Storytime

Occasionally I write erotica. I used to write a lot more, but between Boy and Beloved, I don't usually find enough downtime to put my thoughts into words. Beloved is away on business this week, and last night I thought about an early bedtime, couldn't get to sleep, and so rolled over and began to write. ..

I Belong to Beloved

I'd known him for a while, how we met was forgotten. Maybe it was craigslist or maybe it was an actual event where we'd exchanged e-mail addresses. We had a strange relationship...vicarious stories of my activities with Beloved, occasional sexy pictures. All of this had created an allure too strong for him. He'd begged to be made a part of it...and Beloved had consented to meeting. And that's how we came to be waiting for him in the club, tea for three already served when he arrived. Tall, taller than both of us, wiry, bald. And nervous. Couldn't look Beloved in the eye as I poured the tea. Beloved obviously enjoyed his discomfiture. I wasn't entirely relaxed, but I wasn't going to show either of them that fact.

Somehow, we all passed whatever tests we'd set for each other, and before any of us were quite sure how, we were in the room. Beloved took control. "You. Sit there. You can do what you like, as long as you keep quiet, and don't interfere."

He took the chair, placing it near the bench.

"Too near. I need space. Move back about three feet."

He moved the chair, and I busied myself with removing my clothes, suddenly anxious and nervous about the scene. Beloved drew near to me and began to show me off...slowly and methodically, turning me this way and that to display to him the body he'd previously only seen on a screen. To mirror my state, he removed his clothes, and sat back in the chair, cock swaying, hardened by the sight before him. Deliberately, Beloved secured cuffs on my wrists and ankles.

Naked and cuffed, Beloved turned me towards him, running his hands across breasts, midriff and down between my legs. He and I locked eye contact. "Look", I wanted to say. "Watch what I let my Beloved do to me. See how much of me he has." But no words would come.

Beloved turned me around and bent me over the bench, snapping the cuffs to the bench, making me vulnerable...helpless. I wanted to narrate the scene. "Do you see the trust I have? Do you understand what it is I am giving you?" Instead I bite my lip, listening to Beloved move around, opening our toybag and laying out the tools of my submission. The beautiful, soft brown flogger. The bamboo spoons. The paddle. I hear a match strike and I know Beloved has lit the body candle, already thinking ahead to the end of the game. Turning my head, I can just see him, gauging his reaction at this unexpected (to him) development, I could see his hand slowly pumping his cock, his eyes wide open.

Beloved started as we always do, his hands tightening almost brutally on my shoulders, squeezing the tension from them. Slowly, Beloved worked his hands down over my back, his warm touch soothing and loving, caressing my buttocks and warming me. "Are you ready, pet?" Beloved's strong voice broke my daydream. "I am ready for you, Master," I whispered, trying not to flinch just yet. With one hand still resting on my lower back, Beloved began with a spanking...firm, hard, stinging. He switched to the flogger, gently flicking the tips of the lash against me, gradually building intensity until he was moving around the bench. Swinging and whipping shoulders, upper back and buttocks, seeing the flesh yield and discolor under the blows, going pink and mottled. Sometimes, a stroke would land with the tails separated, like a claw striking, then run back. Sometimes, gathered together, striking with speed, a jerk and a groan would escape my lips. And, Beloved's favorite of all, precisely aimed flicks down between legs and striking nether lips, eliciting a startled yelp from me.

Pausing, Beloved caressed my burning skin, whispering his pride and joy in my acceptance. I heard the clack of the spoons, and whimpered softly. The cupped spoon sounded loud and brutal, but really didn't hurt much at all. It was more for show, and I knew it, but he didn't. Tossing my head, trying to get the hair out of my eyes, I could see a touch of concern in his smitten gaze. Twenty smacks of the spoon, and I knew what the hesitation meant. Even bracing for it, the first smack of the paddle made me gasp and cry out. Beloved leaned over me, his fingers dancing over my shoulders. "Good girl....let it go..."

And when the paddle landed again, I cried, bucking uselessly against my bonds. Again and again, the paddle fell. I was on fire and felt a breath away from flight. I didn't quite comprehend Beloved's movement as he unsnapped the cuffs. Beloved's strong arms pulled my shoulders up, and he practically lifted me off the bench, laying me on the carpet at his feet. I looked up.
He was still sitting there, cock hard and ready. Resolved to show his ownership of events, Beloved threw him a condom.

"Here. Put this on and fuck her."

As he struggled with foil and latex, Beloved turned brushed the hair from my face, searching my eyes for...what? I was resolved. I had asked for this, and now, I submitted to Beloved's agreement. Certain that I was okay, Beloved withdrew as he climbed atop me, spreading my legs. The moment of penetration was clear from his grunt, my groan, and then the chronology was lost in a flurry of feral dance, smell and sound.

I was close – the sting of the paddle and the release into tears is almost enough by itself, sometimes. Now, there was the complication of an unfamiliar cock – and I fell back into myself. He was really fucking me, and fucking me well, but I couldn't lose myself. I clenched his cock tightly and moved into that characteristic arching, thrashing and gasping. He wasn't slow to come then, pulling out when it all came too much, ripping the condom off and sending a perfect arc of fragrant come through the air before splashing hotly across my breasts. Another jerk, another arc, and again, and soon my belly and pubis carried the same sheen, his attempt to mark me as his.

But, to no avail. As he staggered back away from me, Beloved was ready to take his place, and with the same lack of preliminaries. Subjecting me to another round, hard, urgent and earnest, familiar. I could feel the rush of tears, of love, of submission, grateful to be Beloved's even while I carried another man's scent. I reached up, my hands pulling Beloved down, my pussy gripping his hard cock, my lips searching for sweetness, my eyes lost in the intensity of Beloved's gaze, urging me on to fly. And in a moment, I let go, soaring and tumbling, coming and crying Beloved's name.

Afterwards, lying, intertwined, pressed together, slick and gasping for breath, we both realized we were alone, together. Unnoticed by us, he'd gone. He'd understood. He may be allowed to fuck me, but he couldn't have me. I belong to Beloved.