The Culmination (45 page)

There’s splashing noise in the bathroom and Sarah moans again, only a little bit louder this time, and my cock responds like a trumpeter swan hearing the call of its mate.

Okay. Focus. Back to the task at hand.

I reach into the box, pull out the four soft cuffs designed to attach to the bondage sheet, and position them onto the bed. Okay. Bondage sheet done. Easy. No problem. Pussy-ass bullshit conquered. Now for the toys.

I poke inside the duffel bag of sex toys I’ve curated for this evening’s festivities. Well, first things first, I pull out the blindfold and put it on the nightstand. That one’s a no-brainer—every single “how to get started with bondage” video I watched named the blindfold as the most basic implement of beginners’ kink. But what else should I christen the good ship Dirty Girl with tonight? Well, based on my hours of research, ticklers are the next obvious choice. So ticklers it is.

I pull three ticklers of various materials and designs out of the box and place them on the nightstand next to the blindfold. Fine. Good. Blindfold. Ticklers. Check. Check.

I continue shifting around my bag of goodies. There are several kinds of dildos here. Pleasure balls of varying sizes and shapes. A gag. Nipple clamps. A vibrating butt plug. I run my hand through my hair. Fuck, I don’t know. It’s all the same to me. A big, fat bunch of who-gives-a-shit bullshit. Fuck. I just don’t get the appeal.

During my hours of research into these gadgets and this culture, I realized something about myself, quite plainly: this shit doesn’t turn me on. Why am I like this? I have no idea. And I don’t fucking care. I like me. I like the way I fuck. I do it exceedingly well, thank you very much. Fuck yeah. I’m a tenth-degree black belt in Judo, motherfuckers. I go into competition against my opponent and subdue her with nothing but my bare fucking hands (and dick and tongue and fingers), which means there’s nothing to taint the purity of the art form.

When I feel Sarah’s flesh ripple or twitch against my fingertip or tongue or cock, that’s how I know what her body wants me to do next, whether her brain knows it or not. That’s how I know whether to press harder or pull back, slow down or speed up. How the fuck would I be able to gauge any of that if I’m trying to subdue my opponent with a giant dildo?

In the bathroom, Sarah makes the sound before The Sound, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Holy shit, she’s gonna walk into this room in a minute. And I’ve got to be ready for her. Chop, chop, Jonas. Come on, motherfucker.

Whether I’m interested in this shit or not, Sarah is. And so is half the adult population in the Western world—maybe even more than that, given recent revenue figures in the sex-toy industry—so, obviously, I’m the weird one. (Surprise!) So, fuck it, I’m gonna give the girl what she craves. And I’ll pretend it’s my fucking idea the whole time. And I’ll make her surrender in a whole new way. And that will be worth it. Nothing worth having is easy, right? Right.

I pull out a big, fat dildo from the duffel bag—holy shit, that’s a huge fucking dildo—plus a much smaller, beaded, vibrating dildo for anal play, plus some lube (of course), and a glass dildo thing that looks more like a bong than a sex toy to me, but what the fuck do I know? I lay it all on the nightstand with the blindfold and ticklers. And then I sit on the edge of the bed, my chest tight, my nipples hard, my stomach in knots, my cock tingling, waiting for my little submissive-in-training to come out of the bathroom, as instructed, to meet her maker.

Within a minute, I hear some splashing and dripping sounds coming from the bathroom. Sarah must be getting out of the tub.

I stand and shake out my arms and legs. And then I beat my bare chest like a gorilla. It’s game time for the cocky-bastard-asshole-motherfucker. Let’s do this.

Thirty seconds later, Sarah enters the bedroom, and, oh my God, she’s Aphrodite. She’s dressed in a barely there white lace teddy that sets off her smooth olive skin and accentuates every curve, her dark nipples and “OAP” tattoo visible underneath the sheer fabric. Good God, she’s a fantasy come to life. The goddess and the muse. Oh, fuck, I wanna eat her and fuck her right now. Right this fucking minute. Fuck all these gadgets and gizmos. I wanna make her come the way I did on the plane ride here, with nothing but my own body doing the honors, and then I wanna reach up inside her and touch that little spot I’ve only recently discovered...

“Stop,” I blurt.

Sarah abruptly stops walking toward me, her eyes wide.

Oh. That’s funny. I was talking to myself. But I can work with this. “I didn’t tell you to walk toward me, did I?”

She shakes her head, her entire face blazing with her arousal. “No, sir.” Her chest is heaving as much as mine.

“You look sexy as hell, Sarah,” I say. Shit, my cock is throbbing. Why the hell did I make such a big deal about us doing everything differently tonight? All I wanna do right now is what I always do: eat her and fuck her and make her come over and over.

“Thank you. Oh. Wait. May I speak?”

“No. Only if asked a question.” Her erect nipples are like magnets to me.

“I just wanted to say thank you in response to you saying I look sexy.”

“Don’t speak.”

“Okay. I won’t speak—unless asked a direct question, of course.” An unmistakable smirk flashes across her beautiful face. “Sir.”

“I saw that little smirk just now, Sarah Cruz. Do it again and I’ll fuck it right off your face.”

Her mouth straightens out and she adopts what I imagine is her attempt at an obedient expression, though she still looks like a total and complete smart-ass to me.

I’m dizzy with my desire for her.

“Turn around,” I say smoothly.

She complies and my mouth literally waters at the sight of her backside. The teddy she’s wearing turns into nothing but a network of sparse strings in the back, all converging into one thin, white line that disappears down her ass crack—or, rather, down
my
ass crack, I should say.
Propiedad de Jonas Faraday
, the tattoo on her ass-cheek declares in bold lettering. Which, roughly translated, means,
Fuck you, Will Motherfucking “2Real” Piece-of-Shit-Asswipe-Hip-Hop-Motherfucking-Douche, and anyone else who even thinks about fucking my property. She’s all mine.

I remove my jeans and briefs and then move to my laptop. After briefly scrolling through my music, I find what I’m looking for: “Uprising” by Muse. Yes, victory will be ours tonight. I press play on the thumping song and turn back around.

“Bend over,” I say. “And grab your ankles.”

She bends over, exactly as instructed, and I’m treated to the delectable sight of the underside of her pussy peeking out through the sheer fabric of her lingerie. My mouth waters again. Shit. I want her. I touch my cock. My tip is already wet. I stroke my shaft for a moment, letting her stand there bent over, marinating deliciously in her excited anticipation.

Fuck what I said about a slow burn. I want to bite her and nip her and suck her and eat her and lick her and fuck her. I wanna make her come and plunge my cock into her and feel her body constricting and clenching around me. In other words, I wanna do what I always do to her—because what I always do is fucking awesome. Because I’m a fucking samurai—and my cock is my sword. I’m a Judo master. I’m a woman wizard. An artist. A climber.

I’m a god among men.

I really am.

Just the way I am.

But no.

My baby wants to try kink. She’s
curious.
Not
dissatisfied
, she says, just
curious
. But curiosity is a distant cousin of dissatisfaction, whether she knows it or not—and I’m not planning on my baby ever experiencing even a hint of dissatisfaction, ever. Not on my watch.

She’s still standing there, bent over, her pussy peeking out between her thighs, her ass-tattoo making me salivate.

I exhale slowly, trying to calm my arousal. I need to calm my shit down. I need to keep my eye on the prize. Slow burn, motherfucker. Slow fucking burn.

I stand for a long moment, staring at her, stroking my erection, letting the loud music wash over me. I’ve always particularly liked this view of a woman.

“Jonas?” she asks, still bent over and waiting for me.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” I say, stroking myself. “I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing right now. You can wait like that forever, for all I care. I’m getting off and that’s all that matters.”

She makes a sound of pleasure and shifts her weight slightly. “Okay, sir. Sorry.”

What would I normally do right now? Kneel down and go to church, no doubt, and then fuck her. Which means I need to do something different. Well, looks like I’m an ass-man tonight.

I grab the lube and the vibrating anal dildo off the nightstand and move toward her, my cock throbbing. I bend down behind her, push her G-string aside, part her ass cheeks, and lick the rim of her anus, eliciting instantaneous moans from her. I lick her for not even a minute when, without warning, her asshole clenches under my tongue and begins convulsing with what seems like a powerful orgasm.

I pull back in shock. Holy fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just trying to get her loosened up before slipping the dildo inside her. Okay, obviously this whole get-her-close-to-orgasm-repeatedly-and-then-pull-back strategy is a non-starter. This woman is on fire tonight in a way I’ve never seen her before.

“Stand back up and face me.”

She does.

Oh man, she’s glowing with her arousal.

I slowly peel the teddy off her body, letting my hands graze the entire length of her as I pull it down to the floor. “It’s awfully pretty,” I say. “But I don’t want a goddamned thing impeding my access to my pretty baby.” I throw the teddy across the room emphatically. “Fuck that shit.”

Her chest is rising and falling violently. She looks ready to come at the slightest touch.

“Resume your position,” I say.

She turns around and bends over again.

“Grab your ankles.”

She does.

I lube up my finger and slide it down her ass crack and then all the way to her pussy and she lets out a long, guttural moan. I massage her clit for a few minutes, until she’s making the sound before The Sound, and then slide my fingers back to her ass and gently slide the dildo into her.

Her entire body stiffens.

I pause. “Relax,” I say, rubbing her back with my free hand. “Take a deep breath,” I coax, and she does. “Another one,” I say softly, and she inhales long and deep. As she exhales, I push gently on the dildo again and it slides into her ass with ease. I rub her back one more time, commanding her to stay bent over, and then flip the switch on the dildo to the lowest vibration setting.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Wow.”

“Ssh.”

I slide my fingers back to her pussy and slip them inside her, finding my target, and then slowly slide my cock inside her.

Whoa. The low vibration from the dildo next-door feels incredible. Holy fucking shit. Oh my God. This feels amazing. I begin thrusting in and out of her warm wetness, slowly, ever so slowly, acclimating myself to the vibrations from the dildo next door—each rhythmic movement of my body against hers gently pushing that dildo in and out of her ass.

“Oh my God,” Sarah says. “Jonas. Oh my God.”

I thrust in and out of her, increasing my speed and depth, pulling her hips into me as I do, pushing rhythmically against that dildo, reveling in the sensation of her tight wetness vibrating and constricting around my cock. Holy fuck, this is like nothing I’ve experienced before. This is
good.
Damn, I owe the sex-toy industry a huge apology for not appreciating their brilliance before this moment. You’re geniuses, all of you.

I reach down to the vibe, flip it to the next highest speed, and simultaneously increase the depth and speed of my thrusts—and Sarah and I both simultaneously lose our shit.

“Oh my God!” she screams, her entire body lurching and jolting. “Stop, Jonas. It’s too much. Oh my God. You’ve got to stop. Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God. Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

But I don’t stop. Fuck no, I don’t. In fact, a minute later, I flip the vibe on high and fuck her even harder, splitting her in two with my cock and ramming that dildo up her ass with each slamming thrust of my body.

The sounds she’s making aren’t human. I half expect her to use the magic word and force me to stop, but she doesn’t. Hallelujah, she doesn’t. I reach underneath my balls to find her clit and when I touch her there, she convulses like I’ve thrown a hairdryer into her bath.

“Oh shit.
Fuck,
” she says. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh,
fuck.
”

And that’s the last thing she says before her body twists and wrenches so violently against my cock—so forcefully—I’m momentarily afraid for her. Oh my God. I can physically feel her innards twisting like a wet washcloth being wrung out over a tub. This isn’t a convulsion. I don’t know what the fuck this is. Whatever it is, it’s so hot, so fucking hot, I’m this close to losing myself completely.

Which means I have to stop.
Motherfucker
.

I pull out of her, though it physically pains me to do it, and gently glide the dildo out of her ass.

She crumples to the ground, a glistening, nonverbal pile of olive skin and matted hair and big brown eyes and glistening pussy and erect, dark nipples, all of it mouthwatering.

My hard-on is raging. My chest is heaving. My head is spinning. The Muse song is thumping in my ears, spurring me on. Victory will be mine.

I part her legs and lick her juices off her thighs and then mack down on her lips and clit and hole like I’m competing in a blueberry-pie-eating contest on the Fourth of July. She throws her head back against the marble floor with a loud thwack and makes a tortured yelping sound as her body begins warping against my lips.

I know I’m supposed to be “tickling” her on a bondage sheet right now like the Dom-in-training I am, but fuck it. All that bullshit can wait. Fuck what Sarah wants. For once this is about what I want and nothing else. Fuck yeah, it is.
And I want to make my baby squirt all over the goddamned floor.