GentleRein
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Joined: 12/7/2014
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(The story follows. Skip to ~~~ if you want to avoid my little rant.)
Okay. Maybe 'inspired' is the wrong word. I'm afraid of what may happen after 50 Shades is released. I have this vision of couples who have never read anything other than 50 Shades going to see the movie, heading home, having a few drinks and getting out the rope. There will likely be some tragic things happen.
The lifestyle is not to be entered into lightly, and 50 Shades shows mostly a darker side of it. BDSM encompasses everything from role playing of a very innocent nature to Sadistic and Masochistic events including cutting and branding. To say it's diverse is truly an understatement.
Moved by the show, there will likely be some people who make some very poor decisions. Of course, it will be lifestyle people who will be held accountable. It won't be the commercial venture that puts the movie forward, and the public will not be presented with the idea that the lifestyle is consentual, and ardently so.
My tendencies are presented in the story that follows.
I'm currently looking for a sub who is in the same situation as me - interested in protecting what she already has, but has the need for a firm hand that will take her past the vanilla situation she has suddenly found herself in.
I hope you all enjoy the story.
~~~
Ardent ran his fingers through his short-cropped grey hair and watched the theatre from the restaurant across the street. It was the opening night for 50 Shades. He raised his strong black coffee to his lips and savoured the flavour as it lingered - the harsh black brew enlivening his mind while he waited.
This was his fifth cup. They'd made the pot using the 160 grams of the coffee he'd brought mixed with 2 grams of salt, a pinch of cinnamon, and a teaspoon of washed, crushed eggshell. The waiter at first had refused, until Ardent gave him a twenty dollar bill. The water wasn't to boil. It had been brought to 95 degrees Celsius and poured through the filter by hand. It was perfect.
As the music from the bar pounded next door, Ardent checked his watch. It should be letting out any time now, he thought. Thirty seconds later the doors swung open across the street and the crowd poured from the building. She appeared like an apparition in the night, suddenly, in the glare of the old fashioned marquee. She was a pretty brunette with a pixie cut, grey great coat, a little too much jewelry around her neck, and too much rouge on her lips. He guessed her to be in her early 40s.
She was only a little over five feet tall, but her coat showed her voluptuous figure. She crossed the street toward the bar. He noted how she had looked behind herself to see if anyone was following her. She turned back quickly when she saw the stranger with dark hair piled on his head, heavy sideburns, and bling that belonged in the 70s. He'd been glancing at her as she sat alone in the theatre. Her lips pulled tight. Excitement was in her eyes. Elvis followed her.
Ardent picked up his coat and sauntered quietly through the doors that led from the restaurant into the bar. A blast of noise escaped as he walked through and took a step to his left to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the dim light. He bumped into a man in his mid-twenties who had at least 50 pounds on Ardent, and none of it was fat.
The man turned abruptly and snarled at Ardent. "Watch your fuckin' step, granddad."
Ardent looked up into the young man's face. "I think you better take a seat, son. Take it before something goes wrong."
He knew how people saw him when he was on the hunt. His friends spoke of darkness and a sense of danger when he was in this mood. The young man swallowed and blanched, nodded, and ushered his friends to a table.
Ardent spotted his quarry sitting at the bar. The black and red crush wallpaper lent a surreal air to the spectacle. The woman was talking to Elvis. At least the guy had the balls to approach quickly.
Ardent pushed his way through the crowd, pushing through when people stood their ground, and receiving a 'sorry' when they saw the look of him. A lean man close to six feet tall in his 50s, he moved like a cat and had the demeanor of a hungry wolf. His short cropped grey hair would have made people think he was a military man if it hadn't been for the short cropped beard and moustache.
He took a seat beside the woman on the opposite side of her would be suitor. He nodded at the bartender when he had his attention and asked for a club soda. The woman and the man with her ordered a rye and seven and a gin and tonic.
They were served, and Ardent leaned over just as the couple were raising their glasses and said, "He's not the one."
"Excuse me?" said the woman. Her jaw was slack and her succulent mouth was turned down at the corners indicating she resented the interruption.
"Get lost, buddy," said Elvis.
Ardent, took the gin and tonic from the woman's hand and set it on the bar. "You won't be needing this. You want to be completely lucid for this experience. He's not the one, gorgeous. He's a pretender."
Elvis left his stool and came around quickly. He reached for Ardent's throat, but Ardent caught the man's arm and twisted, slamming him hard against the bar. He pulled 20 feet of yellow poly rope not more than four millimetres thick out of the man's coat pocket.
"This shit would burn a woman," he growled at the man. He untangled part of the rope and pulled it quickly across Elvis' flesh. He howled in pain. Ardent showed the woman the rope burn. "This idiot would have tied you up all right. He likely would have cut off your circulation and done some permanent nerve damage."
Ardent released the man. Elvis spun on his heals with hate in his eyes. Ardent laughed.
"Trust me, Elvis. You do not want to try it."
The man blinked. It was clear by the way he looked between Ardent and the woman that he didn't know what to do.
"Come on, babe. Let's go."
The brunette's eyes narrowed. She ran her eyes over Ardent's body. Her lips pursed and she nodded. "I'm not going anywhere with you... Elvis."
Ardent cocked his head toward the door. The man hesitated and then beat a hasty retreat.
Ardent slapped the bar several times to be heard over the noise and handed the bartender a twenty. "Can you have a pitcher of ice water brought to our table?"
The bartender nodded.
Ardent took the woman's arm and brusquely moved her to a table in the middle of the room. The music was pounding. It wasn't his kind of place. He preferred solitude and quite - a place where the darkness could be quelled through focused control rather than stirred. Still, this was the modern hunting grounds.
"I'm Ardent," he said as he seated her.
"I'll say."
He laughed. Things were in hand. It was time to switch from the stalking wolf to the cat, playing with its cornered toy. "My name. My name is Ardent."
"Oh. Whiskey."
He shook his head. "No drinking. I already told you."
Her eyes sparkled. "My name. My name is Whiskey. Mom and Dad were hippies."
"I like it." He put his arm around her back and sniffed her hair before taking his seat. "Heady. Just like the real intoxicant."
She blushed. "So, how do you know him?"
The noise was getting to Ardent. The waitress poured them each a water and left the pitcher.
"Oh, I don't know him, but the real can always spot the fake. They always try to look the part. They try too hard."
"And you're the real? The quiet, unassuming looking gentleman with the grey hair?"
He smiled. "Quiet and unassuming? I've never been called that before. Reach into my coat pocket."
Whiskey reached into the pocket of his coat which was hanging on the back of his chair and pulled out a short length of rope that came out in a series of loose loops. It looked shorter than what Elvis had, but it was thicker. She pushed it back quickly and looked around nervously.
"It's awfully rough."
"It's made from hemp, Whiskey. It's rough, but it holds well and it won't hurt you if it's tied by someone who knows what they're doing. Besides, a little rough never hurt anyone."
She rolled her eyes and smiled. "So you know what you're doing?"
Ardent cocked his head and looked into her fawn brown eyes. He nodded.
"Okay, so you know what you're doing. So you had this planned? You sat somewhere and watched in order to save a damsel in distress? A distress that she was unaware of?"
"You're a smart little thing, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe you should answer the question. You're some kind of stalker?" She took a sip of her water but cocked her head in a way that suggested she was being both coy and serious.
"So what you're asking is, am I noble or a dangerous man?"
Whiskey nodded.
"I am noble, and I'm a dangerous man, but I'm not dangerous to you. Elvis had rope. Wasn't he planning something? If I hadn't shown up, you may have gone home with him and been badly hurt? Besides, you saw him and wiggled your ass just a little harder as you were crossing the street. Are you telling me you weren't planning something?"
"Were you in the theatre?"
"Hell, no. I wouldn't ... I wasn't in there. I was watching from the restaurant."
She laughed. "You are a stalker, but you didn't even know who you would be stalking?"
He shrugged. "You were just lucky I guess."
She leaned forward and took his hands in hers and studied them. Strong. Calloused.
"Are you good with these?"
He brushed her hair behind her ear and allowed his fingers to graze her neck and jawline as he withdrew. "I'm good with a lot of things."
"Such as?"
He leaned forward and she turned sideways, presenting her ear. He spoke just loud enough to be heard by her.
"My lips and tongue hold untold pleasures. I can strip you bare and play you like a musical instrument. I can discipline you and make you feel as if you're being cared for as a kitten is cared for. And I can bind you so that you can't move, and for the first time, you'll know what it is to be truly free."
He gripped her earlobe gently with his teeth and sucked it softly into his mouth, wrapped his arm around her waist inside her coat, and gently caressed her hip.
"Fuck," she gasped. "I don't think you brought enough rope."
Ardent pulled back and feigned shock. "You want to do it here?"
Whiskey laughed. "I guess not."
"My vehicle is outside. How about taking a little ride with me?"
She bit her lower lip. "Is it okay.... Can I take your picture?"
There it was. She'd made the decision. He nodded.
Whiskey raised her cell phone, took his picture, tapped on the phone's keyboard, and smiled. "Thank you, Ardent."
"Sure. Come on. Let's get out here."
~~~
Whiskey pulled her collar up tight against the wind when they stepped outside. He put his arm around her shoulders and directed her down the street.
"This is me," he said simply. The door to his old pickup creaked when he pulled it open. Whiskey hesitated. "It's my winter ride, okay? I get firewood with it and use it for hunting in the fall."
She pursed her lips, but nodded and got into the passenger seat. The outside of the truck was rusted and battered, but the inside of the truck looked like the day it was shipped from the factory.
"Do you do this a lot?" she asked, as he settled into the driver's seat.
Ardent considered the question. "I'm between submissives. I haven't had anyone... significant for a while."
"You had someone significant?" Whiskey's eyes narrowed.
He nodded. "Nineteen years."
"Nineteen... are you kidding me?"
Ardent shook his head and pursed his lips. His eyes looked suddenly sad.
"Did it end badly?" She was a little concerned now. She didn't know this man and she was in his vehicle.
"Yes. Cancer."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"You're awfully open."
"Truth and openness - that's freedom too."
Whiskey sat quietly while they traveled. A protector. A hard man. A noble man. An honest man. No. No, this was too much to hope. It couldn't be this simple, could it?
"Ardent. What are we going to do?"
"What are you curious about?"
Whiskey felt the heat rise in her face. He was concentrating on driving. He didn't see her blush. If she went through with this, he'd see the blush soon enough.
With Elvis, it had seemed as if she had some control over the situation. With this man, there was something natural about his hardness. Something she knew she couldn't tame. Yet, somehow, she felt she could trust him, but she had to be safe. She would follow the rules. Her friend had insisted.
"I don't want to be beaten. I don't want deep bruises or a lot of pain, but I am curious about discipline."
Ardent nodded. She was so like Deborah had been when he'd first met her. Deborah had said almost exactly the same things. It hadn't taken her long before she had discover that she needed more discipline than she had thought would be necessary.
Ardent would never have classified Deborah as a masochist, and he was not a sadist. He simply felt that discipline was necessary to establish trust, to correct an errant sub, and to clarify expectations.
"What else?"
"I'm fascinated by the idea of being restrained."
"All right." Ardent wheeled the truck to the curb and came to a stop. He pulled the rope out of his pocket. "Hold your hands out for me. Put your wrists together."
He laughed at the look on her face. "Whiskey. You're curious. I never do anything without a new submissive's consent. If she's not new, we take some time working on a series of questions to establish your hard and soft limits. Then, I am diligent about staying within the bounds of your hard limits, unless you ask to explore them. We use safewords. That's your safety. I would never abuse your trust. A Dom who abuses that trust isn't a Dom; he's an abuser. Isn't it safer to have your hands bound here than for the first time inside my house? Besides, I'd have to untie you to get your coat off."
She knew as well as he did that he wouldn't need to remove her coat if he wanted to take her right there and then - push her into the corner of the cab, lift her dress, rip off her panties. Her words were a breathless, "All right."
She held out her hands. He formed a larks head and triple wrapped the wrists. He divided the rope, passed one strand behind, one in front, then wrapped each completely under and back up and formed a reef knot. He tightened it just enough that she couldn't escape. Tight enough so she could see there was no restriction to circulation. He pulled away from the curb as she tested the rope.
"What else?"
The little kernel of fear abated a little each time he did what he said and ensured her safety. She managed to unfasten her seatbelt. She slid next to him on the bench seat.
"Ardent? Do you promise you'll care for my safety and stop if I need you to?"
"I've already promised that, miss."
"I want you to take control. I want you to do with me what you will."
He took his eyes off the road just long enough to give her a kiss on the forehead. She suddenly seemed fragile to him. "I will."
~~~
They pulled into Ardent's driveway. The house wasn't large, but it was cozy and warm in appearance. The yard looked as well kept as the interior of his old truck. Ardent untied her wrists and pulled her from the cab through the driver's side. He stayed close to the door and gave her a tight squeeze and a tender kiss before leading her toward the house.
"Ardent? Is it okay if I take another photo of you?"
He laughed but crossed his arms. "Sure. Take the picture and send it to whoever you sent the last one to. The address is 1684 172nd street."
"You knew?"
"I'm not stupid. Neither are you. You're smart to be cautious. Tell your friend you'll be in touch with her in about 3 hours. Send her the photo - just like the last one. I would have preferred you'd been up front about it."
"I'm sorry. I..."
"Don't apologize. We're not in a relationship. If we decide this is something we want, if it goes beyond tonight and we become something more, then I will have certain expectations. But then you won't have a need to send my photo to your friend, either."
His eyes were not unkind, but Whiskey had the sense she had very nearly crossed a line. She nodded and took the photo. She was pleased that the theme of honesty kept popping up.
The house was warm and clean inside. The kitchen was beautiful and had a large, old, oak table with thick, spiraled legs supporting it. It had been well used, and it had obviously been refinished on occasion, but it appeared that no attempt had been made to hide the fact it had been marred in the past. It was a gorgeous piece of furniture.
Whiskey ran her hands over the tabletop and received a smile from Ardent.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it. It's functional, and beautiful, but the way you've left the marks on it, it's very masculine. Have you had it a long time?"
"Twenty two years."
"If I were you, I'd never sell it."
He was pleased with her reply. "Would you like a coffee?"
"At this time of day it would keep me up all night."
He let out a laugh that was more a huff than anything else. "You may be up all night as it is."
Her face broke into a twisted smile. "You can do all night?"
He stepped forward. His eyes bore down on her. He unbuttoned her coat and pushed it off her shoulders, folded it carefully, and placed it on a counter. She was wearing a soft blue wrap-around dress. He made no attempt to hide that he was assessing her body.
She was lean but very curvy as he had expected from her gait when she had crossed the street from the theatre. She had average sized breasts and a wonderful swell to her tummy and hips. He teased her with a brushing kiss to the lips. He smiled and pulled away when she tried to put a serious squeeze on him.
"So, no coffee. Hot chocolate?"
She tittered. "Are you telling me you're a Dom who serves hot chocolate?"
"Are you telling me that you're a submissive who is refusing the hospitality of her potential Dom?"
Whiskey shrank slightly from the comment. "Could I have a water please? Should I be calling you Sir?"
Ardent was satisfied with the reply he had been given. He poured himself a coffee, a water for Whiskey from the refrigerator, and a small amount of some other liquid into a tiny bowl.
"No. You don't need to call me Sir at this point. If for some reason you get the impression that you would like to call me Sir, I would have no objection. It would signify your interest in me for the position of your Dominant, but it doesn't mean I would instantly accept you."
Whisky nodded somberly.
Ardent never expected that title from a new sub for weeks. It was a relationship that normally took time to build. The only time it had been recognized quickly was when he'd met Brenda, and that had been recognized by both of them. Yet, Whiskey - she was so like Brenda in so many ways.
Ardent placed his coffee, her water, and the other little bowl on the corner of the table. Whiskey pulled back a chair for herself and moved to sit.
"What are you doing, Whiskey?"
"I'm going to sit down if that's okay?"
He shook his head softly. He left her standing there with a shocked look on her face and went into the living room and retrieved a wide cushion from his sofa. He placed it on the floor in the kitchen, turned a chair to face it and sat down.
"Kneel here for me, Whiskey."
She bit her lower lip. Her eyes searched his.
"Are you here, Whiskey, or do you need a ride somewhere?"
Her eyes failed to meet his after that question. She hesitated and then knelt on the cushion. He knew her likely concern. Straight to a blowjob?
"Let's talk." He assessed her again. "Back straight please, miss. It conveys pride in your position. Put your hands on your legs."
Whiskey straightened. Her breasts thrust forward.
"That's better. You seem a bit nervous. There's really no reason for us to leave the kitchen tonight."
Her eyes met his. "But, I want..."
"It doesn't really matter what you want. Well, it does and it doesn't. You see when you placed yourself in my hands you trusted me. I will not have you directing me. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Her head hung slightly and she shook it. What was going on? She felt completely out of her depth.
"You are unsure. You won't be soon. I promise I will not move more quickly than you are able to bear it. You seem a wonderful girl. Trust me?"
She nodded. She found herself oddly determined to do whatever he asked. After all, if she didn't, that would be saying he was wrong about how quickly to proceed. She needed him to know. She needed him to envelop her in his will and take her to places she had only imagined. Surely a man this experienced couldn't be wrong, could he?
"Let's give you a sip of water."
Whisky reached for the glass.
"Hands on your knees, miss." She felt like a child in this man's presence. She felt she could leave everything to him - give everything to him - trust, like a child.
Whiskey liked the soft smile on his lips. She felt the sudden urge to kiss him but knew that it may be frowned upon for her to be so forward. Kissing him would require her to come out of this pose to reach him, and that, clearly, would not be appreciated. Ardent took the glass and held it to her lips. He tipped it; her lips parted. He tipped it too fast and she giggled. The water ran down the front of her, between her breasts, wetting the dress. He poured until the glass was empty. He shook his head.
"Such a messy girl. Why don't you stand up and remove the dress."
The smirk on his face made her heart race. No man had ever been this particular about how she was to behave or what she was allowed to do, and this was barely the beginning. Ardent leaned back in his chair and watched. She untied the belt and, reticently, parted the front of the dress. Her brassiere was a translucent, pale blue. Her nipples were erect, and her wide areolas were clearly visible through the material. Her panties were of the same material and revealed a thick patch of hair between her legs.
"You're lovely, Whiskey. Remove it completely please, and take off your stockings." She complied. "Back on the cushion, please."
She knelt once again. He tenderly took her jaw in his hand and turned her head, memorizing every line. She felt as though he were considering a purchase of something important to him - something he valued deeply. It was as if he were a connoisseur and she was a fine wine about to be sampled.
"You're a beautiful woman. You are worthy of your deepest desires - and I can help you discover them." He stood and moved behind her. "Spread your legs wider. Rise on your knees rather than resting on your haunches."
She did as she was told and felt his knees come to rest on the cushion behind her. The clasp on her bra was suddenly release, and Ardent pushed the straps off her shoulders. She felt her breasts drop slightly from the lack of support. His hands settled on her shoulders as she shivered from her excitement, and from the tender kiss he placed on the back of her neck.
His hands reached past her. He dipped his fingers into the mystery liquid. His head came to rest on her shoulder so he could see her beautiful, mature breasts. He gingerly spread the liquid on her nipples. She felt a mild burning sensation from the oil as his fingers caressed and squeezed her nipples. His fingers popped off at irregular intervals because of the hot, slick lubricant. Whiskey closed her eyes, leaned back against his hard body, and pressed her cheek against his. His facial stubble bit softly into her tender flesh.
"Whiskey, I know I said we didn't need to leave the kitchen tonight. I really shouldn't make promises I may not be able to keep, but I didn't know."
"Didn't know what?" she gasped. She could feel her pussy getting wet from his attention to her nipples.
Ardent stood and held out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her to his feet. He led her into a hallway and took the first door on the left. It was the washroom.
"Sit on the counter, Whiskey." She did as he asked.
Being before this man, almost completely naked while he was fully clothed, drove her sense of arousal higher. All she had on were the panties and her jewelry.
Ardent smiled at the erect nipples and knew they must be burning. He flicked them with his fingernails. Whiskey let out a soft, mewling cry. He moved his hands to her hips and tugged on the side of the panties; she lifted her hips and he slid them off.
"Spread your legs, Whiskey."
"Oh, fuck," she gasped. Ardent opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clippers.
"I can't see a thing for all the hair," he said softly. "I'm going to fix that."
He placed the shortest tines on the clippers and slowly moved them through her pubic hair until her stubble was about the same length as on his face. She had a nice swollen look to her. Her clit was already hard, and her inner, soft labia distended from the join of her. There was a bead of moisture seeping from between her lips.
"See?" he said, giving her a hand mirror. "That's beautiful."
She took the mirror, but placed it on the counter beside her. "I'll trust your opinion."
His face grew stern. "I'm sorry, miss. Did I just hand you a mirror?"
She would have blushed if she hadn't already been beat red. She placed the mirror where she could see between her legs and shrugged. Ardent twisted one of her nipples. She felt the shock from the tender nipple as a jolt of electricity racing to her clit.
"If you're asked a question, I expect an answer."
"Okay. I'm sorry."
"So you're not sure if you like the look of your pussy?"
"I'm not sure, no."
"I guess we'll have to make it more obvious then."
Ardent soaked a cloth in hot water and placed it over her. He pressed through the cloth with the palm of his hand, rubbing her mons in a circle. She shuddered. Her breasts shook enticingly. Ardent gave one nipple a quick lick with his tongue and received a moan in response to his attention.
"Well, at least that you like."
"Fuck, yes."
He ran his free hand softly over her hips and tummy, squeezed her breast, and raised his hand to her lips. He ran his thumb softly across her lips and she eagerly sucked it into her mouth. Another moan escaped her lips when he squeezed her pussy.
Ardent took his badger hair shaving brush and worked up a lather with a bar of soap. He formed a circle with his first finger and thumb and squeezed the suds out onto this hand, removed the cloth, and smeared the lather over her pussy. She moaned from his attention. He worked up more lather and, this time, used the brush to scrub in the lather.
"That feels so good, Ardent." Her head was lolling from side to side.
"Like that, do you? That's good. Now spread wide and don't move."
He searched through the lather to find her clit and inner labia and carefully shaved the stubble from her. Whiskey shuddered and moaned each time he repositioned his fingers to protect the tender lips or her clitoris. There was no hesitation from Ardent. His actions were smooth and sure. He'd done this before.
"Into the shower, Whiskey."
She moved a little too slowly and received a smack on the ass to motivate her. He turned on the shower and lifted the showerhead from its hook. He rinsed her carefully, and spread her wide to ensure the soap was out of her vagina, turned off the shower, and squeezed her pussy again. Whiskey felt herself shudder as he swept his fingers repeatedly through her folds and ran them around her entrance.
The room seemed to be fading from his touch. She had never been treated like this before. She like it. More a possession than a woman, though it was sure he respected who she was. He toweled her dry.
"Follow me." He led her back into the kitchen, pulled out the kitchen chair, sat down, and patted his leg. She sat on his knee.
He gave her a sharp smack on the ass. "Rule number one, Whiskey. That motion means over my knee."
She laid herself across his knees. Ardent dunked his fingers into the fiery liquid again and softly massaged her closest nipple. She let her head fall to glory in the sensation, but felt the first stroke as his hand stung her ass.
"So, what have we learned so far?"
"I don't..."
The next stroke broke the sentence. The nipple was burning under his touch.
"Think back, Whiskey. What have my instructions been so far?"
She received the next stroke, and suddenly she understood. "Answer questions when they are asked."
Another stroke. "Good. What else?"
"I don't..."
Another stoke. "Think. What did we just do?"
"Shave my pussy?" Her nipple and clit were both throbbing. Another stroke.
"Generally. I enjoy doing that sometimes though, but I'll tell you if I'd like to do it."
Another stroke. Her ass was stinging pretty good now, and her nipple was on fire. "What else."
"I don't..."
Another stroke.
"What about sitting?"
"I can't?"
Another stroke.
"With my consent or if we're in public. There's one other issue. Can you guess what it is?"
"I don't...."
Another stroke. His hand left her nipple and grabbed a fistful of hair.
"This. This needs to grow. No more pixie cuts if you want my attention. Do you understand?"
She smiled. She'd had it cut in the afternoon and hadn't liked it herself.
"I will. I'll grow it."
"Good. Up onto the table on your back."
She did as he had told her. He skidded her roughly to the edge of the table. The finish pinched and gripped her moist skin as he dragged her where he wanted her.
"A lot of Doms feel it's beneath them to eat pussy. I think that's rather like giving up ice cream because you became an adult."
He parted her with his tongue. Men had done this when she was younger and had less hair. She wondered if that had something to do with the recent dearth of attention there. His tongue slipped softly between her lips. He sucked her inner labia between her lips and sucked the juices from her. She gasped when he opened his mouth wide and sucked the entire area around her clitoris into his mouth. His hands squeezed her breasts while he sucked her clit, his tongue playing with clit while he maintained suction. He stood.
"You understand now why I want you shaved?"
"Yes. You could never suck on my flesh if the hair was there."
"Good. Undress me."
He stood quietly as her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. Her hands were shaking. She spread his shirt open and ran her fingers over his body. He was lean and tight. The man had a six pack in his 50s. She kissed his tummy, unfastened his belt, the button on his jeans, the fly, and tugged his jeans down. The mid-thigh Saxx hugged his body and revealed his partial erection.
"Fuck," she gasped. She rubbed her face against him through the shorts. His fingers tangled in her hair. He pulled her back and bent to kiss her. She could smell and taste herself on his lips.
"Finish."
She nodded and pulled off the shorts. He still had a grip on her hair. He smacked his cock against her lips. She opened her mouth and her tongue flicked at his erection, but he wanted to be sure she knew who was in control. Rather than allowing her to take it, he forced his cock into her mouth and held it there. A guttural moan escaped around his cock.
"The deeper the better, girl."
She felt herself giving up, giving in to the desires of this man who seemed to know her own desires better than she did. A sense of calm and quiet swept through her senses as her body took over and her mind was freed from all worry and concern. For the first time, she took a cock in her throat.
Ardent threw his head back and savoured the lips, the wet, and the flicking tongue. Her head bobbed fervently, engulfing and impaling the head of him in her throat. She opened her eyes to look at him. His face was a tight rictus of concentration.
She pushed free and sucked a testicle into her mouth. She stroked him with a free hand, until he pushed her back and forced his cock between her lips again. This time, it was less her actions that took him in. It was his thrusting and his capture of her head that that forced the impalement. He pushed her away.
" I don't want to come yet." He pulled rope out of a kitchen drawer, methodically tied each wrist, and nodded in satisfaction. He took his belt and fastened it around her waist. "Up on the table in all fours, Whiskey. Stay near this edge."
She climbed onto the table and stopped. Her breasts hung beneath her, and her ass was high in the air just below Ardent's head height. He took more liquid and played with her nipples again. They were still burning from the last application.
She knew she'd do anything the man asked of her. She needed it - whatever it was - whatever He wanted.
"Close your eyes." There was a silence for several seconds and then 'whap', her ass was struck with something that seemed soft, but also stung her. She kept her eyes closed as she'd been instructed. Another blow fell. The blows came now at a regular tempo.
She felt as if she should try to dodge, but she also wanted this experience, and she wanted to please him. She hadn't even known him an hour ago. Now she only wanted to fulfill his desires. She took refuge in the sense of submission, in her new sense of self, and even in the moderate pain. The blows ceased.
"Look in the mirror behind you, miss. Do you like how that looks?"
She looked behind herself. Ardent was standing with a short handled flogger made of what looked like some kind of softened leather. She smiled demurely at him and craned her head around. Her ass was a bright pink and her puffy pussy was dripping wet.
"Now. Do you like the colour of your ass, and is your pussy pretty?"
Her smile deepened. "Yes. It's beautiful."
"Good." He placed the flogger on the counter, wrapped one arm under her waist, and pushed two fingers into her. She felt herself starting to fade. It was as though she was disappearing and only the sensation existed. He rubbed inside her.
"Fuck. I can feel a nice little depression right behind your G-spot. That's wonderful. I'll really be able to find that easily whenever I want to."
Whiskey sobbed. How was it she had never known? How was it she had never been brought to this place before? It was as though she were being emptied of self, was set free from her existence, and then was enveloped by the will of this man; a man who could make her heart and her head and every bit of her float, dance, and disappear.
"Okay. Enough playing around," he said abruptly.
He picked her up and laid her gently on her side, rolled her onto her back, and pulled the table out slightly. More rope was produced. He tied lengths of rope to her cuffs and tossed them over the end of the table. He pulled her down so three inches of her ass was hanging off the edge of the table, then went to the top and tightened the lengths of rope.
Whiskey began to cry - the tears rolled freely onto the table top. He returned to her and saw the tears. Deep concern etched his face.
"Are you okay, miss?"
"Oh, fuck, Ardent. I've never wanted anything so much in my life. Please. Whatever you want."
"Do you remember your safe words, miss."
"Yes, Sir. Red to stop, yellow to slow down. Please, Sir. Please continue."
Ardent hardly noticed the word 'Sir', but this was her. He knew it now. This was who he had been hoping for.
He reached in the drawer, withdrew a blindfold, and placed it securely over her eyes. The next thing he withdrew she didn't see, but when the clamps were placed, she gasped from the sensation and let out a series of sounds that were crossed between a laugh and a moan.
He liked these ones. The feathers fluttered and tickled while the jaws pinched. The screw adjustor was set light, so he knew there was little in the way of blood restriction, though there would be some.
He spit on his hand and stroked his cock to lubricate it. Only the first stroke would need his saliva. From that moment on, her juices would provide for them.
He lifted her calves to his shoulders and smacked her hairless pussy with his cock. She was still crying.
"Are you sure you're okay, miss?"
"Yes, Sir." She loved that he had asked again.
He gripped the belt around her hips and drove ruthlessly into her and held. Her body lurched and shuddered.
"Oh, fuck, yes!"
Ardent smiled. Her chest and belly were rising and falling with each excited breath. He pulled out most of the way, the head of him only barely remaining in her and then he'd slam back in. The feathers fluttered around the clamps with each thrust - her breasts shuddering from each impact. He took his time.
"So how do you like it best, miss. Do you like it when I pop my head in and out of your pussy and keep it shallow, like this?"
Whiskey groaned.
"Or do you like it when I fuck you hard with longs strokes."
He gave her a series of quick, deep thrusts.
"Oh, fuck, please!"
"Mmm, your hole is enjoying this is it? You're not going to come, are you, miss?"
"Sir, may I come, Sir?"
"No miss." He placed a hand on her abdomen. "Calm down."
Fuck! It was then he realized he had to calm down as well. Her pussy was clutching at him like a mouth trying to make him come. He closed his eyes and rolled his head and forced himself to relax. A minute later they were both breathing more evenly. Ardent stroked slowly, full length, into the woman lying helpless before him. He could see the tension in her arms as she pulled against her restraints.
Her mouth opened and closed with each stroke. He found himself losing focus and thrusting more fervently until Whiskey was giving out a short, gasping grunt with each stroke. She howled softly. He'd known that sound before as well and he lost all restraint. He pounded into the woman, and just as the leading edge of her orgasm hit, he pulled the clamps free of her nipples.
Whiskey screamed as her orgasm overwhelmed her and the clamps came free. The blood rushed back into her nipples. His hand was suddenly on her throat restricting her breathing. She found that pulling against the restraints actually heightened every sensation, the pleasure from her pussy, the pain from her nipples, and the pull of the man's hands against the belt. Her pussy clenched repeatedly while Ardent rammed into her, and then she felt the gush of heat as he growled in lust and satisfaction. Whiskey drifted away on a cloud.
Ardent lay on top of her relishing the experience he'd just had and then reached up and loosed her cuffs. Whiskey wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. He stood and swept her into his arms as they settle into a chair together.
"Are you okay, miss? We should really get some lotion on your cute little bottom."
"In a minute, Sir. Just hold me, please. It still stings so nicely, and my nipples are numb and warm now."
He sucked a nipple into his mouth eliciting a groan.
"So, you don't think you made a mistake leaving Elvis at the bar?"
"No, Sir. I'll never regret that choice."
He kissed her softly. "Now. Would you like that hot chocolate?"
Whiskey blushed. "It's funny you should ask, Sir. I was thinking maybe we could have some coffee?"
< Message edited by GentleRein -- 2/12/2015 2:04:09 PM >
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50 Shades of Grey inspired Valentine's Day - 
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