The House of Pain (4 page)

***

In the living room, Doug sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. He pulls me close, one hand encircling my waist, the other tracing a gentle line down my cheek. He runs a thumb over my lower lip; an incredibly erotic touch that has me shifting restlessly in his lap.

“Want to do this?” he whispers in my ear, catching my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling it lightly. Little tendrils of arousal run through me, replacing the nervousness. I shift in his lap again. I can feel his erection against me, and I bite my lip. His body feels good, really, really good.

I nod. Yes. I want to do this.

He pulls me closer and kisses me. His mouth is initially gentle on mine. I sigh softly. I haven’t been kissed in over five weeks and I miss it. My mouth parts slightly and lets him in. That’s the signal Doug’s been waiting for. His lips are suddenly more insistent, his tongue pushes into my parted mouth and dances a delicious duet with mine. His free hand traces idle lines on my bodice.

I moan. Doug’s hands are, in their own way, creating a fire as insistent as the whip. My body tingles in pleasure and lust. I move into him; bring my hands around his head to draw him in, still closer.

“No,” he says softly, pulling away from my mouth for an instant. “Let me set the pace, please.”

Aah. The first demonstration of control. But he doesn’t order me. This is a request, not a command. I nod. I can do this for him. My hands remain at my sides.

He bends his head again, pulls my mouth onto his. He’s nibbling my lower lip now, softly, and the feeling of his teeth on my lip is awakening a deep hunger in me. I moan and shift restlessly.

“Keep still, baby,” he mutters. Again, not an order, but again, I obey.

His hands are now running lightly over my breasts. I want to shrug off the straps of my dress, lower the bodice so that his hands will caress my bared breasts but I hold still. His fingers are dancing a little waltz on my bared arms, tracing a pathway along my exposed cleavage, running a fiery line along my thighs.

I part my thighs. Doug chuckles. “Keep still, baby,” he says again.

His mouth now is trailing little kisses on my neck. I love being kissed on my neck. It’s my secret erogenous spot, one with a direct line to my pussy. I feel the familiar stirrings as he kisses me. The familiar dampness. I bite my lower lip and moan.

The sunlight is streaming in through the windows in his living room. Doug groans. “The dungeon is in the basement,” he says, a little ironic inflection when he says dungeon. “The bedroom is upstairs. Which way, Sara?”

It is tempting to pick the safe path; to gesture towards the bedroom. I don’t do that. Instead I gather up my courage. “Downstairs,” I say quietly.

We walk towards Doug’s dungeon.

I expect a sinister basement; damp, dim and forbidding. Doug’s dungeon isn’t any of these things.

The St. Andrews Cross in a corner does look intimidating. And the ceiling is criss-crossed with visible metal beams, some with chains hanging down. But aside from these things? The room is, like the upstairs, warm. There are windows set high in the walls, looking onto the backyard, and through this, beams of sunlight come streaming down. The floor is tiled, with throw rugs spread across; shades of red and oranges everywhere again. There’s a bed in the room; a comfortable looking king-size bed – made with pristine white sheets, and a white throw on top. I pause, look around and take it in. 

Doug watches me, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not what you expected?” he asks me.

“No,” I confess. “I thought it’d be more like the House of Pain.”

Doug laughs. “The House of Pain stage? Come on, Sara, John is creating a world of make-believe; his stage needs to be dramatic. Me, I’m just looking to get laid.” He winks at me when he says that, wiggles his eyebrows at me.

I burst out laughing. He’s deliberately easing my tension, making me laugh and causing me to relax. I very much like Doug at this moment.

Doug moves towards me and I stop laughing. There’s electricity in the air. I remember how strong his hands felt on my body; how good it felt to be kissed by him. I take a half-step towards him. We are standing, facing each other, in the centre of the room.

Doug reaches out, runs a finger under the strap of my sundress. It’s a simple gesture, but his touch inflames me. I look into his eyes. There’s desire in them.

“Can you take off your dress?”

I nod. For the moment, he’s keeping this interaction as close to vanilla as possible. If I ignore the St. Andrews Cross in the corner, this might almost be a guy I met at a club. I focus on that thought as a way to still my nerves. I unbutton the couple of buttons that holds the dress in place, slide out of it, letting the dress pool at my feet.

His eyes are on my body, and now, his hands are too. He’s pushing me towards the bed, and I sink into it, Doug sliding next to me. He leans against the headboard, pulls me on his lap, and unerringly finds that spot on my neck again; that spot that is oh-so-connected to my pussy. I moan.

His pace is maddeningly slow; he hasn’t touched my breasts yet, and I want him to, so badly. I shift again, try to thrust my breasts outward; shamelessly hoping he’ll touch me.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Sara?” His voice is slightly amused.

“Please,” I mumble, colouring. “Touch me…”

“Touch you where?”

Damn it, do I have to spell it out? “Touch my nipples, please,” I beg. I am shameless. But his mouth on my neck has set my blood roaring, and I need to feel his hands and his mouth on my nipples.

“In that case, Sara,” his voice chides. “Try holding still. The more you wiggle, the longer you’ll have to wait for me to touch them, ok?”

Ouch. That’s it; the iron fist in a velvet glove. I hold still, whimpering. I need him to touch my nipples. They’ve grown erect under my bra, and are aching for stimulation. 

Just like that, I realize, he’s in charge. He doesn’t need to tie me up or whip me. I’ve held still because he’s asked me to. It’s a little disconcerting, honestly.

I’m quickly distracted from that thought though because now, his mouth is tracing a hot path down my middle. My pussy throbs in need. Is he going to kiss me there too? Is he going to slide off my panties?

I want desperately to thrust my hips towards him, but I do as he told me instead. I hold still.

“Nice,” he says approvingly, noticing my stillness. His voice is warm, and his approval sends tingles running through me. “Such good behaviour deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” I say at once, then bite my tongue. Keep the sass under control, Sara, I warn myself. But Doug doesn’t seem perturbed at the sass. His lips twitch. His hands move towards my bra, unclasps it and slides it off my shoulders.

“Even more gorgeous close up,” he says again, though this time, his eyes are on my breasts. “I’m pretty sure every guy in the audience Saturday night wanted to do this to you, Sara.” He runs his fingers over my nipples, teasing them even further, till they stand out, erect. He takes a nipple between his fingers, pinches and pulls it, hard enough to be painful, soft enough to send bolts of pleasure coursing through me.

“And every guy in that audience definitely wanted to do this.” He lowers his mouth onto my nipple. I groan. He grazes my nipples between his teeth and the act sends shock waves of pleasure all through my body. I moan. I arch towards him, helpless in the face of the feel of him.

A quick, hard pinch on my nipple. “Keep still,” he chides again.

“Sorry,” I mutter. I’m not being a very good submissive, not according to the reading I have done on the internet.

His mouth has moved to my other nipple, and it is all I can do to hold still. I want to touch him, to pull his head onto mine, to feel his hard cock drive into my shuddering pussy. This pace, this slow, deliberate pace that he’s setting; it is maddening.

“Doug,” I moan. “I want to touch you.” My voice is heavy with need.

“And you will, Sara,” he promises. “Just not yet.”

His hands move over me, his mouth traces a warm path. My pussy is drenched; the slow seduction performing its magic.

His fingers finally graze my panties. I still immediately, with a sharp intake of breath. I can’t believe how wet I am; how aroused. “Please,” I beg, my voice high and keening.

“Patience,” Doug urges, his voice hoarse. I can feel his erection. He’s affected by this too. But his control is flawless. He strokes me through the panties, feels their dampness.

“Having fun, Sara?” There’s male satisfaction in his voice.

I’m too aroused to be annoyed by the display of male pride. I want him to rip my panties off. I want him to thrust hard into me.

I keep still instead.

“Good girl.” Again, approval in his voice, and again, he’s got a reward for me. He tugs my panties down, past my knees and I kick them off. They land on the floor somewhere.

Doug is gazing at my pussy, his gaze smouldering. I’ve shaved. He parts my outer pussy lips, traces the inner folds with his fingers. I whimper. He bends his head, takes a long, slow lick. I whimper yet again, my hands clutching his head.

Finally, after what seems like hours, he lowers his mouth on my clitoris, sucking it into his mouth, while he thrusts two fingers into my pussy. I moan and whimper. This is so good. I feel the tension build in me, and I know I’m not going to last very long at all. I’ve been ready to explode all during his slow exploration of my body.

He slides his hand under me, pulls me up into his mouth. I clutch at his head, fighting the need to pull him deep within me, and never let him go.

My eyes meet his. The heat in my eyes is mirrored in his, and that does it. I can’t last anymore. My body spasms, and my orgasm rips through me in a pulsing of electricity.

He doesn’t stop licking all through my orgasm. His tongue stays on me, his fingers pump in and out, and as the tremors finally ease, he gently gives me one final lick, and raises his head.

“I’m pretty sure every guy at the House of Pain wanted to do that, wanted to be the person sending you over the edge.” He sounds pleased. Men.

“Doug,” I whisper, “I want to touch you.”

“In a second, baby,” he says. He gets off the bed; quickly undresses and grabs something from a drawer.

I gaze at him in turn, transfixed. He is gorgeous. Lean and hard and muscled, with a sprinkling of chest hair that snakes downwards in a pathway towards his cock, standing erect and engorged. His cock. I sigh softly. It is long and hard, and I want to feel it more than anything in the world.

“Sara,” he says softly. He shows me what’s in his hands. It’s a pair of nipple clamps. “I’m going to put them on your nipples, Sara,” he says, and this time, there’s muted command in his voice. “And then, I want you to ride me.”

Yes. I get to feel him inside me. He’s not going to tie me up, I get to touch him. I smile at him. “Okay,” I say. My voice sounds gleeful. He looks a little startled at the tone in my voice and then grins at me.

The clamps are tight and slightly painful. I wince for a moment, as my nipples get accustomed to their feel. Slowly, the pain recedes to the background and my nipples throb. Doug lies down on the bed, quickly rolls on a condom. He nudges my hips towards him.

I lean over and straddle him. I feel powerful. I grab his cock, slide his head around the entrance to my pussy, just a little, just a tiny bit of teasing, to make up for how long he’s kept me aroused. He growls; a low, sexy sound in his throat. “Don’t tease, baby.”

I don’t tease. I can’t – I ache to feel him inside me. I slide down his length, adjusting as I take in his girth. I feel stretched, full. My pussy aches again with arousal, as I slowly raise my hips, and come down on him again.

Gradually, I get a rhythm going. Each time I come down on his cock, my breasts bounce, intensifying the ache in my nipples. They are sweet distraction, and my brain is torn, trying to process the two sensations at the same time. I move up and down on Doug’s thick length as he grips my hips. I look into his eyes. I can see smouldering need there and I respond to it, increasing my pace just a little, inclining my body so that he’s hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

That serves as my undoing. I speed up my rhythm, each time, his beautiful cock comes in contact with that spot in my pussy, I jump a little and bite my lips. I’m moving faster, harder, grinding down on his cock, grabbing his shoulders and forearms, running my hands over his chest, whimpering as the tremors run through me. I can feel the muscles in my pussy clamp down on Doug and the ache in my nipples intensify as I bounce harder on him. Then, I’m breaking apart again in a powerful, shuddering orgasm, and as the muscles in my pussy contract around his cock, he comes too, with a groan.

I get off him and he pulls me next to him. His body is warm. He feels good next to me.

Doug’s fallen asleep next to me. I lie quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

Instead, I try to process the sex.

Not what I expected. That’s the first thought that pops through my head, and I explore that, trying to understand exactly what I had thought this encounter would be like. I thought there’d be more ordering around. I’ve read a thousand BDSM stories, seen a thousand BDSM videos. I thought I’d spend some time on my knees, sucking him off, and if I did a good job, he’d let me come.

I shake my head. His control is much more subtle than that. I get a sense that there won’t be too much ordering around with Doug. So far today, he’s made mild requests, with rewards for good behaviour. I’m being trained to obey. That thought scares me a little.

But I can’t deny the wetness that seeped through my panties at his impeccable control of my body.

I don’t want to think about this. To think about the nature of his control on me. Although there’s been a deep craving for pain inside me for many years, I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this, to cede control to Doug. Someone I barely know.

But the sex… the sex was amazing.

“So have sex with him, Sara,” I tell myself. “Just don’t get involved.”

***

Things like that are always easier said than done. When Doug wakes, he stretches, deliciously. “I have to walk Alia,” he says, “else she’ll get really, really cranky. Want to come with me, and then, maybe, we can do this again?”

Yes. Doing this again sounds very good. I can’t take my eyes off Doug’s naked body. I nod my agreement and hunt for my panties.

Alia is delirious with joy when she sees the leash, her tail wagging hard in enthusiasm. I laugh at her. She’s adorable, and her good-humour is pretty contagious. We set off for a walk.

“Tell me about yourself,” Doug prompts, as we wander in the streets of Rosedale. But this is precisely what I don’t want to do. My resolve to not get involved with Doug means that I have to keep our relationship purely sexual.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” I say evasively. It strikes me that I do actually have to tell him something though. He doesn’t know I’ve given my two weeks’ notice. I tell him.

“Where are you going to be working, what are you going to be doing?” he asks me. He’s genuinely interested. Crap. Sex, Doug, let’s keep this about sex.

I name my new employer. They are a small, but very well-regarded marketing agency, one of the few harnessing old-media and new-media effectively. He nods appreciatively as I name them. “Good place to work for,” he says. “I went to college with the COO – James Milner. He’s a good guy; you’ll enjoy working there.”

Damn him. I’m unprepared for his warmth and interest. I mumble something and turn the conversation to his neighborhood, to the beautifully landscaped gardens we walk past. We chat about flowers and herbs, and the challenges of growing tomatoes and basil on a balcony, and other such things for the next half-hour.

***

We are back at Doug’s dungeon. I can see why he used the word ironically. There’s even a fireplace on one wall.

“Let’s up the intensity, okay?” His voice is relaxed. I’m not. I’m instantly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

He leans forward, kisses me. “Relax, baby,” he chides gently.

He removes my clothing swiftly. No torturous, drawn-out teasing this time. I’m naked, and he’s gazing at me with heat in his eyes.

“So when John bent you over the sawhorse that first time,” he starts, conversationally.

Whoa. “You were there the first time?” I ask. That was before he met me at the work meet-and-greet. “I met you at a work meet-and-greet, did you recognize me then?”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t entirely sure it was you. I was sure after the second show.”

Oh. I’m not sure how to react to this and so I say nothing.

“So when John bent you over the sawhorse,” he continues. “I thought, what a waste. Sure, I’d spank that ass.” He runs his hands over my ass, kneading them slightly. “But then, that beautiful pussy is on display, that pretty little ass… so many other things you can do.”

He opens a closet I haven’t noticed, pulls out a sawhorse. “You already know how this works, Sara,” he says to me. “Bend over, please.”

Oh, but this is so different from the House of Pain. That experience, while arousing, was also impersonal. John’s touch was professional, indifferent. 

This is not the House of Pain. There’s intimacy in the air. I’ve very aware that I slept with Doug earlier today. Doug’s touch is different too. It’s more real somehow. My body is not responding to a fantasy this time. No, my body is responding to Doug, and what Doug’s going to do to me.

Doug buckles my arms in. He takes his time, draws it out, strokes me gently as he ties me down. “So pretty, Sara,” he mutters, as he takes the sight of me in. I feel the heat rise in the room as my gaze meets his. 

He comes around, runs his hands over my naked ass. “So nice,” he says again. I flush.

“Part your legs, Sara,” he instructs. He has a spreader bar in his hand and he cuffs me into it.

I take stock of my position. I’m bent over at the waist. I’m completely naked. My legs are spread wide and my ass is in the air. My pussy is moist. It is responding to my immobility. Doug moves in front of me, looks into my eyes. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply. In a way, there’s reassurance in the sawhorse. I’ve done this before; I’ve been spanked hard in front of an audience. I can handle the sawhorse.

Or so I think. As Doug kneels behind me, his tongue licking my pussy, I realize I might not be able to handle the sawhorse at all.

So good. So very, very good. His tongue laps me slowly, deliberately. I squirm in my bindings as every little sensation runs through me. I clench my fists as little waves of pleasure run through me at the feel of his mouth on my pussy. He’s very, very good and he’s in absolutely no hurry. His licks are long, leisurely.

I groan. Tied as I am, I don’t have any traction to push back, to thrust my hips into his mouth. I can only feel. I close my eyes and let the sensations course through me. The slight ache in my shoulders, the clenched muscles of my inner thighs, spread wide open. Doug’s tongue, tracing idle paths in my pussy. 

Suddenly, smack. His hand has spanked my right butt, hard. I groan again. His mouth is still on my pussy, with his maddeningly slow exploration of my body. His hand is stroking my ass, soothing the spot where he’s smacked me.

Now, he’s sucking my pussy lips into my mouth, and I can’t take this pace. “Doug, please,” I beg.

“Patience, baby.” His voice is muffled. “Mmm, you are so tasty…”

I cream even more at his words. My pussy is dripping, and he’s lapping up every little bit. His hands are on my inside thighs, pushing them further apart, his hands are spanking me gently, his hands are running small circles around my puckered asshole, and I’m coming undone at this overload of sensation.

“Want to come, Sara?” he asks me.

“Please,” I half-sob. I can hear the quiver of need in my voice.

“Mmm. Let’s see,” His voice is thoughtful. His fingers have replaced his tongue in my pussy; three of his fingers are in my pussy, and he’s slowly moving them in and out, and I can only squirm in response.

“Please,” I beg again.

“Please what, baby? What would you like me to do?”

“Please Doug, I want to come,” I beg.

“I’m not stopping you, Sara,” he points out. His fingers are in and out of my pussy, sending pulse-waves of pleasure running through my body, but I need his fingers on my clitoris.

“Doug please, touch me,” I plead.

“Touch you where, Sara?” His voice is calm.

I flush. I’m not typically shy, but this control he’s displaying is making me shy. I’m unraveling in front of him and he’s still fully clothed and in perfect charge, while I’m reduced to begging him for release.

“Please touch my clitoris, Doug,” I mumble, blushing all over my body.

“Like this?” Doug’s thumb brushes across my clitoris. I moan. It feels so good. But his thumb leaves my clitoris, and I groan.

“Doug, please,” I beg again. I want this so much.

“Sweet Sara,” he says. He gets to his feet, kisses my back. “Have you ever had a butt plug in your ass, Sara?”

“No.” My voice is wary now.

He moves away for a minute, comes back with a bulb-shaped plug in his hands. It looks like it is made of stainless steel. Probably one of the House of Pain editions. “I’ll be very, very gentle, ok, baby?” He waits for my assent.

I take a deep breath. “Will it hurt?” I ask, my trepidation clearly audible in my voice.

“A little. You’ve experienced far more pain at the House of Pain, though, if that helps. I’m pretty sure you can handle this.”

I take a deep breath. I’ve let him tie me up, so clearly, there’s some level of trust. Now, I just need to take one little step further.

“I have a safeword, right?” Again, I hear the tremor in my voice.

“Always.” He kneels, looks into my eyes. “Baby, you never need to be afraid of me. I will stop if you want me to at any point. But give it a try; I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he says, swiftly kissing me on the lips. He moves behind me. He kisses my back again. There’s reassurance in his gesture and I feel myself begin to calm.

His fingers are stroking my asshole, spreading lube into it. He inserts a finger in and I do my best to relax my anal muscles. He notices.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice warm. He pushes lube into my puckered asshole, slowly, and then, very, very gently, pumps his finger in and out of my ass.

It feels… different. The sensation isn’t unpleasant; he’s used plenty of lube, and there’s no pain. It just feels different.

He adds another finger, and now he’s stretching me open. “Relax your muscles,” he tells me. I do my best. I take a deep breath and try to relax. Now, he removes his fingers and I feel the butt plug at the entrance to my ass.

“You are doing so well, baby,” Doug’s voice is approving. I feel myself respond to that tone; I want to please Doug. I can feel the plug’s insistent push and I relax my muscles as best I can. But even with me doing my best, it still hurts. I whimper a little.

Doug slows down instantly. I can feel him trickle more lube onto the plug, I can feel him rub it into my tight asshole. His fingers feel good. I moan, this time with need.

His fingers move to my pussy and find it drenched. Despite the pain, or is it because of the pain? I am dripping wet.

Doug groans. “So wet, Sara. do you like what I’m doing to you?”

“Yes,” I murmur, longing etched in my voice. He is pushing the plug into me again, and this time, the additional lube does the trick. There’s a brief instant of pain, as my ass stretches against the widest part of the plug, but then, the plug is buried in me, and the base is nestled in the folds of my ass cheeks.

I feel full. Very, very full. I’m not sure whether it’s a good feeling or not.

His fingers trace the base of the plug. “You are being such a good girl, Sara,” he says, again with that tone of approval. I shiver a little, flickers of pleasure cascading through me at his tone. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

I don’t reply. I can’t. His fingers have found my pussy, and he’s thrusting fingers in and out of me, flicking my clitoris at the same time, and I’ve lost the ability to form words. I whimper in pleasure. All I can do is feel the heat rise in me, the impossible flames that won’t be kept at bay, and then, in a rush of sensation, I come undone, flailing in my bonds, as my orgasm rips through me.

I slowly float back to earth. I feel Doug loosen my bonds and unbuckle my feet from the spreader bar. And then he carries me over to bed, tosses me on it. The movement jostles the butt plug, threatening to send another wave of pleasure cascading through me. I bite my lips and whimper.

Lust is blazing in his eyes. I sense his control is about to give. “Part your legs, Sara,” he says tersely, rolling on a condom. And then he is on top of me, and he thrusts into me in one hard, powerful stroke.

The way he feels in me is sweet pleasure. He is powerful. All male. I move my hips to receive his thrusts, arousal rising in me yet again. My nails dig into his back. I cling to him, moaning. I can feel the butt plug with every one of Doug’s thrusts. I am filled to overflowing and I love it.

He’s moving fast, his strokes deep. He’s hitting a spot in my pussy that has me clench in deep pleasure-pain, as I angle my hips to make sure he hits that spot again. My pussy is quivering, I’m clenching around his cock, and he groans as he feels me tighten my muscles.

He moves my legs so that they rest on his shoulders. At this angle, he’s deeper still, and I groan in lust. I grip his forearms, my nails digging into his flesh and I moan in utter abandon. His fingers find my clitoris, rub it surely as he thrusts into me.

I’m rising, rising, lifted by the waves of lust and longing roiling through me. And, just when I feel like I’m going to drown in the sweetness of it all, Doug’s fingers pinch my clitoris, and I’m screaming in orgasm, and I can feel him erupt in me with a groan.