Gifted

Razor in one hand, a dollop of shaving cream in the other, Jimmy looked up into the medicine cabinet's mirrored reflection. The green eyes, the flecks of red lightly streaked in his brunette hair and now-three-day beard growth gave hints of the Irish in the man staring intently back at him. A menthol-peppermint coolness pacified his rough, bristled face. Jimmy wished it could soothe his soul just as easily. Deftly moving his razor from neck to cheeks to chin with a butterfly safety razor, he was clean-faced once more within moments, washing the remnants of shaving cream away.

Turning to his right, reflected back was a noticeably bent nose, a memento from a two-Italian-Anthonys-versus-one-Irish-Jimmy brawl seven years ago. His left index traced the inch-long crescent-mooned reminder of beer bottle-meeting-face going back a half-decade. A crushing left hook to the jaw ended that bar ballyhoo. But it also ended his marriage. One too many late-night calls to bail his hotheaded, drunken Irish ass out of jail was all that Mary could take. She told him she wasn't coming that night to free him, she needed the night away from him— "Goddammit, Jimmy! Fourth time this year! No, I'm not coming, you fucking bastard! Stay there!," she told him before slamming down the phone. Usually quiet and reserved, once swearing flowed freely from Mary, he knew she was volcanic angry. When it was his cousin Sean who finally came to get him that morning and drop him off, he found himself in an empty house — one he personally painstakingly restored and made into a home — but not always a happy one. Mary? Mary, where are you? Look, I'm sorry ...

And then, he saw it, propped on the mantle. Plain, inconspicuous white envelope with JIMMY scrawled across it: a "Dear John" — Jimmy — letter, explaining how much she loved him and their family despite the turbulence his drinking and fighting caused between them, but that their son Ryan couldn't have a father around that was always drunk and in jail. She wouldn't stand for it any longer, and Mary never set foot in that house again as his wife — six months later they were divorced. That morning, he cried, staring at that letter for what seemed hours, knowing right there and then he needed to change and refocus his life, and he did. No more heavy drinking, no more bars fights, no more jail. But it was too late for Mary. She always was his polar opposite: her soft and sweet to his raw and rough. Even during sex, he fucked her differently than any other women before her. They made love— gentle, slow, affectionate. But he always felt something lacking with her. Mary always pleased him, and they had a strong sexual chemistry. Most men wouldn't feel discontented having a pretty, caring wife to come home to every night. But as guilty as he felt, Jimmy couldn't be "most" men. He needed something more.

A year after his divorce, he discovered what that more was when he met Amber. He flirted with her in the coffee shop, that Irish accent infectiously luring, which led to Jimmy's house and bedroom — and carnal awakening. She loved it hard and rough and wanted him in her pussy, her ass, her throat, spanking her violently, tugging her hair, slapping her face. She needed to feel pain as she was being fucked, releasing orgasm after orgasm as Jimmy pummeled her with his cock and hands. He had never been so sexually invigorated, cumming more gratifying than he ever had before, that release of pent-up, aggressive rage he had before only found peace in unleashing upon unruly bar patrons now pumped harsh into and rough onto Amber. He reveled in giving desired pain, savored submission given to him without reservation. A full unadulterated release of pain-giving that quelled his inner Irish ire. It was then he learned what BDSM was, which led him to Wicked and unlocked a new sexual identity as a dominant sadist.

Through Wicked, Jimmy found Sarah. He gravitated to her at a Sexy Singles Mingle. She held a striking resemblance to Mary. He approached her, and they soon became friends — no-strings-attached play partners, as well as good friends and confidants for each other. Jimmy could always go to Sarah when he needed to vent, and she to him. While Jimmy certainly enjoyed the occasions he and Sarah fucked at Wicked, she was a bit too "soft" for Jimmy. Kinkier than Mary — particularly having a penchant for getting her ass fucked — but she couldn't match the intense hardcore inferno of Amber.

Sarah was all about the ass — Jimmy ramming it hard with his cock, but especially their usual Wicked dates: spanking sessions. Although she could take a long spanking, Sarah never had much of a pain threshold for hard ass abuse, as Jimmy had to be somewhat restrained with her asscheeks — unlike Amber, who Jimmy fucked hard — and beat harder — regularly, leaving them both sore and sated at least twice weekly. After the Christmas Eve debacle, that cunt foiling his every attempt at present purchasing including that crop he wanted to buy to share with Sarah — the one she pointed out to him she would enjoy punishing her ass — his first call was to Amber. "Get over to my place. I need to fuck you. Now!"

Christmas was a melancholy father-son day, as although Ryan gave him a "That's OK, dad, I know you tried" reply to Jimmy's inability to deliver asked-for presents, Jimmy could see the disappointment written all over son's face. Still, Ryan appreciated what gifts his father had given him, and the best gift of all — his father, spending time with him, on Christmas. Jimmy made sure Ryan was the priority in his life, vowing not to let his relationship fray and break as it had with Mary. But with Christmas now a quickly fading memory and the calendar flipped another year, Jimmy needed some time to unwind — with Sarah, her ass and a St. Andrew's cross. Keys in hand, small duffel bag with needed items over his shoulder, Jimmy texted her as he headed out the door. "See you in 30 minutes, Sarah." And with that, Jimmy was on his way to Wicked, a much-needed night of release ahead.

∞

Wicked was not an easy club to get into. A linebacker-sized bouncer stood at every entrance, membership was mandatory, and only after an extensive background check — criminal and medical — was one granted opportunity to gain admittance, once the pricey membership fee was paid. But it was worth every bit of that dent to the bank account, as it kept the clientele exclusive and assured a level of safety, familiarity and discretion that other adult clubs couldn't always guarantee.

Patrons were led directly into a dance club and bar upon entrance into the club's black Italian-marbled main floor. During nightly raves, a state-of-the-art lighting and sound system was brought to life by a well-known DJ spinning a sinfully stimulating soundtrack. The accompanying bar was fully stocked with an impressive selection of top-of-the-top-shelf liquors, wines and craft beers. Where Wicked really earned its rousing reputation as the city's best adult entertainment playground, however, was on the second floor, a small journey up the opulent, glass-stepped spiral staircase. Reaching the landing, clubgoers were met by yet another set of muscle-ripped bouncers who ensured none of Wicked's clientele were too inebriated to play safely.

Once obtaining security clearance, the second level's open play space was a kinkster's naughtiest fantasy realized: multiple St. Andrew's crosses replete with an impressive array of paddles, crops and floggers — although most had their own private instruments of painfully pleasurable infliction — spanking benches, sex swings, restraints, free condoms and lubes readily available at every station. Attendants stood by observantly, assuring safety by providing intervention or assistance in case of any potential problematic situation; troublesome issues were a rarity, however, because of the rigorous vetting that all but guaranteed rules-respectful participants. The third floor was the lavish suite level, with eight intimate rooms for those requiring more private accommodations. Throughout, Wicked's lavish amenities provided a discreetly sheltered and sexually scintillating environment for all its members.

∞

A week into the new calendar year, dressed to impress in a form-fitting tailored leather corset and matching mini-skirt, Gabriela entered Wicked to appreciative eyes fucking her every step she strode toward the bar, ordering a glass of dry Merlot. Thigh-highs hugged her shapely legs, accentuated by her striking red heels and matching ruby lips. She craved the attention her looks gathered from everybody, her sexual lioness feeding off the desire she saw in each glance her way. Gabriela knew how beautiful she was — and used that to her advantage whenever possible — in her business dealings, social settings and definitely when she wanted to get fucked hard and rough to orgasmic release. The new leather crop was held by her side, tapping along her calf rather impatiently as she yearned for it to be used on her.

Tossing a stray curl from her cheek, she smirked flirtatiously at the good-looking Harvard graduate lawyer just down the bar ten feet — a frequent play partner at Wicked, Harrison. She walked down toward him, sultrily smiling as she ran her hand down his silken shirt, feeling his impressive build underneath, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek. "Harrison, aren't you looking especially delectable tonight?" Gabriela teasingly ran the crop down his chest, circling once over his clearly now-erect member. "I have a new toy. How about you show me just why I bought it."

He was young, fit, charming and rich. Definitely in her league of gentleman sexual suitors who more importantly than his sexyasfuck appeal, could be trusted to maintain the utmost discretion. Neither would let this tryst into their professional lives for fear of being ousted as a kink-loving pervert and neither would contact the other outside of these walls. It was always the perfect setup.

Harrison took the crop from her, examining it, before unexpectedly giving her a light but sharp crack on her asscheek, malevolently grinning at her. "Gabriela, I've been waiting for another chance to mark that beautiful ass of yours. It's been way too long. Come, let's go upstairs to the benches." He quickly finished his drink, she following suit, before heading to the play area on the second floor.

As they walked over to the benches, Gabriela's eyes drifted to the cross directly across the room, where a petite vixen was bound, a flogger being dragged slowly and sensuously across her body in anticipation of the delivery of its first thrash. On the end of said flogger was none other than Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes — "The name's Jimmy" — himself. What is he doing here, of all fucking places? I've never seen him here before." Try as she might to ignore him, she lost herself in thought, recounting their awkward, angry and antagonistic Christmas Eve aggressions.

Despite the imminent ass beating she desired nearing commencement by Harrison, Gabriela couldn't help her peripherals from seeking Jimmy out, watching every move he made as a dominant. It was one thing to simply imagine during pussy-soaked masturbation — a lustful, hate-infused fuckfest with a chiseled-hard, handsome stranger she had irked one too many times — and quite another to see said person, a confident and sure dominant assuredly wielding a flogger on a begging-for-it ass.

Harrison's voice directly whispering into her ear brought her back into the here-and-now moment, his hand tracing along the tops of her thigh-highs as she stood next to the bench. Harrison's perfectly tended hands now under her skirt, fingers adeptly pushing aside her thong and running along her lips, slipping between the folds and rubbing her swollen clit. All the dirty words she loved to hear poured effortlessly from his coy lips against her ear. But it wasn't Harrison's heated foreplay that had her full attention. Gabriela's pussy gave a dull throb as she heard the first strike connect on Jimmy's partner and the rattle of her restraining chains yanked in response — she vaguely remembered meeting that girl, maybe six months previous at the bar, fleetingly introduced by Harrison — was her name Sarah?

Noticing her distraction, Harrison became clearly agitated. He took her forcefully, and leaned her ass-up over the bench, growled low at her. "Not turning you on enough, Gabriela? Think you're missing out on something?" — Well now that you mention it, Harrison. A soft moan was torn from her as he hiked up her skirt and slapped her right cheek hard, an impression of red sure to already be forming. Yet despite her arousal and voracious appetite for Harrison's hurting deliverance, the flogging Jimmy was unleashing was all Gabriela could hear. All she could focus on. All she wanted. Her eyes wandered back to the cross, pale skin turned blushing with hardly a raised welt, yet the girl wailing with each blow.

Pulled back to her own pleasurably painful predicament, Harrison attended violently to Gabriela's ass. Going against her usual modus operandi, Gabriela hadn't purposely meant to rouse him, but she delighted in the unanticipated hardness of Harrison's beating. If this continued she wouldn't be sitting much the next few days.

Smack! A new enticing sound was followed by a muffled scream, a newly introduced ball gag reducing Sarah's audible agony. Gabriela was drawn once more to Jimmy. He smirked in sadistic satisfaction as a medium-sized paddle allied with Sarah's ass as she tugged against the chains, a cavalcade of tears running down one cheek. Why the dramatics? Fuck, I know it's a paddle, but he's not even hitting you that hard. You have much too soft an ass there, sweetheart. Gabriela could feel her competitive edge coming to the forefront. She knew she could take a hell of a lot more pain than that before the first tear was even shed.

A bite on her neck brought her back to Harrison, still agitated as he covered her ass with unyielding affliction and deep-bruising ecstasy. "You want me to tie you up and fuck you, slut? I'll tie you to that cross and take your tight little cunt from behind, right here for everyone to watch," he uttered lustfully in her ear. Gabriela groaned, all the while keeping count of each paddle wallop that landed against Sarah's ass. Seven ... eight ... nine ... A loud, muffled "red" emanated from Sarah's quivering, gagged lips, and the smacking instantly stopped. A safe word? Really? And not even ten with that paddle? Are you fucking kidding me? Gabriela could have done that whole set with a steadfast smile from start to finish. Jimmy took off Sarah's ball gag, unbound her from the cross, and settled on a couch where he soothed her with comforting strokes and whispered words.

Long, slender fingers delved into Gabriela, Harrison's thumb pressed against her clit while he explored her sex fervently. But her focus remained fixated on Jimmy and Sarah. She tried to enjoy the sensations running through her, Harrison adroit at pleasuring her, learning through their play at Wicked just what turned Gabriela's cunt into a soaked, dripping mess. She was feeling blissfully orgasmic, her pussy tingling with pleasure. Still, she could not stop looking at them. Gabriela tried to ignore her ever-present need to be the best at everything she did. But in the end Gabriela knew what she would do.

Without explanation to the stimulating stud making her body hum with satisfaction, Gabriela excused herself and walked over to the couch where Jimmy was applying lotion to a red-bottomed Sarah. Gabriela just barely avoided rolling her eyes and smiled at him.

"Remember me? Or rather, this?" Gabriela stroked the length of the crop teasingly. Without looking up from his task, Jimmy frowned angrily. "If you're only here to gloat then I'd suggest turning back around and continue letting your boy toy finger sloppily around in your panties."

Again his words were biting and cold. But Gabriela was hard-pressed to find a challenge she wasn't up to. "I was actually coming over to see if you wanted to test it out," Gabriela purred. His eyes shot up to her, lust still written in his eyes, seemingly unsatisfied with his session with Sarah. "How about testing it out on an ass that can take a long and hard beating, Jimmy? Because, right now, it looks like long and hard isn't happening for you. Unless you find yourself incapable of doling out something a lot harder." She held the crop to him, handle first.

At first he looked up at her, nearly a minute staring into her eyes as strong-headed Gabriela stared back, a challenge in her eyes, daring him to try and make her cry, daring him to unfurl his full force on her ass. Finally, he took the crop, swiping it through the air, acquainting himself with it, looking back at Sarah as he returned the crop to Gabriela. "Are you insinuating she can't take a long, hard beating? Considering you don't know her, that's more than a little insulting." He paused, perhaps thinking Gabriela would feel some modicum of remorse for her words but she looked on, the defiance and summons still radiating through her. "Look, I know how you know my name, but with all that went on between us Christmas Eve, I was never told yours."

She looked at him, quickly glimpsing down at Sarah, who was surveying Gabriela with questioning, inquisitive eyes. Gabriela dismissed Sarah's puzzlement, grinning at the thought of her shopping conquests over Jimmy on Christmas Eve — the only time she could imagine beating him instead of him ass-destructively beating her. "My name is Gabriela. The 'boy toy' is Harrison. You're Sarah, aren't you?" She shifted back to Jimmy. "Well, what do you say? Want to extract a bit of revenge for me outwitting you Christmas shopping?"

Jimmy's eyes showed smoldering annoyance at her taunt and putdown of Sarah, but Gabriela saw his obvious intrigue at her offer. You know you want this ass, Jimmy.

"Aren't you a sassy cunt, Gabriela?" His tone was one of desire and detestation. "Why don't you go finish with Harrison. We're still finishing up here. And revenge on that ass of yours is certainly what will happen if you're daring enough to bare it to me."

Laughing, Gabriela handed Jimmy the crop once more. "Here, hold this. You're going to need it. I hope you're better at spanking than you are at shopping." She turned and readied to head back to a visibly angry Harrison. "Don't go wandering off, Jimmy. I'm more than ready to handle anything you can dish out." Oh Gabriela, you bitch. He is going to pulverize your ass purple.

As she sweet-talked Harrison with trademarked Casimiro charisma to apologize for her curt retreat from their session, Gabriela peered over, seeing Jimmy in hushed conversation with the now-aftercare-complete Sarah. She saw Sarah glance over Jimmy's shoulder toward her, a small smile forming on her soft lips. Then Jimmy turned, eyeing Gabriela as she kissed Harrison's cheek, her left hand giving him a hard, teasing grab on his cock, he in turn giving her a smack on her ass as she returned to Jimmy and Sarah. "I certainly hope you have something a little more ... advanced ... in mind for me"

"Why don't you get your ass to that cross and I'll show you what I have," Jimmy snarled. Gabriela took her place at the cross, watching as he whispered to Sarah who sat up straight on the couch, her eyes fixated on Gabriela. She nodded in acceptance of his words and he left her, making his way to the new focus of his sadistic desire.

"Turn around."

Gabriela spun and faced the cross, apprehensive and excited all at once. Rough, strong hands snaked into her brown curls and yanked her head back, "You have no idea what you've just handed over to me. You are about to be in a world of ass pain over what you did. Christmas was a disaster and it all started with two presents that daddy couldn't bring home because some little slut got in my way." Those angry words only fueled Gabriella's passion even further, her juices ready to faucet down her thigh.