And she loved freaky men.
Masculine. Muscular. Willing. Obedient. Submissive.
Men.
With a masochistic side.
For years, she hadn’t ever considered herself a real Sadomasochist or a Dominatrix. It had been all play, until two years. After training vigorously under a lesbian Dominatrix who went by the name of Cum Master. She’d taught her the art of the whip. Taught her about the types of whips, and their use. Taught her how to inflict the right amount of pain to bring on excruciating pleasure. Thanks to the Cum Master, she’d learned the art of sadism.
“Men try to be something they can never be…”
Her whip cracked again. She bounced to the beat, and hummed the lyrics in her head. She loved turning the tables on men. They needed to feel what it was like to be objectified. Defiled. Needed to know how to submit to a woman. It wet her pussy. She loved administering pain and pleasure. Loved the sound of a whip cracking. Loved the sound of a paddle smacking across the muscled-ass of a man, then lovingly licking over the stings, before biting into each ass cheek.
She loved ass-play, licking and fingering and fucking a man’s tight ass.
Oh how she loved it. She was team-ass licking. Team-ass fucking. Team freak-nasty. Things she could never be, or do, at home. Filthy things her lover would never go for, let alone understand.
So for the last two years, she’d been creeping on her fiancé with men who craved kink. Her latest kinky sidepiece was a married man whom she’d met on an online sex site. He’d been looking for ass-play and prostate stimulation—something his prudish wife abhorred. Pain had responded to his ad with hopes of licking his ass and stimulating his P-spot. And the rest was history. They crept when he wanted his ass slid into with her fingers and tongue, whenever their schedules allowed for it.
This was her first time at The Pleasure Zone. But she already wanted more. She wanted access to more floors. She wanted to indulge more of her desires. Everything about what she’d seen so far made her body throb and her pussy moist.
She was a freak.
She craved hot-nasty fucking.
Lord, God, help her!
If her fiancé ever found out what she was up to behind his back, he’d leave her for sure. She was greedy. She wasn’t about to leave him. She loved him too much to let him go. Loved the sex. Mmm. The sex. Oh how magnificent he was in bed, big long West Indian cock and all. But sometimes she needed more. Not emotionally. Sexually.
He was much younger than her, but he was good to her in and out of the sheets. He was adventurous and freaky—to a degree. Hell, he’d fucked her and her two sisters several times before things had changed, before her two sisters became all motherly and matrimonial on her.
And before her fiancé had caught feelings for her, and wanted her for himself.
Before life changed between her and sisters, they’d been sleeping with the same men since their freshman year in college. For years, their rules had been simple: the men they sexed had to be single, willing to fuck all three of them either together or separately, preferably together since that’s what turned them on; he had to be over the age of twenty-one; he needed to be able to orgasm more than one round; and, be open and honest about his sexual desires. Something Pain found most men unable to do.
The three freaky sisters had once shared a special sisterly bond like no others could. But Pain…well, she was a different kind of freak. She waved her freak flag a whole lot higher than her fiancé or her now two married sisters.
And she wasn’t ready to let go of it.
Pain coiled her whip, and stepped back. She put her right foot before her left and then released the whip with a quick snap. Oh how she loved the sound of it cracking. The Cum Master had told her how whips were good for pain, and good for bondage. She felt her sex swelling with lust at the thought of having this six-foot-something’s body wrapped in rope, his skin beautifully welted.
Tove Lo’s “Moments” played and Pain drew her arm back and lashed her whip, then swung it over her head, before snapping it to the floor again.
Eyeing the man of her momentary desires, she hooked her leg around a shiny steel pole and twirled herself around it, her hair flying out behind her. When she finally stopped swirling, she held onto the pole with one hand and leaned forward, and her ample cleavage spilled out over the top of her corset, displaying the tops of her luscious breasts.
Oblivious to everyone else in the room, Hazel Eyes licked his lips. And she returned the sensual gesture in kind. Leaning her back against the pole, she dropped her whip as the instrumental to Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming Pools (Drank)” started playing and gyrated her hips to the beat, slowly sliding down the pole, opening and closing her legs, flashing her audience—particularly him, giving him peeks of her waxed cunt. She slid her thong over to one side and bared her clit, then ran a finger over her slit. She swirled her finger over it and stroked herself, closing her eyes and biting into her bottom lip, losing herself in the sensation.