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His kisses were now on her chest, above her breasts, ever so softly.
"Stop" part of her wanted to scream. You don't know me. You cannot possible love me so tenderly, "Stop" I do not deserve you. "Stop"; but she could not. It felt so heavenly.
Inside she was fidgeting, trying to remain calm, yet there was a strange panic, and intense longing for him as his lips found her nipple; twirling it between his lips and tongue. Tender kisses found his way to the other nipple repeating the treatment, her hand resting on his perfectly smooth head.
Inadvertently Emily flinched, he looked at her pained, as though he had done something wrong and despite her inner turmoil she pleaded with him with her eyes to continue, the black mascara and dark, smoky eyeliner only making her seem more desperate.
His lips lingered on her breasts, kissing and licking the firm globes, as he brought his large strong hands and thick fingers up to envelope them, moaning as he did; sending pure electricity to her button.
Jonathon's lips found her stomach, but his hands remained on her breasts. He slid out from under her legs and rested his body on hers, squeezing her hips with his elbows and hard biceps as he did.
Emily breathing was rapidly accelerating as he scattered kisses across her belly, her least favorite part of her body. She was nervous and excited simultaneously, fighting the urge to stop him. She was allowed to do these things for him, not him for her, she wanted it desperately. She never had a man make love to her like that, never really allowed him to, always sped it up with her passion for him. She never let a man this close, but if she stopped now, sped it up, she would push him away she thought; he needs to do this.
Jonathon slid further down, releasing her breast and cupping her tiny waist before clutching her full hips and pulling her towards him. His kisses still soft, slow and finding their way closer to her sex. He focused on her bikini line and just below. The hardest part to shave, she thought, is it still smooth?
He held her hips firmly as he kissed her bare mound leisurely. She moaned as he only just brushed her slit with the hair from his goatee; the sensation on her naked skin, electrifying. He remained there for some time teasing her with his tongue, before proceeding to the tops of her thighs, avoiding her wet lips that were aching for him, despite her fears.
She unintentionally moaned in disappointment and he looked up at her across her belly and smiled in response. She couldn't help but smile back. She loved this man; she did want him to love her, didn't she? It was all so bewildering.
Jonathon parted her thighs, kissing the tender inner flesh, brushing her with his facial hair. She thought why more women didn't shave completely, the feeling so much more intense. She wondered why she was chatting in her head, do other women do that; was it the uneasiness?
His tongue flicked her slit before gently parting her large lips. She had not had a man make love to her this way. Before Jonathon she had let few kiss there, it was too intimate, too much. Aricella and the girls were not the same, there were no feelings, she could not love them the same. Jonathon had a few times and she loved it every time, he was skilled with his tongue and she was always brought to orgasm, but this time, this moment was so different to her. She became aware once more there was music playing, although for some reason she could not make out the song.
Ever so slowly, he tasted her, sucking her lips, she was building, the intensity of it all; overwhelming. Her breathing ragged, her desire to grab the back of his head and thrust herself into his face, to speed it up, to not feel so much, nearly irresistible. She refused her urge to not feel, and relished in the moment, gently pushing back against his face as he flicked her clit with his hardened tongue. As he began to suck her sensitive button he gently inserted the tip of his finger inside, tenderly wiggling at the opening and it was all too much, she simply let go, experiencing the most different orgasm of her life. Her entire body tingled from her face to her toes, as she shuddered he held her tightly, his face against her belly. To her surprise, tears began to roll down her cheeks; she hoped he wouldn't notice, because for some inexplicable reason, she could not stop them.
"Why are you crying Emily?" asked Jonathon, pleading, thinking he had done something wrong.
"I don't exactly know, that was different than anything I have ever felt, it was more intense, and not really on an orgasmic level. Emotionally. I cannot really explain it. But it was beautiful," she replied; wiping the tears.
"Ok baby," he said kissing her forehead.
Chapter 34
Jonathon slept peacefully, his head on her chest, while Emily slept fleetingly. Memories, like videos, flooded her head making sleep elusive.
Emily put the children to bed early as she was asked to do and settled in to do her homework. She hated math and wasn't doing very well, despite her ability to do the work, she simply didn't care for it and her efforts in the subject were minimal, but she needed to get her grades up. Tired of listening to her parents she decided to buckle down.
She didn't hear the door open, didn't hear him come in. He was drunk, smelled of a brewery, when he slid up next to her on the couch.
"What are you doing, Emily?" he asked, slurring his words.
"Homework, Mr. Ingle. Math, I don't really care for it," she said as she slid away, uncomfortable by his smell, the sweat dripping from his brow.
"Really? I could help you," he suggested, sliding closer; taking her book from her. He made a show of pretending to look at it but Emily knew he was much too drunk to even contemplate Calculus.
"It's fine, Sir, I can do the work. I just don't care for it, I'd much rather be doing other subjects," Emily replied, sliding back more.
"Other subjects, eh? Like boys, Emily?" Mr. Ingle was getting closer to her, his breath hot as he spoke.
"No, Mr. Ingle. The boys don't pay any attention to me." Emily said honestly. When she had looked in the mirror, she felt pretty, thought she looked pretty, but the boys were terribly mean to her; the girls, too.
It began in the fourth grade when she began to develop early. The boys picked on her, trying to pull her dresses up, the girls called her names, and it continued through her entire schooling. Even though she was in her first year of college, little had changed.
Her figure was different than the other girls, curvy; voluptuous some would say and she had an air about her. She was confident, knew she was brilliant, and thought differently about life than other people. Unconcerned with celebrities, gossip, and trivial things, Emily was far more concerned with the fact there were injustices in the world and it pained her soft heart.
Nearly nineteen she had been kissed but that was it. It had happened in high school and it was traumatic for her. Justin Green had pretended to be her boyfriend and kissed her in public before trashing her in front of his friends, the entire school. Emily was wary of all men after that.
Mr. Ingle sat next to her, his thighs touching hers, sweating profusely. Emily was fully aware he wanted something; she didn't know how to get away.
"Emily, I am sure the boys like you, perhaps if you weren't so stuck-up and superior, they would be nicer," he said as he took her notebook from her lap.
Crushed, Emily had never considered herself stuck up. She was friendly, talked to everyone, even those people that everyone made fun of. She was nice to everyone and Mr. Ingle's words stung her.
"I can help you Emily. Help you relax, help you not be so uptight," his hand slid up her thigh; she was pinned against the arm of the couch and her mind raced with what to do.
"No, Mr. Ingle. I am fine. I don't need boys. My schoolwork, it's too important. I don't have time for them anyway," she tried to slide away but he was nearly on top of her and she struggled as he tried to kiss her.
His sweaty hands reached for her over-developed breasts and squeezed hard.
"I know you want me Emily, I see you looking at me."
Emily didn't know what he was talking about, she had babysat for the family for years, gone on outings with them and had been a constant presence, helping Mrs. Ingle do chores; she was more like a family member than a babysitter.
Emily's mind raced, when would Mrs. Ingle be home, why wasn't she with him, what would she do?
Popping the top buttons of her blouse, the sound they made as they hit the hardwood floor seemed deafening, he reached inside her blouse, inserting his fingers inside her tank top.
Emily was sweating too, terrified at this man overpowering her...
Chapter 35
"Emily! Wake up!" Jonathon's booming voice brought her back to reality, although she wasn't sure if she was really sleeping. She looked at him stunned, felt the sweat on her body, and was initially afraid, until she realized it was him. His presence instantly made her at peace.
"Good morning, Jonathon," she smiled sweetly; the sunlit flooding into her room was the only signal of morning for her. She felt as though she had not slept at all. She knew she had been remembering, but didn't want him to know that; didn't want him to know about her past. She couldn't understand it; why would he?
"Morning baby, you look beautiful," he purred at her.
Emily would never get tired of hearing things like that, she doubted most women felt the same, and wondered why men didn't say more things like that. If they did, she thought, they would receive utter devotion. Why men didn't get that pleasing women, earning total admiration was relatively simple.
Jonathon got it somehow. It was his words, his humor, his sweet insides that he tried so hard to protect, his protection of her, which made her love him.
Emily felt weak from her night of fitful sleep and remembering, she wanted to feel Jonathon's power. She wanted to feel safe under him. She wanted to submit her fears, her thoughts, and her will to him.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied in the sassiest way possible, hoping to provoke him, even though she was smiling, she hoped he would read it correctly.
"Are you now? You seemed to be having a bad dream?" his tone let Emily know he was getting it.
"Nope, just fine, don't feel much like talking," she replied, sounding like a brat.
"Is that so, and what is it you feel like doing then?"
"Nothing, not a darn thing," the twinkle in her eye betraying her disrespectful tone.
"I don't much care for the way you are speaking to me Emily," Jonathon's voice was firm, and he lacked the twinkle she had, he was so good at the game, and her body began to instantly respond.
"Oh, well I really don't care what you think right now."
"Emily, your behavior is completely unacceptable and will have to be punished," his voice, strong, steady and serious, was like electricity to her clit.
"Ha! I don't think so, not today," she retorted as she tried to flee the bed.
Jonathon lunged for her and caught her with little effort. Emily struggled for effect; Jonathon held her tiny wrists in one of his large hands as he reached for one of scarves that were still on the bureau.
"On your knees!" he ordered. Her pussy was on fire. She loved the feeling of him in control. She wondered why, considering all of the unpleasant things that had happened in her life, and determined immediately that it was because he cared for her, wouldn't let anything happen to her, and it erased all of those things. She wanted him like no other.
Emily complied and Jonathon secured her wrists with the scarf and as he did he noticed the rigging of rope and the eye hook from the ceiling.
"What is this, dear Emily?" Jonathon interrogated her.
"Um, well, uh," Emily sputtered.
"Spill it girl! Did you use this contraption with your girlfriends?" Jonathon's interested piqued and Emily could see his mind racing at the possibilities; his cock at her eye level stirred and her pussy began to slicken in response.
"Um, yes Sir."
"Really now? Hmmm. Who did you tie up? All of them?"
Emily could see his brain working, imagining her friends tied up at her hands, as he wrapped the end of the rope around her wrists and hoisted her to her feet, her nipples exposing how she felt about his inquisition.
"Just Aleeyah, Sir. Well, just Aleeyah tied up to the ceiling..."
"Really? And who else was tied up? And how?" Jonathon was hungry for details and Emily could easily see why; his cock was jutting from his pelvis, solid from the possibilities running through his head.
"Um, Natalia. She had her wrists tied."
"Did you spank them? With this?" he asked picking up the crop from the dresser.
"Yes, Sir," Emily replied meekly, enjoying the questioning, the stretching of her limbs as she hung from the hook she had utilized on her friend only hours before. The dampness seeping from her lips caused them to slide together as she twisted the rope, gaining pleasure from the sensation, wanting more attention on her button.
Jonathon stood behind her and whispered in her ear, his hard cock resting on her thigh, "and did Aleeyah like it Emily? Being tied up by you, her friend? Did it make her wet?"
"Yes sir, it did."
Jonathon involuntarily moaned at the thought, when he noticed the spreader bar Emily had purchased sitting on the bureau.
"Did you use this?" he grilled her, his tone demanding, firm, pretending he was disappointed in the activities she had participated. He had been the night before, but in that moment it was clear he enjoyed the images running though his head as his cock twitched, bouncing toward his belly.
"Yes Sir, I did." For a moment Emily was a little disappointed he had discovered the toys, as they were part of her plan for him, but the sight of his hard body standing there with the spreader bar in his hands, was such a turn on that it simply didn't matter.
"Interesting. Like this?" he asked; putting down the crop and picking up the bar. He knelt before her and spread her legs wide; he caressed her calves as he cuffed her ankles.
"Yes, Sir, like that." She was grateful he had not blindfolded her. She watched herself being restrained in the large mirror atop the bureau and the other one on the adjacent wall. It was nearly more than she could handle. She saw the definition of her muscles stretched to capacity as she hung there, legs spread, on her toes, and it was entirely erotic to her.
Jonathon picked up the crop again and slowly slid it up Emily's leg, resting it on her clit, but not moving it. Emily ached to feel anything against her throbbing button, to relieve the building pressure, and she squirmed to rub against the leather tip of the crop.
He allowed her to rub against for a while, delighted with watching her pleasuring herself. She rocked her body as best she could with her legs spread so far, having little traction standing on her toes. Her awkward attempts made her look even more vulnerable and his throbbing cock begged for attention.
Jonathon slid the wet tip of the crop between her breasts and to Emily's surprise he swatted the tips of her hard nipples. The act sent pain shooting through her, pain and intense pleasure, she was surprised at the sensation and wanted more; she moaned in appreciation, hoping to elicit another swat. Jonathon obliged, and the successive smacks opened a floodgate of moisture to her pussy, and her involuntary sounds of appreciation encouraged him to continue her torment.
Smiling, Jonathon walked behind her, sliding the crop under her breast, along her side and across her bottom. He couldn't resist and struck it hard, immediately producing a pink welt. Emily writhed, from the pain, but also the intense pleasure it produced.
"You like that, don't you Emily?"
"Yes, Sir," Emily replied, her breathing ragged, every nerve in her body electrified, she wanted more.
"You want more don't you?"
"Yes, please, Sir"
"Beg me for them," he ordered.
"Please sir, please..."
"Please what, Emily?"
"Please spank me...," begging for punishment had a powerful effect on her. She needed the painful pleasure as much as she needed to feel him inside her lustful body.
Jonathon indulged her, slowly, gently at first; tapping her firm bottom with little force, it felt almost ticklish to Emily. She laughed in response.
"It's funny?" Jonathon asked, sounding angry.
"No sir, it feels... different."
"Different huh? Well, how does this feel?"
When the crop connected with her bottom she flinched, even though she expected him to spank her harder, she didn't expect it to sting quite so much. The stinging feeling quickly left her and became warmth that spread through her body. She would never be able to wrap her brain around the pain-pleasure connection, but she couldn't get enough of it.
Emily was twenty-two the first time she realized there even was a pain-pleasure connection. She lay on the table, the tattooist coloring the large dragon tattoo on her back; she nearly had an orgasm there without her button ever being touched.
Jonathon, holding the crop in his left hand, rubbed Emily's rosy bottom. He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. She felt his hardness on her tender bottom and the soft skin of his head on her inflamed ass was incredible.
"Emily, I do not want you to ever forget belong to me. You can play with the girls, but only at my discretion. Do you understand?" he rubbed her again before his hand connected hard with the already sensitive skin and Emily writhed with pleasure.
She needed to feel him inside her, needed to cum.
"Please Sir... Please," she began to beg.
"Please what, Emily?"
"Please Sir... Please fuck me. I need to feel you, I need you inside me, I cannot take much more."
"You can't take much more? Because it hurts?" Jonathon asked curiously.
"No sir, because it aches, because my pussy aches. I am so close, but I need you."
"You want my cock?" Jonathon smiled.
"Yes, Sir. Please," Emily pleaded.
"Hmmmm, you need something here?" he asked as he slipped his fingers between her legs, groaning in delight as he felt her arousal, his sounds sending jolts to her button.
He began to massage her clit from behind, the hair on his arms brushing the tender skin of her bottom, the bare skin of her pussy. Her arms strained, the muscles sore, adding to the excitement her body felt.
Jonathon abruptly stopped and walked to her dresser, opening the drawer that contained her array of toys. He chose a butterfly vibrator, turned it on and held it against her clit.
It was too much, Emily squirmed away as best she could, but he held her fast with his free arm, and breathed "cum for me Emily."
The torture was exquisite and in seconds Emily exploded, shooting her juices everywhere, an ability Jonathon could not get enough of; always pleased when it happened. He held her as her body rocked against him, against his throbbing cock and he knew he must have her, tossing the vibrator across the room.
She hung limp from her ecstasy, and Jonathon quickly undid the spreader bar from her ankles, before releasing her from the restraint that held her up. He caught her before she fell to the floor, and lowering her to her knees he positioned himself behind her perfect pink ass.
She lay flat on her arms, raising her ass to meet his hungry cock; he slid into her, delighting in her wetness. She wanted him to fuck her hard and he did. Emily braced herself, pushing back to meet him as he thrust himself into her. There was no sweet lovemaking, only raw passion and quickly sent her over the edge as she felt him slapping her clit with his balls.
