It's Always the Quiet Ones Pt. 02

"No, don't you do it-!" I cut off with a squeal when he dashed to me and I reacted fast but holy shit, he was faster. How did he move so much more quickly than me when he was bigger? That seemed unfair of the laws of physics. I squeaked in a frightened mouse sound when he caught me, his grip fierce and terrifyingly unyielding. "No! I said no! I don't want to!" Where the hell were those words coming from? Where was all this defiance coming from? I'd never had a backbone in my life and now I'd found one against him? That was dumb when he was the first person who'd shown me that the relationship I craved most was okay and feasible.

He chuckled in my ear. "If you mean that then what's your safeword? I know you remember."

I growled and struggled uselessly in his hold. "I shouldn't have to say it because I'm saying I don't want to start, you idiot!"

His laugh turned all the darker and more amused. "Oh, kitten. I'm glad we met, you precious little sub and once I have you fixed and satisfied, I'll explain that better."

Somehow, my temper still wasn't done and now that it had control of my mouth, it seemed an impossibility to stop its influence. The masochism demon, as I would come to think of these moments, had his claws deep in me and he wasn't letting go until we went home with our debts settled. "You aren't explaining shit, you willful, confused, damned Dom. You're letting me go and this isn't happening after a damn week of-"

"That's enough." Laughter laced his voice, and something that sounded a lot like relief, which I didn't understand. And then I didn't care because he flipped up my skirt, holding me down easily, and there was a moment of rustling where I turned my head to look at him. What I saw made me growl and struggle harder. Because he was holding me down effortlessly, with one hand, and undoing his belt with the other.

"No!" But the denials weren't doing me a hell of a lot of good. No, they weren't helping at all. He was undeterred and unruffled and my accusations hadn't even served to anger him, even if they were unfair and kind of mean. Something in that fact, in his face, calmed me a great deal.

He doubled the belt over and I struggled one last time before he swung it, connecting the harsh leather against my ass in a stripe that was harder than anything he'd yet done. And the look in his eyes when he did it? I turned away because it was too much to see, hiding my face in the bedspread and whimpering. Everything in me seemed to release to the pain. It felt like a kind of atonement after my week of self hatred and struggling. It felt freaking wonderful. I whined at a second belt stripe and he shushed me. "Easy. I've got you." He belted me again, not harder but not softer either. His strokes were even and relentless, but not cruel in the slightest. They just kept falling, until the heat in my ass compounded on itself and I was breathing to try to handle the pain.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it." The words were choked and it felt like my flesh should be torn with the steady, even force he fed me with.

He chuckled, pausing to smooth a palm down my ass and it was only then that I realized I wasn't struggling anymore and he wasn't holding me down anymore. I was hiding my face in the bondage bed and lifting up to receive more of his punishment, enjoying the feel of penance. I hadn't realized how much I hated myself for the thoughts I'd had against this guy who was playful and always honest. Oh, he had his own problems but everyone did and real friends didn't think the kinds of things I had been thinking. "I know you didn't, kitten. It's alright. I know exactly why you said what you did. That was rough, yeah? Not getting enough attention when you're still figuring all of this out and not used to any kind of relationship on top of it?"

"Yes, sir! Oh, please more."

"Yes, more. All you need." The belt was in harsh territory and it stung and burned, but it was everything. Is it weird to say that it felt like a form of love? It might be more accurate to say that it felt like connection and compatibility for the two of us, in its own way. He wasn't lying. He got it and got me and knew the quickest way to pull me back in sync. I gave over to the strikes, lost myself to their rhythm until my only reactions were an initial jerk and a shiver of surrender. The only sounds that left my lips were sweet little pleas for his ears to enjoy.

And then there was nothing left but the pure, selfless, and joyful submission that was easily my favorite state of existence. The belt fell at my head when he placed his hands at my shoulders on the bondage bed. His body was warm where he leaned over me and kissed my neck. "There we are. What do you need, kitten? At the moment? Tell me the truth."

"I need to please you." The words came so naturally, so easily. They sounded like lyrics to a duet between the two of us.

He kissed down my back, loving and tending my body. "There's a good little submissive. Lift up. You're overdressed." I didn't so much obey him as let myself be guided by his hands tugging me up. But he didn't chastise me for any failings at the moment. I was lost in a dream state but he seemed lost in something similar. He was just more sure of his motions than I was.

He tugged my shirt off and unclasped my bra with deft hands, tossing the garments to the side where I could forget about them. He tugged my skirt off in a similarly careless style until I was naked. And that was good and right. It was as it should be, my standing in his arms and at his mercy with nothing to hide from him. Not boyish camouflage cargo pants to make me seem bigger and badder. Not little camisoles to make me seem softer when I wanted to go that route. There was nothing left but me.

And on the flip side? He still wore his clothes, but that was whole and right too. He was a master, the Master in my case, and he could wear as he liked. The clothes he wore were part of him and my naked form was all I should be permitted. Oh, it turned me on just to have that one basic power imbalance too. "There we are." His voice seemed to agree with all my thoughts. "Bend back over. I want to feel how wet you are after your punishment. Show me how horny it made you to be disciplined."

"Yes, sir." It was a soft purr of humiliated arousal. The only thing hotter than the blush on my face was the pain in my ass and the only thing hotter than both of those combined? The pressure in my sex, that desperate feeling that needed to be touched and filled and fed and fucked. I used my hands to spread my asscheeks apart. "Like this, sir?"

"Good girl." His hands stroked over mine, petting me, and he spread me wider so that he could see better. I felt offered up and exposed in such a wonderfully vulnerable way. And it only got better from there. I was well rewarded for my surrender and obedience, with his secure dominance. I had said that I wanted - needed - to please him after his punishment and he fulfilled both of us with his use.

He started with two fingers thrust into me and I moaned, my nails digging into my flesh where I still held my asscheeks. And his touch was perfect. It had just the right amount of tenderness and nurturing caretaker balanced with cruel prerogative to make it clear that he was taking his pleasure on my body. It was just that right amount of degradation to make me feel like a plaything balanced with careful attention to make me feel cherished and not taken for granted. And wasn't this why I had so hated myself for all those terrible feelings I had been having? He was so good and he took care to not make me feel worthless while still satisfying my slightly masochistic needs.

My mind finally shut up when he filled me with a third finger and then quickly added a fourth, my thoughts scattering with hot arousal. I keened into the bed and lifted my ass up in a form of wordless begging. My body had been craving his fist since that first time he'd given it to me. Already, I felt the delicious spread of being stuffed and stretched. My pussy gripped him and I had to focus to make myself relax, but I remembered this from the time before and I knew how to do it. There was the cool feeling of lubricant being dripped on me and around his hand and he used his other fingers to spread it over me, making sure he coated his fist. His hands spread me and he made soft, soothing noises in his throat...

Even so, I moaned a loud, animal sound when he finally twisted his hand and fit past the knuckles. God, I didn't think I'd ever get enough of that feeling. It was painfully exquisite, the way it felt to be so thoroughly stretched full. It almost felt completing in a weird way because it felt like there was no way anything else would fit inside of me. I let go of my ass and braced against the bed, my eyes closed while I pressed backwards to eagerly accept more of this brutal foreplay.

Compared with the other sensations assaulting me, it took me a full few seconds to even realize when he grabbed me by my hair. "You need to please me, yes?"

"Yes, sir." My voice sounded so soft in comparison to my frantic cries.

"I want you to show me how much you loved your punishment by fucking my fist and coming for me. And then, when you're done, I want you to get on your knees and let me use your throat. Understood?"

Dear Christ, yes, I definitely understood and I loved all of what I was hearing. "Yes, sir!"

"Good girl."

He didn't give me a second to think about where this was leading, if it was a build up to anything, or about his facial expressions from earlier. No, he rocked me back with his hand still in my hair and he twisted the hand inside me so that I squealed, slapping my palm down against the bed in a clawing motion of desperation. My God, every time with him was always a wild climb and one hell of a hedonistic joy ride, but this energy? Oh, it was something wicked. He thrust his fist and when I turned around to see him, his eyes were fixed between my spread thighs, his lips slightly parted while he drank in the sight of me taking him. And that only turned me on all the more because he was so obviously aroused by the image. It made me turn back to bend low and brace myself on my hands so I could press back and fuck him better. When the action threw me close to orgasm, I felt every spasm, it was that much of a tight fit. And the sound of it? Holy Christ. It never failed to turn me on how basically filthy it sounded when we played.

I thrust back and he worked me all the harder in response and it didn't take long to give him what he wanted. My world went white with a sunburst of hot pleasure, my mind going numb. I couldn't even scream and only ended up choking out a soft, hoarse sound instead, squeezing on his fist so hard and long it seemed like I should have hurt him. The feeling of being such a whore only made me hotter too and drew out every last spasm of bliss from his hand.

I felt empty in the best way when he pulled away from me and for a moment I couldn't do anything but tremble on the bed, which was fine. He left me there to wash his hands and when he came back... I still wasn't even collected. But that was okay too because he eased me onto my knees and growled, "Open your mouth." And I just barely remembered that oh yes, I was going to swallow his cum, before I obeyed and he surged between my lips. As absent as I was, he was still fully there, and he'd already freed his cock from his jeans.

I moaned to the feeling of being so well used, mindlessly opening wide in the wake of submissive drop and insane pleasure. And even that was the best. He slayed my throat, holding me by my hair, and fucking it with such fervor that I knew I'd be sore later, maybe even hoarse, but I wanted that. I relaxed for more, opening myself for it, and tilted my head back for better angling.

He groaned over me and it was laced with a threatening growl, but when his hands threaded through my hair they were quite gentle. "Yes, that's it, you beautiful plaything. I didn't give you nearly enough attention during that time, did I? No commands to make you calm and secure, no pain to make you feel controlled. That was terrible of Master and I'm sorry for being so mean. Christ." The last was a harsh snarling sound while he banged out his own orgasm, thrusting into the all too willing hole in my face. Cum spritzed down the back of my throat and I greedily swallowed as best I could, not wanting to lose a drop of the liquid I was fed.

Somehow it was only after he pulled out that I realized quite what a mess he had made of me. Saliva messed around my chin and down my chest. Tears had leaked from my eyes. I stared up at him in dazed surrender and when he looked down, he smiled in a soft kind of pleasure at the sight. "Come here, kitten."

Still a bit dazed, I obeyed, going to his arms and I wondered what he'd want from me in that state because he could have everything he liked.

As it turned out, he didn't want a damn thing. He just tucked me into his embrace and let me cuddle against his neck while I trembled, processing so much. There was my strange rebellion, the confusing anger that had fueled me, his strict retaliation, the instant clarity from it... I let it all wash through me and calmed down while he held me safe.

————

Shane

During my week, my life had been shitty. I had needed space but everywhere I had looked I had only seen more of her in the world around me. Every random thing seemed to remind me of her, especially after our playtimes. Coffee made me think of taunting her, puppies made me think of having her crawl at my knees. I had asked for space to try to combat my fears. But instead all I had gotten was more and more fear when I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Going back to her had been more like a resignation, as terrible as that sounds. It had felt like all that was left to me was to pray to God she might not hurt me as bad as the last one. But then when I'd gotten her? I could practically feel the turmoil, like so much static electricity, crackling over her skin. So much confusion in her eyes.

And I knew what to do with that confusion. It was the moment that soothed me and it would be the moment I would rely on for a grounding memory. She hadn't hated me for needing that space even though she had every right to get angry. No, she had done what a submissive would do and had been a brat to me. And what was more amazing about it? She hadn't even been too much of a brat. No, she had been submissive even while she pushed at me. It was the language of some submissives that they shoved and snapped their teeth when they felt conflict and turmoil and needed to feel structure again. It was the language of submissives when they felt guilty and needed to push until they received punishment and could experience some sort of personal retribution. Evidently it was her language as well.

Thank God for that. If that was her way of handling stress and pain, if that was her way of fighting, then that was wonderful. It was compatible with me. In fact it might have been one of the few forms of fighting that was compatible with me and it was something my ex hadn't possessed. My ex had eventually turned sullen and eventually miserable when she wanted to please, but couldn't find an outlet to vent her frustrations when I didn't let her please me.

I pondered this and other things while I stroked Hunter's hair, while I thought of how she was both like my past relationships and how she was so very different. I considered relationships in general and what made some work while others couldn't and wondered if there was a way to protect myself and know for certain that this would work. I wondered if there was a possibility of a way for me to know this one wouldn't be painful.

And I came to a rather uncharacteristic decision. I had tried to predict and control everything in my life and it hadn't worked out with any other relationship so I decided I didn't fucking care. I wanted this one. She would be worth the pain if she gave it.

"How are we feeling, love?"

She looked up at me and blinked at the term, but then she gave me a bashful smile. "Better, thank you. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

I grinned and touched her nose. "Of course you do. What came over you was irritation at a flighty Dom, which threw your submission out of its serene happy sync, which needed punishment to go back into place. Not that the punishment was deserved. You were right to feel irritated like that, but it helped I think. Does any of that sound correct?"

She laughed. "All of it! I was so confused it was driving me mad and the internal argument wouldn't shut up." She frowned. "Now that I consider it, that kind of thing seems like a weakness in submission. It seems like something that could be easily exploited."

I thought my answer through carefully. "You're right. Submissives are often manipulated with their hearts. Doms are, too, sadly. Hilariously, both sides of the coin seem to have some key need to play a caretaker. Tops often need to nurture. Even the hard sadists have that quality in their own way. But so do subs. They both do it for different reasons but it's there and I think that kind of behavior is all too easy to manipulate. It's really not different from any other relationship and you take the bad with the good sometimes.

"Listen. There's a point to all of that. I can't promise I won't need space like that again and I can't promise it won't be shitty again. Hell, I can't promise that it won't seem like a flat fucking stupid and useless exercise every time it happens. And that's terrible and I know that. But if you're interested in a relationship, a real one, I can say that whenever that does happen, I'll never be pissed when you shove me or say 'no' in defiance. If you stare me in the eyes and drop a crystal glass when I ask you for a drink while you're in some inner hell, I can promise that I'll know how to respond to that language. I can promise that it would go a lot like this time did. There might be the off chance that we'd fight. We probably will. But for the most part I think I'll respond in a language we'll both get. So if you want, let's date, love."

The smile that crossed her face was radiant. "If you keep calling me that pet name, we can do whatever you want to, sir."

And that was really that.

————

Hunter

"Arf! Arf!" I whimpered, staring up at the door handle above me and not daring to say any actual words.

My Sir turned out to be every bit as flighty as he had demonstrated before we established a real relationship. And sometimes it made total sense as to why he had a hard time dating in the past. He was an intriguing mix of a Dom. He both wanted to control in every way possible and didn't want to enslave. The result was that his games changed week by week. Sometimes he felt like tormenting me in line to get coffee. Sometimes he felt like commanding my outfits and my hair for the sheer pleasure of seeing me obey the whims he had. And sometimes he was feeling more... wickedly playful.

I stared down at my paw gloves and then up at the door handle for the upteenth time. He had secured these gloves on my hands and while they were cute, they also rendered me helpless in the most delicious way. I couldn't so much as open doors. And I was relatively certain that he had closed me in his bedroom on purpose to remind me of this fact. "Arf! Arf!"

And that. The barking. Could these games of his get any more wonderfully humiliating? He knew everything to do to drive me crazy. "Oh no, little puppy! I'm sorry I locked you in." He opened the door, smiling in a way that was not at all apologetic. I arched and crawled at his feet, licking his ankles and nipping him. He had dressed me in a fluffy bra and fixed me with ears. Fluffy leg warmers covered my ankles along with knee pads and protective gloves to keep my skin from getting scuffed where he loved to make me crawl. And, of course, there was the obligatory anal tail.