His Little Masochist. (2)

Her nipples had gone numb. Jane could feel the dull throbs quietly pulsing in her brain. Barely acknowledging that the clamps were still attached. The burning inside her thighs, the residual ache on her slit seemed to block the pain receptors from her diamond hard tips.

She felt intoxicated. Drunk. Entering a space she so rarely did. It was different than her subspace. Different from the place where she normally resided during their sessions. This was…like drifting untethered into the unending galaxy. Floating with no set destination. A wanderer.

Jane watched as Chris turned around. The tendrils of smoke caressing his face with his movement. Tickling his skin with its ashen fingers that dissipated within moments. He looked surreal. As though he were a figment of Jane’s vivid imagination. The dim lighting, his preternatural grace as he bent down, the way his blue eyes sparked in wicked delight. It was hard to believe that was a human — her human — touching his nose to hers right now, and not some ethereal being sent from another world.

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous.

With a lift of her neck she met his lips. Pressing hard, tongue flicking into his mouth in search of his own. He wasn’t the only one who could be aggressive. He just had to work a little to bring it out.

Jane lifted her hand from her swollen leg, cupping his face. She needed him close. Needed to feel him. Needed to touch him. Needed to share his breath. All a sudden she felt like she was going to drown inside him as he seemed to swallow her whole. As their tongues collided she grew desperate. Her nails raking down his back, no doubt leaving crimson stripes on his beautifully freckled skin.

She moaned as she explored his mouth. Writhed under him as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. Biting until that sweet, guttural sound melded with hers.

Needless to say it took her by surprise when he released the first clamp.

Immediately Jane let go of his lip, screaming as the blood came rushing back. Her eyes flashed fire, mirroring her nerves. The pain that was living between her legs vanished instantly. Careening through her veins with the blood restoring itself into her left nipple.

Chris let the shrill pitch of her scream wash over him. Let it sink into his bones. Permeate his skin. He shuddered at the raw power that came with it. That she handed herself over to him so completely. That she trusted him so completely to hurt her this way. To hurt her, and fulfill those dirty fantasies that he knew she’d been harbouring for quite some time now. It was just a matter of waiting for her to ask for it.

He smirked as the Bible verse popped into his head, “Ask and you shall receive…” Jane‘s temper would’ve flared. Chris could perfectly see her reaction. She’d pretend to be nonplussed — but the punch to the arm and the snarl of her lip would’ve stated clearly, otherwise.

But now was not the time for teasing. She had asked to be his pain slut, and that’s exactly what Chris was going to make her.

He leaned down, biting her neck as he took off the other.

The warbled scream that accompanied his action almost made him forgo the second part of his dastardly plan. He wanted to fuck her. Wanted to take her. Like the blood was rushing to her overly sensitive nipples, his was engorging his manhood — growing steadily harder inside his jeans.

For a second he though about it. He thought about setting the candle down and taking her. Chris ran a hand down her quaking body, feeling her pulsing slit. A puddle of arousal waiting for his fingers underneath the apex of her thighs.

She was indeed wet enough that he could push in until he could no more.

No! No. He would follow through. Exhibit self control, and stick with his plan. He’d make his sweet Jane beg for mercy. He’d watch her buck and twist as the pain and pleasure would collide inside of her — each trying to battle for the dominating sensation.

“Open your eyes, Jane.”

He held the candle high above her, approximating how high he had held it over himself when he was experimenting beforehand. The higher the candle, the cooler it would be when the wax landed on her skin.

Her eyes widened as she beheld the candle. The molten chocolate orbs watching in horror as a drop of wax left the lip of the jar and free fell directly onto her throbbing nipple.

The result was better than he had anticipated. Perhaps a little too much. He should’ve tied her down. Her fists balled into the sheets. Her back arched as the warm wax met with her tortured protruding peaks. The battle of sensations commenced. The pain taking an overwhelming advantage, ripping through her body. However, the pleasure was riding on its underbelly. Subtle. Yet irrefutably present. The puddle of arousal underneath her only grew as Chris distributed the wax evenly onto her swollen nipples and surrounding areolae.

“Good girl. We’re almost done. Now hold still or I’ll put those clamps back on.”

His words had a magical effect. The screaming lowered to a pitiful whimper. Her body shook with the magnanimous effort of obeying his command.

“Good girl.” He glowed with pride as his girl didn’t move. Didn’t so much as flinch, or bat an eye as the drops continued to rain down on her tortured breasts. The white wax splattered over her chest. Decorating it with blotches of hardened candle.

Jane bit her lip, her muscles flexing as she tried her best to sit still amidst the torment. But those words of praise, words of affirmation…they sparked joy within her. A joy as strong as the most forceful of hurricanes. A joy of wind and rain that swept over the raging fires of agony, and dampened it. Dampened it until it was registering as nothing but a dull ache.

And just like that, it was over.

Chris returned the jar to the shelf, and instantly scooped Jane into his arms. The action was effortless. She never felt as small as she did when he held her like that. When he lifted her as though she was nothing more than a paperweight. It made her heart flutter inside her throbbing chest.

“Let’s run a bath, hm?”

A silent nod of the head was all the confirmation he got. Was all that he needed as he strode to the bathroom, sat on the lip of the tub, and turned on the faucet. She liked it hot. Boiling hot. Hot enough that he questioned whether her skin was infused with some kind of heat resistant element.

He already had one of her favourite bath bombs waiting on the ledge and dropped one in. Jane was deadweight in his arms. Her breathing deep and steady. He hadn’t seen her drop very often, but what they did back there…it was intense. For both of them. It wasn’t frequent that he brought out that side of him. Truthfully, a lot of the time he had to dig quite deep to find it. But she loved it. Loved it enough to ask for it, so he would oblige and continue to do so.

Chris sat, stroking her hair, murmuring in the birds nest what a good girl she was, and how proud he was of her for taking it all like such a champ. He continued raining praises on her until the water had almost reached the lip. He gently slid her in, hearing the pained gasps as the water contacted her burning skin. Her head leaned back against the porcelain, eyes rolling to the back of her head as Jane surrendered herself to the glorious heat. She gave herself over as the water lapped at her marks, brushed against her quickly forming bruises. She yielded to the soothing properties of the scented silken water.

Finally she opened her eyes, still a little groggy from so much intensity. She reached her hand to touch his — a movement that seemed to take an insurmountable effort. She took a breath as she dragged her eyes upwards to meet his, and with a heaved whisper she pleaded,

“Come.”

He stripped naked and promptly obeyed. He gently nudged her forwards and slid behind her. Stretching his legs around each side of her so she could lay perfectly between them.

Her head lay on his chest, closing her eyes once more she focused on his breathing as she dropped. Hard.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as her body shook, despite the temperature of the water. Despite the steam that eddied from the bubbly surface into the cool air above.

“Shh. You’re such a good girl, and I’m so proud of you. My little masochist.”

He washed her with praises, compliments, and reassurance. Kissed her head, stroked her arms. He hated seeing her like this, but it was inevitable.

“I love you so much, Jane.”

“I love you too.”

And she did. Loved him for the aftercare. Loved him for the bruises that she could already feel rising from her legs. Loved him for the torture he was reluctant to dole out. Loved him for the Dominant that he was. Loved him for protecting her, for cherishing her. Loved him for every single thing that he stood for. He listened when she talked. Really, truly, listened. He was undeniably smart — his brain always thinking, always whirling with questions that needed answers. He was driven. So, so, so ambitious. Though he would never agree with that. He set goals and would achieve them at any cost. He was perfect. Perfect for her.

Absolutely perfect.