Experiment In Terror

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

His bravado washed through the air making it ripe with emotion. Frightening, scary and wonderful in its essence.

Before she could think, he’d grabbed her, whipped her back into his arms, and then over one, while his free hand came hard and fast against her ass, spanking her. Like a child. Like a brat gets spanked. After all she was behaving like one. Smart mouth. Sassy attitude. She needed exactly what she got and was screaming and hollering for all she was worth by the second stinging smack. He kept on until his own rage had abated and by some miraculous act of submissive transformation, her wild venting turned into something more like the sounds of s*x urgently needing to express itself.

For having been such a brat – actually she’d been more like a b***h than a brat – he used her hard, without her having the chance to come, then made her stand in the corner with her naked, red ass pointing out while he read the evening paper.

He was very pleased. Secretly, she was too.

No Justice. No Mercy, Marilyn Hayworth, 2002

***

Jackson…

What happened on the beach charged my sadistic batteries in ways I could hardly recognize. Rachel was different than the other women who let me tease them into bondage and submission. Those women weren’t very submissive; painsluts, maybe, but little more.

“You want to be spanked,” I declared, knowing I was right. As we moved through the kitchen, I grabbed a thick wooden spoon from the wall where it hung like an innocuous ornamentation. She was petrified when her eyes lit on the ominous thing, and even more so when I roughly pushed her over the back of my white leather sofa and began to lay in on the territory of her finely rounded ass. I alternated the smacks with a fierce massage, bringing her to the brink of a second orgasm before I backed off. “Not so fast!” I said, in warning.

“Oh, dear god, please!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to let you get off.” I pulled her upright, my lips at her ear, whispering tersely. “You’ve come once, the least you could do is wait for me to catch up.”

Inside my grasp, her body shuddered, something I felt inside my crotch. The recognition of my power over her made me bolder still. I’d take her as far as I could in one night, knowing somewhere we’d finally reach her limit. This was just a test for what came next.

The wooden spoon came down aggressively, turning the white of her ass a vibrant shade of scarlet. Her moans became more animated the more I worked her fiery behind, though she stopped just short of crying out. I imagine that she wanted to scream, but some inner control kept her responses in check, as if she’d already trained herself. By the time the spanking was over, we were into foreign territory for me, and places I’m sure only her fertile imagination had explored. Flying blind. The most exhilarating experiences come when instinct takes over – business, s*x, doesn’t matter which arena. I travel easily into the unknown and bask in its thrills. This night had already been an exceptional one, and it was not yet over.

I grabbed my belt and quickly undid the buckle, pulling the leather from the belt loops until the length of it dangled from my hand. She shivered in wait, and shivered more when I grazed her red cheeks with the delicate touch of the cool leather. Over and over, the simple caress went on, until I heard sensuous moans of pleasure break through the silence.

“You want this, Rachel.” I didn’t have to ask the question. I knew.

Her entire body responded in a strained and passionate sigh.

“Have you ever had a belt punish your behind?” This was a question that required her answer.

“No, sir,” she quickly replied. I imagine that she hardly had to think. Words came to her easily, as did the images of surrender.

I pulled her up by the neck and forced her hands behind her. “Keep them there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open your mouth and bite down.” I forced the belt inside her mouth so she was holding it in the middle, the two ends dangling down on either side.

While she held her head high, teeth sunk into the leather, I stood off to the side and rolled up my shirt sleeves. The action caught her where panic and excitement mixed so beautifully.

When I was ready, I grabbed the belt and pushed her back down over the sofa. Doubling the leather in my fist I reared back and let the leather go over the same territory that the wooden spoon had just reddened. There seemed to be no pain now, just a crescendoing arousal in us both that stiffened my d**k and made her grind her cunt against the top of the sofa.

“Legs wide!” I ordered.

She obeyed. I hit her more, while watching between her ass cheeks where p***y juices seeped from her slit.

Her wild gyrations against my sofa made it clear that another climax was not far off. Every strike of leather only sent her closer to that edgy peak. At last, I pulled up, stuffed the end of the belt between her teeth, then thread the end with the buckle down between her legs like I would a rope, making sure that the edge of the leather would rub against her clit. With the buckle in my hand, I yanked up hard and jerked her crotch, while holding her to my chest. At first she whimpered in pain, though a shuddering spasm from deep inside her body shook her hard. She seized up taut as a bow, then convulsed with s****l spasms until she finally rested back against me, occasionally twitching as the electric pulse of her orgasm eased.

The quiet, the stillness wrapped us in a shroud of pleasure. But I was not done with her. Not yet. She owed me for my time, for the gracious way I allowed her to get off before I had. My c**k needed satisfaction now.

I turned her round, shoved her to her knees, and stuffed my prick in her mouth.

“f**k it, Rachel,” I said in a low and steady voice. I could have called her b***h, or slut, or any one of the derogatory terms for women and it would have fit. She was likely to enjoy the slander, but I loved her name, the intimacy of its sound when I used it as if she was someone I deeply loved.

But this was far too soon for love.

I used her face like I used her p***y on the beach. I crammed my c**k inside her mouth deep as her throat would allow and felt my come surge in waves as I released.

She was breathless and wasted when I was done and slumped to the floor. What I would have given to know what was going on inside her mind. I was wasted too, and breathless, and very much afraid.

I knew how much I wanted to take this Rachel Linney to the depths of my desires where my sadistic needs lurked so fiercely. I had to restrain myself from going further. In time, in time, I calmed myself.

My breathing returned to normal, and so had hers by the time I lifted her to her feet and we moved to the couch.

“Cold?” I asked, handing her a cashmere throw.

“Thanks,” she smiled weakly.

“Beer?”

“Please, and a glass of water.”

I retreated to the kitchen to fetch the items, and returned with two beers and a water for Rachel.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I asked as I sat down.

Her wide eyes glimmered, her dark hair a beautiful mess. Just-f****d women couldn’t be more wondrous.

“My ass is hot,” she giggled.

“It is?”

She nodded.

I reached out and pulled her toward me, tossing the throw to the floor. As I stretched out on the couch, she lay against me with her head tucked to my chest and my hand in her silky hair.

“Did I take you too far?” I made her look in my eyes.

“If you had, you’d have known,” she replied. A sweet and winsome expression graced her face.

“What if you were to live out your fantasies? Not just spanking, but the ones you write about, the ones in your books?”

She looked up at me startled. “I don’t even consider it anymore.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged a little and pulled out of my arms, I’m sure in response to the terrifying question. I let her go and waited as she curled back up in the cashmere throw.

“I’ve been unimpressed by the small number of contacts I’ve made in the S M scene. I lost interest.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want. Trust me. This was just an isolated incident.”

“And you’re embarrassed now?”

“Not really. Just surprised at myself…and you, and tonight, and everything…”

“Then maybe I wasn’t wrong about you and me.”

“I don’t know that yet. It’s just been one night.”

“And you think I’d drop you now?”

“I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’d do. I have to protect myself.”

“You didn’t seek much protection in the last two hours.”

“You’re right about that,” she conceded with a smile.

“But is it so strange that you might be the right woman?”

She pondered this a minute. “Maybe not.”

“Don’t think you can hide yourself, Rachel. You let yourself go tonight. And you’re going to do that again, and again, and again…”

Her eyes glistened with tears. Her emotion seemed private so I didn’t ask.

“I’m not sure that this is a good thing,” she said. “I mean tonight has been…well, quite an experience, but I-I I’m…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes, gathering up her courage, perhaps.

“You’re scared. You’re terrified. There’s no harm in that. You can spend the night, I’ll take you home in the morning. At the very least I owe you a new dress.”

She laughed, and let me pull her back into my arms where she was warm against me, and she didn’t have to look into my probing eyes.

Later, I pulled her into my bedroom where we slept, where we made love sometime around dawn, more quietly this time. Then we fell briefly back to sleep with the morning sky beginning to brighten.

The night was short, since I had an early conference call in the morning. I rose at six while she was still sleeping, fixed her eggs and toast, then loaned her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear home. If I hadn’t so damn much to do in the next few days, I would have kept her with me and turned her into my slave. I could already imagine her crawling on the floor at the end of my leash. But I was getting way ahead of myself. Women don’t let a man bring them along that fast. And those that do, end up getting cold feet in the middle of something important. They split in a huff and blame it on the man’s insensitivity. I’d avoid that trap now. Rachel Linney, if she wanted me and what I could give her, would stew for a while in the memory of our night together. Then I’d spring my trap. I had little doubt that she’d fall victim to the bait. I’d never met a woman that I wanted more to love and abuse.

***

Rachel…

Coming home, the phone rang before I was in the door. I knew it was Vicki; everyone else uses my cell.

With an apologetic nod to Jackson, who was waiting for a goodbye at the door – I knew he was rushed – I listened to my sister ramble on until I could get a word in edgewise.

“Vickie, can I call you later?”

She ignored the question, and started in with one of her dramatic, tear-filled monologues. I flashed Jackson a pained grimace, held out the phone and shook my head.

He got the message that I was ‘tied up’, blew me a kiss and left with a smile. I’d hoped for a better goodbye, but that was all I was going to get. With Jackson driving off to his appointment, I needed space and my head to clear, but it took a half hour and a few more promises to get my sister off the phone. Afterwards, I lay vanquished on my couch, wondering about my messed-up sister, her demands, my sanity and my s****l drive. Out of the gloom of another wretched conversation with Vickie, I felt a steamy heat rising in my belly as thoughts of Jackson Brandt replaced the unwanted ones concerning Vicki and her latest emergency. It had been nearly five years since I allowed myself to think of any man with as much desire or affection as I was thinking of the attorney. The smell of s*x and Jackson’s body lingered in the air. I drank it in putting myself back in those awesome hours at the beach house. Desire swept through me fast and soon I was m**********g with a pillow stuffed between my thighs, my body rocking back and forth with my fingers easing their way down to my clit. I let out a savage cry as the orgasm took hold and a vicious spasm rocketed through me.

I lay aghast in the aftershock and finally had to pull myself out of that strange erotic stupor. Cleaning house seemed to bring me back to normal. Then there were a pile of essays that I was obliged to read. Another erotic book was coming to me – but I was determined to ignore that for the moment. This was never a problem when it came to my erotica. Compartmentalizing my life was easy for me. When I had the time, I’d give it voice, knowing that the words filtering into my mind would always be there once I was ready to write them down.