Steven Page 7

  Grinning to himself, he gave her another four, and, as he knew she would, she began to wriggle into them. Her screams had changed—now they were of excitement, of her arousal. He gave her two more, as hard as he could, stinging his own hand. Her cheeks were glowing red and burning hot as he leaned forward and bit down hard on one.

  Rubbing his hand back and forth across both cheeks as she was moaning he asked, "Do you want more?"

  "Ye-yes."

  "Tell me."

  "I want more."

  "Ask properly."

  "More. I need more please, Sir."

  He gave her another five in quick succession, and her groans were such a turn-on. Steven ran a finger between her cheeks and along her pussy. She was drenched. Time to get to the point of the exercise.

  He touched her clit, and she gasped delightedly. Then he removed his hand.

  "Tell me you need pain. Tell me we'll give this a try."

  Swiftly, she turned her head to glare up at him, daggers in her eyes.

  "I won't give you what you desire until you tell me you need this as much as I do."

  "No." Filled with resolution, she shouted.

  "Okay."

  He set her on her feet. Her skirt settled around her hips, but her panties dropped to her ankles. She stood, her whole body heaving in both arousal and anger, but she didn't even attempt to pull the skirt completely down to cover herself.

  "You can't! You can't leave me like this!" she screeched.

  "Can't I?"

  "Damn you!"

  "Probably. All you have to do is admit what you need and accept it."

  She stared at him, shocked. "Damn you to hell!"

  He would have loved to adjust himself. His cock was swelling painfully, but he didn't want to spoil the effect. He laced his hands behind his head and casually stretched out his legs.

  Fuck, that hurts!

  Offhandedly he moved so his dick wasn't quite as constricted. She shook her head back and forth, and he could see the thoughts running through her head as plainly as if she said them aloud.

  She tried to stare him down, then shook her head. "I won't say it. Fuck you!"

  "Your choice."

  She pulled down her skirt. It was very obvious there was an internal fight going on, and he was confident which side would win—she needed him. He thought she was extremely sexy, so amazing, standing there, glaring at him. She stepped out of her panties and grabbed them. Her whole being was aroused and in need, and she was absolutely magnificent.

  “This is—this is blackmail!”

  “No. It’s proving a point. You need to accept who you are or else you are going to spend the rest of your life in denial, pretending, not living life to its fullest.”

  Avril stared at him. Her eyes bored into him. He tried to look relaxed and unaffected by her.

  Betrayed by that gorgeous body, she glared and spat out, "Fine! I need pain."

  "There, that wasn't that hard, was it? Now ask me nicely."

  Through gritted teeth, she growled, "Please don't stop, Sir."

  "Mm, we need to work on your manners, but for the moment I'll accept that. Strip."

  "What? You've got to be joking."

  "Oh, Kitten. You'll soon learn I don't joke about things like that. Now, you will remove every stitch of clothing by the time I count to ten or that's it. I'll pack you in a car and send you home."

  "You wouldn't!"

  "One, two."

  "No!"

  "Three. Four. Five."

  "Bloody, fucking arrogant men," she grumbled under her breath.

  "Did you say something?"

  He had to press his lips tight together to stop himself from laughing. She dropped the panties in her hand, almost tore her blouse off in her anger and pushed down the skirt. She stood facing him in only her bra.

  "Six. Seven. Eight."

  She reached behind and undid the bra. Taking a big noisy breath, she removed it and stood before him. This was the first time he'd seen her standing fully naked before him.

  By God, she's gorgeous!

  Her anger had brought a flush to her whole body. She stood there, glaring at him furiously, her chest heaving. Time to introduce her to his playroom.

  "Follow me."

  He stood and glanced down at her. She was furious as he lifted an eyebrow.

  Through those gritted teeth she snarled, "Yes, Sir."

  He really wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her things were going to work out, but he doubted she'd appreciate it. It surprised him how much he wanted her, how quickly she'd managed to wrap around his heart. He led the way through the house and up the stairs to the room alongside his bedroom. Opening the door, he stepped aside and pointed across the room.

  "You will go straight to the St. Andrew’s cross. Understand?"

  She nodded.

  "I didn't hear you."

  "Yes, Sir."

  The sarcasm and anger were still strong in her voice, but he ignored them.

  "Better."

  She walked past him, held her head proudly, and entered the room. Steven noticed she faltered when she saw what was in there, but then she straightened and walked to the cross.

  "Face me."

  He quickly restrained her wrists, then knelt and fixed the cuffs to her ankles, spreading her legs well apart.

  "You really have been very disobedient. We'll discussed punishments later, but for the moment I intend to prove to you exactly how much of a sexual masochist you are."

  "I am not!" she screamed in denial. "Maybe I need pain, but I'm no masochist!"

  Steven merely smiled and shook his head.

  “Kitten, I’m about to prove to you what you are. I promise if you don’t get off on the pain I’m about to inflict, I’ll take you home and never bother you again.”

  She spat. “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Part of him knew he was going to enjoy what came next, but a big part of him regretted it. This was going to be a difficult session for them both, but he couldn't think of any other way to reach her, to make her finally see who she was, what she was, to accept it. It wasn't a good idea to do this so soon after her sub-drop, but this really would be his one and only chance. If he let her leave now it was extremely likely she'd retreat from the truth about herself. The pain he was about to inflict on a newbie would be exciting only to a masochist. He would have to make sure his aftercare was especially intense, and he'd ring her a few times over each of the next few days to make sure she was coping.

  Stepping close, he slapped one inner thigh hard. Then he did the same to the other. Her eyes widened at the suddenness of it, but he followed with a slap to one of those breasts. Her nostrils flared, and she clamped her lips tight, obviously determined not to make a sound. He pinched a nipple and twisted it hard—she couldn't hold back her gasp. Stepping behind, he opened a drawer and removed a bag of common wooden spring pegs and some thick string.

  Steven returned back to her.

  "You will say 'thank you, Sir' when I finish decorating. Do you understand?"

  Her answer was wary, filled with apprehension about what he would do. "Yes, Sir."

  This was definitely going to hurt, but it would prove the point once and for all.

  "What's your safeword?"

  Avril's eyes widened with her trepidation, but he noticed they were also dilated with arousal.

  "Red, Sir."

  He nodded.

  Carefully he draped a long loop of string across each breast holding either side in place by tying the string ends to a peg and then pegging her flesh. She gulped.

  There was now a long loop of string falling between her legs. He then placed one peg on the nipple he'd twisted, making sure he pegged the string as well, and her swift gasp with each peg was his reward. Pulling the other nipple, he added a peg to it. She gave a little “ouch”, and he thought she was shocked. Enjoying himself immensely, he placed a line of pegs across each full breast, ensuring the string was caught b
y each one as well as her skin.

  Her breathing had increased rapidly. He watched her carefully, and she was ready for more. A few pegs around her navel, then he pegged onto her outer labia. It was obvious to him that she was well into the pain now, gathering it to herself and letting it wrap around her. Her breathing was rapid, through her nose—little panting breaths, her eyes closed. He could hear soft mewls in the back of her throat as she embraced the pain.

  It wouldn't take much now to send her skyward. He decided he'd save pegging her clit for another time. This would be enough to start, enough to prove his point.

  He pulled gently on the string. It made the pegs tense, pulling and pinching at her flesh. She opened her eyes rapidly, screaming loudly, but it was a scream of arousal, of bliss, as he noticed those eyes glaze over.

  He touched her wet pussy. It was soaked as he pushed a finger into her cunt. Her mewls became moans as he moved a finger in and out.

  Time to give her the first orgasm.

  Hooking his finger, he found that rough spot and began tapping on it at the same time he pulled on the string gently in a matching rhythm, enough to send waves of pain across her body. She shouted even as Steven felt her muscles grab his finger in a vise-like grip. She shuddered, her head thrashing back and forth. He waited until the spasms subsided, keeping his hand still as she lolled.

  Now for the zipper.

  He knew exactly how much this would hurt. He held his breath and with his finger still inside her, he pulled hard on the string. It ripped off the pegs, and her screams were so loud they echoed around the room, filling his ears. Then, with her mouth still open in a silent scream, she came on his hand again, and this time it seemed to last forever. Suddenly, she slumped, leaden on the cross frame.

  Steven quickly unbound her and carried her into his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. Her body was a mass of angry red welts where the pegs had been, but she was still moaning, still in the throes of the pain and her climaxes. She’d certainly bruise after that. He grabbed a tube of arnica and rubbed it carefully into her body.

  Making sure he had juice within reach and a few squares of dark chocolate, Steven took off his vest, belt, and shoes, undid his pants, and settled his cock more comfortably before getting onto the bed and pulling her into his arms. He'd almost come himself, so intense were the feelings she'd generated. The way she'd taken the pain—and he knew exactly how painful those pegs ripping off were. Once, a long time ago, he’d had it done to him. He’d only been pegged around the chest but couldn’t bear the pain it caused. Just remembering the agony when they were ripped off made him flinch, and at the time he’d practically screamed the place down.

  Maybe once she came back to earth, she'd accept she was a sexual masochist. If she didn't after that, then nothing he could do or say would change her mind.

  It was about an hour and a half later he felt her begin to shake. He held her tight as she started to cry, whispering to her.

  "I'm very proud of you. You are such a brave girl. My beautiful Kitten." She cried for a good ten minutes, and then her sobs began subsiding as he continued. "You make me honored to be your master, you took so much pain. My clever, clever Kitten."

  She gave a sigh that shuddered across her whole body. Then finally she raised her face to squint at him through tear-soaked lashes.

  "Hello, Kitten." Avril searched his face, and he smiled. "I'm very proud of you."

  She still didn't speak but didn't take her eyes off him.

  "Tell me how you feel?"

  She shrugged. He reached across and took a piece of chocolate, then popped it into her mouth. She looked surprised.

  "Your sugar levels will have dropped. Here, drink some of this."

  Her hand shook so much that he had to hold the glass to her lips as she drank thirstily.

  "Better?"

  Another nod.

  "Did you enjoy that? Tell me honestly."

  She licked her lips and marveled. "Yes."

  "Wonderful."

  He put the drink back on the side table as she leaned her head against him. He let her relax until she fell asleep again, and Steven was left with his own thoughts.

  In such a short space of time, Avril had somehow managed to take him out of his own comfort zone. She'd shaken his belief that he wouldn't get involved with anyone again, that he didn't need anyone. Instead, he wanted to protect her, nurture her, and show her all the delights of his world. He wanted her to turn to him, to depend on his strength, to trust him, to place herself in his hands.

  He wanted her to love him.

  Chapter Eight

  She woke. Everything came flooding into Avril's mind as she remembered what had happened.

  The pain, the glorious pain!

  Somehow it had blurred—the pain became intense pleasure. The more pain, the more pleasure, but at the same time it hurt excessively and yet she craved it. Her body seemed to beg for more until she thought she'd explode. She recalled the moment when he'd pulled the pegs off all at once.

  The intense agony!

  It was excruciating, yet she reveled in it. It wrapped around her, her heart pulsing out a rapid beat. She felt released, and she felt triumphant as she floated on the pain.

  And her orgasm?

  Her whole body had climaxed. That second orgasm, when the pegs were ripped, felt as if she splintered into a thousand pieces. It was wonderful, exhilarating, breathtaking—intensely painful. There was this delightful lingering ache on her body from the pegs, and even that felt simply wonderful.

  Steven was right—she finally admitted it to herself.

  Saturday night, then Sunday, and now today had proven beyond a doubt that she and pain were two halves of a whole. Never in her life had she enjoyed sex as much as she had, although there had been no intercourse. Idly she wondered what it would be like to have Steven inside her when the pain rolled across her body, when the burn, the agony took her to a whole new level.

  Now it was time to admit it all, to face who and what she was.

  Avril knew it would be hard to admit such a thing, but at the same time she knew she had to. Softly in her mind she gave herself the title, and it didn't hurt. It didn't change her. Instead, it satisfied and calmed her. At last she knew who and what she was. Avril tried the words out in her mind once again.

  I am a sexual masochist.

  Even thinking of them gave her a tingle. A third time she said them in her mind. I am a sexual masochist. It felt right. It felt at last she knew who she was. Time to be a little braver, time to say it now aloud.

  She mouthed, "I am a sexual masochist."

  Nothing happened. The world didn't explode. Time to say them a little louder.

  In wonder, she whispered, "I am a sexual masochist."

  She heard Steven give a gentle laugh. She peeped up at him, and he smiled broadly down at her.

  "At last. How does it feel to admit the truth?"

  "Freeing."

  "As it should."

  "It's—I don't know. Inside I’m different. I’m more alive."

  "I'm very glad, little Kitten."

  And Avril knew immediately he was telling the truth. He tilted her chin and stared deep into her eyes, his beautiful gray gaze sinking deep into hers.

  "Can we talk about us, Avril?"

  "I don't. I guess so."

  "Avril, you excite me. Your body drives me wild, and when I hit you, it sends me insane."

  "It does?"

  "Of course. You don't think this is only one-sided, do you? I get off on the pain, too, the pain I inflict on your beautiful body."

  "Oh."

  "I told you I was a sadist."

  "I know, but I actually thought you liked hurting only. I didn't think it was exciting for you."

  "Yes, I love hurting you, but it's as exciting for me as it is for you."

  Embarrassed she murmured, "But you don't … you know."

  "Come?"

  She nodded.

  "True, but I get such a high
, such a buzz. For me it's almost the same."

  "Tell me what will happen if I agree."

  "Well, firstly we have to talk about things. I don't want to give you more than you can take. I'm confident I can judge your levels and I’ll get better as we go on, but we do need to discuss them. We also need to discuss the sexual aspect of things."

  "Sexual? Isn't that kind of what has happened?"

  "Partly. But full sex would be on the menu as well."

  She nodded.

  "So, I would need to know your hard limits, the things you don't want to do. There's also the submissive thing."

  "Submissive?"

  "I am a sadist. I’m not a Dom, but I am a dominant man, so I do need you to obey the things I say during our sex games. I expect you to commit to me, to accept me as your master."

  Warily she asked, "Are we talking about the bedroom or all the time?"

  "The bedroom. As Peter explained on the introduction evening, Masters at Silk Rope aren't necessarily full-time dominants. I've tried being a Dom, and I’ve also tried the 24/7 thing, and it's too much pressure to make decisions for another person all the time. The responsibility is far too great, or at least it was for me. I prefer to be the boss of our sexual games. Anyway, you're a smart, talented woman. I doubt you'd hand over control to anyone outside the bedroom."

  "I couldn't, and I wouldn't."

  "But in it?"

  "You mean it would be like the things we've done this far?"

  "Yes."

  "I can do that."

  "I want you, Avril. Want you more than I've wanted a woman for far too long. And I don't mean only in the bedroom. I want to get to know you, to find out everything I can about you. But know this. In the bedroom I will push you. I will make you wish we'd never met, but I promise, if you give me permission, I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

  "Honestly?"

  "Very much indeed."

  She couldn't really imagine a man as powerful, as attractive as him would want her.. Yes, she was confident and self-assured. She was reasonably attractive, or at least she thought she was, but he was so much a man, so masculine and forceful. He was watching her face intently, and she saw him frown.