir.
Make me…make my asshole hot, so you’ll enjoy it more.”

“Giving orders now, Samantha?”

“NO! No Sir. Asking you to do…do what you intend, no
matter how bad I’m hurting, Master.”