Page 25 of Hurts So Good

Jed, dressed and tucked, moved toward the bar as if he were saddle sore from chasing strays in the brush for a week. “Whiskey.”

Beth didn’t move from what she was doing.

“And, thank you, ma’am,” he said.

She got him a shot that he downed in one gulp.

He dug his hand deep into a front pocket, retrieving a couple of bills. Slapping them onto the bar, Jed noticed the glint off of his wedding band. He twirled it around his ring finger with the calloused digits of his other hand. A sly grin spread across his face.

“See ya back at home.”

TOYING WITH LILY

Mike Kimera

The jeans are a deliberate act of provocation. Lily, my allegedly submissive, “You can do anything to me, anything at all, I’ll even call you Daddy while you do it” mistress, likes to test my limits by defying me. She wants to see what I will put up with and what I will do to keep her in her place. She likes to be kept in her place.

At the moment, her place is standing in front of my chair with her hands behind her back and her head held high, waiting for me to flog, pinch, spank, and fuck her to orgasm. We both know that by now she should be naked. Instead, she has chosen to present herself wearing tight-fitting jeans and a sly smile.

True, Lily is impressively naked above the waist. She is a fully fleshed woman, short without being in any way small. Her breasts are large and heavy, and when, as now, she holds her hands behind her back, they push out almost aggressively. Her stomach is soft and flows over the cruelly tight fastening of her spray-on jeans. At any other time, I might have relaxed back into my chair and considered whether to start by using the soft calf-leather hand-lash on her belly or by suspending weighted clamps from her nipples.

But now my focus is on her jeans and the smile that accompanies them.

I could just tell her to take them off.

Or I could throw her onto the bed, wrestle them from her, maybe even cut them off her, and then raise welts on her substantial buttocks with the crop.

But that would be doing the obvious, which means I would lose the initiative. If that were to happen often enough, I would lose Lily.

I don’t want to lose Lily. She makes me feel alive in a way that no one else does.

I rise out of my chair silently and lean forward until I am almost touching her.

I, of course, am fully dressed. This is the middle of the business day. A suit and tie are de rigueur. For a moment, I see myself as the Evil Victorian Headmaster about to inflict punishment on the Vulnerable Pupil. My cock salutes the image, although Lily is fourteen years younger than I am and I am stronger and larger than she is, she does not look vulnerable.

Her smile is still in place. She is daring me to do something to her. Bracing herself in pleasurable anticipation of my assault.

I push my thumbs into her jeans at each hip, grab the denim, and pull upwards until Lily is forced onto tiptoe and much of her weight is on the seam of the jeans that is riding up into her. She has the good grace to keep her unbound hands behind her back and let herself fall against my chest. The small groan that escapes her makes me smile.

I lower her until her naked feet are flat on the floor and then use her thick, wavy hair to pull her head all the way back. She is still smiling, damn her.

I push my tongue deep into her mouth. Before she can respond, I release her and step away. I want her to feel my absence for a while.

Turning my back on Lily, I face the coffee table on which she has laid out the bondage gear. It is a tradition with us that she arrives at the hotel first, bringing her toys with her. I can tell the kind of satisfaction she is seeking from the “palette” that she presents me with. I make my selection and resume my seat in front of Lily.

I’m pleased to see that she has not moved and that her tight jeans now display an impressive cameltoe. But what pleases me most is the surprise she shows when I fasten the ankle cuffs of the spreader bar over her jeans.

The whole point of the spreader bar is to keep Lily open to me, so using it when she is wearing jeans would appear to defeat the purpose. I’m sure that Lily is bursting to ask me what I intend to do, but then, of course, she would lose our game. And so she remains silent.

“Turn,” I say, slapping Lily on the thigh. Legs forced wide apart, she turns awkwardly and slowly, making her breasts swing in an ungainly way that I find perversely satisfying. When she has her back to me, I rapidly put a cuff on each wrist and then fasten the cuffs together, keeping one wrist above the other. We both know that I could have done this without making her turn, but that would have been much less fun.

Lastly, I stand and fasten the collar around Lily’s neck. The collar that she had set out for me covers her entire neck and has a lip that pushes upwards under her chin so that it’s almost impossible for her to move her head. I know from this that Lily needs a hard session that forces the orgasms from her. Lily had already attached a leash to the front D-ring of the collar, inviting me to make her my bitch and drag her wherever I need her to be. She is indeed a treasure beyond price. Nevertheless, she is a defiant treasure who needs to be brought in line, a process I am now ready to start.

“It was thoughtful of you to keep your jeans on,” I say, closing my hand around Lily’s collared throat and forcing her back against me. “I’m sure it’s a polite way of letting me know that you don’t need to be fucked today.”

“No!”

The word escapes before Lily can stop it. Remaining unfucked is one of the few punishments that would really make Lily suffer. To paraphrase Rhett Butler, Lily is the kind of woman who needs to be fucked often and by someone who knows how. That’s one of the reasons she is here with me instead of with her loving husband: I know how.

---