House of Pain Ch. 09-10

Chapter 9

We sit on the couch; we are eating chilli. It is good; spicy and delicious, with a dollop of sour cream on top.

"You can cook," I comment, with some surprise. Doug grins. "I can make three things with competence... spaghetti, chili and a pretty tasty burger. Beyond that, I'm lost, really."

I laugh. We watch TV; we eat our food. Things feel mellow; the storm of the spanking has passed, and it has left calmness behind.

"How are you feeling?" Doug asks, as we finish.

"I'm okay..." I say. The pain has receded; I'm still a little sore, but I'm mostly fine.

"Not exactly what I had planned for you this evening..." Doug says, ruefully.

I'm curious. "What did you have planned?"

"More pleasure." He makes a face at me. "Sara, I think your view is a bit warped..." he says, seriously. "I know the BDSM conventions as well as you -- the kneeling sub, the instant obedience, no talking in the dungeon, blah, blah, blah. They don't work very well for me..."

He takes a sip of beer; continues. "I get the sense you are struggling with this journey..." he says. I'm a little alarmed. He's eerily perceptive.

"Can I tell you the story of my journey?" he asks. "It might help you with yours."

I nod assent.

"I grew up in your typical middle-class family..." he says. "Both my parents worked; they divided chores, it was all very normal and progressive. And then, when I was about thirteen, my cousin Charlotte came to live with us. She was ten; a quiet girl; scared of her own shadow, scared of anything and everything, it seemed."

He takes another sip; puts his arm around my shoulder, pulls me in towards him. I lean on his shoulder; listen to his story.

"Over the course of time, I found out that Charlotte's father was a great believer in corporal punishment. Charlotte was routinely beaten, black and blue, for even the slightest of infractions. When my parents found out, they took her away, brought her to our home instead. Gave her a more loving home."

His voice is wry. "So you can imagine, with that history, how torn I was when I started my sexual journey, and found out I liked to spank women. How much I hated myself for what I wanted."

This is... interesting. He's right; the story of his journey is helping; the fact that he has struggled with his desires is actually reassuring. I don't want to ever date someone who thinks men spanking women is the natural order of things; I want to date someone who's introspective enough about this need, and who's thoughtful enough to realize that there's a balance between control and respect.

"Over time, I've come to terms with this need." His voice is level; a slight inflection at the word need. "The way I can live with myself is that I've realized -- this need of mine, it is entirely sexual, and nothing else. Outside of the dungeon, I have not the slightest desire to be anyone's master, to control every aspect of someone's life. If I had that desire, I don't think I'd be able to deal with it very well..."

Another sip of beer; a slight pause. "Plus," his voice is lighter now, "my mother will flay me alive if she thinks I'm disrespecting a woman in any way, and I'm petrified of my mother." He sounds indulgent, not petrified.

"That's what I want from you -- control in the dungeon. Nowhere else."

"What do you want from me in the dungeon?" I ask. "What am I expected to do? How am I expected to address you?"

He sighs. He's exasperated again. "No preconceived notions, please. You can call me whatever you want." He pauses; searching for the right words. "In the dungeon, I'll lay out the rules at the start of a scene, and I'd like you to follow the rules. If you follow the rules, you'll get rewarded. If you break the rules, you'll get punished. But that's just the scene. What happens there doesn't spill over outside the dungeon; what happens outside doesn't transfer to the dungeon."

I take it in. He's said this to me a few times, in various ways. Intellectually, I believe him, but I guess in my heart of hearts, I'm still a little hesitant. It all sounds a bit too good to be true; he's good looking; he wants to spank me; but yet treat me with utter respect; I'm waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under my feet.

But for the moment, I'm here; my ass is not throbbing in pain; and it has been days since I've orgasmed. I'm leaning against his bare chest, and the heat from his body is a warm embrace. I look at him.

"Can we go back to the dungeon?" I ask.

In response, he stands up, pulls me up. "Sure, let's go downstairs," he agrees.

***

I make a resolution as I walk down the stairs. I will give myself to Doug fully, willingly, sexually. Beyond that, I'm still doubtful; still afraid. But here in the dungeon, I am his to do what he will.

***

"Take off your t-shirt; stand in the middle, hands behind your back." Doug's voice is firm. I obey quickly, moving to the spot he's indicated. He moves around; opening closets and dressers; grabbing objects from around the dungeon. He then brings them towards me; sets them down on a table off to the side. My eyes fix on the table.

Rope. A flogger. A crop. Nipple clamps. Weights. Handcuffs. A ball gag. A huge butt plug. Cuffs. Spreader bar.

I bite my lips as I look at what he's laid out. My insides churn; my pussy clenches. I can't wait.

"Sara, the rules for this scene." Doug's voice is steady. I meet his eyes.

"You will speak only if spoken to. I'd like you to acknowledge all my instructions verbally. And Sara, you must ask me for permission to orgasm."

I nod. He raises an eyebrow in slight displeasure. Oh. He wants me to acknowledge instructions verbally. "Yes, Doug."

He smiles at me. "Good girl." His voice is approving. "Do you remember your safe word?"

"Yes." I say. Red.

"Ready?" he asks me, his eyes glinting.

I close my eyes for a quick second; take a deep breath. I remember that I've resolved to give myself to Doug fully, willingly. I open my eyes. "I'm ready," I whisper.

***

I've been simmering at the edge of arousal since Wednesday night. Earlier today, desire flared when he held me against him and spanked me, and I could feel his erection against my body. In a few short days, his voice, the feel of his body have become synonymous with arousal. When I've wanted to masturbate, I've stopped because he's told me to. I've kept still when I've wanted to wriggle, because he's asked me to.

He's done all of this without raising his voice. While still retaining his warmth; radiating friendliness. Doug is a very dangerous guy.

He moves towards me, spreader bar in hand. Kneels, cuffs one ankle in. He runs his fingers up my leg idly as he buckles the cuff in place. I whimper softly. His fingers are maddening in their deliberateness, and little waves of lust are curling around my body.

"Spread your legs..." he orders me. I comply; spread them. I can feel my pussy's wetness; I know I will not be able to hide my arousal from Doug. And indeed; I can see his nostrils flare, as he smells my heat. I close my eyes for an instant, as a powerful surge of hunger runs through me. I shiver slightly.

He puts his hands on my thighs; nudges my legs still wider. I grab his shoulders so I don't fall. I want to protest, but I remember the rules, just in time. No speaking till I'm spoken to.

Doug's hands are on my other ankle, and I'm quickly cuffed.

I bite my lips as I consider my vulnerability. My legs are spread impossibly wide; so wide that I am finding it difficult to balance. I wonder if falling during a scene is acceptable. I grin a little, as I imagine falling on my face; breaking my nose. That'd be a mood killer.

"What's funny?" Doug's voice is silken. Oops.

"Nothing..." I mumble.

Doug rises to his feet; picks up the flogger. "Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your answer..." he says, and the threat in his voice is crystal clear.

My pussy creams; my knees almost buckle; this is so insanely erotic. The easy going guy upstairs has receded; here, his voice is level, and he expects to be obeyed instantly. Every nerve in my body tingles with arousal, as longing snakes through me.

"What's funny?" he asks again.

"My legs are spread so wide, I think I'm going to fall and break my nose..." I mumble, mortified. My face is beet red.

Doug laughs, a sound of utter male amusement. "Oh, don't worry, baby, I'm going to take care of that in a minute." He moves something behind my back. Now I feel his hands on my neck, he is gathering my hair into a rough ponytail, and I feel a cuff go around my neck, and my neck is suddenly restrained, and I can't move it.

I can't help it; I whimper; a little anxious mewl. I'm well-immobilized; the cuff around my neck is wide and stiff, and it is keeping my head staring straight ahead; I can't move my neck either left or right.

"Relax," Doug soothes. He comes around the front, where I can see him. "It's a rod, with a cuff holding your neck in place," he explains. "It'll keep you from falling forward, and breaking your nose..." His lips twitch; he winks at me.

I want to pout that he's laughing at me, but he's approaching me once again, this time with the rope, and I shut up and focus on what he's doing next.

He starts winding the rope around my chest. He keeps grazing my nipples as he does this and I groan in longing each time. My nipples are erect; eager to feel his touch. When he finishes, he's created a sort of rope cage for my breasts; they are squished between two parallel lines of rope.

He steps back; eyes me with satisfaction. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

Oh good. I've been waiting for an opportunity to speak; to beg him to touch me. "Doug..." I groan. "Please touch me..."

He shakes his head at me, though his lips twitch. "That wasn't an answer to my question, Sara," he says, as the flogger comes down on my bound breasts.

I hiss. His stroke stings; I feel the heat rise on my skin; I feel the familiar twitch of longing deep in my pussy. He eyes me. "How's that for pain? Too much? Too little?"

"Just right..." I say.

Doug grins at me, and this time, there's pure amusement in his gaze. "A couple more things, before the flogging begins..." he says, and I can hear the anticipation in his voice. He moves behind me; and suddenly, there's a dildo at my pussy.

It feels huge. I can't look down to see how big it is; but my pussy lips part impossibly wide as Doug's steady hands guide the monster into my waiting pussy. I groan. I feel so tight; so full; stretched. Doug kneels; does something behind my back, and then straightens. The dildo stays in place; he's secured it somehow.

I know what's coming next. And sure enough; the massive butt plug is being lubed up. Doug walks to the front; looks into my eyes.

"I want you to trust me," he says quietly. "I will never put you in more pain than you can take..." But then he smiles; a smile of pure evil that has me creaming in lust. "But this is going to be intense."

It is. I'm already stretched wide by the dildo in my pussy, and I instinctively clench my ass muscles as I feel the tip of the butt plug touch my asshole.

"Sara." A curt warning. I take a deep breath; steady myself; force each and every muscle in my body to relax.

It hurts; there's no getting around it. But Doug is gentle and patient, and eventually, my butt swallows the monstrous intruder. I groan, as my body gets used to the sensations. So very, very full.

Doug moves in front of me again; his eyes searching mine. "Okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper. There's no sass this time. I'm in the throes of lust and longing, and I am teetering at the edge of orgasm. If he just grazes my clitoris, I'm completely going to explode. I dig my nails into my palms, clenching my fists, trying to control myself.

Doug watches me, his expression implacable. "Remember," he says, "you have to ask for permission to orgasm."

I whimper. "Please can I come, Doug?" I beg. I'm so close; I'll come if he just touches me; the slightest lick of his tongue, the tiniest brush of a fingertip. My hands are untied, but it doesn't occur to me to touch myself. I am in Doug's hands; I will do as he tells me.

Doug shakes his head at me. "Too soon, baby," he chides. "I haven't even started flogging you yet... Put your hands behind your back." My pussy gushes yet again; sending my juices dripping down the massive dildo.

He's turned on some music; I hear the instantly recognisable opening bars of Bolero. "Bolero?" I ask, before I can catch myself. I'm surprised; I didn't think he was the classical music kind of guy. Doug has many surprising sides to him.

"Remember the rules, only speak when you are spoken to..." Doug chides. I nod; I flash him a look of apology.

The music plays; the flogging starts. The music is slow and gentle and contemplative at the start, and in keeping, Doug is gentle with the flogger. The strokes on my tied breasts produce more heat than pain. I'm shuddering as the tremors run through me; as my body responds to the feel of the tails wrapping against my tender flesh; to the pleasurable sting of each stroke.

I find that I'm trying to move on the dildo, to feverishly try to quench my arousal, but my legs are spread wide, and I don't get any rhythm going. The music is the only rhythm in the room; that and the steady strokes of the flogger.

The tempo of the music rises. The strokes are falling swifter now, harder. Doug whips my breasts, and my body is dancing in pain; experiencing pure pleasure. Between strokes, he lowers his mouth onto my nipples, sucking the reddened skin, grazing his teeth against the sensitive nub; and I push myself towards him in a mute plea to please, please continue.

The strokes continue; as I embrace the delightful torment of my body. Everything is arousal and lust; my pussy is grinding on the giant dildo in me; the fullness of the butt plug feels like pleasure; I'm dancing towards Doug; silently pleading to be whipped harder, faster... My orgasm is just out of reach; I am tormented by my lust and aching, and I groan with the excruciating intensity of it all.

"Touch yourself." Doug's voice is ragged. His erection is very visible through his jeans; but despite all that, the flogger rises and falls steadily. "I want to you to make yourself come, while I whip you."

I'm too close to the edge to experience embarrassment. I bring a hand forward, part my pussy lips, find my clitoris. I close my eyes; the music is rising, the strokes are raining down on my reddened, swollen breasts, and my fingers dance over my clitoris, and it doesn't take me long at all to find sweet, shattering release.

I slump in my bindings a little, but Doug's having none of it. "Nope. I didn't tell you to stop touching yourself. Keep going, Sara."

I bite my lower lip. My clitoris is painfully sensitive; I've just come. But I obey. My pussy is still slick with my juices, and I rub myself softly, as arousal impossibly once again begins to rise in me.

The flogger rises and falls on my breasts; I push them out towards Doug. This time around, I keep my eyes open, look at him as I touch myself; imagine it is him touching me. Our eyes are locked on each other; my desire mirrored in his, and as the music rises to its final thundering crescendo, Doug hits me hard, and I orgasm again in a shuddering wave of release.

I don't need to slump this time; Doug's arms are around me, and I draw him close. We stay like that for an instant; as my body luxuriates in the feel of his body next to me. He kisses me gently; undoes the neck cuff; then disengages from my hug, removes the rope and the dildo, and undoes the ankle cuffs.

I stagger, but he is there to catch me.

***

We lie on the bed. The butt plug is still in me; I wriggle a little as I feel it in me. I'm not sure if I'm hoping Doug will remove it, or leave it in me.

"Ok, you can talk now..." Doug says, his lips twitching.

"Good," I say in relief. It's been harder to obey that rule than I would have thought. I had no problems keeping quiet in the House of Pain, but it's different with Doug; one experience is fantasy, and the other is very, very real.

"Doug..." I start. I've been aching for the feel of his cock in my mouth. "Please, can I go down on you?"

Doug smiles at me. "Sara, you won't hear me refuse that offer very often..." He throws a pillow on the floor. "On your knees, please. Hands behind your back; just use your mouth."

I comply with all his orders as he slides out of his jeans, lick my lips as his cock comes into view. The head of his cock has precum glistening on it, and I lick it off gently, savouring the taste of him. My tongue slathers his cock with attention. And then, because I can't wait anymore, I take his head in my mouth.

His cock is long and thick, and my mouth is stretched wide around his head. Juices drip from my pussy down my thighs as I react to the feel of him in my mouth; to the way he makes me feel when he controls me. My hands are interlocked behind me, and my submissiveness to him makes me cream still further.

I slowly slide my mouth down his length; while my tongue traces circles on his cock. I set a rhythm going; I'm not going too fast, and I'm not trying to deep-throat him either. I take maybe half his length in my mouth, and just suck him steadily, moving my head up and down his cock; sucking my cheeks in and tightening my lips around his length.

I'm paying homage, in a way, worshipping this beautiful cock as a way to thank him for his masterful control of me, for the mind-numbing orgasms that have shuddered through my body.

"Sara," Doug warns, his hands in my hair. "I'm not going to last very long..."

I redouble my efforts; I want him to come in my mouth; I want to taste his essence. My tongue slides over the sensitive underside of his cock, causing him to groan and tighten his grip of my hair. He starts thrusting; sliding his hard length in and out of my mouth. I moan; my hands are still interlocked behind my back, and I want to touch myself again as I react to Doug.

With a groan, he explodes in my mouth, and I swallow his hot, gushing essence. I keep my mouth on him as he softens, I lick his head one more time.

Doug pulls me back up to bed; removes the butt plug; I fall asleep a silly grin on my face, and with one thought in my mind. "He is so tasty."

Chapter 10

We wake up twice during the night and make love. The first time, I wake up; Doug is sleeping next to me. The fire has died down and the basement is slightly chilly. Goose bumps gather on my skin. I shiver slightly; the movement wakes him up.

"Hey," he says softly. "You cold?"

I nod. He gets up, gets the fire going again; climbs back into bed. His body is warm; my skin feels icy by comparison. He pulls me into his body, spooning me; I luxuriate in his warmth. He is naked; as am I; and as I feel his hardening cock against my butt, I feel the familiar stirrings of desire.

His hand comes around, rubs a nipple. I arch my back so I'm pushing my breasts into his hand; a mute plea to continue.

He moves; looks into my eyes. "This is going to be hard and fast, baby..." he rasps.

"I like hard and fast," I say.

He smiles at that. He reaches for a condom and rolls it on; he positions me on my knees; my face buried in the pillows. He mounts me; there's no foreplay; he's hard; ready to go. I move my hips in invitation. I want him inside me.

He thrusts in me. I groan; he feels so good. He doesn't speak; he moves in me; he is deep in me, and it is intense as he takes his pleasure. My hands close around the pillow, I clench and hold on for the ride. Sweet lightning bolts of lust are running through me; his hand reaches around my hip and finds my clitoris, and he is rubbing my clitoris in a pattern that is as old as time, and we erupt within seconds of each other.