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The Lines Between
By RopeBinder
She wasn't a masochist, at least not in the true sense of the word. Yet, she begged him to pinch her nipples harder. Why? To turn him on? She used to think that, but this was different. This feeling came from a deeper place.
"Jeffrey, please, pinch them harder."
The urgency. The desperation. Even he was amazed. He watched her. He watched her chest heave up and down. He watched her panicked breathing. With every calculation he made to get her to this point, he never expected this response. He squeezed her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. His hands shook with the effort. She gasped, but thrust her hips toward him.
He pulled his swollen cock from her. She was so confused. As much as she loved his cock inside her, she knew where he was going. She couldn't decide whether excitement or dread was the appropriate response. He crawled down her body, kissing her sore nipples, and then biting them until her panting turned to protest. He let up, but only for a moment, before he sucked and chewed again. He grabbed the tiniest bit of flesh between his fingernails and slowly pressed. He opened and closed his fingers, alternating between pinching her nipples and picking at their edges. She gasped each time. The pain sent shock waves between her nipples and brain, with an odd link tunneling straight to her clit. Her clit throbbed. He had been teasing her for almost two hours. Her clit felt hard and huge.
He tired of playing with her nipples and crawled further down her stretched and bound body kissing her chest and stomach along the way. When his face lie inches from her sex, he paused. From his vantage point, he gazed between her legs. Her skin was smooth and pink. Her bareness hid nothing. She was slick with desire. Her lips looked puffier than usual, and he wondered if it was his imagination. Her scent was a tractor beam, drawing his lips closer and closer to the tiny spot that he knew would drive her crazy. He drew a line from the bottom crease of her lips upward, until he caught her hood with the tip of his tongue. He flicked it, and she drew her breath. They knew what was coming. He had brought her to the edge a dozen times over the last hour. This time would be no different, except for the increased level of her desperation and greater sincerity of her begging.
He licked again. Her clit was hard, so hard that it pushed her hood into the shape of a tiny oval bowl. Her hood protected her from the top, and her lips squeezed together to protect her from the bottom. The flaw, or the beauty, depending on perspective, was that both could be peeled back leaving her vulnerable to his attack. He licked without urgency. She had taught him this. She couldn't decide whether to praise or curse herself at this moment. He licked her again, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue along the inner edges of her hood.
"Jeffrey, please more."
She was getting to that place again. He could tell. Hell, anyone could tell had they been in the room. He wrapped his lips gently around her clit and sucked slowly and carefully. She might blow at any moment. Not yet. He wasn't done teasing her, not until the lines between teasing and torture converged. Her words were becoming inaudible. Moans and cries, really. He loved this. She lost herself in this place that only he could lead her to and from. It was the most delicious and exquisite torture in the world. He released her clit and blew a light stream of air where his tongue had been.
"Jeffrey, pleeeeaaaase touch me. Pleeeaaaase!"
"I am touching you, baby."
"Please don't stop. Touch me!"
"Baby, calm yourself. You know I have no intention of stopping. I won't stop until Saturday."
Saturday, two more days. He didn't know if he could do it, but he wouldn't tell her that. It was nearly impossible to keep her so close to the edge without her cascading over, but somehow he did. He sucked her clit again, and she wailed. This was his favorite part, when love and sadism played in concert. He timed his strokes, carefully keeping her on the edge. He felt her heat. Her sex quivered. Despite his compassion for her, there would be no mercy, no safe words, just his desire, as he played her finely tuned body.
Her composure left her. It was amazing to her how easily he took her to this place. He knew exactly how to touch her. He knew precisely what to whisper in her ear. He owned her in this way. Call it possession, if you like, but he looked at it as inevitability. He told her this would happen, when they first met, but neither of them knew what he meant. Looking back, how could they? Yet, here they were. With her wrists and ankles encased in leather cuffs and pulled to the corners of the bed, her eyes blanketed with a red leather blindfold and her body oozing with sweat, she bucked her hips toward his mouth. He sucked one more time and lingered before pulling away.
"Jeffrey, no, please touch me. I can't stand it!"
He loved the terror she felt each time he broke contact with her clit. She never knew if it would be the final touch of the evening, and he loved instilling that fear. Honestly, she loved it too. There was nothing more exciting and possessing than for him to keep her this way. He crawled up her body and easily slipped his cock inside her.
"Jeffrey, please don't stop touching me!"
He said nothing.
He slowly worked his cock in and out. She thought better of complaining. How could she? He was fucking her, and her pussy felt like it was on fire. She lifted her hips as best she could. He loved when she fucked this way. Animalistic. Urgent. Freeing. He felt the explosion welling deep inside. If she kept fucking him like this, he would surely lose it.
"Baby, you know if I cum, we're done until tomorrow," he teased.
"No, please don't. Don't stop touching me. Jeffrey, please."
"I know. I'll try. But you want me to cum, don't you? Why would you deprive me?"
He slid faster, his dominance subtle. How could she deny him? Why would she? Yet, both knew that there was nothing she could do. This game was his to play. It ended when he decided. His body coiled and released. Their fucking had a piston feeling.
"Coax it from me, Annie. Pull the cum from my body."
Damn him. He always knew what to say. She was so confused. She didn't want this to end, but she knew it had to sometime. She couldn't stand it a moment longer.
"Cum for me, baby. I love you. Cum for me," she pleaded.
It sounded like begging. Imagine that. She was begging him to finish, so that she could spend the rest of the night in quiet torment. Her pussy grabbed his cock. It was the most seductive feeling in the world, like tiny fingers grasping his shaft imploring him to give up. He ripped off her blindfold. He wanted to see her eyes. He wanted her to look at him. He grabbed her sore nipples and clenched. She no longer screamed at the pain. She was past that. She had a wild look in her eyes.
"Pinch them harder," she growled.
He did, harder and harder. The moment was no longer tender. He gripped her nipples furiously. She clung to the lifeline of his cock. With neither arms nor legs to secure her, she held him tightly with her damp and warm sex. The desperation of her predicament pervaded, and she felt him spasm. His eyes rolled back and, with a groan, he released his tension deep inside her. He came for moments, then collapsed on top of her and held her close. She wished she could reciprocate and hugged him without appendages.
She felt his relief. Desperation left her momentarily. They kissed warm thank you's and closed their eyes. She felt the peacefulness of evening drift over her. Her lopsided breathing subsided. Her nipples were swollen, but the pain was gone. Her clit calmed for a moment, but as she reminisced, the throbbing returned. It wasn't the desperate throbbing that she felt when his tongue was down there. It was a light, constant reminder of what he did to her, of what he could do to her any time. This was their life. This was how they played. She never imagined that anyone could do this to her…for her. She smiled. She was relaxed and tense at the same time. She felt peaceful. She needed something. She needed release. She needed to climax. Yet, she knew she wouldn't, not until Saturday. She loved this feeling. It defined a secret part of her. She felt his embrace and knew its meaning. She wanted nothing more. Her journey was over and just beginning.
Damn him. Damn she loved her life with him. Damn him.
Copyright © 2000 by RopeBinder. All rights reserved.
Do not reprint or post without permission.
The RopeBinder Library is at http://ropebinder.tripod.com
(A collection of bdsm erotica)
The RopeBinder Portfolio is at http://www.bdsmlife.net/dsworld/writers/rope.html
(An e-magazine dedicated to dominance and submission)
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