BDSM EROTICA: A Hot, Hardcore Anthology (11 page)

“Get
dressed,” he ordered when she was done. “We’re leaving.”

Isabel
showered, checked her body for marks, of which there were many. Everything
hurt. Her wrists hurt and were red from where the handcuffs had been. Her ass
throbbed from last night’s butt fuck and she smelled like sex and more sex
despite emptying half a bottle of lavender body wash. She scrubbed last night’s
cum out of her hair and brushed and brushed her teeth to get rid of the old
alcohol smell. Good thing the flight was twelve hours. 

Hopefully
it would run late or take longer to get there,
she thought. 

She needed
the time to digest all of this. What would she do when Luca met her at the
airport and Jack was around? How could she see him again, that is, if he wanted
to see her? Not that she and Luca were totally exclusive, yet, but still there
was the start of a relationship, or was there? There was way too much for her
to digest hung-over, especially while throbbing from the best sex of her life.

Isabel got
back into yesterday’s clothes. Jack kept his promise of Starbucks. 

“Let me
guess, Skinny Vanilla Latte?”

Isabel
nodded. She would have nodded to anything he said right about then, but this
was her coffee poison of choice.

Jack drove
Isabel to the departure curb.

“This is
where you get off,” he said. 

Now isn’t
that the truth,
Isabel thought, imagining 4C would also initiate her into
the Mile High Club and who knows what else. 

“But what
about you, aren’t you going? Don’t you have an assignment in Paris?” she
asked. 

“Yeah. That’s
next month,” Jack said. “Don’t forget your bag.” He pulled it out of his trunk,
extended the carry bar for her and hoisted it to the curb without much
ceremony.

“See you ‘round,
kiddo. Have a good . . .
honeymoon
,” Jack said, before he drove off.

Isabel’s
heart sunk as he drove away and she didn’t know why. Thinking about it made her
boarding fly by. Buckled into her seat, the same flight attendant nodded to
Isabel.

“Rough
night?” she asked.

How could
she have known? Was it written on her face? Were there marks showing anywhere
on her? What would Luca say?

“Not used to
sleeping in a strange bed,” Isabel said.

“I bet,” the
flight attendant answered with a brief smile.

After the
flight attendants got everyone settled. Isabel heard – or thought she heard –
the flight attendant mention Jack’s name and tell him that the “eagle had
landed and was on its way to Paris.” Was it a set-up? Who was this woman? Was
she part of a game?
I must be imagining,
Isabel thought as she closed
her eyes and slept most of the way to Paris.

Her dreams were all of being manhandled by a man with silver streaks in
his hair. The symbolism was even obvious to her dream-self. And in each dream
she ended it bowing her head to the magnificent man like he was a prince. That
couldn’t be right, could it? 4C first class couldn’t be a prince, could he? 

As she thought about it, more conscious than asleep, she realized there
was something regal about him that made him mysterious; and the power emanating
from him when he took control of her, made her need to know who he was.
Dreaming of his whip and cock again, she now regretted letting him go so
quickly without even his last name. Feeling the last of the dreams fade away,
she held onto his Adonis body wanting him to snatch her back doing dirty things
to her. He didn’t.

She woke up to her hand gently caressing the delicate folds between her
legs. Quickly turning to the man next to her she appreciated when he didn’t –
or pretended – not to notice. 

Good,
almost there,
she thought immediately ticking off the next steps on her
check list: Land. Baggage. Customs. Luca. But first, it was time to put on some
make-up, do a body check and think of a good explanation for the marks. Her
secret wish was that a little hint remained, the origin of which only she would
know, with the rest to be explained away, if asked. 

The wrists
were easy; hauling her heavy suitcase and carry-on. Her over inflated
genitalia; easy, excitement. What she couldn’t see in the tiny airplane mirror
were the tracks left by the cat-o-nine tails.

Luca was at
the airport early. He commanded the space as he walked toward the custom’s
exit. Surely, everyone assumed he was an artist, a rock star or some famed
someone. His strut said it. His faded jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket said
it. Women’s hopes faded as he carried a small bouquet for Isabel.

Isabel
darted for Luca who passionately kissed her, reaching his hand underneath her
travel blouse. Her skin was hot. He liked that. She smelled musky. He wanted
her.

“We lost a
day, so our train is tonight,” Luca said.

“I don’t
care. We can go right now, as far as I’m concerned,” Isabel said.

In a corner
before they reached the car, Luca grabbed Isabel’s breasts under her blouse, squeezing,
teasing and pinching them as he kissed her. Isabel thrust her pelvic area as
close to his cock as she could and ground and ground and ground, bringing
herself to climax. In the car, Luca unzipped his fly and Isabel went down on
him until he exploded into her mouth. She chugged back a first swallow,
followed by a second. 

Where did
all that come from?
she wondered before considering if Jack was also in the
throes of fucking someone else.

Luca drove
to Gare du Nord and parked the car, texting the slot number to someone. Isabel
didn’t pay much attention to anything but Luca, now in control of their destiny
and their trip to Rome to get this wedding thing done. She wondered how many
women, if any, he had had during her trip home. It didn’t really matter. They
mattered even less after last night.

The train
left the station and Luca and Isabel waded through students, non-documented
workers, gypsies and carts full of sandwiches sold by bored old women. Luca
handed one such woman a twenty euro note for a bottle of wine and two plastic
glasses. She opened it quickly and handed it back to him. 

“Change?”
she asked. He shook his head no.

Lights
flickered on and off in the tiny room. Luca poured them both a glass of wine as
the cabin swayed to the rhythm of the tracks. Luca filled out a small card – a
makeshift room service system – on the TGV for dinner, later. Much later. There
was plenty to talk about, but right now was not the moment.

Luca downed
his wine as quickly as Isabel, refilling their glasses immediately. They were
naked, in bed instantly, with the bottle of wine with them. 

Luca
alternated between licking and biting Isabel’s nipples. He knew she liked this.
Her favorite was when he clenched her nipple in a firm bite and flicked it up
and down and back and forth with his tongue. Usually, it took Isabel only a few
minutes to come this way. Tonight was no exception.

Once Isabel’s
second orgasm of the day was established, Luca had to have his in his favorite
way. Isabel knew the drill. She was to lie across his knees and wait for the
first slap. It was the easiest, but tonight her cheeks were raw from the
pummeling by the man in 4C. She knew she couldn’t ask Luca to spank her more
lightly, though. Luca liked the blows hard and the greater her tolerance, the
more powerful his erection. She had to rely on the fact she had built up
resistance to spanking over their two months affair. If she did, she knew Luca
would reward her greatly for it later.

Luca loved
to rub and massage her butt before he hit it. Tonight, as he massaged he
noticed tiny little welts and cuts, or so he thought. The notion of someone
other than him dispensing punishment to Isabel excited him more. He wanted to
know about how she got the marks, but didn’t want to ask. Not yet. For now, he
was going to enjoy the ride. He had nine hours of sheer pleasure ahead of him
and it had already started. 

Luca loved
to watch Isabel masturbate. She had never done this in front of anyone until
she met him. Since then, she had developed quite a little addiction pleasuring
herself. But he didn’t want this yet. He wanted to test Isabel. He had to see
if her pain tolerance had increased, so, tonight he was going to up the ante.
Part of their game included blindfolding her and sometimes tying her into
different positions and fucking her in all of her orifices between spanking and
whipping her with a small wooden baton which signaled the culmination of that
phase and the release was next. But not tonight. 

Isabel felt
her vulva expand as Luca tapped it with the baton. He had never struck it hard
before, but now, between thunderclaps on her thighs, buttocks and tits, Luca
administered a new punishment – the baton on her vulva. The first stroke hurt
and then compensated by pulsating and getting hotter. A few more hits and Luca
eased the pain with his tongue across the length of her vulva.

That close
to her thighs, the passing lights from the next train stop fully illuminated
the tiny cuts on her thighs. There was no mistake. This turf had been some
other man’s land. It all made sense now. This is why Isabel had kept postponing
coming to Paris. 

Fueled with
a tinge of jealousy and the fantasy of how Isabel brought her new wounds to
him, he asked, “do you like this pain, Isabel . . . do you need more?”

“Yes,” she
whispered quietly. 

She wanted
all of Luca’s passion, pain and something more. Something she hadn’t yet felt
with Luca. The nausea of jetlag hit her as the momentary claustrophobia of that
little room. She really did want more, but of what, she didn’t know. She sat up
for a moment and took in her surroundings. Luca was beautiful. Lean. Long. Just
enough hair on his chest to make him manly. So, why was she thinking of Jack?

The
atmosphere in the room changed. 

“Drink,”
Luca ordered. 

Isabel
willingly chugged wine from the bottle. She didn’t know what was next. She had
never seen Luca this agitated before. Nothing was said. It was as if his cue to
get up and wash his face in the tiny couchette bathroom was her sitting at the
edge of the bed. Jack was her first real womanly affair, outside of Luca, and
she reasoned it was behind her. He never took her number. She never got his.
What they experienced might never be the same if they got too well acquainted
anyway, she told herself. It was time to take that gritty orgasmic fuel and
turn it on Luca. 

“Isabel.
Come here,” Luca commanded. He had set the shower water on icy cold. “Get in
and don’t get out until I give you permission.” 

Isabel
complied. The icy water pelted her skin like hail. In less than a minute her
body temperature dropped and she was shaking as the water covered her body.
Luca drank his wine, watching her wince from the cold as he stroked himself. He
drank more wine, smoked a cigarette and thought about her other man and that in
the end, it really didn’t matter. He got what he wanted, a ticket back to the
Land of Opportunity, a gorgeous young wife he could show off to his friends,
someone who would play his favorite sex games with him, and someone who gave him
great orgasms. Luca motioned for Isabel to come to him.

“Turn off
the water and lay on the ground. Don’t speak,” Luca said.

Afraid, yet
excited, she closed her eyes. She did as he said.

“Get on your
knees and look away from me,” he barked. 

He pulled
the belt out of his jeans that hung on a peg next to the door. Isabel
recognized the sound of the belt being removed from his pants. It had become a
welcome sound. Even now, knees aching from the metal floor, she longed for the
sound of the crack when he flailed her buttocks. 

The floor of
the bathroom train vibrated violently as they went over a patch of rough
tracks.
We must be past the Alps and into Italy,
she imagined. When
would he strike? He had never made her wait. Now, it seemed surprise was part
of the game. She rested her breasts and elbows on the ice cold floor with her
ass in the air, as Luca loved. He simply watched her in that position, drinking
more wine and letting her feel the humiliation of being cold, wet and hostage.

“Punish me,”
Isabel said, “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

“Don’t
speak,” Luca barked.

As if on
cue, the train server knocked on the door announcing their dinner. An
attractive woman brought in the tray of steaming food, champagne and grappa. He
told her to put the tray in the bathroom. She gasped when she saw Isabel on the
floor, naked in that position. She stared at Luca’s hostage for just a few
seconds, then left.

Luca handed
her a one-hundred euro note on her way out. She smiled devilishly at him. This
was France, after all. 

“Touch
yourself,” he said.

 Isabel
nodded. 

Luca ate
while Isabel fondled herself. Only Isabel knew she was reliving every moment
from the chance encounter with Jack through their dinner; the drive to the
houseboat and every millisecond of pain and pleasure he administered. Luca
watched as Isabel groped for her own G-spot and brought herself to her first
post-shower orgasm. She pulled her own hair. She squeezed her nipples to the
point of excruciating pain and slapped her own vulva before she lavishly
fingered her clit time and time again. Luca did not tell her stop. When she
took a break between orgasms to caress her own body, Luca snapped the belt
across her thighs.

“Continue,”
he ordered.

When Isabel’s
orgasms became fewer in frequency and she was visibly exhausted, he put her
plate of food on the floor and ordered her to eat. He did not give her
utensils, only a plate. He pulled her hair back and told her to open her mouth
and poured wine into her. His game was just beginning.

Luca pulled
out his cock and began to masturbate furiously. Once his cock was fully erect
he shoved it into Isabel’s pussy for a couple of good strokes. Then, he took a
green banana from the fruit tray and teased Isabel’s butt with it until he was
fucking her in both holes. When he tired of pushing the banana in and pulling
it out of her ass, he tossed it in the trash. He pulled Isabel’s hair and
dragged her to the sink where he ordered her to lean over it and spread her ass
cheeks.