Kinky(45)

‘Sorry, Dimitri.’

His lips are on the top of my head, kissing my hair. ‘That’s hard for you.’

‘Very. Really very painful indeed. But I wanted to take it, for you.’

‘Hard for me also. I almost stop.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t though.’

‘I got afraid you will hate me. But if I start, I must finish.’

‘I could never hate you.’

‘I keep say to myself, wait for her to say stop. But it is very hard, you know. To hurt somebody you love. Even if you know they want it.’

I remove my face from his chest and regard him with interest. ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’

He wrinkles his nose. ‘Well, yes. I like it from visual point of view, you know. It looks good. It feels good. But scary.’

‘Scary, yeah. Do you think it would be scary if you were doing it to a client?’

‘No, not at all. Only because it’s you, you know.’

‘Yes. I know. You didn’t find it sexy then?’

‘I don’t say that.’

He winks at me and puts a hand over the hottest part of my bottom, patting it. Now that I know there are no more strokes coming, I am growing to love the pain, embrace its radiating throb as it courses through me. He gave it to me; it is precious.

Our lips meet and we kiss a heartfelt apology to one another. All is equal again. It’s a fresh start, sealed with lips. And tongues.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he starts pushing me into a backwards shuffle, my feet moving in tiny steps, restricted by the jeans and knickers around my ankles.

I meet an obstacle, reaching to the backs of my knees, and I tumble backwards, landing with a gasp and an ouch on my bottom on a kind of leather divan fitted with wrist and ankle straps. It’s the bondage bed.

Dimitri rolls on top of me, still kissing, his fingers pushing into my hair from the sides of my face, his pelvis grinding into mine. The cold leather soothes my cane marks for a heavenly second, then they start to hurt as Dimitri jolts my body up and down. I want this pain, though. I want to feel it, along with the passion and the pleasure. The way they mix and spill into each other drives me to a level of need I never used to reach.

He releases my head and my mouth and props himself on his elbows, breathing down fast as he stares into my face. ‘I need to fuck you,’ he announces.

‘Can I go on top?’ I ask, fearing the moment I have to remove my welts from the sticky leather after a bout of sweaty intense sex.

‘No,’ he says, treating me to a swift nip of the lower lip. ‘I want you to feel it. All the time I am fucking you, I want you to know that you were caned by me. Right?’

‘Oh. Right. OK then.’ I submit. It makes it even better that he refused my request. I am actively submitting and it feels amazing.

He rears up and removes the jeans and knickers, which allows him to open my legs with his knees and crouch back down over me, unzipping his own trousers. He is hard. His cock slips and slides inside my pussy lips, coating itself with my juices while the whole of my lower body pulses with heat from my caned bottom.

‘You tell me when you are close,’ he says, sitting back up to deal with the condom. ‘Will you do that?’

‘Yes.’ Looking up at him, I think he could ask me anything right now and get the same response. Yes, Dimitri, yes, yes, yes.

‘Don’t forget.’ He bears down and then he is in me. My bottom shifts on the leather, the lower portion slightly raised, entailing the reawakening of some very sore spots. I gasp with pain and moan with pleasure, one after the other.

‘Does that hurt?’ he asks, sinking in until I am full and stretched underneath him.

‘A bit. I like it though.’

‘I know. So look at me. Don’t shut your eyes. I want you to look at me all the time I fuck you.’

It’s more difficult than it sounds; easier than the time he took me up the arse, but only slightly. I feel he’s trying to read every hidden, secret thought through my eyes, and succeeding. He knows I love this, to be fucked raw, to be used and dominated and beaten and mastered, and he needs me to know that he knows it. God, it’s hard to admit to, but I have to do it. I have to be honest with him. If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that.

I look at him as he thrusts and I know he is seeing every shameful fantasy and every kinky urge that has ever crossed my mind. I can’t hide any of it. Sometimes it gets too much and I want to turn my face away, but he catches my cheek with a finger and pushes me back into place every time. On my third thwarted attempt at mind-reading avoidance, I am climbing, heading up, near the point of orgasm and I know he can see it, so I’d better admit it.