tagBDSMNew Wonders

New Wonders

bySapphoinSpirit©

Although we hadn't been together a long time, Aiden and I had been inseparable from our first encounter; bored with my coursework, and with nothing else to do on the subway, my gaze had wandered to the figure that was holding the same science history textbook as myself. I didn't yet know anyone else in my lecture, let alone in the city, so I migrated as nonchalantly as possible to where he stood, peeked up from my textbook and declared aloud

"I've started a tally for each time Professor King uses 'lubricant' in a sentence."

A half second went by before the unnamed figure realized that he was the intended recipient of my remark, and he raised his gaze to regard the peculiar girl standing in front of him. There was intelligence behind the glare of his glasses. A hint of a smile replaced the momentary expression of surprise, and he responded,

"This is my third class with him. You're going to need a lot of paper." Noticing the keychain that my bag was currently sporting- a silver fish sprouting feet-, he added "have you read the chapter on Darwin yet?"

Wanting to appear impressive, I gave a single nod. "I'm reading it now. A lot of people aren't aware that the phrase 'survival of the fittest' was actually coined by Herbert Spencer. We often refer to 'Social Darwinism', but it was actually Spencer from which a lot of the pseudoscientific propaganda derived." I had studied Social Darwinism in another class. Thank god for material overlap.

"Really?" The then-stranger pivoted his body so that it was now parallel to mine. His limbs were tall and elegant, with piano fingers that wrapped casually around the metal handgrip above our heads. There was an alien grace to his movements.

Anime personified, I thought wryly.

He looked down at the textbook that was still being held open in my left hand and frowned. "Are you reading that upside down?"

I looked down.

Fuck.

A few weeks later Aiden had become my full-time study partner and full-time boyfriend. Never had I fallen in love so abruptly or with such fervour. Knowing him was like floating on saltwater, it was so effortless. And yet from the fanatic passion I felt it was at times like gasping for air. Countless nights I would lay awake in my tiny apartment visualizing the ways we had explored each other. There was no part of his mind or body that I wanted left unknown to me, no stone I was willing to leave unturned. I was voracious; he, compliant, and I relished every moment of it.

Sometimes my mind would drift into a realm of images and fantasies of my own invention. Aiden was always the actor in my scene but I could not bring myself to speak to him about them. Submission, humiliation, power dynamics. These made up the trifecta of my desires. I thought about his slender fingers sliding into my mouth, then teasingly across my tongue, demanding my surrender. I envisioned the words he might use to solidify his authority. Would he be taunting? Austere? Lovingly controlling? We had dabbled within the peripheries of kink before; little bites here and there and wrists restrained above heads. Every instance that he afforded even a morsel of dominance was enough to coax the air from my lungs, and leave me pining for more. But I kept him wholly unaware.

Despite my usually unreserved disposition, I'd never been all that apt at communicating. Not because I lacked the words- I had enough of those to put Homer to shame. But how could I feel safe from judgement when I was not myself secure in my own eccentricities? Every time I had tried to hint at something that stepped outside the safe and familiar, I choked on my words. Like pushing the gas pedal of a car stuck in park- not that I'd done that before. Aiden was shyer than I. More sensible too. I made bad puns and paid the extra money for name brand ibuprofen; he studied world politics and made his bed every morning. How could someone so reticent and structured ever succumb to the raw lewdness that permeated my imagination? What nature could there be in him, tucked away somewhere, that would reduce my being to his sole possession? It was disheartening to contemplate the improbability of it. So I would not.

Not more than seven or eight months into the relationship I was sitting on Aiden's living room floor, cross-legged in pyjamas, watching cat montage videos on my phone. Across from me, Aiden sat in a chair, reading an article about Islamaphobia in rural North America. I decided to take advantage of his preoccupation and observe him. I leaned back onto my palms, watching the concentration that painted his face: head tilted downwards, a finger resting on his temple and a thumb under his chin. From the subtle movements of his hands to the contours of his face, he was all angles and ornate shapes. Like stained glass. It defined his masculinity and defied it, the sharp edge of his jaw and the linear structure of his nose. There was something almost androgynous about his features. Something ethereal and feminine in the flush of his lips and the softness of his eyebrows, now hidden beneath raven hair. I decided that if the term 'oxymoron' could be expressed through a person's physical appearance, he would give shape to the word.

Part of me wanted to articulate this thought but I knew the sort of reaction I would get; flattered but slightly flustered he would smile and shake his head at me: "shouldn't you be studying, love?" Not that I was doing that to begin with.

I returned to my cat video in time to witness a portly orange tabby gingerly squeeze itself into a cardboard box; in response, the box broke and the cat spilled out of it. Nudging Aiden with my foot, I held my phone out in front of him and replayed the clip. As the video approached the moment in which the assailed box gave up on itself, my boyfriend made the mistake of taking a sip of water, which caught in his throat and projected outward into a hysteric choke-laugh. I seized the opportunity to augment his amusement.

"My pants experienced a similar devastation last week", I confessed. It was the kind of stupid remark that even a 6-year-old would eye-roll at. It didn't matter. Aiden looked at me, trying to recover from his coughing fit, and began to laugh harder. His voice had a lyricism to it, even during moments of inarticulate hysteria. His laugh was the kind of song you could listen to a thousand times and never tire of hearing. I loved that I could draw it out of him.

After taking his glasses off to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, he looked at me again, nodding his head and grinning.

"Thank you for provoking that very painful guffaw."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? 'Guffaw'?" I dropped the phone from my previously extended arm to stress my distaste.

"Guffaw is a great word!" His feather-lashed eyes were wide with feigned offence. The shadowy blackness of his waterline had always made me think of a pirate, and now the sun that came in from the west window cast an even greater prominence on his features. Aiden continued,

"You don't like guffaw? It sounds so regal. Guff-ahhh." he drew out the vowel to demonstrate his point.

I snickered. "Forever the academic."

"I am going to win you over with 'guffaw.'" His currant-flushed lips curved into a smile as he moved his laptop to the side table and languorously folded his arms. Sensual. That's what he was. And damnably oblivious about it.

"You can win me over with anything but that." I wondered if he could spot the truth in that sentence.

Aiden leaned out of his armchair until his hands rested on the carpet on either side of me and his nose was pushed up against mine. He was still smiling.

"I find these terms agreeable."

He kissed my lips, swift and chaste, until I grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him closer. He promptly got the message, shifting his position so that he was kneeling over me, his hands in my hair, his mouth covering mine. Already I was engulfed in the scent of old books and fresh laundry. I would know his smell anywhere. I had known it for a bewildering seven to eight months and I would know it in a hundred years.

I slid my tongue over his bottom lip, flicking it into his mouth. In response, Aiden tightened his grip on my hair, angling my head back in such a way that he could kiss my jaw and whisper into my ear.

"I think I like these study sessions." He moved a hand to cup my face, brushing his thumb across my mouth until my lips parted and I shakily exhaled.

"You've been saying that for months."

He nudged my nose again, eyes radiant as lustrous obsidian.

"It's been increasingly true for months."

I slid my hands from the collar of his shirt and gripped on to his shoulders, willing his body to be as close to mine as possible. As if in answer, Aiden unfolded my legs and pulled them towards him, pressing his ripped jeans against my cotton shorts, my feet positioned behind him. I felt his growing erection swell against me, and an inarticulate groan escaped my lips as I crushed my mouth against his once again. My body was now responding faster than my brain, and the familiar light-headedness of arousal washed over me, foggy and suppliant. Everywhere my nerve endings seemed to strain, taut against the surface of my skin; he traced his fingers down the side of my ribcage and my nipples stiffened, aching for the contact of his fingertips. I felt him pulse against my shorts and my clit reciprocated, throbbing with hypersensitivity against the thin fabric of my bottoms. Even my tongue had succumbed to a heightened sensitivity, as though it could anticipate the soft stiffness that would glide over it as I took him into my mouth. The thought caused me to dart my tongue involuntarily past my lips. Aiden caught it with his mouth, gently sucking until I whimpered and bucked my hips against his cock. Groaning, he grabbed my hips, lifting me towards him so that I was sitting on top of his thighs, my own thighs forced apart by his torso. No longer on the floor, my ass was exposed, and Aiden's hands began to explore, slipping under the drawstring of my shorts. After a moment his hands froze.

"No panties?" He muttered into my mouth, jaw clenched, hands gripping me firmly.

I offered a small headshake, surprised that something as insignificant as the omission of a clothing article would inspire such a reaction from him. His entire being had tensed. I could feel it in his hands, and the areas where our bodies touched. I could see it in the way he now stared at me, unblinking. Lustful. It was infectious, and my mouth suddenly felt dry.

"Condom?" I nearly choked.

"In my room." Aiden withdrew from our entanglement, exhaling slowly as if it pained him to break the reverie. I watched him turn down the hallway before falling back against the carpet, eyes shut tight, mind submerged with visions of my deep-seated desires. My brows furrowed as I took in the fresh air from the window behind me. Instead of offering clarity, the breeze danced flirtatiously across my skin, adding to the goose bumps that had already surfaced from his touch. The intensity of my arousal was getting the better of me. I could feel the liquid from my centre drip over my labia, wetting my shorts. I needed him to touch me. To control me and own me and fuck me senseless until we were both breathless and sore and satisfied. My hand snaked down to my shorts, gripping the hem as my hand trembled.

"Love, are you okay?" I opened my eyes to Aiden's standing figure at my feet. The glaring desire that had clouded his features moments ago had since yielded to an expression of genuine concern. I considered the image before him that had evoked such a change; his girlfriend on the floor, eyes fastened shut, a pained look on her face, with one hand clutching the fabric of her shorts, the other gripping the base of her throat while she shook uncontrollably on the carpet.

"Uh..." Once more, I could not force the words out. That what he seemed to perceive as worrisome was actually the manifestation of overpowering arousal. That every fibre of my mind and body was engrossed in a fantasy in which he directed and starred. Tell him what you want. My inner voice strained to break free of its detention.

But I feared rejection and judgement, and a lack of like-mindedness that would end in mutual discomfort. And what if I offended him? I didn't want him to think that I thought our sex was boring. It wasn't boring. The intimacy that I had experienced with Aiden was in itself the most erotic phenomenon that I could fathom to date.

He kneeled to the floor, leaned over to cup my face with both hands and guided me into a sitting position.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, looking me over as if I were some wounded animal. The worry in his face killed me. If I didn't speak I would surely combust into a million tiny cinders of angst. Prima Donna, I chastised myself. He wasn't here to judge my depravities.

Hopefully.

I held my breath for a moment, averting his gaze. The words were clear in my head but the barrier between thought and expression felt unbreachable. I knew I had to say something; it was too late to feign ignorance.

I spoke.

"I want you...to control me." My eyes were burning a hole in the floor. Maybe if I stared at it long enough I would fall through. He said nothing, and I scrambled for something more to add.

"I keep having these thoughts. These fantasies, I guess. Of being controlled by you. Being submissive. Being humiliated. I want you to have power over me. Sometimes. When we have sex." The last part had sounded like a question because even I didn't know what the hell I was saying. Had I spoken in full sentences? I fought the urge to bury my head in the floor and glanced up. I could feel him staring at me even before making eye contact. But instead of finding a look of discomfort or shock, his expression was pensive, as though I had just asked a deep philosophical question that he had never considered before.

He released my face from his hold, letting his arms fall to his sides. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you mean like...BDSM stuff?"

I winced as he said the phrase that I had tactfully avoided.

He waited for an answer.

"Well, sort of, but..." I trailed off for a moment, searching for a way to explain. Reaching for my hand, Aiden offered a slight smile.

"It's okay. You can talk about this with me." I nodded, allowing myself to focus on the warmth of his hand before continuing.

"That term encompasses a lot of things. For instance, I don't know that I'd enjoy experiencing a lot of pain. But some people love it." I paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. He continued to look at me with the same attentive demeanour. So I continued.

"The way I am, or at least the things I think about, seem a lot more psychological than physical. I don't really know how to explain. I just...want to feel powerless to you. I know that probably sounds really fucked up."

He looked down to where our hands were touching, and that contemplative look returned to his face. It was so like him, and yet it was not the response I had been expecting. I began to feel like an article that he was meticulously digesting, in which he searched for a thesis I did not have.

"Why hasn't this come up before?" he questioned, still looking at our entwined hands. I decided to answer truthfully.

"I was- I am- terrified of what you'll think. And I didn't want you thinking that I was unhappy. Because I'm not unhappy. I love everything that we do."

He nodded, but said nothing. I began to imagine the kinds of things that could be running through his mind. The kinds of kinks he might associate with a phrase like 'bondage, domination, submission, and masochism'. I thought of the repertoire of scenes I had witnessed on screens or read in books: Helpless pain-lovers hanging from metal hooks. A sole young captive ravaged in public by several strangers. A man and a woman licking each other's freshly carved scarification, then climaxing with blood in their mouths.

I doubted that he had much familiarity with such exploits. Perhaps that was for the best.

I was focusing on the way the skin between Aiden's eyebrows creased, fixed in concentration, when he spoke again.

"I also love everything that we do. But that doesn't mean that there isn't room for exploration or change." He was looking at me now. "I'd like to try something with you. If you're willing. I don't expect to get this perfectly the first time but I want to give you what you want. I want to control you." He wavered for a moment, averting his eyes as he continued. "Will you...do as I say?" His voice had become quieter.

Always the perfectionist, of course he would tackle this head-on.

I looked at his face: open, honest. Innocent. How could someone like Aiden ever want to control me? How could he ever derive pleasure from my complete and utter submission? My psychological masochism.

"Yes", I said instead.

He rested his unoccupied hand on my shoulder, raising his eyebrows in a nervous smile.

"And dear god, please don't laugh if this all goes horribly awry." He cast me a goofy grin- a rare sign that he was feeling tense. And then his mouth covered mine once again.

This time his kiss was anything but chaste, and all evidence of hesitation had vanished. I sighed as he placed his left hand against my collar bone, applying pressure against my neck with his fingers as he took my lower lip between his teeth. This was nothing new; still, it was exciting- one of the rarer moments in which traces of dominance surfaced.

He drew back for a moment to look at me, and his gaze trailed down from my eyes to my lips, and then lower. With his hand still affixed to my collarbone he pushed me back against the floor, using the other one to grab each of my hands, pulling them firmly above my head.

For a slender person he was surprisingly strong, and I couldn't help but marvel at how completely cemented I was to the floor.

Fuck, he was hot.

As contended as I was to revel in my loss of physical autonomy, I was not given the chance to dwell on it for long. With the same swiftness that had positioned me on the ground, Aiden released my throat from his grip, trailing his fingers across my neck, down my torso, until they rested over the fabric of my shorts. But just barely.

This was usually the moment where he'd push aside my clothing and begin touching me. I raised my hips towards his hand, but he moved it away.

God damn it.

"Please" I looked at him, waiting for the sweet relief of his fingers against bare flesh. My overzealous clit pulsed against phantom contact.

He leaned forward as if to give me what I wanted, then paused.

"Please what?" His words were quiet, almost inaudible, as though he couldn't quite decide if he should utter them. It didn't matter. They were enough to incite my appetite, a hunger that until now had burrowed deep into my core. It sprang out of me in a vicious shudder. That my Aiden was currently attempting to tease me had me nearly squealing with glee.

"Please touch me" I blurted out.

Christ, I was graceful.

His half smile told me that he was satisfied with the response, and he began to skim his thumb over the material of my shorts in slow, agonizing circles, careful to avoid the part of me that was desperate for his attention. I raised my hips again, hoping he would get the idea. Instead, he repositioned his palm over my pelvis, effectively keeping my hips pressed against the floor while his thumb continued its tormenting promenade around my clit. A gust of air escaped through my teeth as the small outlet of mobility was robbed from me.

"Please, damn it!" There was more urgency in my voice this time.

"Hmm?" Aiden grazed my clit with his thumb in a single, swift motion.

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bySapphoinSpirit© 6 comments/ 7261 views/ 10 favorites

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