tagErotic CouplingsCruel To Be Kind

Cruel To Be Kind

byegamar©

Desiree stepped out of her morning shower squeaky clean, steamed pink and still a little drowsy – no matter what they say on the soap commercials, a hot shower in the morning only makes you want to crawl back into bed and doze off again, warm and clean.

She strode down the hall toward the bedroom, naked, still toweling her hair, when she was startled into sudden and painful wakefulness by the snap of a towel on her exposed backside.

The pain, as intense as it was sudden, mingled with her shouted expletive – "Shiiiiiiiit!" And beneath her shout was Dennis's laughter.

"Dammit Dennis, why do you do stuff like that? That hurt," she said, but he had already disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the water for his own shower.

Bitterly, she rubbed the spot on her butt where the towel struck. Already it was an angry red and swelling into a good-sized welt. Dennis always did things like that – he was not purposely mean, but he had never lost that adolescent, casual cruelty he thought of simply as "grab-assing." Even his literal "grab-assing" was more fervent than Des found comfortable, and many times his playful pinches and swats on the butt left bruises or the red outline of his hand. She talked to him about it frequently, but he would forget and then – as this morning – do something again that genuinely hurt.

Angry, she dressed for work and left without saying good-bye, still too irate to even look at him.

She fumed all the way to work and most of the morning, her mood apparent to her co-workers. Her friend Jill finally asked her what was wrong.

"Oh, it's that damn Dennis," she huffed. "This morning when I got out of the shower, he snapped with a towel really hard." Taking a quick look around to make sure they were not being observed, Desiree lifted her skirt and peeled down her hose enough to show Jill the colorful welt.

"Jeez, Des, that's nasty," Jill said. "Why does he do things like that? I know you've talked to him about that crap before, so why does he still do it?"

"To him it's just horseplay. He doesn't mean anything by it, but it's so damn annoying."

"Yeah, well, when I was in school you got spanked for 'horseplay.' Too bad you can't find someone big enough to spank the immature little shit for you," Jill said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, too bad," said Desiree, her voice trailing off and her eyes suddenly distant, as though a thought had just occurred to her.

That evening Dennis came home from his construction job sore and tired as usual on a Friday. Des fixed him a stiff drink and plopped down beside him on the couch.

"Man, that pneumatic hammer is a shoulder killer," he groused, taking a big gulp of the scotch-and-soda Des offered him. "I feel like I'm one big knot."

She reached over and began to gently massage the muscles at the back of his neck, then said with enthusiastic brightness, "Tell you what – after dinner, why don't you take a nice hot bath, then we'll smoke a little bit and I'll give you a back rub. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," he answered with a weary smile. "You're too good to me, hon."

"Usually," she said, returning his smile.

They ordered Chinese food, and while they waited for the delivery boy Dennis downed two more hefty drinks, then drained a beer with his dinner.

When they finished eating, Dennis went up to the bathroom to run a hot bath, while Des quietly slipped outside, fetching some items from her trunk that she'd purchased that afternoon. When she returned, Dennis was stretched out in the big claw-footed tub, luxuriant, steam enclosing him in a soft haze.

Des went into the bedroom to prepare.

When he Dennis came into the bedroom 20 minutes later, naked and lethargic from the drinks and the bath, he was surprised to find Des lying on her side of the bed, bare but for a tiny red silk thong, several candles casting her alluring form into soft shadows.

"Wow," he said, stretching out beside her and running his hand over the stirring swell of her hip. "I take it you have more than a back rub on your mind tonight."

"Definitely," she answered, certain that the gleam of mischief in her eye would be construed as simple lust. "But first things first."

She reached over to the bedside table and picked up a joint, knowing his eyes were fastened on her delicately swaying breasts as she bent over a candle to light it. She exhaled a small cloud of the sweet smoke and handed the joint to him.

"So, what did you have planned?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding in the smoke. "We better get to it, whatever it is, because I'm bone-tired."

"Your bone doesn't look too tired." She was right. He had begun to grow at the first sight of her stretched out on the bed, and while she had not touched him yet, he was almost fully erect.

They finished the joint, talking quietly as they passed it back and forth, and as soon as he snuffed it out he reached for her.

"Not yet," she teased. "You've got a back rub coming first."

"Hey, twist my arm," he said, adding "But be careful – I'm so relaxed right now you might put me to sleep."

"Well, if you fall asleep, I'm pretty sure I can think of a way to wake you up."

"I bet you can," he replied, giving her a sly smile as he rolled over onto his stomach.

Des poured some scented oil into her palm, rubbed her hands together and began to work Dennis's tense and knotted muscles. She started with his neck, being thorough, working her way down to his shoulders, squeezing, pressing, then kneaded the broad muscles of his sculpted back. Within five minutes his breathing deepened, and he slept.

She climbed off the bed and quietly went to the closet. The thong she wore clearly showed the red mark from his morning towel snap – she glimpsed the mark as she walked past the full-length mirror on the wall, but as mad as she'd been this morning, her plan was not just for revenge any more. She had to admit that, as she'd formulated her plan of retribution she found herself growing more and more aroused. It surprised her. Although she never really considered herself "that type," the more thought she put into her plan, the more lascivious she felt.

Taking a large shopping bag from the closet, she rummaged through its contents on her way back to the bed, locating the items she needed first.

Dennis snoozed on, his head resting on his hands. Slowly, with great care not to rouse him, she pulled his hands out from under his head. For an instant she feared he was waking up, but he just turned his head the other way and slept on.

She slipped a leather manacle around one wrist, then looped the connected cord through the slats in the headboard and attached its mate to his other wrist. She repeated the process with another set of restraints, binding his ankles. There was enough play in the manacles to allow him to turn over, but that was it.

He was ready, but was she?

It was not without some embarrassment that Desiree had purchased the items. It was her first time in an "adult" store, and at first it was something of a shock.

The walls of the shop were lined with sex toys of every description, some of which she heard of before, most shockingly foreign to her. Vibrators she had heard of – Jill had one she seemed to like better than her boyfriend – but even the different types, sizes and features of those were mind-boggling, to say nothing of the rest of the store's offerings.

There were blow-up dolls ("Pathetic," she mumbled to herself when she saw them), and vials of Spanish Fly that had kept generations of teen-age boys surreptitious and hopeful. There were lubricants, flavored oils, exotic outfits – she grabbed the diminutive thong as soon as she spotted it from a rack of scandalous panties. A "Thai Basket Chair" hung from a hook on the ceiling, its various opening making its intended uses clear. A huge assortment of magazines and videos also were available, and she marveled at how much thought people of various kinky proclivities put into this aspect of their lives.

At first she could not find what she wanted and almost left, thinking she simply could not bear to ask someone for help, but finally she spied what she sought in a tiny alcove given over completely to leather goods. She picked out two sets of soft leather manacles and one other item.

Her face was as red as the wispy panties as she paid the bemused clerk and left the store.

Now she pulled the other item out of the bag. It was a leather riding crop, thin and flexible, about two feet long. Testing it, she casually slapped it against her palm, satisfied by its snap, noting with satisfaction how much t sounded like a snapping towel when it struck.

She walked over to the bed and contemplated Dennis's exposed and vulnerable (and, she had to admit, very appealing) buttocks. She pictured a cartoon devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other. "Two wrongs don't make a right," the angel scolded. The devil simply whispered "It's payback time."

Hesitantly, she touched the business end of the crop to his rounded gluteals, brushing the rich leather in soft circles over them. By degrees, she realized she was losing her nerve.

A look of determination came over her face, and she raised the crop.

Dennis snapped into consciousness with a look of sheer panic on his face. The panic increased when he reached back to feel the area where he had been – what, stung by a bee? That's what it felt like – and he found he could down move his arm down more than a few inches.

"What the hell!" he yelled. "What's going on? Des? Des! Where are you?"

"Right here," she replied coolly, her voice coming from somewhere behind him. He couldn't see her, but she let him no where she was in no uncertain terms, once again bring the riding crop down on his vulnerable buttocks with a short, swift snap of her wrist.

"Owwwwww!" he howled. "What the hell are you doing, Des? Why am I all tied up?" He sounded more frustrated than frightened, but there was an element of fear in his voice nevertheless. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Maybe you could answer that one yourself," she answered, hoping her own voice did not betray her timidity in acting in such a manner. "For example, why did you flick in on the ass with that towel this morning?"

"I was just playing around, just grab-assing. C'mon, you know that."

"I know I've asked you dozens of times to stop it. I know I rarely get through the week without you pinching my butt hard enough to leave a bruise, or slapping me on the ass hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. Look at this," she said, walking around to the side of the bed where he could see her and pointing at the vivid welt he made that morning.

"Oh come on, it was just a little flick of a towel. It couldn't have hurt that much."

At that, the crop cracked again, making a sharp, satisfying report as it connected.

"Ow, SHIT, you bitch," he spat, but with a note of desperation in his voice. Stop it right now, god dammit!"

"Excuse me, but you aren't calling the shots here Dennis. And what did you call me?"

Again the merciless crop bit into his ass. A stream of epithets spewed from his mouth, and when they petered out, she brought the vicious leather device down again, surprised at how she relished the way he tensed when it struck, enjoying the faint purple-red marks that rose with each blow.

Somewhat chastened, he tried another tact.

Look, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Honey, please let me up."

"Oh, you're sorry are you?" she asked, not bothering to mask the sarcasm. "Is his little bottom sore? Does he want mommy to kiss it and make it all better?"

She climbed onto the bed and straddled his knees. Leaning forward, she planted soft kisses on each crop mark, cooing to him derisively. Cruel, she knew, just as she knew she was justified in reaping a little vengeance.

She also knew she was more turned on than ever before.

He calmed down a little as she kissed his backside, perhaps thinking she'd made her point and would soon let him go. He knew he probably deserved what she'd done and despite the throbbing in his ass, her gentle kisses felt good. He grew calmer still when she climbed off of him.

That lasted until the hot candle wax dripped onto the crop marks. The already sensitive flesh was seared by intense, though short-lived, heat.

"Owwwwwww!" he shrieked. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…" he chanted in a clipped litany of pain.

"Don worry sweetie, just grab-assing," she taunted. She dipped the candle again, let another drop of hot wax plop onto another red mark. He squawked again, and now began to literally plead beg her to stop.

"Please Des, stop it," he almost sobbed. "You made your point, now pleeeeeeease let me go."

"And how do I know you won't do something to me?" she asked.

"I won't, I swear on my mother's grave. You win I won't ever snap a towel at you again."

"Your mother isn't dead."

"Then I'll kill her, but please, please baby let me go."

Maybe it had gone far enough Des thought. The faint marks on his butt had turned dark and angry-looking, two of them with bright red splotches of candle wax on them. While she thought it over, she delicately peeled of the solidified wax, tracing the outline of the marks gently with her finger.

Finally, she decided to let him go.

"All right, turn over, I'll undo the restraints," she said reluctantly, not really wanting to stop this odd game that had her so worked up. But he'd had enough, and to continue was just mean, she reasoned.

He turned over, and suddenly Des knew his torment was not quite as acute as he let on.

Dennis was hugely, impossibly erect, his penis straining upward and curving tautly back toward his belly. She had never seen him so large.

"My, my, my," she murmured, "What have we here?" She touched him lightly, traced a small circle on the glans with her fingertip, smiling when his cock jumped at her touch, amazed at how hot it was, feverishly hot.

"Hey, quit it, untie me," he said. "You said you would."

"Yes, but this makes things a little different. I didn't know you were actually enjoying yourself."

"I'm not, so untie me. NOW!" he insisted.

"I don't like you're tone, and you're in no position to issue demands."

"Dammit Des, I mean it. Untie me right now."

Des picked up the crop again and struck him a sharp – but not hard – blow on his right nipple. He yowled, but she noted with satisfaction that his tumescent member twitched with the blow. It seemed to swell even more, if such a thing were possible.

Again he demanded to be untied, earning a smack on his left nipple. He raised his voice, cursing, demanding to be freed RIGHT NOW. Yet his painfully erect penis flagged not a bit, not even when, in response to his loud and menacing orders, she brought the candle into play again, dripping hot wax over his already sore nipples.

The abuse continued to stream from his mouth, until she reached down and cock and gave it a hard squeeze.

"Shut up," she said simply, her iron grip not loosening.

He shut up.

She let go of him, then stepped back from the bed. She realized her own nipples were warm as well, and she touched them, squeezing them between thumbs and forefingers.

That wasn't all – her little thong was drenched, the brilliant red silk now a dark burgundy where her unbidden desire had soaked through. Quickly she stripped it off, stepping out of them and then directly onto the bed, picking up the crop as she went. She stood over him, straddling him at the waist, towering over him.

"I mean it Dennis, just shut up," she said. "If you don't…" She smartly cracked the crop into her palm to punctuate her meaning.

"But," he began, but got no farther before she bent slightly at the knees and, reaching backwards, smacked the side of his thigh with the crop. He gave a shrill yelp, then went silent.

Des locked eyes with him – she felt fierce, in control when she saw the submission that abruptly replaced the defiance in his face.

Slowly she sank to her knees, placing the riding crop beside her on the bed, her hot and dripping center almost touching his excruciating stiffness. Still looking him in the eyes, she touched her clitoris ever so slightly to his burning cock.

Barely moving her hips, scarcely touching him, she brushed her drenched, silky lips down the length of him, reveling in the agonizing-yet-exquisite feeling. She slid down him, then back up. When she reached the sensitive spot just below the tip, he flinched.

Without thinking, she reached down and pinched one of his nipples, eliciting a yelp.

"You don't move a thing until I say," she said, still moving slowly over him.

"But…" he began, but another pinch silenced him.

She reached down and gripped him, placing the head of his cock at her opening. Languidly she let her self drop down onto him until the head was inside her. Dennis raised his buttocks almost imperceptibly, wanting to be farther inside her, but she picked up the crop and struck his shoulder with delicate cruelty – she was getting used to the crop, learning how it could be effective without being brutal.

"Don't - Move - A - Muscle," she enunciated.

She moved down farther. Letting another inch of him into her, slowly, then another. There was no sound except their breathing. Small beads of perspiration formed on Dennis's forehead as he struggled to remain still and quiet.

Soon he was completely inside her. She made small circles with her hips, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise, watching the rapt expression steal over his features.

"Ooooooh," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

Abruptly she raised up and broke the contact.

"You just can't seem to learn that 'quiet' means 'silent,' as in 'no sound whatsoever,'" she said. "I guess there's only one way to shut you up."

Standing, she moved forward until she was over his face. She sank once more to her knees, until her satin seam was almost touching his lips.

"Kiss me," was all she said.

Dennis raised his head a fraction of an inch and kissed her plump lips, tasting he need, amazed by her wetness, agonized by his own frustrated penis.

He kissed her. He licked her delicately from her opening to the sensitive apex of her clit. He sucked it into his mouth, gripping her with his lips, his tongue gradually moving harder and harder against the swollen button. She ground herself against him, moving faster, faster, her leg muscles quivering as her orgasm approached.

Suddenly she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head hard up against her as the muscles in her stomach tightened – she held him there, riding his mouth, as waves of pleasure broke over her.

Almost desperately she let go of him and scrambled down until she could stuff his cock inside her. She began to come again immediately as she fiercely thrust against his straining manhood, the contractions of her pussy milking him, forcing a stirring moan from his throat as he let go, his convulsing dick exploding so violently she felt his come striking her inner walls.

When their breathing returned to normal, Des leaned forward and tenderly kissed Dennis, favoring him with a contented smile that he readily returned. She quickly loosened the straps, and the exhausted lovers fell into each other's arms.

Soon, the were asleep.

Some time later, Des woke up, a sly smile spreading across her face as she drifted back toward consciousness.

She rolled toward Dennis, and was surprised to find him gone. She was also surprised that she did not seem to be able to lower her arms or raise her legs – and then she realized the leather restraints cuffed her own wrists and ankles.

Dennis came into the room.

"Sleep well," he inquired pleasantly.

"Yeeeeeessss," she replied uncertainly.

"Good you'll need your energy," he said, smiling.

That was when she noticed he carried the riding crop in one hand – and a wet towel in the other.

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