BDSM Erotica
"Be A Door," a sex story by Madeline Moore
“Be a door,” says Benjamin.
He’s just finished securing me to the door with an inventive arrangement of exercise elastic, handcuffs and knots, when his phone rings. We’re in his office, a space in a warehouse that he rents, so he’s obliged to answer the phone even when I’m visiting.
I don’t pout. He likes it when I make a little moue but only in play. He doesn’t want a brat; he wants a good girl. That’s what I am, most of the time. You know, when I’m not being a door.
The real door is closed. My hands are cuffed and stretched above my head, secured by a knot in the elastic. My arms are taut. It doesn’t take very long before they start to burn. My feet are wide apart, not held that way by anything more than his desire that they be so. That’s enough to make me stick the position, even though I’m in stilettos that make my calves burn.
Exhausted by China Hamilton available at ObsessionArt.com
Benjamin taps at his computer while he talks on the phone. He’s not looking at me. I need him to look at me: my painted face, my breasts spilling over the top of a tightly laced crimson and black corset, black stockings with their lacy tops secured by garters, the pale skin at the top of my thighs, my feathery blonde bush – no panties. Without his admiration I’m in danger of feeling foolish and from there to worry is a short, easy leap.
“This is complicated,” he says into the phone. He spins his chair away from the computer, toward me. His dark eyes, beneath fierce brows, drink in the sight of me. He nods his approval. “Let me get back to you.” He hangs up.
It’s as if I really am suspended; his admiration elevates me. I preen a little, tilting my head a fraction, keeping the rest of my body immobile.
Benjamin remains in his chair, eyeing me. I feel his gaze, like butterfly kisses, flitting across my lips, down my neck, linger on my breasts, caress my thighs, pause between my legs where my clit begins to ache. My thoughts and worries tumble like minnows caught in a wild current, a rushing stream that leaves a calm, white pool of nothingness in its wake. But my body burns.
Benjamin’s on the move. In a moment he’s standing in front of me, close enough for me to be able to touch him if my hands weren’t bound above my head. That half-smile he gets when he’s turned on plays across his lips. His dark eyes are darker with lust. “You remember your safe word?”
I nod. This means there’s going to be pain. My knees go weak. The cuffs bite into my wrists. Ouch. I hastily straighten my trembling legs to ease the pressure on my hands. I give him a pleading look. I’m afraid of pain, even though that’s why I’m here. My desires don’t make any sense, which is why it’s best that my mind stays empty when I’m with him.
“You’re drooling,” he says. He reaches between my spread thighs and when he lifts his hand there are silvery strings of wet between his fingers. “Such a slut.” He sighs contentedly and rubs the evidence of my arousal on his lips. He holds his fingers to my lips. “Taste,” he says.
I do, though it makes me blush. His depravity continues to surprise me, though I should be used to it by now. We’ve been meeting like this once a week for three months, but I really don’t know him very well. He takes scening very seriously and so do I. It’s the best way to get past the superficial silliness of it to the erotic charge that lurks beneath. So I’ve never even heard him laugh.
But I know what turns him on. I know every inch of his body and he knows every inch of mine. The first time we met he examined me like a piece of merchandise or a thoroughbred animal he might consider purchasing. It made me weak with desire. My stammering and blushing and wet-eyed confessions of my need for a powerful hand and a soft voice made him strong with desire. We’re a perfect match that way.
He moves so suddenly I gasp even before he crushes my left breast in his fist. His forearm is firm across my chest, pushing me back against the door. His other hand slides down the front of the corset, over my tummy, to my pussy to grip my pubic bone, a couple of his fingers inside me, the base of his thumb flattening my clit. I gasp again.
I’ve got you now,” he says. “I can do anything I want to you.”
I know what he wants; he wants to fist me. We’ve tried, twice, and both times I’ve had to use my safe word. Last time he said he wouldn’t do it again until I asked him to, begged him to, and I haven’t. Has he forgotten?
It seems so; another finger slides inside me. I’m terrified, stuffed full with fingers, but when he slides them out and back in again we both hear the sucking noise my greedy snatch makes.
Benjamin presses up against me and whispers in my ear. “You want it so badly, my pet.” He nibbles down my neck to the breast he’s crushing in his hand and sinks his teeth into my swollen nipple. He shakes his head like a dog with a chew toy in its jowls.
Christ! I’m on the verge of crying out for mercy when I’m hit by a rush of pleasure as wild and uplifting as a cresting wave. I’m swept away. The garbled noise that escapes me is as much “Yes” as “No” and “Stop” as “Go” but he knows what it means. I’m there, in that special place.
“One of these days you’ll ask for it, my precious pain slut,” he murmurs as he moves his mouth from one breast to the other. He sinks his teeth into my other nipple and another unintelligible exclamation slips from between my lips.
Benjamin finger fucks me slow and hard but his thumb stays on my clit, alternately circling and squashing it. He knows exactly how to touch me to make me come. The sound of his voice, calm and commanding, makes me shake with a combination of fear and eagerness. His touch excites me. Is it any wonder that I’m close to coming after only a few minutes of expert finger-fucking? I want to take his whole hand inside me, I want a good hard beating, I want I want –
He steps back and I sag against the door. “I want to fuck you now,” he says. He takes a condom from his pocket and inserts the edge of the package in my mouth, as casually as one might slide a postcard into a mail slot. He drops his pants. The head of his cock proudly protrudes from the waistband of his jockeys.
I’m proud too, proud that it’s desire for me that makes his cock so stiff and so ready. I’m ready, too. I want what he wants – I want him to fuck me now.
I hold the edge of the package between my teeth so he can tear it open with one hand. Once the condom’s on he puts his hand to my lips and I spit the bit of wrapping into it. He tilts my chin up and kisses me softly. So soft, his mouth. So hard, the length of his cock pressed against me. So fierce, his gaze. So gentle, his hand on the tip of my chin.
Benjamin releases me. I’m trembling all over. His knees bend a bit, and straighten and then he’s inside me. Finally the hot, empty center of my need is full. The relief is so great my knees buckle but Benjamin’s got me. He lifts me up so I can wrap my legs around his hips and then lets me drop onto his cock.
It’s so good, so fucking good to be fucked like this, hard and fast while I’m helpless and held. He mouths my breasts, one and then the other, and nibbles my nipples, hard enough to leave tooth marks. They burn but that’s minor compared to the heat between my legs.
There’s nothing like pain to make you feel like you’re really and truly dying from lust. I can’t stand another bite but then I do, and another, each one pushing me closer to the point where I’ll either scream or come, or both at once.
Benjamin’s pumping into me, piercing right to my center with every thrust, and with every thrust I moan because each one makes my clit twinge and my pussy clench until these separate little twitches and clenches roll into one overwhelming orgasm that rips through me like a tear through silk.
The force of Benjamin’s orgasm slams me back against the door. I’m dimly aware that my tailbone hurts. My wrists hurt, too, now that I think of it, but I just keep cooing sweet nothings in his ear until he stops shuddering. He softens and slips out of me, leaving me empty once again.
I grip him tightly around his hips while he reaches up and unties the knot that keeps my cuffs attached to the elastic wound tight around the door. In another moment my hands are released and I’m free - not a door - not even a pain slut, not anymore.
We lie on the couch with our arms wrapped around each other until we both stop trembling. Soon it’ll be time for me to leave. The thought makes me sad.
“You’re killing me,” I tell him. Now is the time for a pretend pout. I pout. “Sex with you is killing me.”
“I think you’ll survive,” he says.
I stir as if to rise but he holds me fast in his arms.
“Know what?” He’s whispering in my ear.
“No, what?” I whisper back.
“I adore you,” he says.
We laugh at that, we laugh and laugh, like kids, or friends. Like lovers.
Copyright July 22, 2011
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.