Page 30 of After Dark
Other paddles, that was. This paddle sucked. The only reason she would submit to it would have to be because her interest in pleasing him outweighed whatever emotional response she was having. That was the whole deal between them, right there.
In many ways, the kind of relationship they had was a series of crises. Maybe what they both got off on was the cortisol, but hey. If it worked…
And it was working. Josette was proving herself to him in real time, and he had to take a moment to truly appreciate that for what it was.
Just like every other dominant male he knew, Arlo was a little bit hung up on a particular kind of selfish submissive who was nothing more than a tourist in the scene. They liked intense orgasms, of course. Many of them liked a little pain to go with it. But when it came down to a real power exchange, there wasn’t much exchange on their end.
They liked the fucking, because it was all about getting tied up in various positions and having orgasms forced upon them. They were lazy. Gluttons, really.
The dream was always a woman whose surrender and obedience matched her horniness — or, preferably, completely swamped it.
Because everybody liked to fuck. That was always fun.
But beyond the fun and games and the things an experienced dominant could do with pretty much any household object—not to mention a fully-outfitted dungeon—there was this particular dance. And the dance was the whole point.His will. Her submission to it, moment after moment, no matter how hard it was for her.
In turn, he got to cherish her and care for her with all the tools at his disposal.
It was beautiful.
Sheremained the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld.
Arlo stepped behind her and sat on the ottoman beside her, leaning over her body. He stroked her hair, still damp. He thought about what she’d said about blow drying it, and understood this for the significant step it was.
Then he concentrated on the way she was breathing— a little shallow, a little quick. He ran his hand down her spine, finding her ass and squeezing one round cheek, then the other. Then he slipped his fingers into the crevice between her thighs and fondled her warm, slippery folds.
He kept going for a while, until her breathing shifted. Until it was less about fear and more about that sweet spot where fear and longing fused.
“You don’t need to count,” he told her. “I prefer to hear you scream.”
Then, without warning, he paddled one cheek.
And he wasn’t gentle.
Her whole body snapped, bouncing against the impact. She made a sharp, wild kind of noise.
“I could tie you down,” he told her, calmly. So very calmly. “But I’m not going to do that. And do you want to know why?” Arlo reached over and smoothed his hand over her rapidly reddening ass cheek, knowing it stung. As he did, he admired the pattern the studs left on her skin. “Because I want you to submit to every last stroke. Of your own volition. Because otherwise, Josette, it doesn’t really count, does it?”
She snuffled, but she responded. “No, sir.”
He rewarded her with another strike on the same cheek, and this time, she wailed.
Then he stopped talking and dedicated himself to his art. To her pain. To the glory of this music they made. Her cries. The slap of the paddle against her ass. The things he murmured, filthy and more than a little mean.
He gave her twenty hard blows from the paddle, as promised. And by the end, she was moving, but involuntarily. Her ass undulated, but he could see how tense her arms were, how tense her legs were too, as if she was trying to hold herself in place and failing.
The difference between perfection and the perfect amount oftrying,he thought, and he much preferred the ladder.
After the twentieth blow, he leaned over her and once again curved his fingers to find her pussy. She was sobbing. Her face was buried in the ottoman’s leather and he moved as he fingered her so he could crouch down behind her, tilt her hips, and get his mouth on her delightfully slippery cunt.
Still she sobbed, but he could feel her body kicking itself into a new gear. That higher level that pain and relief provided, like a secret garden for those who knew how to get there. She flooded his mouth, and at first he simply ate at her, with his tongue and his teeth, devouring her like a juicy peach.
When he thought the pleasure was mounting too high on its own, he moved so he could get his hands on those bright red ass cheeks and when he tightened his grip, she screamed.
So he kept going. He let her pleasure mount, thenadded more pain until her wailing took on that same, simple note that meant total surrender.
His cock was so hard it nearly caused him pain, so Arlo moved back. He kept a hand on her ass as he released himself from his trousers and then he knelt up, hauled her hips back toward him, and slammed himself home.
Josette imploded. She screamed as he felt that orgasm rip through her, her pussy clenched down on him like a vice grip, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from coming in an instant. She came and she came, a rolling, endless ride, and when he heard her breath change he pulled out slightly, then slammed his way home again.
