Chapter Two
1936 Words
Chapter Two
In Seattle…
“Colleen, are you here?”
She hears his voice, and pulls herself from a drowsy afternoon nap, feeling much like a lazy cat as she languidly rises enough to sit.
Ben finds her like this, looking as if she doesn’t even have the energy to kiss him.
“Well, what have you been doing?”
Her tousled red mop of hair gleams in the sunshine; so do her green eyes. The freckles across her nose make her appear impish. But she is all woman, long-legged and bustier than most dancers. She carries herself well as if she’s comfortable with herself. “I’m playing hooky from the rehearsal hall,” she says with a sunny grin.
“Isn’t that a bad thing?” he asks her.
“Not really. Andy is rehearsing the men, and by the looks of their progress, he won’t be getting to my dance until ten tonight.” She shrugs. “He actually sent me home. Said I looked tired.”
“You do.”
“I’ve been sleeping, silly; of course, I’m tired.”
Ben tumbles to the bed, all one-hundred and eighty pounds of muscle and manhood. However did she land this beautiful hunk of manhood? she constantly asks herself.
He pulls her to him, pulls her around so she’s facing him and gently kisses her nose, while at the same time smacking her ass. His kisses her mouth and spanks her harder still, until she’s feeling the stinging heat of the smacks go far deeper than the skin. She runs her hand through his dark wavy hair and aggressively kisses him back, hoping he might prefer the kissing to the spanking. But the smacking doesn’t end.
“Ooo, please, what did I do to deserve this?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I just need to get my aggressions out.”
“And always on me.”
“I thought you liked being my whipping girl,” his brown eyes spark. “I mean if I had a naughty woman to spank, I’d spank her, but you, I just have to make up excuses.”
She knows he’s thinking of her—the other woman in his life. But of course he won’t mention Dana’s name. He did once, but has assured her that relationship is over her. Can she believe him? She tries, she really tries.
Their love fest goes on. She smiles and grimaces, liking and hating the hot feel of her ass.
“You know you’re making my flesh burn.”
He stops briefly to feel the heat radiating from her spanked ass. “You’re right.”
A lovely heat pours into her loins, fanning the flames of her arousal. She wiggles in next to him. Yes, there it is, throbbing up against her thigh; his thick c**k wants inside. Who is she to argue with this lust?
She spreads her legs as he reaches under her short red skirt. Pulling aside her panties, he fingers the opening with a tenderness that makes her spasm. She’s practically humping his hand feverishly seeking more.
“How about you just put it in?” she purrs a little breathlessly.
“No,” he says flatly, but not meanly, “I like to tease.”
“And usually, I like it too, but…” Her eyes plead.
“Shush,” he gets a little more forceful and removes his hand, smacking her ass again, this time on her bare skin, the hot, already heat-soaked skin. The burn expands, and so does her need. She’s kissing his face all over, hopefully. Her tongue laps at his lips, while her one hand moves to his crotch fishing for the zipper.
“Oh, please! Ben!”
“Shush.” He’s a little more forceful. He keeps slapping her bottom, but now starts to alternate between the spanking, rubbing her randy crotch, and taking hold of her inner labia and yanking them until they smart.
“Oh, my gawd, I think I’m going to c*m!” she shouts. This is no lie.
“You’d better not!” he warns.
“I can’t stop.” A fiery spasm sparks inside. The warmth and the anxious need move swiftly. She’s panting hard. She can’t speak. Can’t do anything but focus on the spanking, tugging, prodding, pleasing hands.
When she hears the zzzzzzzzzzrup! of his zipper, her body leaps on ahead, allowing the c*m to spark as soon as the head of his d**k hits the door of her s*x.
“God, yes, f**k ME!”
He rolls over on top, climbs on her hips, and bangs his thick meat into her wetness.
“YES, BABY, YES!” she screams.
He grunts in reply, although the sound is almost lost in the noise of bedsprings rhythmically squeaking beneath them.
“YES, YES!”
Like a steel spike driving into her middle, the hammering goes on. She thinks she’ll split in two, yet every time Ben thrusts, he brushes against her swollen clit caressing the tender opening and making the c*m go on and on and on…
They feel like molten metal, one joined body, embraced, battering back and forth, furious, raucous, wildly noisy, bordering on delirious as their bodies grapple with the explosive climax.
She thinks he’s c*m, but lost track of his response while losing herself in her own. He got what he wanted and so did she.
“Damn this was something, huh?” she finally manages to speak, as they lie side by side. She finds his hand with hers and touches his fingers lightly, lovingly.
She wishes he’d say something, but he’s quiet like this after s*x. He’s being calm, becoming mortal again, he would tell her if she asked why he’s so quiet.
She turns on her side. “You want to go to the beach? Put your feet in the sand, maybe? I’ve got some time to kill before I’m due back at the rehearsal hall.”
He turns his head; such a serious expression.
“I just came back here to change my clothes. I didn’t expect you.”
“Oh, I see. Something planned?”
“Liam and I were going fishing tonight. Wish you could come along.”
“Me too.” She hops up from the bed. When the longing in her heart tugs the way it does now, she changes her behavior, which changes her mood. She’s taught herself not to be a sourpuss. It’s not her style and Ben wouldn’t like it.
Although he’s the man she wants, she lives in constant fear of losing him. But she worries when she’s not around being afraid she’ll telegraph her insecurity to him. Maybe her friend Darlene is right, if she’s constantly feeling this way, he can’t be the right man for her. Still, she refuses to agree with her, refuses to give up on Ben. His return to San Francisco and Dana could just be a phase he needs to go through—closure, the ending the two never really had, and she’s willing to wait out the finally verdict with a comforting smile on her face.
Ben changes his clothes while she watches admiring every line of his body, being fascinated by the control, the adept use of his muscles. He would have made a good dancer, she often thinks. When he’s ready to leave, he kisses her on the lips.
“You know, I was thinking of beating you,” Ben says. “Spanking didn’t seem to be enough.”
This makes her smile. “Really?” She’s all big bright grins and dreamy eyes as she thinks of being beaten.
“It will be for no apparent reason.”
“That’s what I’m here for. My bottom’s all yours.”
“That’s what I thought.” He reaches around and gives it a firm smack. “I’ll be late.”
“Yeah, I know. But then, I won’t be home until midnight either.”
***
The night is dark; there are no stars. She can hardly see a thing, since there are no streetlights in this part of the city. But she’s secure with a man at her side. Ben seems to thrive on the loneliness of out-of-the-way places, and she goes there with him because it’s what she does to please him, to have him. She’s afraid if she refuses, he’ll move on and find another woman.
He pushes her into an alley where the darkness is so rich she smells it, tastes it, feels it up the back, a tingle of mystery and fear all wrapped into one.
My God, he’s going to beat me here! her mind screams.
They travel much farther than she expected they would before he finally shoves her up against a cement wall. She can smell the dampness, feel it with her hands. Her head is pressed against the surface and her lips meet the concrete. She tastes that, too.
In one swift move, he discards her dress, leaving her naked in unfamiliar surroundings. She wonders what he can see of her in his bleak, cavernous alley. Maybe his eyes adjust. Maybe hers would too, but that won’t happen. Ben slaps a blindfold over her eyes, and snaps the elastic strap around the back of her head. She’s pushed against the cement again, her arms raised and widely spread. He must have searched this neighborhood to find a place where he could tie her like he’d tie her to a St. Andrew’s cross. He says he hates the dungeon scene, too many memories.
They met in a public dungeon, when she was fishing for answers to her strange fantasy life. But they haven’t been back since, and the inspiration behind the locations for their s*x play continues to amaze her.
Tonight, it’s this deserted alley, in this deserted part of town. On another night, they might be under a pier where he’ll bind her to the pilings.
How does he know that robbers and thieves won’t be jumping out and mugging him—and her? she often wonders when they are in an especially derelict part of town. Or that the police won’t suddenly decide to prowl the neighborhood for perverts? Maybe they’ve heard about the restless warrior and his submissive woman who haunt the night with their dark s****l deeds. How does he know? Does he have second sight, instincts, hunches, or is he just lucky? Are they lucky that they haven’t been found out, pummeled to death, arrested, or at the very least stumbled on by unsuspecting passersby?
The cool of the wall climbs into her skin with the same degree of intensity that the whip Benjamin Hunter uses laces her backside with fire. A hellish pain rises as each cut of the lash lands with more might that she expects it will. He takes such chances with her, and yet, she keeps asking for more, wanting it with a lust that is rarely satisfied.
The location requires that she hold her voice to low growls. The sound of his whips colliding with the air and her skin is enough sound to startle even the soused drunk. They can only hope that the neighborhood is deserted.
She feels as if her backside is ripped apart. She knows the welts will be deep and he’ll soothe them afterwards. But for now its pure agony, agony of the body, agony of the spirit, agony of a bleeding heart that wonders why she loves this—that is until, at last, there is that wondrous transformation.
Her pheromones fly now. She’s lifted away. Some sweet beauty lands about her like a benevolent dove.
“Ahhhhhhhhh, yeeesssssssssssss.” A seething sound issues from her throat. Her head thrusts back and there’s a hand at the furrow of her s*x, grabbing at the crescendoing feelings and bringing them to climax.
Minutes later, she feels her ass cheeks pried apart by that same hand, and a thick fleshy rod thrusting its way inside her back channel. He only does asses in this mood of his, she’s learned. Hers has been taken and brutalized. The hugeness, the ferocity, draws her back to earth. This is very real, not ethereal at all, but a hard, banging, slapping, tearing sort of breach. Her mind engages again enough to worry how much her face will show the scratches from the concrete when they’re done.
She’s glad it doesn’t take long for him to ejaculate inside her. He presses the meat of his cumming erection just a little farther into her previously greased entrails and groans with the distinctive pleasure of a contented man as he gives the finish an extra thrust.
When the f*****g is over, they move through the alley with the swiftness of those thieves they didn’t meet. Then they are back in his car, safe. She’s dizzy with the sexy rush, thinking about the naughty thrill of what they’ve just done.
“Ah! Ben, you are a nasty ass!”
“I beg to differ, you’re the one with the nasty ass. And you’ll get it again before I go to sleep.
“Okay, you’re a brute!” she tells him. My brute, she thinks to herself.
- Writer
