Page 12 of Interview with a Sadist
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don't thank me yet, Little One. It’s time for our grand finale.”
I dropped the paddle on the floor next to the riding crop and lifted the bamboo cane off the desk. I know what this toy does, and my cock reacted accordingly, pushing against my pants as it reached its limit. I was ready to explode right there and then, but not before I finished my artwork.
“Do not move, Little One. Do you understand?” I asked, and she nodded her head, never lifting it off the desk.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl,” I said, just before I bent over and smacked her across both of her hamstrings with the cane.
Against her will, her body jolted as the skin on her legs instantly reddened. The cane leaves little room for pleasure. If a submissive is not accustomed to pain, then I’d avoid the cane, because it is not to be taken lightly. The marks on her legs were accompanied by raised welts on her skin, and it made me so hard I had to unfasten my pants to relieve the pressure.
I moved down two inches from the last place I smacked her, and did it again, harder this time. She let out another squeal, and I reveled in the sound of her pleasure mixed with her pain. I did it over and over again until I reached her knees, and the back of her legs were covered in stripes.
“Fuck,” I growled, taking a step back to enjoy the view. “You’re my perfect little candy cane. I can’t fucking stand it anymore.”
I dropped the cane next to the other toys and pushed my pants down until I could step out of them. Then, I positioned myself behind her and used my hand as cuffs around both of her wrists behind her back. I pushed my cock inside her pussy, and was stunned by how wet she was. Her wetness washed over me and spilled out in long, sticky drips that formed a tiny puddle on the floor beneath us. After waiting so long for this moment, both of us were already on the verge of eruption as soon as I filled her up.
My Little One sent her sensual moans of agony into the wood beneath her as I fucked her relentlessly. I used every one of my eight inches to pound into her with long, forceful strokes that rocked the entire desk forward. I fucked her like I couldn’t stand the sight of her. I fucked her like she was my worst enemy. I fucked her like I absolutely hated her, so she’d know how much I loved being with her. I fucked her nonstop, until I felt the familiar sensation of an eruption taking shape in my balls. It came on fast, and I didn't slow down. I welcomed it and gave myself over when it arrived.
“Fuck, I’m about to explode inside you,” I yelled, still thrusting with the intention of causing maximum damage.
“Yes, sir. Please come inside me,” she screamed in response, and this time, it was me who did as I was told.
“Goddamn!” I growled as my hands tightened on her waist, and I unleashed back-breaking strokes into her. My vision blurred and I could hardly breathe as I came, and my Little One took it perfectly.
“Oh, god,” she bellowed. “Yes, keep going. I’m going to … oh god!”
She let out a guttural scream from the back of her throat as she came all over my cock. Refusing to stop until she was finished, I kept pounding into her. I stroked in and out until my own cum began to leak out of her already dripping pussy, and mixed with her wetness on the floor. We became a drenched mess of bodily fluids and heavy breathing as the bliss of our orgasms finally receded and we separated.
My Little One slid off the desk and layed on the floor right next to our puddle, while I walked with weak knees over to the chair behind my desk and flopped down into it, still naked from the waist down. We remained that way—her, lifeless on the floor, me, exhausted in my chair—until we finally regained our strength sometime later. Eventually, we pulled ourselves together and left the room, eagerly awaiting the next time we could come together and destroy ourselves with pleasure again.
ChapterNine
By the time Nolan is done telling his story, I can barely breathe. Have I moved a single muscle since he started? Have I blinked? Has my brain even been capable of having a thought? I’m not so sure. I was mesmerized the entire time he spoke, and in moments where I thought I’d be disgusted, I was captivated and stuck in a trance. There wasn’t a moment where I wanted Nolan to stop talking about it, and now that he has, I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Not only that, I’m wondering why I’m wet.
Nolan sits in front of me with one leg crossed over the other, his fancy navy blue vest still wrinkle-free, and his gaze locked onto me. His face is neutral, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes. I see something lurking beneath the surface of his expression, and while I can’t put my thumb on it, I see it. It’s there, smiling at me behind his eyes.
“Miss Barrett?” he says, raising one eyebrow, his voice like the low rumble of rolling thunder. “Are you okay?”
I swallow hard as I wiggle my fingers to reignite the blood flow in my hands. The tingle in my fingertips fades away and I feel present again.
“Yes, of course,” I lie. I’m not okay. I’m not even close to okay after that, but I can’t let him know, so I have to play it off. “That was a fascinating story. One that I know our readers will simply devour.”
“Yourreaders?” Nolan asks with raised brows.
“Absolutely. The interest in The Black Collar is rising all across the city, with tons of people becoming more and more interested in what kinds of activities go on here. So, I appreciate your candor and openness.”
Nolan tilts his head to the side and lets out a barely audible scoff. “Yeah, no problem. I definitely want to keepthe readersinterested.”
I have to swallow again, because it’s clear he’s not talking about our readers. I clear my throat and check the recorder to make sure it’s still on. I’d just die if he told me that story on the record and I didn’t actually record it, but if I’m being honest, I could probably recite the entire thing from memory.
“So,” I start again, trying to keep my mind on the story and not the man. “Now that we’ve learned a little more about you, let’s move on to The Black Collar for a bit.” Nolan shifts in his seat, but doesn’t object, so I continue while I can still focus. “The club has a bit of an interview process for new patrons. Rumor has it, some people have been denied entrance to The Black Collar, and some have even felt discriminated against. Can you explain the way your staff is directed to carry out admissions?”
Nolan’s blue eyes peer into me, pushing me back against the couch like he has mind control, and for a moment, I think he might shut the interview down. His face sinks into a bit of a scowl, and I see the slightest hint of a furrow in his brow, but he doesn't let it overtake his face. Whatever is brewing in his mind, he doesn’t let it out.
“First, let me be clear,” he begins, although the reluctance in his voice is palpable. “No one has ever been discriminated against at The Black Collar, especially in the context in which it has been insinuated. While my mother is white, my father is Black, so I take the word discrimination very seriously. What may feel like discrimination to some, is actually us vetting our patrons. In the spirit of keeping The Black Collar inclusive to all genders, sexualities, and kinks, we ask our patrons to fill out a questionnaire online to make sure they’re not closed-minded bigots trying to ruin fun. We prefer our patrons to either be in the lifestyle, or be escorted by someone who is. We want people who know what this is before they step inside. I’m not interested in dealing with the issue of someone thinking our club is just like any other, just to lose their shit when they find out it's a kink and BDSM spot. So, we vet to protect ourselves and our clientele.”
