The Bride (The Boss) Read online

  He picked up the paddle again and rubbed my ass with it. My body tensed, and he flipped the switch.

  There were two settings on the wand, a high, frantic frequency that numbed and stung at the same time, and a lower, deeper hum that drove me wild. He used the latter now, and I whined through my gag as my muscles tightened past the point of pain on the way to my climax. My ascending cries peaked with a high-pitched groan as the shock of my orgasm hit me. In the moment I should have wanted to buck away from the unrelenting vibration, he smacked my ass hard with the paddle and pulled the vibe away, clicking it off.

  The conflicting sensations sent chills skating over my skin. He hit me again, over the same burning swath, and I muffled a curse against the gag.

  He dropped the vibe and gripped my chin. “I said you could scream. Not swear. If you can’t keep your filthy mouth under control, you’ll be choking on my cock instead of that gag.”

  The imagery turned my knees to liquid, and I swayed. His arm was at my back in a flash, supporting me, and he reached down for the vibrator again. He pushed it against my swollen, satisfied clit and said, “We’ll go again. In three, two, one—”

  He clicked the switch and I jolted, pumping my hips, either to get away or to get closer, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care if he punished me for moving. I wanted him to. I wanted more. I wanted him to push me to the very edge. My end goal suddenly became using my safe word. I wanted to go so far I had to stop, though Neil often warned me that getting close was better than going past what I could endure. But just the thought of the extreme, the thought of indulging my truly masochistic side, was enough to bring me to another, stronger release. He followed it with three smacks of the paddle in quick succession, until I cried out.

  He pulled the vibe away and gave me time to come down, time that was almost worse because the next orgasm would build from the ground up, not merely blend with the last one. My already taxed muscles were drawn up tight again; I would be impossibly sore in the morning. This time when he counted down and turned the vibrator on, he rolled the head in small circles, varying the sensation so that any numbness from the vibration wouldn’t help me. This time, I did scream, and kept on screaming as the paddle struck the backs of my thighs. He didn’t pull the wand away this time, keeping me teetering on the brink of too much pain and way too much pleasure, until it all became pain, twisting and writhing around my every nerve ending.

  I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I fell against him, and he dropped both the paddle and the vibrator to catch me. He swiftly untied the gag and pushed my sweaty hair back from my face. Droplets of perspiration ran down my neck, below my collar, over my chest. He gripped the wet locks at my nape and tilted my head back. “What do we say?”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I panted, my throat hoarse. My eyes slid closed as I savored the boneless peace of my ebbing high.

  “Come back to me a moment,” he said gently, stroking a finger down my cheek. “Check in. Where are we?”

  “Green, Sir.” I didn’t want to stop. I never wanted to stop feeling the way I did in that moment. I wouldn’t have cared if we stayed like this all week.

  He sat me down on the crisp white duvet and worked at the knots binding my wrists. When I was untied, he helped me straighten my arms and rubbed the soreness from my shoulders.

  “How is that?”

  Sir took such good care of me.

  “Much better, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  He skimmed his hands up and down my arms then urged me to lie back. He slipped one of the pillows from the head of the bed under my hips. “Spread your legs. There you are.”

  I shivered as his hand glided down, over my stomach, between my legs. He petted my labia, his fingertips straying between.

  One finger slipped inside me, and I clenched on it, mewling in mingled relief and frustration. I needed more than just his finger. I wanted to be filled up.

  “Oh…” he said, soft and low. “You want more.”

  He withdrew and reached for the medium-sized dildo. He brought it between my legs and swiped the surface of the soft silicone up and down my slit, coating it. I’d brought lube, but I wasn’t sure it was going to be necessary. I was dripping, my pussy making obscene squelching noises as my muscles grasped on emptiness. My breathing became labored, stuttering through my lips, almost a sob but never quite reaching that pitch.

  Slowly, he pushed the head of the dildo inside of me, inserting and withdrawing just an inch or two, raking the ridge of the head over my g-spot. It was almost irritating, in that my body had already been satisfied to the point of overstimulation, but it was such a relief to be penetrated. He pushed deeper, twisting his wrist as he drew the length out, in a slow, measured pace.

  I wriggled a little. I couldn’t help it.

  “You may move, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I panted, lifting my hips in a roll that brought a groan of relief from my lips and a trance-like state to my mind.

  He reached with his other hand to my throat, pressing on the two points beneath my chin that made me light-headed. I enjoyed the possessiveness, the simulated risk, and he got off on the proof of my unwavering trust in him. My head swam, intensifying the sensations in my cunt. Then, it became too much, sharpening my hazy thoughts. I managed, “Okay, yellow on the choking.”

  Neil pulled his hand away immediately. “The rest is alright, though?”

  “Yeah, the rest is fine.” I smiled gratefully at him and closed my eyes as he kept up the now deep strokes with the dildo. It didn’t take long to return to that peaceful, carefree place of my total submission. My nerves were stronger than my weakened body, sending pulses to every centimeter of my skin, turning every sensation into pleasure.

  He pulled the shaft free from my pussy once, twice, again and again, always withdrawing completely, then plunging back in. With my eyes squeezed shut against the building pressure, I didn’t see him replace the dildo with the much larger one, and when it stretched me, my eyes flew open and my body jolted. We’d used this one many times—he even had a video of me using it on myself—but every time, the size was stunning. Neil was well-endowed, but this thing was massive.

  My libido was reckless and greedy, without a limit in sight. This was where the edges could get blurry, and why our trust was so important. We each had our own limits, and he knew where mine were. There was no chance of him forgetting—nor willfully “forgetting”—where the lines were drawn.

  Pain, however, was a line drawn far, far down the field, so when he rammed the huge rubber cock forward, burying it so deep in my body that I felt an uncomfortable pinch against my battered cervix, I moaned in far more pleasure than pain.

  The flogger he’d laid at the end of the bed was easy to access, and he picked it up now in his free hand, still plunging the dildo mercilessly into me. As I sweated and strained and braced myself against the fullness in my pelvis, I didn’t have time to anticipate the swipe of the flogger. Neil snapped the underside of one breast with just the tips of the tails, and I screamed at what felt like a rain of needles on my skin. I arched my back, caught between acute and dull pain. No matter what he commanded, I couldn’t have stopped myself from responding. This was beyond the pleasure of obedience; this was an obscene hunger for degradation.

  “Are you my whore, Sophie?” Another snap of the flogger, this time on my other breast.

  I shouted my, “Yes, Sir!” on a sob, and gritted my teeth against the next that worked up my throat.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “To you, Sir! Only to you!”

  He gave me another bite of the flogger, and another, maybe five or six, and I lost count as they bled into each other in quick succession. Every inch of my body sang, every pore of my skin burned. I spread my legs wider, took the dildo in deeper, and gripped the duvet in my fists. My mind whipped to my Catholic upbringing, the stories of the martyrs possessed of holy ecstasy, and I finally understood those contorted, blissful faces of the flayed and scourged in
all those paintings.

  Because when you’re taking the pain out of free will and love, the pain becomes love.

  I don’t know how long I drifted after the last snap of the flogger. It seemed like a long time, and all the while he kept up the long strokes of the dildo, in pace with the mindless movements of my body. When I started to come back to myself, he eased the dildo from me. “Open your eyes.”

  I did and met his gaze just as he knelt beside me, the tie that had once gagged me wrapped around his hand. He used it to swipe away my tears, then brushed the silk over the enflamed skin of my breasts.

  He uncoiled the tie from his fist and dropped it onto my quivering stomach. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore, Sir,” I panted. “Thirsty.”

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Stay here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I closed my eyes again and slowed my breathing. In the break from sensation, I felt my stamina recovering a bit. I hoped he wasn’t finished with me for the night.

  When he returned with the water glass, he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. He was certainly not finished.

  I sat up and braced myself to avoid a head rush. Then I obediently moved to his lap. He brushed my sweaty hair back from my shoulders and rested the glass on my bottom lip, tipping a swallow of water into my mouth.

  “There. Do you need a break?”

  “That depends on what you have planned, Sir.”

  “No, no Sir right now. This is your partner, Neil, asking if you need a break.” He smiled his half-smile and offered me another drink, which I gulped down gratefully.

  “Oh. Then I guess that depends on what you have planned, Neil.”

  He passed the glass into my hands and carefully, so that I didn’t tumble onto the bed, lifted me from his lap and set me beside him. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his shirt cuff and rolled the sleeve back. He flexed his fingers—those long, elegant fingers—and I needed another gulp of water.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “What do you think?”

  “I think…” I licked my lips, taking in the hypnotic motion of his hand as he cracked his knuckles. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  “Lie back. Put a pillow beneath your hips. It helps.” He reached for the bottle of lube and sat on the edge of the bed, facing me.

  “You’ve done this before?” I asked, a sudden stab of nerves both startling and thrilling me. This was so…obscene. So incredibly vulgar that I had never even let myself look at porn of the act.

  We were so going to level up in the kink department tonight.

  “I have.” He put a few drops of lube on his fingertips. “The width of my hand has been a problem before, so don’t feel as though you’ve failed if you can’t take it all. We’ll stop if it doesn’t feel good, and go back to what does.”

  That made me even more nervous. Men’s hands were such a turn-on for me, Neil’s especially, with the fat veins and wiry brown hairs across the back. He got frequent manicures, a vanity I’d once teased him about, until he’d pointed out that he’d never once snagged me with a splintered nail while fingering me.

  But still, we were talking about a whole fist going into a tight spot. He was right, it probably was better that we didn’t include it in a scene the very first time we tried it, and just related to each other as Neil and Sophie.

  With his lubricated fingertips, he massaged my labia and perineum, and placed his index fingers inside to gently stretch me. I was already wet and wanting from what he’d done to me before, but multiple orgasms had swollen the pillowy tissues of my cunt. When he slipped his index and middle fingers inside me to the knuckle, I worried it would be an impossible fit.

  “Relax and breathe,” he reassured me gently. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No, I’m just a little afraid,” I said with a tremulous smile. This was like jumping into a cold pool; I wanted to go swimming, but the initial submersion frightened me. “I trust you. Let’s keep going.”

  For a long while, he rubbed his fingers in me, hooking them to knead the floor of my cunt, twisting his wrist to sooth the top and sides. I took deep breaths and willed myself to relax; it wouldn’t work if I were tense. He pumped more lube onto his hand, although I could feel my own fluids leaking around him, and slowly, with a cupped palm, slid three fingers inside me.

  The three digits together still weren’t nearly as thick as his penis, but the difference in shape produced an almost fuller sensation. The knuckle of his middle finger rasped over my g-spot and I moaned, rocking my hips a little, wishing he would push deeper.

  “Tell me when you’re ready for more,” he said softly, his other hand stroking the insides of my thighs. “You’re guiding this now.”

  I reached down to touch my clit, and the pinprick feeling in that over-sensitive bundle of nerves made me hiss in discomfort. Neil’s hand stopped moving immediately.

  “No, it’s not that. Keep going,” I assured him, and the desperation in my voice must have convinced him, because he resumed his gentle ministrations.

  A hot flush broke over my skin, shivers skating down my arms and legs. I was gripped by the unique thrill of sexual exploration. At my urging, he picked up a little speed, steadily twisting and withdrawing. Emboldened by this new territory we were exploring, I couldn’t wait for me. Wetting my lips, I said on a shaky breath, “Okay. You can add another.”

  This time, he withdrew his hand completely to apply more lube, all the way down to the back of his hand. He turned his wrist and inserted all four of his fingers, corkscrewing them gently to open me. My cunt stretched wide around them, and an animal moan passed over my lips. It felt so impossibly good, so incredibly large. His thumb stroked over my clit, and I moved my own hand aside to make room. He withdrew, curling his fingers just a bit, then pushed slowly back in, creating a wave of stimulation that made my body undulate in a similar fashion.

  “You can go a little faster,” I panted.

  He obliged. “Is this alright?”

  Alright? It felt fucking fantastic. Any reservations I’d had dissipated at the feeling of those four fingers gliding over every ripple and ridge of my cunt, making me clench. I worked my clit in furious circles, arching my hips up. That proved a bit unpleasant, a bit too much pressure on my pelvis, and I dropped down again as he softly admonished, “Careful now.”

  “It feels so fucking good,” I moaned, my free hand gripping the duvet. “Don’t stop!”

  “Not unless my hand breaks,” he said with a chuckle. He pumped and curled his fingers, coaxing wet sounds from my pussy. I couldn’t shake the voracious appetite that had gripped me. I feared it would never be sated.

  “Please, just do it,” I gasped.

  “Everything?” he clarified, rolling his thumb against me.

  “Yes, please.” I nodded, and my sweaty hair plastered to the back of my head.

  He withdrew his hand and pumped more lube over it, so much that it ran down his arm when it mingled with my own natural lubricant. Slowly, carefully, he slipped his cupped hand into my cunt, his thumb folded against his palm.

  The addition of his thumb created a startlingly different shape and size, at least, more so than I had expected. All of the lube made even the widest part of his hand slide in easily, and my breath whooshed out of me on a startled gasp.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, concern rippling across his brow. “I can stop—”

  “No, don’t.” I reached down to feel for his hand, and found only his wrist, the tendons flexed at the entrance of my cunt. “Oh my god.” My voice quavered. “Oh my god, it’s really in there.”

  “It is.” He took his free hand and covered my own. “Tell me how deep is too deep.”

  He’d done the same thing the first time we’d had sex, when I was totally inexperienced and facing down the biggest cock that had ever been in me. He’d wrapped my fingers around his cock and coached me, telling me to control the depth and find what was
right. To this day, he was the largest man I’d been with.

  He was also the most considerate man I’d been with.

  I held his wrist and slowly pumped his hand inside me, pulling until the widest part of his hand threatened to slip out, then pushed back in a little. “Not all the way. Just like that much, okay?”

  “Okay.” He smiled down at me. Can you reach the vibrator?”

  My hand groped across the bed for it, and he continued, “I’m going to keep doing exactly what I’m doing now, unless you tell me to change the pace or ask me to go deeper. When you orgasm, that’s when I’ll take my hand out; it’s easier to do it then.”

  I pressed the head of the wand against my clit and flicked the switch. It didn’t take long to get right on the edge, but I fought it and pulled the vibrator back to resist. I wanted more of this intense pressure, more of the sucking pull of his hand inside me. I just plain wanted more.

  “Faster,” I begged, and he picked up the speed of his thrusting hand, wriggling his fingers as he did so. I put the vibrator on my clit again, and this time, there was no stopping. Every muscle in my body went rigid to the point of pain, and a high, thin scream twisted from my throat. I twisted, too, jerking the duvet down, the fabric audibly shredding beneath my nails. My orgasm went on and on, and but I didn’t let up, shouting mindlessly, whipping my head to the side, biting the arm arched against the bed. My climax was a wild, uncontrollable force that left me helpless in in the eye of its storm. I thought I was going to die. I was certain I’d never been so alive.

  Before I could come down, while my cunt still clutched at the impossible hugeness of his hand in me, he gently slid out. My body shook with violent tremors, my calves cramped. My bones and muscles had liquefied from pure pleasure.

  He wiped his hand on the duvet—we were going to have to reimburse the hotel for that, anyway—and carefully laid one hand on my hip. “Is that too much?”

  “Not at all,” I rasped.

  “Do you need water?”

  I nodded, though how I moved my neck, I had no clue.