Dexter’s hand warmed and teased approvingly. “My brave bug. Count for me.”
She again concentrated on his deep tone, allowing it to fill her. As she did, she had the sensation of swimming naked in the sound of his satisfaction and appreciation. The warm, sparkling pool took away the pain and replaced it with triumph.
If taking five strikes would please him, she could do it. “Yes, my king.”
He leaned close to her ear. “We’ll start at number one.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as her imagined mirage evaporated. The reality ached in her chest. The one strike she’d already endured wouldn’t count.
“Yes, my—”
Whistle.
Crack.
Fire.
“O-one.” It took all her strength to articulate the number.
Again.
“Two.”
Three blows came in rapid succession. Their point of contact crisscrossing her ass and dragging over her upper thighs.
“Three.” The word came on the exhale.
The speed at which he delivered the strikes didn’t give her time to think or react. Not consciously. Unconsciously, her body melted to his desire. Her rigid stance after the first unexpected strike continued to morph. Though each blow was like adding hot coals to already burnt skin and the pain grew, radiating throughout her body, she conversely found an island of peace.
Her fists released the blankets which they had been holding. No longer perched up on the balls of her feet and toes, her tension eased, allowing her to settle and relish the coolness of the concrete. Instead of the strikes, she concentrated on the numbers. They dominated her mind. No longer only audible, she saw each digit as if it were right in front of her. Each one became a real entity, a trophy in her hands, taking her one step closer to the end.
Most importantly, each one made Dexter happy.
By the time Natalie uttered the number five, her body was numb, floating again in the warm pool of her imagination. The hot lava from before had cooled. Natalie’s mind was doused in the drenching satisfaction that she’d completed the task.
Dexter’s lips started at her neck and rained downward, coating her collarbone, back, ass, and thighs in his kisses, soft and gentle. His approval radiated from his touch. She pushed toward him, wanting more, as his fingers roamed, reading her raised skin as if it were a love letter written in Braille. She savored the sensation as his touch examined each mark. The inward pleasure caused her pussy to grow wetter. Ashamedly, she knew that even before the first strike of the crop she’d been soaked.
It was as he discovered the evidence on her thighs that he wordlessly acknowledged it. Spreading her legs wider, swipe by swipe, he coated her essence like salve over her welted flesh.
As the endorphins faded, Natalie’s bewilderment grew. It always did. Her mind told her that this was wrong, yet her body craved Dexter’s approval. All of her life she’d tried to please other people. Her choices brought others happiness. While she knew that this was similar, there was a striking dissimilarity. She also enjoyed his treatment in a way she knew she shouldn’t. She couldn’t even hide her reaction, not with the way Dexter coated her skin with her own cum. She was aroused.
Natalie whimpered against the soft bedcovering as he continued to tease and roam near her core. Tears of unsatisfied need pooled upon the comforter. She gasped for breath, her dissatisfaction coming as a sob.
“Talk to me, bug. Was it too much?”
Sometimes it was easier to talk when he had her in these positions. She couldn't see his deep-ocean eyes or decipher his thoughts. She was free to talk without witnessing the consequences. “No. That’s not it.”
“Then to what do we owe these tears?”
“Dexter.” She said his name so he would receive a response, acknowledgment that she was listening. Yet she didn’t know how to answer.
“Tell me what you're feeling.”
It was one of his questions that she detested. Instead of answering the way she always did, admitting her pain or embarrassment, she threw caution to the wind. “I’m frustrated and confused.”
His hand stilled on her sore ass. “About?”
She shifted her footing. “Me. I don’t know what to think or do.” When he didn't respond, she added, “I've never felt this way before.”
“This way?” It was Dexter's turn to parrot.
Her core clenched. “I need...I want to come.”
This wasn’t right. He’d just beaten her with a crop for no other reason than he wanted to see the marks. She shouldn’t be aroused, yet she was. This wasn’t a man she should want, but she did. With each strike of the crop he wielded, she lost herself in the sensation. She couldn’t deny it if she wanted to. Her traitorous body had already left the evidence on her thighs.
“You want to come?”
Natalie was a virgin, not a nun. She knew the relief brought on by an orgasm. The thought alone made her clench as her nipples grew hard.
“Please.” Though her cheeks caught fire with her confession, there was also relief. She needed more.
“How?” he asked.
“How?” Her pulse thundered through her veins so loudly she could hear it swishing in her ears. Was he going to grant her this pleasure?
Dexter leaned near to her tearstained face. “How do you want to come? My fingers, tongue, or cock?”
The latter scared her, but the first two sounded doable. He's kissed and licked the rest of her body. Though when she first arrived she hadn't liked it, now she did. It meant the pain was over, and he was making it better.
Natalie swallowed and stared into his turbulent eyes. The waters were rough. Would she survive the storm? She didn't know. Either way, it was time to face it. “I'll consent to your wishes, my king. And there's one other thing...” Her heart raced.
“Tell me.”
“When it's time...will you...” The words were hard to say, to admit, yet they were sincere. She wanted him to be pleased with her. She also longed for the scents and colors that would accompany her request.
“Bug, will I what? Will I hurt you?”
Her ass and thighs simmered with the fire from the sharp leather crop. Later, if he’d let her, she’d touch the raised skin with the tips of her fingers. It was something he sometimes allowed, letting her, too, also admire his marks. Yet, despite her current position, for some reason, asking him if he’d hurt her never crossed her mind. Nat shook her head. “No, Dexter. I trust you to do what's best, to do what I need. I was wondering if from now on, you'd help me bathe.”
A deep sound resonated from his throat. She didn’t know if it was a yes or a no. She’d wait. Without answering, he reached for the restraints binding her wrists, the ones holding her down to the bed. He unbuckled one and then the other.
Though the pressure of the bed frame against her hips lessened, Natalie didn’t pull away or stand. She lay as she’d been told to do, waiting for his next instruction.
Her mind was consumed with her confession of need. Dexter took care of her. He had since she met him. She had faith he would again. Her thoughts were so overwhelming that she was no longer aware of her sore ass or thighs, his marks temporarily forgotten. She’d remember them again when she was alone and hurting. But now, her king was with her.
The anticipation of what he would do—could do—tingled her body and tantalized her mind.
Natalie was his puppet, a marionette, slumped lifeless in its case, waiting for the puppet master to give her what she needed to move and come to life.
When Dexter reached for her hand, taking her palm in his, Natalie’s heart thumped to a new beat. In his eyes was the mirrored anticipation that she felt coursing through her circulation.
Nat’s fingers clung to his as she waited to learn the direction that he’d pull her strings.
Chapter 18
People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously.
This is how character is built. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt
; “Tilt your head back.”
Natalie did as Dexter said, supporting herself with her arms as warm, clear water flowed over her hair. Coconut permeated the air, surrounding them in the scent of sunshine as Dexter retrieved another pan of water from the sink.
She watched as he stood, turning his back toward her.
With his shirt off to keep it from getting wet, she watched the only part of his body she'd seen without clothes: his wide chest, toned back, thick muscular arms, and defined torso. She'd been nude ever since she arrived, and yet she'd never seen more of him than what she could see now. The disparity suddenly filled her thoughts.
She'd never seen any man naked. She'd seen pictures, but never of an erection. She'd felt his against her, through his jeans. Natalie knew how hard Dexter could become when he rubbed himself over her, but through the rough denim, she couldn't gauge anything else.
It had been over two weeks since she'd asked him to let her come. By the time it happened, she'd done more than ask. Her body and words begged for relief.
At first, he'd used his mouth. She would say it was his tongue, but as the memories tightened her core, she knew it was more. With her positioned over his face, he described his view. If he'd meant to embarrass her, it hadn't worked. Instead, his words turned her on, primed and ready for what would come next.
But she wasn't ready.
What Dexter did with his mouth lifted her higher than anything she'd ever done to herself. Sucking and nipping, he'd worked her into a frenzy until she was no longer conscious of her actions. Holding the headboard, she writhed as her hips rocked and breasts heaved. The tension within her built until she was sure something inside her would snap. She'd never been wound so tightly. Just as she thought it would happen—that her orgasm was imminent—Dexter told her to stop, that they were done.
Stop? She could barely comprehend his command.
She didn't want to stop. Her body begged to disobey. She'd willingly take his punishment, if she could just have more of what his mouth could provide. The scene came back.
With her knees on either side of his face, she stared down into his eyes. His lips glistened with her essence as her pussy hovered inches from his chin.
“You heard me. Don't make me repeat it.”
If he repeated himself, she would be punished. But she wasn't thinking straight. “Please, Dexter. I-I'm so close.”
His shiny lips smiled as his eyes twinkled. “I know. I think you can wait a little longer.”
Her entire body trembled with need. “I can't.”
His large hands splayed over her hips as he lifted her off him and onto the bed.
“Did I...?” She didn't know how this worked. He'd been the one to direct her position. Maybe she was supposed to have done something else. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, bug.” He kissed her cheek, leaving her own scent on her skin. “You're perfect.”
“Then what happened?”
“It's time for your bath.”
Her bath? Now?
Submerged in the sweet scent of lavender, he offered her the relief she'd wanted. The price was her speech. She needed to tell him how it felt to ride his mouth, how his tongue, lips, and teeth had felt on her core. And how it made her feel when it ended without resolution.
Natalie's description was simplistic and honest. It felt good and when he stopped, she was heartbroken. She’d never wanted anything more.
“And now, do you still want to come?”
“Yes,” she answered too quickly without waiting for him to tell her the price. She knew she'd pay whatever he asked. “I'll do anything.”
His grin widened. “Anything is a big promise.”
Her breasts heaved in the warm water. It was the first sweet-smelling bath she'd had in a month. The water was even warmer as the silky salts coated her skin. “Anything,” she repeated.
Dexter took her hand and helped her stand. In the clawfoot tub, she was nearly his height, but not quite. Doing as he led, she stepped to the floor and stood with her hands on the side of the tub with her back toward him. Scented water slid from her skin, pooling near her feet.
Even the cool air didn't dampen the heat of his touch as his fingers roamed her body, tweaking her nipples and moving down to her need.
Natalie shifted as the pressure within her rekindled, stronger than before.
“Talk to me,” he commanded.
“Please, Dexter, touch me.”
His lips found her neck as his warm breath flittered over her wet skin. “Don't let go of the tub.”
She nodded. Words had become difficult to form. His kisses continued stoking the flames of the fire inside her. Through his jeans, his erection pressed against her behind. Over and over his lips roamed. No longer foreign, they left a trail of hot coals as she craved more of his touch.
When his nips became bites, her whimpers turned to moans until she screamed out, “Please...”
“Who do you belong to, Nat?”
He'd said her name. It was almost too much.
“You,” she panted. “I'm all yours.”
“Who's your king?”
“You, Dexter.”
“Who do you kneel for?”
“Only you.”
Her legs shook as his fingers found her folds. She gasped as one, and then two digits slid inside her. Just as she had with his mouth, she rode his hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the rhythm he established. Curling his fingers, he stoked the fire he'd started, fanning the flames hotter than before. It was as he found her clit that his deep voice confirmed her answer, guaranteeing her release.
“Mine, you’re my Natalie.”
The world spun as she cried out. Fireworks detonated as relief exploded through her system. The pleasure was so intense that it teetered on pain. Her fingers blanched as she rode out the orgasm, her skin covered in perspiration as she came harder than she ever had. Her swollen clit ached as her insides spasmed. Her legs quivered and face finally fell forward. And then his hands were gone. The sound of his zipper brought her back to reality.
Her breath caught in her chest. Now that she'd come, the idea of him being inside her was terrifying. Yet she'd promised anything.
“Dexter?”
Her hands trembled on the edge of the tub.
“Don't turn around.”
She closed her eyes, accepting the inevitable. He'd given her what she wanted; now it was time to pay. What was about to happen was the value written on the price tag she’d been too anxious to read.
As she braced herself for his cock, the bathroom filled with Dexter's baritone moans echoing off the stark furnishings. They rumbled through her as his breathing hastened. Yet he wasn't inside her.
Natalie longed to turn around, to see what she only heard. Her mind filled with the erotic image of him pumping his erection. She was certain that was what she heard, and then a deep roar vibrated off the walls as warm liquid splashed over her ass and back. It continued as the warmth dripped down her legs.
Nearly two months ago, Natalie had tensed at his touch. Now his cum coated her skin and all she could do was imagine what it would be like to have seen his hard cock. And then the sound of his zipper signaled the end of his pleasure.
“Give me your hand.”
He hadn't told her to turn around, so she didn't. She lifted her right hand as he directed her back into the tub.
“One more time,” Dexter said, telling Natalie to lean her head back as he again poured warm water. The memories of that day made her nipples bead as she concentrated on the muscles in his arms, the way they flexed as he rinsed the conditioner from her hair.
In her old life, she had her hair trimmed every six weeks. It was overdue, but Dexter liked the way it flowed over her shoulders. Sometimes he'd even braid it. The first time he'd done it, she found the attention intimate. Now when he did it, as with the placing of only one chair, the action frightened and shockingly excited her. It signaled the beginning of a particularly taxing Dexter-
time, one that would leave her skin moist with perspiration and possibly bruised.
Today's Dexter-time had been a braid day. After he'd secured the end, he directed her to the bed. Like a lamb off to slaughter, she willingly obeyed. Whatever he had planned wouldn't be as bad as it could be if she fought. She'd learned that lesson early in their relationship.
It was funny that in her thoughts she described what they had that way—a relationship. That reasoning helped her cope with the reality.
Once her hands were bound above her head, he removed clamps from his pocket and showed them to her. Lying in the palm of his hand, the shiny silver contraptions looked innocent enough, but she knew the truth.
“Nipples or clit?” he asked.
Her pulse increased. She'd never had a clamp on her clit. What would that feel like? How badly would it hurt when he placed it, and worse, when he removed it?
Dexter's head shook. “You had a choice.”
“Nipples,” she answered.
He kissed her nose. “You hesitated. You were overthinking. Tell me what you were thinking.” As he spoke he tweaked her nipples, twisting and teasing as they morphed to hard points.
“I was thinking...” It was hard to concentrate on her words as he worked her body, kissing and sucking. “...about what you said...about the blood coming back.”
“How painful it can be?”
“Yes. I don't want...I don’t want...” Her eyes fluttered as her breasts became heavy with need. “...you to use the clamps anywhere.”
“But I do, bug.” He hadn't used her name since that one afternoon. “And it's all about pleasing me. You know that I enjoy your pain as much as your pleasure.”
She tugged again on her wrist restraints. It wasn't like she thought she had a choice.
He continued to tantalize her skin, elongating her nipples. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin as he continued to talk. “Tell me again, do you not want to please me?”
Natalie swam in his voice. “I do.”
“You said you didn’t want me to use the clamps. I want to watch as they pinch your skin. Do you not want that?”