The Bride (The Boss) (36 page)

My signal when gagged was to hold up my hand and open and close my fingers three times, and all the action would stop, so I was never nervous at having my mouth obstructed. The drooling it would cause would be utterly humiliating. I couldn’t wait.

He grabbed my hair and wound it around his fist, then with a little “hmm” as he reconfigured his plan according the limits I’d set, he released it and leaned down to haul me over his shoulder.

“Mmph!” The startled exclamation was garbled by the gag.

“I have been working out, after all,” he admonished, more like the Neil who was my fiancé than the Neil who was my Dom. He deposited me on the bed and, snapping his fingers, ordered, “Lie there and don’t move.”

At the end of the bed, I’d left two coils of black jute rope and a pair of bandage scissors. Occasionally, he liked to tie me up, and it seemed tonight I’d been wise to be prepared. He hovered his hand over the rope then moved to the wand massager.

“For what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he began, moving to plug the cord into the wall, “I am going to need you as wet and as open as possible.”

He returned to the bed, to the three dildos I’d left there. I’d brought a curved glass one with nubs along its length, a velvety-soft white, ambiguously shaped one, and the main event, a large, purple monster even bigger than Neil’s cock.

He picked up the latter and weighed it in his hand. My breath hitched. He set it back down. “I want you to kneel on the bed, with your knees shoulder width apart.”

He’d brought the flogger upstairs with him, and he tossed that and the black leather covered paddle onto the bed.

“Arms behind you.”

There was a specific way he liked to tie my arms, that didn’t put as much stress on my elbows and shoulders as some ties did. My bent arms folded across my lower back, my hands grasping near their opposite elbow. He climbed onto the bed behind me and quickly braided a single cuff around my forearms, looping across my wrists loosely so as not to cut off circulation, and to leave my hands free.

“How does that feel, Sophie?”

I rolled my head and both of my shoulders, one at a time. Nice and loose, only the slightest twinge of a reminder that there would be tension and aching later. I tried to tell him, “Perfect, Sir,” around the gag, and a torrent of drool rolled from my lower lip.

He smiled to himself and went to the end of the bed. “And can you still signal me? Snap once to answer.”

I snapped my fingers. When I was bound
and
gagged, three snaps were my safe word.

“Good.” He reached for the wand and the paddle, and stood at my side, idly running his thumb over the black switch on the vibrator. “Do you know who I just called?”
 

I shook my head, my gaze fixed on the bulbous head of the wand. It looked innocent enough, but with the flip of a switch it became one of the most powerful implements of torture in his arsenal.

“I called the concierge. I told them it was likely there would be a fair bit of noise from our room
if he caught my drift
, and that we would be more than willing to pay the hotel bill for anyone who might be inconvenienced.” He ran the paddle up and down the fronts of my thighs. “So I can make you scream as loudly as I like.”

I whimpered, and the paddle smacked just beneath my crotch. I breathed deeply through my nose.

“Would you like that, Sophie?”

I nodded.

Another smack, just below the last one. I redirected my muffled shout through my nose, my nostrils flaring with labored breaths.

“It doesn’t matter what you like, does it?”

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, bracing for another blow, one that never came. Instead, he brought the cold, plastic ball of the wand between my legs. He dropped the paddle and shoved two fingers past the gag, coating them with my saliva, pushing them far back so that I sputtered and drooled. He used those wet fingers to part my labia around the head of the vibrator, nestling it snug against my clit. I wanted to shift my hips to rub against it. I wanted the pleasure that would come the moment the strong, deep vibrations roared to life, but I knew that pleasure would come at a price. There would either be too much, or not enough.

He picked up the paddle again and rubbed my ass with it. My body tensed, and he flipped the switch.

There were two settings on the wand, a high, frantic frequency that numbed and stung at the same time, and a lower, deeper hum that drove me wild. He used the latter now, and I whined through my gag as my muscles tightened past the point of pain on the way to my climax. My ascending cries peaked with a high-pitched groan as the shock of my orgasm hit me. In the moment I should have wanted to buck away from the unrelenting vibration, he smacked my ass hard with the paddle and pulled the vibe away, clicking it off.

The conflicting sensations sent chills skating over my skin. He hit me again, over the same burning swath, and I muffled a curse against the gag.

He dropped the vibe and gripped my chin. “I said you could scream. Not swear. If you can’t keep your filthy mouth under control, you’ll be choking on my cock instead of that gag.”

The imagery turned my knees to liquid, and I swayed. His arm was at my back in a flash, supporting me, and he reached down for the vibrator again. He pushed it against my swollen, satisfied clit and said, “We’ll go again. In three, two, one—”

He clicked the switch and I jolted, pumping my hips, either to get away or to get closer, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care if he punished me for moving. I wanted him to. I wanted more. I wanted him to push me to the very edge. My end goal suddenly became using my safe word. I wanted to go so far I had to stop, though Neil often warned me that getting close was better than going past what I could endure. But just the thought of the extreme, the thought of indulging my truly masochistic side, was enough to bring me to another, stronger release. He followed it with three smacks of the paddle in quick succession, until I cried out.
 

He pulled the vibe away and gave me time to come down, time that was almost worse because the next orgasm would build from the ground up, not merely blend with the last one. My already taxed muscles were drawn up tight again; I would be impossibly sore in the morning. This time when he counted down and turned the vibrator on, he rolled the head in small circles, varying the sensation so that any numbness from the vibration wouldn’t help me. This time, I did scream, and kept on screaming as the paddle struck the backs of my thighs. He didn’t pull the wand away this time, keeping me teetering on the brink of too much pain and way too much pleasure, until it all became pain, twisting and writhing around my every nerve ending.

I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I fell against him, and he dropped both the paddle and the vibrator to catch me. He swiftly untied the gag and pushed my sweaty hair back from my face. Droplets of perspiration ran down my neck, below my collar, over my chest. He gripped the wet locks at my nape and tilted my head back. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Sir,” I panted, my throat hoarse. My eyes slid closed as I savored the boneless peace of my ebbing high.

“Come back to me a moment,” he said gently, stroking a finger down my cheek. “Check in. Where are we?”

“Green, Sir.” I didn’t want to stop. I never wanted to stop feeling the way I did in that moment. I wouldn’t have cared if we stayed like this all week.

He sat me down on the crisp white duvet and worked at the knots binding my wrists. When I was untied, he helped me straighten my arms and rubbed the soreness from my shoulders.

“How is that?”

Sir took such good care of me.

“Much better, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

He skimmed his hands up and down my arms then urged me to lie back. He slipped one of the pillows from the head of the bed under my hips. “Spread your legs. There you are.”

I shivered as his hand glided down, over my stomach, between my legs. He petted my labia, his fingertips straying between.

One finger slipped inside me, and I clenched on it, mewling in mingled relief and frustration. I needed more than just his finger. I wanted to be filled up.

“Oh…” he said, soft and low. “You want more.”

He withdrew and reached for the medium-sized dildo. He brought it between my legs and swiped the surface of the soft silicone up and down my slit, coating it. I’d brought lube, but I wasn’t sure it was going to be necessary. I was dripping, my pussy making obscene squelching noises as my muscles grasped on emptiness. My breathing became labored, stuttering through my lips, almost a sob but never quite reaching that pitch.

Slowly, he pushed the head of the dildo inside of me, inserting and withdrawing just an inch or two, raking the ridge of the head over my g-spot. It was almost irritating, in that my body had already been satisfied to the point of overstimulation, but it was such a relief to be penetrated. He pushed deeper, twisting his wrist as he drew the length out, in a slow, measured pace.

I wriggled a little. I couldn’t help it.

“You may move, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I panted, lifting my hips in a roll that brought a groan of relief from my lips and a trance-like state to my mind.

He reached with his other hand to my throat, pressing on the two points beneath my chin that made me light-headed. I enjoyed the possessiveness, the simulated risk, and he got off on the proof of my unwavering trust in him. My head swam, intensifying the sensations in my cunt. Then, it became too much, sharpening my hazy thoughts. I managed, “Okay, yellow on the choking.”

Neil pulled his hand away immediately. “The rest is alright, though?”

“Yeah, the rest is fine.” I smiled gratefully at him and closed my eyes as he kept up the now deep strokes with the dildo. It didn’t take long to return to that peaceful, carefree place of my total submission. My nerves were stronger than my weakened body, sending pulses to every centimeter of my skin, turning every sensation into pleasure.

He pulled the shaft free from my pussy once, twice, again and again, always withdrawing completely, then plunging back in. With my eyes squeezed shut against the building pressure, I didn’t see him replace the dildo with the much larger one, and when it stretched me, my eyes flew open and my body jolted. We’d used this one many times—he even had a video of me using it on myself—but every time, the size was stunning. Neil was well-endowed, but this thing was massive.

My libido was reckless and greedy, without a limit in sight. This was where the edges could get blurry, and why our trust was so important. We each had our own limits, and he knew where mine were. There was no chance of him forgetting—nor willfully “forgetting”—where the lines were drawn.

Pain, however, was a line drawn far, far down the field, so when he rammed the huge rubber cock forward, burying it so deep in my body that I felt an uncomfortable pinch against my battered cervix, I moaned in far more pleasure than pain.

The flogger he’d laid at the end of the bed was easy to access, and he picked it up now in his free hand, still plunging the dildo mercilessly into me. As I sweated and strained and braced myself against the fullness in my pelvis, I didn’t have time to anticipate the swipe of the flogger. Neil snapped the underside of one breast with just the tips of the tails, and I screamed at what felt like a rain of needles on my skin. I arched my back, caught between acute and dull pain. No matter what he commanded, I couldn’t have stopped myself from responding. This was beyond the pleasure of obedience; this was an obscene hunger for degradation.

“Are you my whore, Sophie?” Another snap of the flogger, this time on my other breast.

I shouted my, “Yes, Sir!” on a sob, and gritted my teeth against the next that worked up my throat.

“Who do you belong to?”

“To you, Sir! Only to you!”

He gave me another bite of the flogger, and another, maybe five or six, and I lost count as they bled into each other in quick succession. Every inch of my body sang, every pore of my skin burned. I spread my legs wider, took the dildo in deeper, and gripped the duvet in my fists. My mind whipped to my Catholic upbringing, the stories of the martyrs possessed of holy ecstasy, and I finally understood those contorted, blissful faces of the flayed and scourged in all those paintings.

Because when you’re taking the pain out of free will and love, the pain becomes love.

I don’t know how long I drifted after the last snap of the flogger. It seemed like a long time, and all the while he kept up the long strokes of the dildo, in pace with the mindless movements of my body. When I started to come back to myself, he eased the dildo from me. “Open your eyes.”

I did and met his gaze just as he knelt beside me, the tie that had once gagged me wrapped around his hand. He used it to swipe away my tears, then brushed the silk over the enflamed skin of my breasts.

He uncoiled the tie from his fist and dropped it onto my quivering stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, Sir,” I panted. “Thirsty.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Stay here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I closed my eyes again and slowed my breathing. In the break from sensation, I felt my stamina recovering a bit. I hoped he wasn’t finished with me for the night.

When he returned with the water glass, he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. He was certainly not finished.

I sat up and braced myself to avoid a head rush. Then I obediently moved to his lap. He brushed my sweaty hair back from my shoulders and rested the glass on my bottom lip, tipping a swallow of water into my mouth.

“There. Do you need a break?”

“That depends on what you have planned, Sir.”

“No, no Sir right now. This is your partner, Neil, asking if you need a break.” He smiled his half-smile and offered me another drink, which I gulped down gratefully.

“Oh. Then I guess that depends on what you have planned,
Neil.
”

He passed the glass into my hands and carefully, so that I didn’t tumble onto the bed, lifted me from his lap and set me beside him. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his shirt cuff and rolled the sleeve back. He flexed his fingers—those long, elegant fingers—and I needed another gulp of water.