When the Wife's Away byAmethystMare©

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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When the Wife's Away

Sighing, the cougar sprawled on the sofa, one arm slung over the back and a hind paw kicked up on the cushion. The clock ticked above the mantelpiece, the fireplace quiet and still with charcoal that needed to be removed from behind the grate. Yet he did not move as the second ticked on into countable minutes, only a yawn stretching his mouth wide as his white eyes half closed. Brown fur still slightly damp from the shower, Ropes stretched out a little more, eyes flicking between the television screen and the window, the watching of old sitcoms a rare treat for him; he didn't often get so much time to relax. His four tentacles flopped out wearily to either side, finding any place possible to stretch out, every inch of him the picture of the lazy, weekend feline.

"Honey?"

Ropes tilted his head back, looking up at the crimson dragoness above him. Dressed comfortably, she smiled down at him, smoothing her fingers down the creases in the front of her T-shirt.

"You don't look like you're dressed to go into town," he commented dryly. "Where are you off?"

His wife frowned and he sat up, turning her red and yellow image the other way round, frills soft on either side of her face.

"Ropes! Honestly. What's that supposed to mean?" She didn't give him any opportunity to answer, paws on hips. "I'm going out to get feed. You remember, don't you? Please say you didn't forget again?"

Ropes smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

"Does it matter if I did forget, darling?"

She winced at the term, tail stiffening behind her. The yellow stripes cutting through her otherwise perfectly crimson scales, drawing his attention as they glowed lightly through the thin fabric. He licked his lips, attention caught. Was Fyr really going to pick up feed with a shirt that thin? He would have said something, but her expression when she came back with the thing stained and ripped would be priceless. Ropes grinned. The dragoness sure did have some things left to learn about running and owning a ranch!

But she'd learn. And he knew his sweetheart would rather learn on her own too, or else he truly would have intervened. As it was, he held out his paws, placating Fyr the best he could with figurative smoke pouring from her nostrils. The dragoness huffed and folded her arms across her breasts, but it was all he could do not to pout. After all, he hadn't forgotten her trip.

"Well, if you're going to grin at me like the cat that got the cream, I'm going to be off," she growled, flipping a paw dismissively. "I'll see you later on, probably much later. I'll pop into town and pick up a few bits while I'm at it."

Hitching her handbag up on her shoulder, the dragoness strutted towards the door in her flat shoes, tail swinging madly with every step. Only when she got to the hallway door did Ropes clear his throat, calling her attention back if but for a moment.

"I love you."

Fyr's expression softened and she smiled gently.

"I love you too. Anything you need?"

"Not until you get back?"

Fyr giggled.

"Oh, I see how it is. Bye for now!"

His murmured goodbye was lost in the closing of the door and he pricked his ears to catch the sound of her truck starting up, rattling and groaning as it was, once again, coaxed back to life. She tore out of the drive at her usual breakneck pacing, clearly taking pleasure in bumping down the rough drive with a vehicle finally capable of the abuse she longed to dish out. Of course, without any neighbours or other vehicles close by on the road, at least, there was very little risk and he wasn't about to deny her a little pleasure.

He had far bigger pleasures of his own to partake in anyway. He'd buy her another truck when she finally broke an axle or something of that extreme nature. Ropes only hoped that he'd be there with the video camera for the final show of the great, blue beast of a truck.

But when Fyr's away...

Ropes smirked, whiskers quivering. It wouldn't be long until they reached him. His eyes dropped to his phone, screen flashing

Be there soon, sexy.

XOXO

There was no name beneath the message, although the one at the top of the screen was a familiar one, a green and black dragon blowing him a kiss from the user icon in the corner. Ropes smirked, wondering if they'd even pass Fyr on the road. It wasn't as if she'd recognise the car anyway, whichever one the duo had hired to turn up in that particular day.

As if on cue, a door slammed outside and the cougar jumped to his hind paws, heart beating a little too hard. He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his muzzle, stretching his black lips wide as a feral growl rumbled up from his chest, tail lashing. Their last times... Oh, how he doted on the memories of them. The dragoness' green scaled breasts rolling and heaving as she fucked the white beauty, only accentuated by the most glorious hints of baby blue scales. And he remembered slipping up behind her, mounting the seductress even as she made use of the strap-on, two ladies in need of a male with just the cock for them.

His cock was swollen and grinding into his own underwear before the doorbell rang and he was right there to answer it, his own wife not gone ten minutes down the road. He licked his lips, smirking at the thought of Fyr doubling back to pick up her purse or something else like that only to find him wrapped up in the arms of not one but two other dragons.

After all, what demon of lust could restrict himself to only one partner?

He opened the door with a flourish, tail flicking lazily from side to side.

"Marinelle, Chemical," he purred, holding the door open wide. "So nice of you to join me."

The black dragoness smirked and dropped him a sly wink as she sashayed past, a swing to her hips that he doubted she reserved only to him. Mar followed behind, a quieter, shyer smile on her muzzle, but a smile nonetheless, and she shifted her weight towards him as she passed, the flick of her blue hair to the other side of her neck sending out a whiff of aromatic perfume. The cougar inhaled deeply. How was it that a female like her could arouse such lust in his heart?

Closing the door with a decisive click, the cougar leaned back against it, the backs of his paws pressed into the top of his own buttocks. The dragons paused, turning to face him with identically cocked eyebrows. Ropes held back his smile, white eyes glowing more intently. It wouldn't have been untoward of him to suspect that they'd practiced the little routine - just for him, of course. After several evenings and one, rather memorable long weekend with the sensual duo, he'd learned a little more about them than they'd probably ever have cared to let on.

His eyes roamed their forms, tongue snaking out to rake over his upper lip lustfully. Marinelle's eyes followed the motion and a little whimper broke her lips, hair spilling down her neck and shoulders, a well-groomed tousle. Neither of them appeared to be dressed for the outside world and Ropes' shivered to think what any of their neighbours - not that any of them lived all that close - would have thought if they'd seen the dragons walk up to his door dressed that scantily.

Chem's slinky black dress, seeming to meld beautifully into her scales, hugged her chest and hips, drawing attention to places that no eye should go. It didn't help - or perhaps it did - that the dress was particularly low-cut, cleavage spilling over the top as if her full, soft breasts could simply not be contained. Stiletto heels added to the effect, allowing his eyes to travel up her sexy calves to where he was sure the treat between her thighs resided, waiting for him - just for him.

Marinelle was dressed no less provocatively, chunky crimson heels clacking lightly on the wooden floor. A fuller figured dragoness, one could not have chosen between if put on the spot, but the red dress with a fringe across her thighs tantalised at her voluptuous body, teasing at the secrets hidden beneath that dress with the slit up just the one leg. Her breasts swelled through the fabric, better contained than Chemical's, but their concealment only made Ropes' fingers twitch to touch, to caress, them all the more, unable to tear his eyes away from either beauty before him.

The cougar pushed his shoulder blades back and purred lustfully. Yes, he was a very lucky cougar indeed. But his ladies of the afternoon, soon to stretch into a sensual evening, were not to be patient for his attention.

"Well?" Chemical frowned, pushing her lips out in a sexy pout. "Are you just going to stand there staring at us, or are you going to be a good kitty and do something about it?"

Ropes smirked.

"I'm hardly a good kitty."

Pushing off from the door, Ropes advanced slowly, tail flicking from side to side as he stalked his far from hapless prey. Marinelle shivered, folding her arms across her body, but held her ground much the same as Chemical did, the alluring dragoness pushing out a hip cockily. When Ropes' arms snaked around her waist and pulled him into her, she allowed it, moulding to the curve of his strong, muscled body as if she was designed to fit against him.

"I've missed you," she breathed, breath tickling his rounded ear. "Why don't you take us upstairs and show us just what your wife's been missing all this time?"

Chemical drew back enough to tip her muzzle down, looking up at him with her best smouldering gaze. Ropes' breath caught, just a fraction, claws digging lightly into her scales.

"Why she'll never feel as good as we do to you. You'll never fuck her like you fuck us."

And maybe that was true and maybe that was a lie, but it got the cougar's hackles up, a low growl ripping itself from his throat. No further words were needed. Ropes took each of the dragoness' paws, not to be romantic but to simply take the lead, even if they did not need to be shown where to go. They tailed after him, so close on his heels that he barely could make it up the stairs without them tripping him up. His bare paws smoothed over the carpet as he turned and eased into his own bedroom, stepping backwards as the dragons followed him with uncharacteristically innocent looks on their faces.

Chem stepped up first, a paw on Ropes' chest as she bore him back to the bed, advancing step by step. He could have spun her around, hitched up her dress and taking what the bulge pushing against the front of his jeans was begging for, but he permitted her to take the lead, growling softly as her paws slipped up and over his bare shoulders. But she didn't stop there. Lifting up a leg with shocking sensuality, the dragoness puffed a smoke ring in the shape of a heart as she straddled the cougar's legs, grinding up over his bulge with a throaty moan.

"Oh, yessss," she hissed. "That's what I came here for..."

"Don't think you're getting him all to yourself."

Mar winked as she shimmied up onto the bed to join them, dress hitched up her thighs - not that there was very much of the fabric hanging over her thighs to begin with. The cougar groaned and tilted his head back as the dragons layered kiss after kiss across his neck and muzzle, adoring him as he longed to be adored.

Paws tugged at his jeans, his glowing eyes half-lidded, and he lifted his hips to allow the dragons to strip him down to his fur, cock throbbing out, thick and hard, as his underwear was unceremoniously removed from his body. Chemical moaned quietly and ran her paws over his hips, only to wrap both of them around his cock to tease and pump the uncut length, her companion locking lips with Ropes.

"For me?" Chemical smirked and touched her fingers to her chest, falsely coy. "Oh, you shouldn't have!"

And then her muzzle dipped, lips wrapping around his cock as if she'd never been away. Falling back flat on the bed, Ropes hissed and clenched his jaw, paw going to her head to guide her muzzle down a path it knew very well. The dragoness purred around his achingly hard shaft and slipped her tongue around, curling the long appendage around as much of the length as she possibly could. Her long muzzle welcomed him in and Chemical's nose was pressed into his crotch before she knew it, inhaling the thick musk of feline, eyes glassy even as they rested, half-lidded.

Ropes groaned and thrust up into her muzzle, Mar's lips meeting his as the dragoness squirmed out of her red dress. The fringe rose up her thighs as she fiddled with the back, breaking the kiss with a low, frustrated growl, if but for a brief moment to rid herself of the cumbersome clothing. But so desperate was she for Ropes' attention, his lips parting to welcome in and dominate her tongue, that Marinelle gave him barely a glimpse of her matching crimson lingerie before her lips were on his again, moaning into his muzzle.

And the cougar could no more than enjoy the many, many sensations of being doted on by two horny dragoness', all thoughts of his wife well and truly wiped from his mind. Though the fact that he was cheating was not completely out of his head, the lust rising in his heart, the flutter of excitement growing and growing by the second - what kept him doing it time after time after time. No one could have expected anything less from him, however, he was sure and, really, Fyr should have seen it coming: she knew of his past.

And so it was with a clear conscience and warmth in his chest that Ropes' grabbed Marinelle's muzzle, holding her to him as he forced his tongue back between her lips, dominating her as he knew she craved to me. Her arms buckled, holding her torso up from the bed with every scrap of strength she'd thought she still had in her, and she groaned, arching her back with her tail flipped up as if she was begging him to mount her already. Chemical took advantage of his more relaxed paw in her strikingly green mane of hair to purr around his length, bobbing and twisting her muzzle around him as her lips pursed tightly around his shaft.

Drawing her head back just as the cougar let loose a wild yowl straight into Mar's muzzle, Chemical licked her muzzle and lips lewdly, a long string of pre-cum trailing down to his cock as she cradled the base and his balls in one paw. She cast him a sensual look, eyelids fluttering and curled her tongue around the tip of his shaft, playing with the uncut length as Ropes panted and ran his paws down Marinelle's scales. Smoothing down her shoulders to her breasts, he tucked his fingers beneath the bra to tease her nipples, tugging and massage the firm, heavy globes until she broke the kiss herself to release a breathy moan.

"Fuck..." She breathed. "Yes, more, Ropes. I needed you so badly this week..."

The cougar purred and trailed a line of kisses up her neck to her jaw.

"You should have called me then."

Marinelle's jaw dropped, but the twinkle in her eye could not quite be hidden. She loved the play just as much as he. That was why they were there, after all.

"But your wife was here."

"What does that matter?"

Marinelle didn't get a chance to reply as Chemical tugged up the dress around her hips, scrambling up over Ropes and swinging her leg astride him. Whatever thong she'd been wearing - it must have been a thong, to be so easily pulled out of the way - tucked to the side of her pussy lips as she pushed forward, rubbing her cunny, lips flushed with blood, over the head of his shaft. Her arousal mixed with his pre-cum and the dragoness gasped faintly, the sound barely discernible over the cougar's heavy breathing.

Sliding his cock back and forth, she teased him through her lips without actually allowing him to penetrate her, need rising by the second. Even with Mar to distract him, Ropes huffed and bucked his hips, eyes glowing fiercely as if he could sway Chemical into riding him properly from a mere look along. But distraction was her only weapon when the cougar could have otherwise easily grabbed her and rammed his cock in at any time, and Chem took full advantage of it, letting him feel her warmth yet not enter.

"I know you've been waiting for this," she groaned. "Waiting to fuck us. I know you missed us like we missed you. Go on. Admit it. You know you want to."

The cougar snarled, peeling his lips back from his teeth, but Marinelle blocked his way as he lunged for Chemical, bearing him back to the bed with her breasts warming his whiskers. Although he growled, his complaints died down as he pressed his nose between them, inhaling the softly feminine scent of the white and blue dragoness, her delicacy a fine contrast to Chemical's challenge. But he'd have his payback, even if he had to concede some ground to get her just where he wanted her first of all.

Planting his hind paws, the cougar growled and rocked up into the dragon, paws slinking down to find her hips as he purred into Mar's breasts, tongue rasping over the crimson lace cradling them. Chem met his thrusts with her own, grinding down each and every time as she seemed to clench around him, sucking him in with a near enough vice-like grip that he feared, if but for the briefest of seconds, each and every time would not release his cock for another delicious thrust.

Mar slipped back, turning about and lifting her tail to tease him as she, oh so slowly, slid her panties down her thick thighs, letting them pull and stretch as if they would not quite come off without a fight. Her pussy dripped with her own arousal, the softly scaled lips of her sex glistening as if, perhaps, she had already been fucked that day. But Ropes had not yet had his way with her and, as the dragoness rocked her hips from side to side, teasing him with the lure of her honey pot, his lusts grew, cock throbbing within Chemical's tight, wanton snatch.

On top of Ropes, Chemical threw her head back and moaned like a slut in a whore house, mane tousled and wild around her head and shoulders. The temptation of orgasm tightened in her crotch, warmth spreading out to the very tips of her fingers as her breath raked hotly through her throat. She puffed, nostrils flaring, and dug her short claws lightly into Ropes' chest, leaning forward as their eyes locked, Marinelle's temptation a mere side to the heated main course.

But the cougar would not climax with the dragoness, as lovely as she was, getting her way and more. As Mar pulled away, allowing him some space, he took his chance and lunged, grasping Chemical's arms above the crook of her elbow. There was a brief moment in which surprised flashed across her face, but then he hooked his leg around hers and rolled her onto her back, using the weight of his body to drive her into the bed. His cock didn't leave her cunt for a moment during the manoeuvre, although she tightened wonderfully around him, Ropes' eyes rolling back into his skull - even if it was difficult to see with the naked eye with how they glowed so.

Far from complaining, Chemical only gasped at the new position, Ropes' cock working even more deeply within her, and arched up to meet him, breasts rising as if his lovemaking had her as under control as a puppet on a puppeteer's strings. She hooked her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles, as if to draw him in, but the cougar wasn't about to go anywhere with her beneath him. No, he was far too close to climax, shoulders rounding and ears dropping softly back, to even consider pulling out, if only to teach her a lesson.

He had his lusts to satisfy too, after all.

Hammering in with all the power he possessed, Ropes squeezed his glutes with every thrust, hurling Chemical into orgasm. She would have roared if she'd had the breath to, but her strangled moans said enough, the dragoness clinging to Ropes as if for one secure point in the storm of ecstasy. A flicker of jealousy crossed the white dragoness' muzzle and she unhooked her bra, leaving her scales bare but for the red heels, on all fours and twitching the tip of her tail back and forth with every breath as if to call the coThat was enough for Ropes who yowled and snarled, lips pulling back from his teeth, as he too reached climax, shot after shot of virile seed plunging deep into the dragoness' needy pussy, even as she twitched and clenched around him. Eyes on Marinelle and her drooling pussy, arousal staining the scales of her inner thighs, Ropes gulped down what breath he could and rammed in deep, every muscle in his body releasing the tension held there, one by one. Slumping to the bed, Chemical huffed and flung her arms out above her head, a slow smile spreading across her muzzle as she let out one last, delighted groan.
But the cougar was a male in demand and had one more to satisfy before he could treat his body to rest too. His cock had barely stopped spurting, however, before he pulled out, eyes still fixed on the white dragoness growling and gyrating before him, her need rising by the second.
"Now for you..."
Marinelle squeaked and giggled as the cougar, quite literally, pounced on her, tumbling her onto her side as he wrapped his tentacles around her wrists. Holding her wrists up to the head of the bed as Chemical groaned and regained herself, Ropes wasted no time in hoisting up her upper leg as they tucked together on their right sides, cock nuzzling up to the wet warmth of her pussy. Moaning breathily, the white dragon tipped her head back, submitting and baring her throat to him, but the cougar was hardly interesting in a return show of dominance when she was so readily submitting to him, a quivering female in his grasp ready to be fucked and fucked well.
His cock did not soften as he pushed into her, hardly over sensitive and yet still letting out a long, low growl as he sank into her tempting warmth. Every female boasted a different flavour and Marinelle would always be one of the most divine, sweet and yielding as she moaned and begged in such a breathy whisper for every inch he allowed her.
And he'd give her all that and more, at her kind 'demand'. His teeth dug gently into her shoulder, where it joined her neck, as the dragoness whimpered, and he rolled his hips up to her, rocking deeper and deeper until his balls bounced lightly with each, needy thrust. Already the desire to cum rose deep in the pit of Ropes' stomach and he groaned inwardly to think of how he could not have fucked Fyr twice in such quick succession: one benefit of having more than one dragoness ready and available to take his hard cock as he wished.
Panting softly, Marinelle pressed back into the cougar's soft bite and whined quietly, shivering as a paw came around to grope and squeeze her breasts. Freed of the confines of the brassiere, as beautiful as the lingerie had been, her nipples perked eagerly up to his fingertips, all for his teasing tug and pinch, drawing them into even tighter peaks that stoked the fire in her belly.
Ropes growled against her as he thrust, only breaking the gentle bite to kiss and nip down the side of her neck. She melted beneath him and he warranted that the only reason that she did not go completely slack in his grasp, wrists amenable to being pinned, was the fact that her need quickly rose. A little voyeuristic - well, all of them were, in all honesty - it had been all the dragoness could have done to not jump in and join the fun when Ropes was fucking Chemical. The dragoness, who had been lucky enough to be fucked first, rolled onto her stomach, chin propped up on her paw as she blew a smoke heart and watched them, the tip of her tail curling back and forth above her round buttocks.
Neither of them had eyes for her in the moment, however, determined to please one another and reach that peak of pleasure as swiftly as they could. Marinelle's lips moved near constantly, begging for more, harder, faster, deeper, even as the cougar moved keenly to deliver, tentacles tightening wickedly around her wrists. There was no need to hold her, of course, but the threat of such true restraint pulled the throbbing, rising pleasure to a crescendo - one that could not have been held back even if she'd tried. And Marinelle wanted every delectable second of that ecstasy, as much as it made her head spin and the world cease to make sense for the time it ran.
She had no need of breath for burning lungs and moaned as she climaxed, ecstasy catching the dragoness by surprise as her whole body twitched and muscled jumped, beyond her control as stars danced before her eyes. Marinelle shuddered and tried to come back to herself as her pussy slickened rapidly, evidence of her orgasm dripping onto the thrusting cougar's balls and thighs, but there was no holding back as another wave caught her up again and threw her mercilessly back into the arms of stringent pleasure. Her cunt squeezed down on that uncut shaft delivering her to such heights, the paw on her breast squeezing in as he hit that sensitive patch of nerves inside her cunny over and over again, each moment drawn out into what may as well have been an eternity.
Ropes could do little to hold himself back as the dragoness' pussy clenched and rippled so wonderfully around him and howled out his climax, forgoing his usual, feral feline yowl. His second two tentacles flew out, undulating madly, and he snarled, chest heaving and cock throbbing as it delivered pulse after pulse of thick kitty-cream into her waiting snatch. She panted as she eased back down, blinking and whimpering in his arms, and Ropes finally released her wrists, sparing a teasing flick of one tentacle between her thighs, just about catching her sensitive clit.
"I didn't think I could make you squeal like that without teasing this," he grunted, chest rising and falling rapidly against her back as he circled her clit with the tip of a tentacle. "I'll have to try that trick again... Next time."
Nodding faintly as his cock slipped from her pussy, Marinelle sprawled out on her back on the bed, giggling weakly as Chemical crawled up beside her, cradling her sister dragoness' head in the crook of her neck.
Ropes sat back on his heels, the bed bowing beneath his weight as his cock throbbed, gleaming with feminine juices and cum, though still ready to go another round. It was as if they sensed his eyes on them as both dragoness' stares snapped to him, even as Mar blinked and tried harder to focus than Chemical, whose lips were already stretched in her characteristic smirk, want plastered across her sexy muzzle.
"I'm not done with either of you yet," Ropes murmured, flicking out his long, pick tongue along the side of his muzzle as if he was about to further savour a fine meal. "There's a long afternoon ahead and, well, Fyr won't be back for hours yet. She has things to do."
Not that he minded that she was otherwise occupied. The cougar smirked and swept his gaze across the bed, taking in the sight of the two, satisfied yet still hungry, dragons, their eyes burning with desire - desire for him. Ropes trembled, though not from fear, but lust rolling through his body, crashing down on him in a call that could not be ignored.
Yowling, he pounced one or the other - as long as he had a hot hole to fill, it really made no difference to him - and took each dragoness in turn into his arms, fingers winding into a mane as eager lips met his. Their tongues danced together as the other slipped between his legs, rubbing his balls and teasing at stroking his aching shaft back to full hardness, but in all honesty the cougar was already ready to go all over again. It was simply one of the benefits of being a demon of lust.
As he pinned Chemical back on the bed, tongue rasping over Marinelle's clit as her pussy drooled in his face, the dragoness having positioned herself before him on all fours, the cougar chanced a smirk to himself, a private one. For what demon cougar could have been luckier than to have two lustful dragons eager for his attention time and time again, amongst the many others that clamoured for his cock and rampant, driving thrusts? He'd have Fyr whenever he wanted, but there was something about the illicit, what should have been forbidden - and was - that sent thrill after thrill running through his body each and every time. An addiction it was not, but a pleasure it certainly was.
Chemical hissed as he drove into her, her cunny slick and welcoming him in even more readily than the first time, eyes rolling back into her skull as Mar turned about to softly kiss over her friend's muzzle. Caught up in lust, the trio took their best enjoyment from each other's bodies, moans rising as the afternoon wore on into early evening, sunset glowing across the ranch acreage.
No one heard the front door open again.ugar in, a siren of lust.

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Bruises on Bruises bydelicatedarkness©

I'll be honest, I was nervous. Of course, I was nervous, it was to be expected, wasn't it? A spontaneous invite for 'drinks' now left me sitting in a pub, bouncing my knee up and down with a sweating palm clutching my half-drunk cider. I'd deliberately sat opposite the entrance, tucking myself into a corner, my eyes glued to the door waiting for it to open. He said he was on his way - why hadn't we exchanged phone numbers? FetLife was hardly a reliable source of communication. My thoughts wondered for a moment, what would he be like? We'd spoken on and off for over a year but I'd be so consumed with my previous relationship, this was the first time I'd been allowed to be interested in someone new and not feel guilty.
The door to the pub opened, the chatter of locals lowering a little as an unfamiliar face appeared. His long hair was tied up, his glasses dark and striking across a series of features I'd liked in photos but liked even more in person. Shaky hands put my drink back on the table as I stood, offering a shy wave in his direction as he came over. We were obviously both as nervous as each other, but I gladly embraced him and I felt my body flutter as he touched me.
Clumsy, shy words were exchanged, stuttered introductions and bashful smiles as he retreated to the bar to indulge in a little liquid courage I think we both needed. My head was racing, he was a man, not a boy. He smelt of cigarettes and leather, long hair, beard, his body strong under his clothes and those eyes... - he was unequivocally my type.
We sat side by side on a sofa, drinks in our hands, working our way through 'getting-to-know' questions and slowly beginning to learn about each other as people. I was nervous, stomach-churningly nervous but with a little help from the alcohol, I found myself softening and settling, my body language relaxing and my inner monologue near-screaming to kiss him. Coincidence after coincidence began to appear as we shared anecdotes and stories, my interest in him growing moment after moment. The look on this fully grown man's face as his younger date confessed their love for wrestling is a snapshot I will hold onto as the moment I knew that this was the right thing to be doing.
Our evening flitted between cigarettes, live music, more drinks and our bodies getting closer, arms around shoulders, shared smiles and a dark, delicious undertone of sexual tension and desire.
The band had finished, our glasses were empty and as I swayed from side-to-side debating my choices, his gentle offer of a spliff swayed me and I found myself in the back of an Uber, my nerves increasing rapidly but my desire for more and my insatiable need for pleasure had me going nowhere. His home was cosy, the atmosphere open and I felt all of my nerves melt away in an instant.
He kissed me.
It didn't take long, he lent me back against the sofa, cupping my face, gripping my hair and kissing me, claiming me. My body burned to my very core, pleasure flooding my groin, I ached and throbbed and squirmed beneath him. I couldn't recall the last time I'd had such an intense reaction to such a simple gesture, but I knew I wanted more.
The memories from here on are hazy, a blur of pleasure and pain, being pushed to my limits, coaxed and comforted into situations and suggestions I've only dreamed about. What follows are my pieced-together accounts and memories - details included may not be 100% accurate - in my defence dear reader, you try cumming that many times in four days and see how good your memory is.
He flogged me to start with, stood me up against the wall and flogged me. The strands weren't made of leather, but instead thin strings of plastic, or what I could only assume were plastic. He was gentle to start with but learned quickly quite how much I enjoy pain. The flogger left a delicate pattern of broken blood vessels across my ass and thighs, the marks making me smile as his warm hands caressed and soothed my pain. I was pulled over his lap and spanked, my body twitching and flexing beneath him as I wriggled and danced to the rhythmic slap of hand against skin. I was in heaven, finally spoiled and given all of the things I've been denied for so long. There is something obsessive, addictive about being dominated by a man, I was drunk on it.
I've never enjoyed oral sex, eternally self-conscious and never able to quite relax enough - fast forward four days, it's my favourite. He nestled his head between my legs, breathing in my smell, hands locking around my legs and pinning me in place, no matter how much I pleaded and wriggled. His tongue lapped at me slowly, finding the sweet spots, circling, waiting. Anticipation and pleasure built in my chest, my muscles clenching and pleasure pooling in my fingers and toes. His tongue moved against me faster and faster, his face and hands wedging me between him, my heels digging into his ribs as I fought against him. There was no way I'd overpower him but the playful fight made it all the more fun. My struggling increased as time ticked by, I'd never had a man be this attentive to me and my clitoris burned with over stimulation. His tongue flamed against my nerve endings and I felt myself getting wetter and wetter as he carried on. I called mercy, I caved and my thighs trembled as he graciously parted, his eyes dark and his beard shining. I pulled him close, kissed him, my tongue tracing his face and tasting myself, desperate moans falling from my lips as I did.
We fucked. Of course we did. I couldn't help myself, he made me feel so intensely and made me obsess over every sensation he provided. My pussy ached, pleasure and desire making me burn from the inside out. I was desperate to feel him fill me, desperate to see how our bodies fitted together. He pulled words from my mouth, confessions of dark, dirty desires that I rarely shared with anyone, coaxing the nymphomaniac from her cave and into the light. I rolled off the same speech that I shared with every partner, that orgasms weren't something that came easily to me, that I'd always struggled and that if it didn't happen it didn't matter. I was used to being unsatisfied, but he simply shook his head and smiled, reassurance and kind words acting as a balm to my worries, I didn't need to be frightened, I didn't need to be anything - I just needed to feel. He made me climax, he made me climax repeatedly and with an intensity, I didn't think was possible. I cried, sobbed into his pillows as my body shook and convulsed at a release I'd struggled to achieve, even by myself.
His toy box provided a plethora of delights, and in the space of a few hours, I was able to tick several items off of my kink to-do list. He tormented me with a Hitachi, the vibrations driving me to despair at the burst of feelings my already sensitive nerve endings struggled to process. Get yourself a man who can wrestle - there's no hope of escape. I'd never played with the dynamic of predator and prey, but the way he looked at me, the desire and possession in his eyes awoke something in me I'd never felt before. This fear, this abject terror blending with arousal and the need to be claimed. He captured me and called me his own.
I've always shied away from electro-play, having only experienced a violet wand once and only on my arm, I'd settled on the decision that it really wasn't for me. But, I also believe that it's vitally important, especially in kink to be open-minded about all sensations. So, I found myself laid flat, the plasma-charged glass dancing across my skin, sparking and buzzing as the circuit completed itself along my body. He tried a few different things, holding the wand and using his fingers to touch me, the pain and almost spiky sensations making me squirm and dance, but at the end of it all, it felt amazing.
Our Saturday didn't really end until 7am on Sunday morning when we eventually rolled into bed, the sun rising and the birds singing as we laid face-to-face, talking, sharing smiles and sleepy laughter. I vaguely remember falling asleep, taking comfort in finally sharing a bed with someone again, I always sleep better that way.
Sunday brought more treats, my day starting with my first proper caning. I can tolerate most pain during impact play. Paddles, floggers, hands, even dragon tails - but the one tool that brings me to my knees and will openly make me cry are canes. He started off 'gently' - his wooden cane seemed a soft place to start, however, when the tip broke twice across my skin it was discarded for the day-glow horror. A thin tube of perspex flashed across my skin and I was broken. Spankings are never a punishment for me, I enjoy it too much, but caning? My buttocks flushed into deep red and purple welts and I collapsed against the sofa, tears running down my cheeks as my body ached and trembled. He stroked my hair, pulled me upright and kissed me, warm hands soft against my delicate flesh. His capacity for sadism was unparalleled but his aftercare was just as blissful. I sunk against his body, slowing my breathing and letting the sensations wash over me, my pussy betraying my outward expressions of discomfort as slick arousal coated my thighs. There was no hiding anything from him and I loved it.
Next on my list was wax play. The artistic beauty of wax and the work I'd seen online enchanted me. I was willing to become his canvas and his muse. He laid me on the bed, tying my wrists to the bedposts, stretching me out so I had no way of hiding. His body weight pinned my legs and the lighter sparked, the was melted and sharp, hot spots of pain and pleasure danced across my chest, breasts and nipples. I flexed and thrashed, crying out, desperately trying to escape the sensations and as the wax cooled I felt myself calm down. Then the wand appeared, he grinned, teeth sharp in his smile as he ran his hands across the hardened wax and pressed the vibrating tip against my pussy, my spine arching and face contorting with sudden and intense sensation. He captured my pleasure with photographs, proudly showing me afterwards just how beautiful I looked. I was lost in the moment, lost in the contrast of discomfort and delight as he made me cum almost instantly.
Anal has been a long-standing favourite of mine, and whilst I'm used to standard butt plugs and dick, he presented me with a new toy and it was impossible to hide my excitement. An inflatable butt plug was never something I'd considered trying, but now I found myself pleading and panting, begging for more as he slowly inflated it inside of me, taking it slow, giving me time but chuckled in surprise as moans for more fell from my mouth. I felt full, my body accommodating the sheer size of the toy with ease, he called me a slut, and I could only nod in agreement, how could I not be? Knees up to my chest, spread wide open as he filled me with an obnoxiously sized toy, aggressively finger fucking me till I came undone in his hands.
We played with clothes pegs, testing my endurance, pegging my nipples, my labia and clitoris, his eyes burning into mine as he watched my face, watched my pupils dilate with pain, flicking and pulling at the plastic, delighting in my yelps and squeals. The clothes pegs were followed with the most brutal toy in his collection. It had lain discarded on the floor as his toy box had been hunted through over the weekend. A paddle made of recycled rubber. It looked utterly monstrous and as I lay curled beside him, chewing on the tip of my thumb, I stared at it, curiosity pulling at my mind, poking at my masochistic side, go on, try it, you might like it... - he described the sensation to that of being hit by a truck, but still that did not perturb me. I dutifully bent over the sofa, breathing deeply, relaxing my body as much as I could. My weight was thrown forwards as the paddle connected with my skin. The sound ringing in my ears, and I knew he hadn't even hit me hard. Despite its density, the large surface area distributed the sting evenly and I felt pleasure follow the pain, sweet as sugar.
I'm a hedonist, I always have been. I find myself constantly seeking new sensations, pushing my body and my mind to new experiences and as I lay, cum drunk and shaking, bliss settled over me like a blanket - he had given me everything I've ever wanted in only a few days. All my desires and interests peaked and titillated, and there wasn't a shred of shame or sub-drop. I'd played with partners, I'd had Doms, I'd been dominated but I'd never been with a partner where I hadn't had to hide anything or censor my desires from fear of judgment. He let me lay open before him, unashamed, unabashed and fulfilled. People like him are rare, and I'm thankful the stars aligned the way they did. Every submissive deserves a Dom who beats them and hurts them but is there to pick up the pieces afterwards.
The bruises developed rapidly over the next few days, my skin turning every shade of red, green, purple & blue, some tender, some not. Bite marks littered my thighs, ankles and shoulders, my eyes squeezing shut when I sat down a little too fast, a permanent reminder of what I'd experienced and I relished it. I relished all of it. He left me with bruises on bruises, a satisfied body and a deep desire to do it all over again. Well, dear reader, I can't remember the last time a first date was quite so...successful.

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bydelicatedarkness© 1 comments/ 2890 views/

Blossom bythirstformisery©

He called her his little blossom. Clementine was a delicate and pretty little thing completely unsuited to be the wife of a serious young man with an eye on a career in the city but she had a shapely figure with a plump bosom and a tiny waist, and such an endearing way of looking up at him as if he were the only man in the world worthy of the title, that Nicholas ignored his misgivings and married her.
He did not regret his decision right away. They spent a carefree honeymoon by the sea where he bought her a terrier puppy and watched her run and play with it on the beach. He spoiled her with her favorite sweets and when he lay beside her watching her sleep through the first light of dawn he felt himself to be the luckiest man in the world.
She was so gentle and good natured that all he could think about was how he could keep the roughness of the world away from her. His heart swelled with masculine pride as he held her close letting her dream her little dreams in the safety of his arms. He was so enamored of her innocence that it even shamed him to indulge the urges marriage gave him license to satisfy. When she patiently lay beneath him turning her face to the window as he got on with his sordid male business he wished he could resist pillaging her body and be content to rest chastely by her side like the hero in some medieval romance.
As if to compensate for these almost nightly impositions, he did his best to shield her from the domestic realities a young wife must inevitably face. They returned from their honeymoon to a modest but well appointed house left to Nicholas by his grandfather. The budget was stretched to include the hiring of a local girl to help with the more taxing chores and even Nicholas pitched in as he could often going himself to the butchers and green grocers or stealthily sewing a button back onto his shirt that Clementine had forgotten.
If she made a mistake and overspent one week, he cheerfully claimed that a dinner of bread and cheese was just what he needed to maintain his youthful figure. If she let the hired girl spend half the afternoon on the back steps talking to the man who delivered the coal it was just a fault of her gentle and kindhearted nature. As long as Clementine was trying he could forgive her anything. He kissed her and stroked her hair and reassured her that none of it mattered as long as she was his Clementine.
It was not until well into this first year of marriage that Nicholas began to feel the strain of Clementine's ineptitude and the perpetual state of disarray his household seemed to be in. He tried to dismiss the mild irritation he felt when she met him at the door with some crisis or other as a reaction to the bad weather (it was March, the longest and dreariest month of the year) but it did not dissipate with the spring and slowly it began to stain his love.
Even though he went to great lengths to be patient and kind, his little blossom seemed never improved at doing the simple tasks any young wife should be able to easily do. He wished he were better off so he could hire a proper housekeeper freeing Clementine to paint and play the harp as she was meant to but that luxury was at least a few years of hard work away. In the meantime they must live and at the moment the living was not going well. With the constant tears and little disasters Nicholas dreaded to think what would happen when the inevitable children arrived. The worst of it was that he had a vague notion he was failing Clementine as a husband, failing her in some way he could not quite grasp. He watched her become more silent and pale each day unable to think of a way to help her, to help them both.
He thought about this every evening after dinner while taking refuge in his grandfather's study. Sitting in the old man's high backed chair surrounded by the fine books that lined the walls Nicholas felt at peace. Often he would glance up at the portrait of his grandparents that hung over the massive oak desk that dominated the room seeking some form of guidance, or at least comfort, in the image of their happiness. The portrait had been painted soon after their wedding. Nicholas' grandfather sat tall in the very chair Nicholas now occupied with his wife kneeling by his side, her cheek resting in an attitude of contentment against his thigh
If only he could bring such contentment to Clementine Nicholas would think idly letting his eyes slide over a row of hooks on which an assortment of canes and leather straps hung arranged in order of size form smallest to thickest. Why they were there he did not know but somehow they always drew his attention whenever he thought about his grandparents long and happy marriage and the growing unhappiness of his own. It was almost as if the curious arrangement held the key to a way out of his predicament but he was too obtuse to see it.
There was no question things were slowly going from bad to worse. Clementine grew sadder and quieter as the days passed. Every suggestion from Nicholas or attempt to help was now met with painful self recrimination.
"I know," his wife would whisper when he pointed out a sensible way in which a task she was fretting over could be completed. "I shall do better next time. I promise." Then she would give him a quavering smile that offered no reassurance that she would. Somehow she could never remember what he showed her and in fact seemed to be gradually losing what little housekeeping skill she had with each piece of advice no matter how gently given.
Nicholas wondered how long they could continue in this manner. He feared that unless some monumental change of course occurred they would slowly descend into poverty and despair until old age and, finally, death claimed them.
It was this gloomy prospect that occupied his thoughts as he trudged home on an unseasonably warm day in early May not two weeks after their first anniversary. As he climbed the front steps he pulled impatiently at his collar feeling out of sorts and hot in his heavy woolen coat. It had been a long and trying day. All he wanted was a cool drink and perhaps to sit in the garden until dinner enjoying the spring twilight. He did not remember ever having felt so tired.
There was, however, no rest to be had for he was met at the door by a sobbing Clementine . The tears themselves were not out of the ordinary but the violence of her sobs and the way she clutched at him the minute he entered the front hall made it clear that some catastrophe of unusual severity had occurred.
With a weary sigh, Nicholas clasped his wife in his arms and tried to sooth her with kind works stroking her hair and planting little kisses on her furrowed brow. Instead of becoming calm under his touch as she usually did she pressed her face harder into his chest and wept as if the world was coming to an end. It was a good ten minutes before her could get a word out of her.
"It's no use," she whimpered when she could finally speak. She pulled away from him and wrung her hands pacing the length of the hall. "I thought I could fix it but it is hopeless. You will hate me."
"Surely it cannot be as bad as all that." Nicholas thought her overly dramatic. How much grief could even a silly wife come to in a quiet London suburb? "I could never hate you," he reassured her amazed that she would ever think such a thing.
"I tried. I really tried. You have to know that" She swallowed a hiccup and wiped her nose with the dangling lacy cuff of her sleeve like a small child.
"If you leave me..." She looked up at him eyes wide with terror. "If you leave me I will not blame you. I will not blame you even if I am to die in the street" He was reminded of a cornered mouse gazing into the jaws of a cat and fear sparked in his own belly. This was more than a burnt chop or a missing button. For the first time he spoke to her sternly.
"I think you had best just tell me what it is you have done, Blossom," he said. The endearment did not sound as it had before and he saw her flinch. He waited patiently while she stood before him gathering her courage.
She made several attempts to begin then changed her mind and sobbed a little more. Nicholas sighed with frustration.
"Perhaps we had best go inside," Nicholas said. He had a sudden thought of his grandfather's study. It's aura of quiet authority would be helpful in dealing with whatever difficulties Clementine had brought upon them, It might also sooth her and make her confession easier.
He took his wife by the arm a little less gently than he had intended and led her into the house. She followed meekly making no protest to his changed demeanor. She hung her head a little and a few more tear drops slipped down her pale cheeks.
Upon entering the solemn room, he let her go and watched as she wandered to the window. She stood silently looking at the newly budding birches outside her little shoulders trembling.
"Now," said Nicholas forcing himself to gentle his voice, "why don't you tell me what is so bad that I would feel compelled to heartlessly abandon my little wife.".
Clementine took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her bosom to suppress the tears that threatened to burst forth yet again. She stood there for a long moment searching for words until Nicholas thought he would have to drag them out of her.
"It was the numbers," she began at last. "No matter how careful I am they never seem to add up the right way in the end." She burst into fresh round of tears leaning her forehead against the window. "I cannot make them behave, Nicholas. I look at them and try to remember what you taught me but..."
With a growing sense of foreboding, Nicholas left Clementine standing at the window and strode into the little morning room where she wrote her letters and did the little administrative tasks necessary for the running of the household. He came back with the much abused and now tear stained account book and threw it open onto his grandfather's oaken desk.
The pages were rumpled and blotted with lines crossed out or overwritten in red. There were damp spots, evidence of recent tears, and jagged remnants of pages that had been torn out clinging to the spine. At the bottom of the very last page, written in read with a trembling hand, sat a figure that made Nicholas' heart sink.
He comforted himself because surely the sum was a mistake. The chances of Clementine having calculated it correctly were very small. He went over the numbers and his heart sank further. Clementine had calculated incorrectly but the correct outcome was worse than the one she had come up with.
He took a deep breath.
"We appear to be completely without funds for the next three weeks," he stated forcing his voice into the measured tone of a man completely in control of the situation. "And are, in fact, in dept to some degree." He remembered that just the other day he had noticed some new curtains in the drawing room and that they had eaten salmon twice that week. "Perhaps you had better explain."
With a small cry Clementine spun around and threw herself down at Nicholas' feet. She clung to his right leg as another tempest of sobs wracked her body. She was creasing his trousers he noted absently. For some reason this exasperated him and he looked down at her with a cool eye for the first time.
When her sobs had dwindled to a few ragged breaths, Nicholas stooped and cupped her chin in his palm forcing her to look up at him. "Tell me," he ordered her.
She swallowed and met his implacable gaze with her own timid one. Her eyes were wide and luminous with love and terror. Even a few days ago they would have worked their spell on him. He would have forgiven and forgotten and comforted. Now he just loomed over her waiting for her to speak.
"All I wanted to make things nice for you." She lowered her head and pressed her cheek against the toe of his boot. "I wanted to take care of you. I wanted you to come home to a good dinner and a comfortable home like a husband deserves"
She paused for a moment and stilled.
"But I am just a silly girl. Don't you see?" she cried suddenly. "Not a sensible wife for someone like you. Surely you knew that when you married me...." Her poor little voice faded away to silence. The guilt and despair that weighed it down almost rent Nicholas in two wracking him with guilt over his momentary annoyance.
Of course she was right. He had known. All her life she had been sheltered and indulged. He had, at least in part, loved her for her innocence and her helplessness and yet now he expected her to cope with the responsibilities of a wife with little preparation and what he now saw was little help from him. The sudden realization humbled him. He almost knelt down beside her to beg her forgiveness but he sensed that this was not what she wanted or needed.
"I have failed you," she continued. "I have been nothing but a burden to you." She reached up and clasped his hands in her own. "But please, please do not abandon me. I could not bear it."
"What am I to do then?" Nicholas asked her. "You know we cannot go on this way. It is no great thing to be a little hungry for a few days but what of the future? What is to keep you from making such mistakes again, and perhaps bigger ones that could lead to greater difficulties that might put us in much deeper in debt and could even..even ruin us?"
"I don't know!" Clementine whimpered. "You must help me change somehow. Take away all my dresses and ribbons. Starve me. Make me work until there is nothing left of me but bare bones. Show no mercy. Punish me until I am forced to learn."
It was a little dramatic perhaps but Nicholas could see a practical wisdom in it.
His eyes fell on his grandparent's portrait and then on the row of canes and straps that hung in such a neat row behind the desk. "Very well then." He drew himself up and helped his wife to her feet. "Let us have a lesson in arithmetic right now."
"Now?"
"Yes. Now." He placed the book at the far side of the desk and opened it to a new page. "We shall keep it simple."
He took Clementine by the elbow and bent her over the desk so that her elbows were resting on each side of the book somewhat surprised at how meekly she allowed herself to be arranged. He picked up a pen and put it in her hand.
"Please enter the sum I give you for household expenses as you typically would."
Clementine leaned a little on her left elbow and carefully entered the date and a note to say what the amount was in the first column. She hesitated briefly then wrote the amount in the next column over taking great care over each number.
"Very good. Now what was the first of last weeks expenditures?"
"The butcher. Two shillings for those chops and some bacon"
"Write it down, Clementine" Clementine bit her lip and thought. "The third column from the left one line down" Nicholas wandered over to the far wall and ran a finger over the thin cane that hung closest to him. He picked it up and flexed it testing its suppleness.
"What else?" Nicholas strolled back to stand behind and to the right of Clementine.
"Well, the green grocer of course." Clementine quickly entered the shilling five pence under the butcher's total.
"Excellent. So far I cannot see how you could have gone so wrong. Is that all?
"There is the baker and we needed coal. Tea, milk, sugar. I bought thread to darn your socks. Paraffin for the lamps." Clementine listed all the things she spent money on weekly scribbling them in the book happier with each success and subsequent smile from Nicholas. When she had listed everything she could remember, she added them all up and subtracted the sum from the first and only amount at the top of the second column. She put down the pen and looked up at Nicholas expectantly.
"A good effort." Nicholas tapped the cane against his right foot as he reviewed Clementine's work. "However, here you attempted to subtract six from three." He pointed to the rightmost set of digits. "You correctly wrote the difference as seven but you forgot that you borrowed from the amount on the left and now you have a ten more shillings than you should have."
"Oh." Clementine blushed and hung her head over her work. She studied it trying to understand.
"Any schoolboy could have done these sums. It seems your education was sadly lacking."
"I know it. The governess finally gave up on me in despair. She tried to speak to my father about it but he dismissed her. He said I was too pretty to learn tedious things, that he preferred me cheerful and silly."
"Your father did you a great disservice, Clementine, one which it is my duty now to undo if we are to continue living happily together." Nicholas laid the cane gently across his wife's back and caressed her with the tip. "I really think that punishment such as is usually meted out to inferior pupils is just the thing you need."
He half expected her to leap up and run away, to call him a beast and lock herself in her dressing room until she could write to her father to take her away. Instead she glanced back over her shoulder and in her eyes was such love and such trust that it almost took his breath away. "I think perhaps you are right. Perhaps if I had had a stricter upbringing..." She shook her head a small sad smile flickering briefly across her face.
She had never looked prettier, or more fragile. If he had not already spoken of it, Nicholas would have abandoned his half formed plan putting it down to temporary insanity. He would have taken her in his arms and told her never mind, they would manage somehow. But he had set his foot upon this path and was now bound to follow it to wherever it might lead.
Piles of silk, lace and whalebone stood in his way. He considered asking her to undress but thought maybe she would find it too daunting a task. Instead he lifted her skirt and patiently loosened and unknotted his way through the complicated system of undergarments that sheltered her until finally her tender bottom was exposed to his view.
As he gazed down at her he realized it was the first time he had seen her naked in this way. The soft curve of her buttocks and thighs was intoxicating. He ran his hand over her the skin marveling at its smoothness. Between her legs was that place he had taken his brief and guilty pleasure in but never even glimpsed. It was a delicate pink and crowned by a patch of chestnut hair slightly darker than that on her head. It took all of his strength to focus on the task at hand and not to slide an experimental finger between the soft folds that glistened with a surprising amount of moisture.
"Are you ready?" he asked summoning all the authority he could muster. "You understand I do this because I love and care for you."
Clementine clutched the edges of the desk and pressed her cheek against the sturdy wood. "I love you too, Nicholas, so very much. Please do what you must."
"I think we will start with five strokes for this mistake," Nicholas said. "Do you agree that that is fair?"
"Yes, Nicholas. Five strokes is fair."
"Very well."
Without further ado, Nicholas raised his arm and struck. He did not use so much as half his full strength but even so the cane made a loud smack that caused him to flinch a little.
Clementine herself held still, the only evidence that she felt the blow a brief contraction of her buttocks and a sharply indrawn breath. A second stroke elicited a tiny moan and a single tear that trickled slowly down her cheek. Two more and her hands fluttered back briefly, succumbing to an instinctive desire to ward off the blows, before settling down to grip the edge of the desk. Four thin red lines criss crossed her backside.
"One more." Nicholas aimed at the spot just at the top of her thighs that was still unmarked. He swung and wrenched a yelp from her quivering lips. "There. Its over now." He stepped back. "Shall we try again?"
 Clementine picked up the pen and set to work on the new page that Nicholas had turned to for her. She did much better this time. She only made two small mistakes for which the proper chastisement was meted out and received .
The third time the sums were correct and only neatness, or lack thereof, merited a last couple of strokes. These were delivered with a little more force and contained, in spite of Nicholas' best intentions, a goodly amount of all the disappointments and frustrations that the last six months had brought. Clementine took them with barely a twitch, the only indication of there severity being a trace of blood on her lip where she had bitten it. She was doing her best not to fail him and that made Nicholas proud.
He laid the cane down gently on the desk. He reached down to take his brave little blossom into his arms now that her ordeal was over but before he could lay a soothing hand on her, she fell down once more onto her knees before him.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you dear Nicholas!" she breathed into his trouser clad leg. Her face was pressed against his thigh, uncomfortably close to where a noticeable bulge was letting Nicholas know that, despite his noble objectives, his baser nature had enjoyed his wife's punishment and the sight of the cane marking her immaculate skin. The realization shocked him. He moved to push Clementine away and restore some dignity to the situation but to his surprise she was now undoing his buttons with shaking fingers.
With a mixture of horror and awe he watched her take out that male appendage which no decent woman should be willing to face so boldly and hold it gently in her palm. She gave it a shy kiss and after a minute's hesitation, slid it between her lips. "It is not as bad as I had imagined," she said backing away for a moment and studying it before taking it carefully in her mouth again.
"Where...?" he gasped. "Where did you learn to do that?" After months of enduring his unwelcome attentions, he was astonished to see her behave so wantonly.
"Don't you like it?" Clementine wavered letting her hands fall to her lap. "I found some books, here in your grandfather's study...I have longed to do something for you, to make up for all my other shortcomings. I thought maybe this was something I might not be bad at..." She looked up at him eyes filled with dismay. "You think I am indecent."
"No, Clementine. I am just surprised. All this time I thought..." Like many young men, he had visited the occasional prostitute and was no stranger to the act. To have his innocent wife perform it, however, was alarming and at the same time incredibly arousing. He did not even bother to question how she had found these books that he had carefully hidden behind a copy of David Copperfield. "Clementine, you don't have to..." He fought for self control as she resumed the task at hand.
"Please, Nicholas I want to." She gazed up into his eyes dismay commuted to supplication. "I want to show you how much I love you, how grateful I am for all that you have done. I want to thank you for being so patient with me, and so strong."
Nicholas took a deep breath.
"Then thank me." He drew himself up and threaded his fingers through her hair drawing her towards him. "You may continue."
Unlike the prostitutes who made a great show of swallowing a man's member in one predatory gulp she was clumsy. She advanced a little and then retreated when she could take no more. She coughed and blushed fighting to draw breath as he nudged the back of her throat. She tried hard, however, constantly looking to her husband for direction and approval, which he gave enthusiastically.
He had not meant to find his release in her mouth thinking that perhaps she had endured enough but the sight of her on her knees trying so hard to please him with her marked bottom still exposed was too much. He clutched the back of her head and held her to him as he emptied everything he had into her willing mouth.
Stunned and out of breath he stumbled back into his grandfather's chair. Clementine too needed a moment to collect herself before she crept over to kneel at his feet.
He drew her up and cradled her in his lap. Some instinct prompted him to reach between her legs. He was only mildly surprised that for the first time she was wet and ready for him as he was, it seemed, ready for her again.
Silently he led her upstairs and ordered her to undress which she did with only the slightest hint of modesty. He took his time enjoying her nakedness. Then he lay her down and plunged into that sweet warm place that, for the first time, welcomed him.
There was no hesitation, no turning away or stilling of the limbs. She opened her mouth to his kisses, let him plunder her with his fingers and cock, cried out in seeming pain when he thrust into her particularly hard but then locked her legs around him urging him on. Nicholas could not believe that his delicate little blossom was not crushed by the force of his lust. At last he felt her spasm beneath him and could not hold back his own climax.
As the last of the tremors faded away he pulled her to him so that she rested in the warm circle of his arms. There were still traces of tears on her face. As he ran his hand down the length of her naked body he could feel the ridges the cane had left. She sighed contentedly as he traced them with his finger.
"I think we will give it a day or two and then we will have another lesson," he said. "Would you like that?"
"Oh yes!" She snuggled closer to him. "Only you must promise me one thing."
"What is it?"
"You must promise to be very strict with me, to not let me get away with any tricks or excuses, to pu...punish me if I fail you." She blushed and hid her face in his chest.
"I promise, little blossom. I promise," he reassured her as he tightened his arms