As long as the deep subspace lasted, there was nothing her Dom could that she didn’t love.
Jessie’s Surrender, Marilyn Hayworth, 1999
***
My poor ass was sore, making the warm bath water sting as it moved against my wounds. But Jackson’s warm body pressing against mine made all the discomfort wash away. His naked chest to my naked chest, his legs open, scissoring with mine, our crotches meeting, his cock thrumming against my sex, mouths open and kissing – I was finally softened and readied for the intimacy but scared as I’d ever been. More scared than I’d been when we’d entered the club that night, or when I was locked inside the pillory and took the hard beating from Jackson’s crop.
Punishment was an unpredictable experience, as thrilling as it was physically painful.
I’d felt him punish me hard for my sins, though I didn’t know exactly what sins those were; perhaps something abstract and arcane, obviously clinging to my psyche from a past life or two of wild living – certainly nothing in my current life – well, nothing that I allowed myself to think about. Any sins from this lifetime occurred a long time ago, and having taken such great pains to forget them, I certainly wasn’t going to remind myself of them now.
And still, the punishment of my sins was the drama underlying my experience at the S M club, this the deep-rooted feeling behind the night. Reprisal. Punishment. Retribution. Castigation. Jackson had everything in place, most importantly the attitudes of sadism and judgment that allowed him to do what he did with no remorse of his own.
Just a game? Or a piece of alternative reality? It really wasn’t necessary to answer those questions. The thought of punishment at the hands of a dominant man had been with me all my life, since I could remember, and for the first time in my life, I had an honest experience of the satisfaction inherent in making real what I thought was mere fantasy.
More important than the night was this party afterwards in his apartment, when my entire body began to vibrate as I felt the naked Jackson Brandt move against me in the bath. Nerves were open and alive. My heart was edgy with a frightening passion.
His touch was electric. Mine on him caused his penis to rise fast and hard, and slowly it moved inside me settling deep as our flesh moved as one. What began in the bath became too vigorous for the slick tub, so we rolled out on the cold slick floor locked in a firm clench. Finally, he pinned me to the tile and rose above me, as his cock entered me with a forceful thrust. His whole body battered my sore ass into the hard surface underneath. Strangely, I cared nothing about my discomfort. My hungry groin rose up to meet him with my inner muscles clenched fiercely and drawing him ever deeper into my sex.
We came in the midst of the torrid battle, hot and cold, soothed and in pain all at the same time, and finally grateful to pull ourselves up off the bathroom floor and make our way to the soft bed.
Silence seemed to grip us; as if we couldn’t speak, rather than just chose not to. For a time we slept. Then for a time I listened to his soft breath and watched his chest move up and down rhythmically, almost in time with my own breath. I studied his face. Moved to various positions on the bed and just watched the man sleep. He’d become a major focus of my life, he dared do for me what I could not do for myself. He made choices for me that I could not make. I resented him for that fact, and loved him for it too.
Later, I got up and drank some water – the champagne he opened earlier tasted bitter now. I bit into a pear to soften the bitterness even more, then let the sweet juices run from my mouth and down my chin unchecked. I watched him sleep from a chair across the room, then around 2:30 I was back inside the bed lying next to him, running my fingers through his chest hair. It didn’t occur to me that he might want to sleep until morning.
When he was finally roused, he turned to me smiling softly.
“I must have slept.”
“We both did. But you longer than me.”
He ruffled my hair. I wasn’t used to acts of tenderness and found myself nervous and jittery, but unwilling to admit my apprehensions. I’m not sure I knew them myself.
When Jackson finally got out of bed, I watched again as he poured liquor from a decanter and took a stiff swig of the liquid, something that left an aroma on his breath I’d recall later. He paused at the window and looked out at the city. The lights were breathtaking, but I’d already had my breath taken from me so many times that night that I refused to look myself. I needed something of substance to cling to. All this waiting fried my nerves. Finally, he turned to me.
“How many men have used your ass?”
I stiffened in shock hearing the unexpected question. This was certainly not what I expected him to say. “I don’t know. I don’t suppose I never have been—” my voice quavered and trailed off.
“Never? You seem uncertain.”
I shook my head adamantly. “No, never. I know that.”
“Then maybe it’s time we loosened you up.”
For all the drama, mystery, pain and tenderness that had taken place that night, this came so hard and abrupt that my head was spinning.
“Come here.”
“Oh, but I don’t think I can,” I recoiled almost instantly. “Not after everything…”
“Rachel.”
He didn’t even raise his voice and I was unthinkingly scrambling to my feet, propelled by something I could not name but which had the power to make me move even when I was so scared. I stood facing the window bent over a small desk, forced to look down on the vast twinkling lights of the city. He began massaging my rear quickly bringing back and intense erotic feeling I found astounding after so many hours. After all we’d been through that night, he wanted this too…and suddenly the attitude of surrender kicked in. I didn’t even think about being seen, that maybe in the high rise right in front of us there were late workers peering out of their windows, binoculars in hand as the sexual scene unfolded.
Not until the sex was over did any of this bother me. My entire mind was consumed by the feel of Jackson’s fingers as they slowly began to massage my anal opening. A few times I’d felt the strange eroticism in that place – even with Jackson. But now his massage was forceful and determined, not the delicate tease of the past. He used a slick lubricant, and as he worked it into my tight anus, he whispered in my ear the hardened words, “So what’s getting fucked in the ass going to feel like, Rachel?” Then he tenderly kissed my ear as if to soothe the impact of this latest taunt. I could still feel the dominant hardness in his voice stretching my nerves until I felt I was about to break. All the while he continued to push his fingers into a place that seemed determined not to give. Jackson was just as determined otherwise.
“This is submission, Rachel. This is it…” I must have heard him say that a dozen times before the message finally began to sink in. When it did, something in me broke free as it had before…another barrier melting away. I thought it might be easy from that point, my body was beginning to want what he desired of me. I’m sure he could feel it, too.
At that very moment, he stopped the anal play and began slapping my sore bottom with his palm. He continued going back and forth prodding my ass with his fingers, then smacking my behind until I was delirious with the sensations.
“Say it, Rachel.”
Say what? My mind wasn’t working well.
“Say it, Rachel!”
I didn’t know what he wanted though I groaned with undisguised want as his fingers probed that dark channel.
“Say it, Rachel!” he slapped me hard. “Tell me you want to get fucked in the ass. C’mon say it! Tell me!”
“Yes, yes! I want to get fucked in the ass!” I heard myself screaming.
His fingers returned to my slick hole once again and began working their way deep. Then he abruptly pulled in behind me and for a moment let his hard cock rest against my anal crack and slide up and down the crevice. Finally, he parted my cheeks and slipped the head of his erection into the slickened channel to the sound of my anguished moaning.
I didn’t know whether to love or hate what he had done. Instinctively I bore down, as more of his organ moved into that dark place. He widened me beyond what I had already been stretched. My body tensed and then relaxed and then tensed again, warring with my own desires, until I finally realized that he had driven himself as far as his erection could go. Never had I felt more subdued or within myself. Never more captive to the masculine will.
I waited, breathless again, more aroused that I was worried. Something strange but deeply engaging about this experience kept me from the threatening panic.
Meanwhile, Jackson seemed to be patiently waiting until my tensed rear channel eased off its fight. Finally he began to slide in and out, slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed until he was moving vigorously within my virgin channel.
I thought my body would break apart, that I might actually come – or go stark raving mad before he finished. But none of that happened. The power of Jackson’s come startled me and when he eased out, I was almost sorry that the fucking was over. My own physical desires were just too bizarre to allow my release, and I felt wasted and used.
He was very right that anal sex was all about submission.