Between Whispers and Moans

I’m not sure how long we were standing there. I often get lost in the sound of you as I watch the words flow from your lips. The air around us is relaxed and intimate and the warm amber light from our side lamp dances across the walls, illuminating more of the space itself than the people who are in it. Our new friends that we invited over for dinner stand across from us, sharing their concept for a fetish performance piece they’re developing.

“Yeah, maybe we could help you with that, she’s a little freak too,” my partner says playfully, tossing her body language in my direction. I feel a heat build in my cheeks, it’s always a little bit embarrassing to be talked about like that, but she’s not wrong.

“Sure that would be cool,” I say, trying to hide my warm face behind a smile.

“Actually, why don’t you go ahead and show her,” my partner continues, gently, but more stern, “if that’s alright,” she asks our friends. They gesture their consent and she turns back to me,

“On your knees.”

My heart starts to beat in my chest as the feeling from my cheeks spreads in sharp prickles across my skin. “Right now?” I ask in soft protest, already knowing the answer.

“Yes right now, get on your knees,” she says again pointing to the floor next to her.

My eyes follow the strong line of her arm as I lower myself to my knees at her feet. A wave of humiliation washes over me with the realization there are more eyes on me than I’m used to. Her hand quickly finds its way around my chin, cupping my face against her leg, her thumb gently brushes along my cheek. The feeling reassures me, and the humiliation turns to pleasure and contentment melting through my core.

“See, she’s so good. My little girl,” is the last thing I hear my partner say before I fall into bliss. I feel myself washing in space, and, for a moment, forget there’s anyone else in the room. I don’t hear much more of the conversation until I’m tapped and told to stand up. Our friends have to be up in the morning so they’ll be heading home early. We show them to the door, exchange pleasantries, and make plans to see each other again when they get back.

I close the door behind them and feel my partner’s arms wrap around my waist. “You were so good tonight,” she says softly into my ear. Her lips meet my neck, “you made me so wet when you were kneeling,” another kiss, “do you think you deserve a reward?” Without waiting for an answer, she slides her hand down my pants and starts rubbing my clit over my panties.

“Yes..” I say quietly, pushing myself back into her.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

She uses her body to pin me up against the door, like a predator trapping their prey. She continues rubbing my clit in circles as her other hand tightens itself around my neck. My breath quickens, I can’t stop my hips from grinding back into her. “Oh, is someone enjoying this?” she snickers. I try to reply, but only a moan escapes me. Before I know it, her hand leaves my neck and finds its way up the back of my hair. She grips and pulls my head back hard. “Use your words, sweetie.”

An intense wave of need suddenly radiates from my core, I don’t know if I can hold it back. “Can I come?” I whimper.

She laughs, “So soon?”

“Yes, please, I’m close!”

The sensation trails off unfinished as her hand leaves my clit. My legs twist reactively, searching, my head still craned back. “You’ll come when I say you can come,” a tug on my hair, “understand?”

“Yes”

“Yes, what?

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You should know by now,” her fingers that were on my clit slowly trace the strained lines of my neck, they’re slick and I can feel the cool trail they leave, “I like to keep my girls wet and desperate for me.. and you’re a little denial slut anyway, aren’t you?”

My mind goes blank for a moment, but the moan, more like a gasp, that follows tells her all she needs to know.

She continues down and finds my collar. Her fingers feel like satin as they dance through the space between the warm steel and my neck. Her warm breath brushing my ear, “You know, denial sluts tend to like something else too, don’t they.” she whispers. Her teeth meet the sensitive side of my neck and she bites down, soft at first, then harder. I squirm and begin to cry out as she loosens her grip and gently whispers, “shh baby, you’re okay.” The sound is comforting, and I can feel myself melting into her. The waves of pain radiate out into pleasure across my body. If she let me go now I’m sure I’d crumble into a smoldering heap on the floor.

Her hands move up under my shirt and find my nipples, already stiff with arousal. “Now, you still have something you need to do for me. What is it?”

“Um.. I..” I respond, more as a desperate mumble than anything else. I’m having trouble thinking straight. She pinches my nipples hard, and pulls me back into focus.

“Use your words sweetie. What is it you still have to do?”

“A punishment,” I say quietly.

“A punishment for what?”

“Not working on my book when I was supposed to.”

“That’s right dear, you thought I forgot, didn’t you.”

“No ma’am.”

She pinches my nipples again, making me squeal and shift, and tells me to go into the bedroom, undress, and wait.

I’m teleported into the cold space, it’s dark, the air keeps my nipples stiff and sends light prickles across my skin. A flickering light illuminates the wall across from me. A fat candle, already lit, totters on a small dish as she places it on the end table. In the flicker a stud on the leather paddle dangling from her fingers shines. My stomach sinks at the sight. We bought the paddle at a recent convention, but haven’t had a chance to break it in. The studs that line the paddle protrude in a way that always agitated a little bundle of fear in my throat, but it was the kind of fear that also never failed to make me wet.

“Lean over the bed.” she commands, the leather cracking quietly as she finds her grip. I know what’s coming and fight the sudden, jumping urge to flee the room. “Ass up,” she continues. “Five hits. If you move your feet, we start over.”

My heart starts beating in my ears, so loud I can barely hear.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am, no moving.”

I sense as she moves back into her swinging position and brace for the first hit. The air shifts and I flinch reactively, only for the cool studs to lightly brush my bottom. She laughs sadistically, and swings again.

Whack

The pain sears through me. I tighten my lips and choke back a cry, but I can’t stop my body from shifting weight, trying to stifle the sensation, my feet moving under me.

“Oh, where’s my good girl? Back to one.” She says, almost with a tone of delight in her voice.

I settle down and prepare for the next hit.

Whack

Fuck. Stars fill my vision. Without thinking, I swing my hand back to try and soothe the throbbing heat radiating from my cheeks. I feel a tight grip wrap around my wrist and twist it up against my back, just high enough to hurt.

“I thought I told you not to move.” She growls into my ear as she bends over me, reaching for the leather cuffs in our end table. Tightening them around my wrists, she loops a line of rope from the headboard through the chain between the cuffs, and secures it so my arms are pulled taught against the bed in front of me.

“Four more, sweetie, get ready.” she says gently while rubbing my back in soft circles.

The next four swats come in quick succession, landing one after the other, building into a sea of pain that quickly washes its way up and out through my cries, leaving a lovely wake of pleasure fizzling through every corner of my body like a web.

Her hand meets my ass and she circles delicately around the patches that are undoubtedly a bright shade of crimson, admiring her work. A buzzing sound clicks on behind me and finds its way between my hips and the bed, nestling itself against my clit. The pleasure ripples through me.

“I have one more surprise for you,” I hear as a silk scarf is wrapped tight around my eyes. I feel as she reaches over and picks something up from the end table. The candle. I try to retreat into the pleasure of the vibrator as I feel the first drip sear into my skin.. and then another and another. I cry out, as hot coals of wax drop onto my back and splash in searing heat before quickly cooling. The mix of pain and pleasure is overwhelming.

“Please..” I whisper, “please..”

“Oh, does my little pain slut want to come?” She snickers loudly. A finger pushes its way into my ass, wax still dripping, slower now. I moan again, louder in vocal desperation. “Beg me,” she says, “tell me what you are, and beg me.”

I focus on the buzz radiating from my clit and feel the mix of pleasure and pain ripple through me in harsh, consecutive waves. I start begging, I beg in words I didn’t even know I knew. Calling myself her toy, her slut, and all degrading variations. In one incredibly cathartic moment, overwhelmed with pain and pleasure and love, I believe I really am all those things. For her, and only for her.

“Good girl.” she coos from behind me, “You can come. Come for me now.”