His Little Masochist. (1)

Jane had been antsy all day. She was b-o-r-e-d bored. She had tried to rid herself of some energy by taking the dogs for an excessively long walk but it did little to help. And now that they were midway through their Netflix original…she was restless once again. Well. Restless and horny.

She’d always been bad at voicing her needs. Especially when it came to sex. Her and Chris had been together for years and yet she still felt too shy to straight up ask him for it. So instead she opted for a more subtle approach.

She started her game. Nipping at Chris’s earlobes, rolling circles in his lap.

He understood instantly. Could almost feel the shift in her energy. It was always amusing to him. How she still couldn’t work up the gall to ask him for…him.

“Yesss?” Chris raised an eyebrow at Jane whose fingers had suddenly found themselves tracing his eyebrows. Her own scrunching as she scrutinized the hairs out of place.

“Ohhhh nothing.”

Chris snorted. Nothing was never nothing. He clicked off the tele and focused his attention on Jane.

“I don’t believe you.” Chris reached out a hand, gently stroking his thumb along the hollow of her throat. He felt her swallow. Felt her chest rise and fall quicker and quicker underneath his touch, “Tell me what you want.”

He watched as a crimson glow flushed over the usual olive tone of her skin. It was a game of his own. Watching her trip and stumble over her words. Fighting to get out the words. Such an easy way to give her the humiliation she so deeply craved.

“Well…I just kind of want to..ugh. I just wanna…you know?”

Chris stopped the gently stroking and shifted his hand to wrap around her throat. Cocking his head, he smiled sweetly at his charge as he applied a teensy bit of pressure,

“What. Do. You. Want.”

Jane’s eyes glazed over as his hand tightened, “Uhm, I just, I want…I want to be your…your pain slut.”

“Oh? And how do we ask nicely?”

“Please? Please can you hurt me, Sir?”

Jane could physically see the transformation take place. The way his face steeled over. The way his eyes lit with a predatory focus. His posture straightened. The games were over.

His grip tightened further, pulling her up with him as he stood. He slipped a hand underneath her shirt, underneath her bra. His fingers found their mark quickly and swiftly.

Jane whimpered, shifting her weight to her tiptoes as he pinched and pulled at her nipple.

“What the whimper for? Don’t you want this? You’re the one who fucking askedme to hurt you. Such a dirty girl getting off on pain. Is your cunt wet? Fucking slut.”

Her body shuddered as he tickled her ear with the demeaning words and shoved her along to their bedroom.

“Are you gonna be a good fucking girl and sit still? Or are we gonna pretend that you don’t like it?”

“I-I’ll be good Sir.”

“Hm. We will see about that.”

Chris released his grip, shoving Jane on the bed watching her body bounce on the California king. He loved his little masochist. His needy little whore.

A grin of the most wicked proportions split his lips as he towered over the deceptively delicate body sitting before him. She was tough as nails and refused to be broken. A true 14/10. Even if he would NEVER admit it. The praise would just inflate her ego to unbearable heights. She was already the most prideful creature that he knew. To give her another reason…it would be chaos.

So he kept the tidbit to himself and slapped her across the face.

Once. Twice.

She bit her lip and smiled. Her eyes of molten chocolate glinted with a spark that came from the fires of the Underworld. If his were not reflecting the same light, he would’ve been a tad frightened of the devil sitting before him. He would have balked as that same fire that lit her eyes heated her belly with a burning, raw, passion. A deep yearning. An infinite hunger. An insatiable lust.

“Take your clothes off.”

She obeyed. Quickly. Hastily. Until she was clad in nothing at all.

“Good girl. Now here are the rules. Every time you move those pretty little hands to block me, I will add another two minutes to the clamps. Do you understand?”

Jane bit her lip and nodded as Chris opened their drawer of toys and brought out the very first set of nipple clamps they’d gotten together on his initial trip to see her. Her fists clenched at her sides as he applied them.

The first few moments were always shocking for her. The first burst of pain shooting through her body was a little hard to ignore. Her nails bit into her skin as she fought to keep her expression stoic.

But Chris saw the hitch in her breath. Reveled in it as he stepped back and admired his lady. How she looked so fucking cute trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. He knew she couldn’t keep it up for long. So naturally he pulled on the chain connecting the two and watched as her back arched. Watched as her eyebrows knit together. As her lips emitted a pathetic moan.

That was more like it.

He raised his hand and slapped her face twice more. Until her cheeks turned the perfect shade of blush, “That’s a good girl. You still want to be my pain slut?”

A nod. The fire in her eyes still twinkling. Still burning.

“Good. Now lay down and spread those beautiful legs.”

The blush on her cheeks deepened at the compliment as she did what she was told.

He brought out the crop. Rubbing the flat leather end along the inside of her thighs. Gently brushing it over her glistening slit. Over her clit still buried in its fold. Her body shuddered at the touch. Shuddered as the leather sent whispers of its caress skittering down her nerves.

He surprised her by using his hand. Slapping the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. Her hands instantly released her legs. Her abdomen crunching at the sting.

“Do not let go of those again darling.” Chris purred, leaning down and gazing into her eyes as he struck again. This time a little higher.

A soft grunt passed Jane’s lips as she gripped her legs tighter. Willing herself not to let go. Letting the pain ignite fire within. Allowing the pain to change the chemistry in her brain. Sending her careening deeper and deeper into subspace.

Chris kissed her lips. A contradictory touch in comparison to the sadistic torture that was only just beginning. He straightened, moving off the bed and to the dresser where he lit a single, unscented candle.

Jane cocked her head at the action. Getting lost in the possibilities.

The crop came out of nowhere. Landing directly on her cunt. On her soaking, throbbing, cunt.

She screamed. Her nails digging into her skin, desperately trying to maintain just enough composure to keep her hold. She was briefly afraid that she had bitten off more than she could chew. It was always a good idea in theory. To ask for the pain. To ask for the masochist in her to rear its lovely head.

But these first few strikes. Whether it be with his hand, or the crop, or even a wooden spoon…sometimes she doubted her ability to push through it. So tempted. She was so tempted to change her mind and cry safeword. But she could not. Even as the crop struck again. And again. And again. The blows landing fast and hard. Even as tears stung her eyes. Even as she regressed further and further into herself. Still she would not say it.

She was going to push through. She was going to stay. Laying down. Legs spread. Hands on her knees. She was going to stay and take it all. Even if the pain became nearly unbearable. Even if her skin broke.

It wasn’t her skin that broke first however. It was her position. She tried to block his blow. Removing her grip on her knees, Jane covered her swollen cunt. A brave — but stupid — move to protect it from another hit.

“Tsk tsk my love. That’s another two minutes to the clamps. And what exactly are you trying to cover up?? How wet you are from this? Hm. Let’s see just how wet you are.”

Chris set the crop down, trading it instead for the chain connecting her two clamps. He pulled. Hard. Simultaneously swirling his fingertips gently on her throbbing clit. He watched the conflicting, contradictory feelings collide inside her. The pleasure. The pain. Both coursing through her veins. Side by side. Almost in camaraderie.

“Ohhh Chris…fuuuck! It hu-hurts so, so goood!” A laugh laced in the moan. A pitiful laugh. One breeding confusion.

He slid his finger along her slit. Her arousal soaking his fingertip. And when he slipped it inside her? Her walls caved in around him like it was desperate for release. Desperate for any sort of attention. Desperate for anything that might fill its void space.

“Fuck babe…you’re a horny little slut aren’t you? You’re fucking soaked.”

Her walls contracted against him in response. Telling him enough what his words were doing to his sweet little victim. Chris started to pump his finger ever so slowly in and out of her. Keeping the pressure on the chain,

“Well, I was going to stop here. But it sounds like we have two more minutes to go. All thanks to you, of course. If you’d have been a good girl you wouldn’t have to endure another hundred and twenty seconds. But you’re a tough girl hm? Or at least you claim to be. 11/10 is a very prestigious title…”

“…14/10.”

Chris smirked. Even in the midst of such pain and pleasure…she was still a brat. Still just as stubborn and hot-headed. So he stopped. Pulled out his finger, dropped the chain and slapped each thigh and the parting slit that he was just playing with.

The action wiped the smile clean off her face and replaced it with a twisted grimace as he struck the sensitive skin. The skin that was broken. Bruised. Swollen. Painful. Incredibly, incredibly, painful.

But she endured it. She endured it for the entire time. The two minutes seeming like nothing in comparison. However, their session was not over.

Far. Far from it.

“Good girl. You did so, so good.” Chris leaned down, kissing her thighs before setting the crop down. He straightened and blew out the candle. He looked to his lover, concern crossing his eyes. She was out of it. Or at least, she looked to be. Her eyes were unfocused. Glazed over.

“Babe? What’s your name?”

Jane’s head lolled to the side. A lazy grin dimpling her cheeks, “Don’t worry. I’d use my safeword if it was too much.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Jane. I’m with it. I promise. It’s just…just intense, is all. I’m okay. I promise.”

Relief flooded through him. Not because he could implement the second part of his plan. But because he believed her. They hadn’t yet come to a point where he had lost her in a scene. He liked to think because he was observant enough to know the signs of when she was coming too close to that dangerous precipice. To know when he was toeing the line of ‘too much’.

“I’m glad to hear it. You might regret it though when I take those clamps off.”

He turned around, grabbing the candle as well as the warmed oil hiding in the dresser drawer. He almost missed the soft exclamation of profanity murmured from Jane’s lips behind him.

“Oh fuck.”