Silver Fox Pt. 01

And he understood. I raised my eyes when he held the strap at my chin, lifting my gaze to his. "It's okay. I'm right here and we're not done... cuddling." He winked on that last word, a dark, sensual look in his eyes, so that I had to smile dazedly. "Sweet little sub. Let's see how you like these clamps when they're taken off."

He was slow about it, releasing one clamp, so that I moaned in shock with how badly it throbbed when the sensation flooded back into the peak. His responding smile was sinful as he released the second one. "We enjoy those, as well, it seems." He paced away one more time to set those to the side and came back, holding the strap to my lips. "Now, what do you do with my toys before we start?"

I was in such a dark place, but I didn't quite even realize how dark until I felt a surge of eagerness and kissed his strap with fervor, feeling like that was the right thing to do. It was twisted, how I wanted to kiss it all over, so long as he'd keep holding me so softly while he hurt me, so long as I could have more of that quiet intensity. When I met his gaze again, there was even more of that darkness, but also more of that affection he had. It made me shiver, how that look made me burn for more pain. "Fucking hell, sweetheart. Keep holding still for me."

"Yes, Sir." My voice was breathy, husky with adoration and desire. His version of sex was somehow filled with more lust and emotional intimacy than any other I could remember having. I didn't know how that worked but I loved it and wanted more. "Please strap me, Sir."

He curled his arm around me again, only that time he kissed me before he started, and it was fierce. His lips were almost bruising against mine and he trailed the strap up my thighs. When he pulled away, his voice was that deeper, desire filled version again. "I would love to. It's going to hurt, sweetheart, and I'm not going to be nice after a display like that. I'm going to strap down your thighs so that you scream for me and I want you to try to stay with your legs spread for each one. And why am I going to do that, baby?"

He pressed his forehead to mine, while I thrilled to the mere sight of him. The answer made me moan before I said it, but then I did. "Because I made you feel more affectionate."

"Good girl. Come here." But he blended the usual kinds of affection with his own, twisted form in such a seamless way that it was making me confused. I really was starting to love it and that made me all the more turned on, with the thoughts of being conditioned to equate his pain with his kindness. It was just so damned depraved and-

I shrieked with the first strap blow and he stood back a little to have a nice, hard swing through. Because he was as bad as his word again and wasn't being nice at all. "Oh, please!"

But I couldn't bring myself to beg him to stop, couldn't bring myself to actually say those words. "Such pretty sounds." He struck three times quickly, once on each thigh and then once dead center of my ass cheeks, while I tried to process how hard he was playing. "I love hearing you ask me for it, baby." I moaned, then shouted again when he did another series of stripes before he pressed his lips to my temple, soft gentle kisses to go with his pain. He whipped me harder when I whimpered and I was getting so used to him that I knew that meant he enjoyed that sound. "Such a pretty girl." The strap fell over and over in sharp motions. He couldn't hold me as tightly with it as he could the paddle, but he pet me all over and pressed against me, so that the sounds turned into a blend of my cries, his loving kisses and petting, and soft exhales of his victorious breath when he whipped. His free hand pet me, all over, while the strap fell. I shouted his name when he stroked between my legs, then moaned desperately when he pinched one of my so very sore nipples, then whined when he strapped and scratched his nails up a mark.

I swallowed and made myself speak. "Please strap me more, Sir."

He growled and paused to bite my shoulder in his approval, so that I gasped, and I watched him stand back, more to my front, holding the strap in consideration before he spoke softly. "How fucking gorgeous you sound, asking me for it."

"Thank you, S-S-ir!" I shrieked that last part when he definitely made things worse.

Because he strapped my pussy and I had the twisted thought that he really loved what I'd said to hurt me so much in reward. It was dark, so dark, the mindset I was in. I shook and he watched me, gauging.

Whatever he saw made him strap me again and it was finally enough to make me break and close my legs to him, to make me shiver and stare at him, silently begging. He smiled and approached me, one hand grasping the chains that held the manacles, while he stroked the belt up my thighs, his face close to mine, and I couldn't look away. "Open back up. You want me to keep having my fun, don't you?"

"Y-yes, Sir. I'm sorry. It hurts."

"I know." He kissed me, shaking the chain of the manacles a little, and I moaned. "It's supposed to, but that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir." I whimpered it in a cowering, pathetic voice, even while I spread my legs back for him, sniffling.

"Good girl. You stay open for Sir. And why is it a good thing that it hurts?"

"Because the more it hurts, the more pleased you are."

"That's it." He stood back and snapped the strap so that I squealed, clenching my fists in the chains. "Don't close yourself from me when I want to show you how pleasing you are to me." Somehow, it was a little easier to spread back open after I naturally cringed shut, once I'd surrendered to the fact that I wasn't going to safeword and that I wanted him to keep loving on me with his pain even if I didn't at the same time. It felt like giving in, giving up, and once that decision was made, it was easier to force myself back wide, at least a little. "Sweetheart, you're lovely when you obey something so difficult. How much of a good girl you are for Sir."

I breathed through the strap on my pussy, then grit my teeth when he started to alternate the stripes with blows to my thighs, and he was so good. He hit every spot he knew would be most tender, making sure to choose the places that would give me the most pain. I was just barely aware of answering him politely, "Thank you, Sir. Please strap me more."

But he only gave me a few more after that and I was far gone, so far gone. The world felt like it had disappeared and I blinked at the ground, at the way my feet were braced firmly against the stone floor, studying all these things in a vague sense of surreal observance. It was that way a person might take stock of their surroundings when they have a moment, that dim check list. Nothing seemed to matter to me anymore except for the fact that he was making me suffer to show me his affection and I was supposed to take it. It was this head space that took over my world after having surrendered myself to the fact that I wasn't stopping him, that I wouldn't do that.

I looked up at him when he embraced me again, his hand cupping my face in a way that felt more intimate than any other time the motion had been given to me. I was all too ready to lean into that caress, dazed and waiting, more helpless than I'd ever been in my life. "S-sir?"

He smiled, kissing me so that I moaned against his lips, and then moaned louder when he thrust his tongue between my lips, opening up for him. When he finally pulled away, he answered me. "No more for you this time." I whimpered in a strange sense of wounded confusion and he stroked my hair. "No, no, not because I don't want to. It's just not safe, beautiful girl. Besides, I think that display of obedience and surrender deserves a reward." I gasped when he stroked between my legs in the same way he'd been doing, my eyes going wide with how tender the flesh felt after his punishment on it, then squealed when he thrust two fingers inside of me, sobbing with how needy I felt. I twisted in my chains and he pulled away with a growl, releasing the cuffs around my wrists. "Stroke my face," he whispered, his voice low and husky with arousal that he wasn't going to sate with me. And I felt that sense of loss that I wasn't going to get to give him that kind of pleasure, when my own pleasure had always been connected with the fact that my partner enjoyed things and got off with me. I had to work to remember what he'd said before, that I'd been giving him a desire he needed more.

It still gave me conflict, but it helped that he'd given me a command. I stroked his face, the latex a barrier between my touch on him, but his eyes closed and his lips parted with how much he loved it, and when he finally opened his eyes back, they blazed with heat. "That's it. Wait, come here and sit on the edge of the table." He was more frantic with his motions than before, too, in the way that someone nearing orgasm would become more frantic with their thrusts against another person. I sat the way he indicated and then he tugged my legs wide and knelt in front of me so that I gasped. "Stroke my hair."

That was easy to do when he eagerly pressed his lips to my pussy and sucked, then thrust his tongue inside of me so that I held onto him tight, grasping his hair more than stroking. But it seemed to be all the same to him, with the way he pulled back for a second to growl in a sense of horny ferocity, only to go back to eating me, swirling his tongue while I rode his face. I had to work to focus enough to fuel his latex addiction, had to work to remember to move my hands. I stroked down his jawline and the thrusts of his tongue turned wilder, stroked over his forehead and he scraped his teeth over my sore pussy lips so that I shrieked in fear and arousal, riding his face like a wanton. Jesus, I'd never lost enough of my shyness to behave like I did with him, but I couldn't think straight enough to feel any of it anymore, could only think that I needed more. The sounds of his sucking made me fiendish and the sight of his jaw working, along with the way he shuddered every time I stroked the gloves down his neck and shoulders, was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I shouted in orgasm, riding his tongue, and he tightened his arms around my legs, holding me tight against him while he lapped up whatever wild amount of cum I poured for him.

He was already moving before I could even think straight, grabbing one of my hands and manipulating my fingers between his own, while I was still riding aftershocks of bliss, waves of it crashing through me. They intensified all over again when he thrust our fingers inside of me together, when I felt the latex and came all over again. "That's what we like," he growled, and it was amused and greedy at the same time. He worked us together to fuel my bliss, his eyes blazing while he watched me.

My ears were ringing when I was starting to come down, when I was breathless. I stared into his eyes while he smiled wickedly, then whimpered when he gently pulled our fingers from me. It only got better from there, too.

He held my gaze and sucked my fingers between his lips, working his face until I got the gist and fucked my fingers in and out of his mouth, listening to him purr his pleasure around them.

--------

Jackson

I was screwed.

It seemed more clear after a second scene that I was genuinely getting some kind of emotional involvement with Essie, even more than the usual kind of attachment I had with playmates. And that was a problem. She was new and I didn't know her so well. Having emotions for someone I mostly knew in a physical way didn't bode well. There were too many potential factors for getting hurt when we likely wouldn't be compatible in some way.

It was really hard to think about that when I held her against my side, leaning against the dungeon wall with her with my shirt and vest off, while she stroked my chest and abdomen with latex. The blend of being soothed by the sleek feel and feeling control with the barrier between her touch and my flesh was heady in a delightful way, especially with that wicked pulse of unsated power rush in my veins. "Can I tell you something?"

I opened my eyes and met her gaze, holding her closer. "Anything."

"I... really like you, Jackson. I really like playing these games with you."

Which was dangerous for her with the direction I wanted to go in those games with her. Because I wanted to go to dark places. "I'm glad, sweetheart." I stroked her hair back from her eyes, smiling at how sweetly she looked up at me. She had those doe eyes, guileless and honest. "I love playing them, too." I hesitated, working up my courage. "This comes with a warning. Playing like this with me goes in a... twisted direction."

She stroked her palm up my neck and I felt like a feline sadist, stroked into purring happiness. "I want to do that. Please?"

"Let me think about it, Essie. I've never had a regular submissive before, not in the way I... think about being with you. I know where it would go and I'm telling you it's something not light. Let's keep playing like this for a bit, is all I mean, and see how it goes?"

She stared up at me, still with that sweet look and God, I was having evil thoughts of twisting an angel into corruption and liking it. I was thinking of her being inexperienced and teaching her in my way, fully my way, again. "That makes sense. W-will you tell me where it would go, please, Sir?"

Please strap me more, Sir. Hell, I'd tell her anything when she kept calling me that, when that's what I wanted to be to her. That... or that other word. Master. I was answering before I could catch hold of my wayward thoughts. "I'd condition you to equate any pain I'd give you as an act of love. If I met you for a date somewhere around people, I'd hug you and pinch right here." I used my nails to cruelly cinch a sensitive spot against the side of her abdomen, a place where it would easily be acceptable to publicly touch her and where no one would know the real depravity behind the action. "I'd do it when I kissed you, so that everything would start to run together with my hurting you." What was even better was how she whimpered with my pinching her so sharply even then. Her eyes glazed in a way that was a single nudge away from subspace and I had fantasies of keeping her on that ledge, so that any command would make her aroused for more and she'd fall so readily at my knees.

Which was the real reason behind my asking Christopher the question about being a Master. Because I really enjoyed the thought of keeping her one step away from ready obedience with every small gesture like that. Her eyes were wide when she answered, my sharp little love bite of pain still lingering in them even though I'd let her go. "I like that thought, Sir."

"I'd keep doing it, too, so that eventually, if I didn't give you pain with a hug or kiss, you'd ask me why and you'd ask while genuinely craving me to make up for it." I had rampant fantasies of her starting to beg for erotic torment as my act of love.

She nuzzled close to me, a look of fear balanced with heated arousal in her eyes. "Yes, please. I'd like to try if you wanted to." She smiled shyly. "And I like the thought of going out with you."

I rested my head on her hair, stunned at how easily I had imagined the thought of going on a date with her. Because that had been another part of it, the thought of taking her to eat or something, of talking with her. I even had thoughts of walking across the hallway to see her before she left for work, of being more.

Every last one of those fantasies were tinted with the thought of corrupting her in day to day motions, in casually meeting her where any boyfriend and girlfriend would and conditioning her there, too, so that it thoroughly affected her in even those normal places. Her laugh was a little shaky after a moment of cuddling close with me. "It's a little strange for me in some ways, that you don't get off, I mean. I always placed a lot of satisfaction in making sure my partner got off, too. It used to give me problems, actually. Anxiety is a turn off and it gave me a lot of that when I needed them to be pleased." Her smile was shy, so that I had to smile, too. "You make it clear that you're pleased with me, though, so it's only a little strange."

"That's another thing you'd get used to," I answered softly, thrilling to the way she shivered in a little fear of me. "Eventually, you'd just know that suffering for me and being obedient while I have control is my orgasm. I don't want to press the release valve on the power trip, sweetheart. I like wanting to hurt you and I don't want to make the feeling stop with orgasm."

I said it as a warning.

But she only shivered and cuddled closer to me, snuggling against me. "Because you like giving your affection." And, God help me, but her voice was warm and happy about that fact.

Because I liked giving my affection. That was one way to put it. I felt sick in the head, horny off the thought of desecrating her. What was happening to me?