By Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Bite my nipples harder,” Sasha hissed at me, the edge of frustration making her hiss hint at true anger. I focused on the way her body trembled on the bed before me as I sank my teeth into her nub. “That’s better,” she said, grabbing me roughly by the hair. “I hope your cock is getting ready to fuck me the way I like it. First you need to do your job.”
I pressed as hard as I dared, tugging on her nipple while I twisted the other one between my fingers. I hoped my cock was getting hard too. See, I’m not a sadist by nature—I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Really—I’m the kind of guy who goes out of my way to give directions or help little old ladies across the street. I’m a service sub, the worshipping sort, but I I fell madly in love with a woman who happens to be a masochistic domme. Sasha likes pain, but for her it has nothing to do with being a “bad girl” or any of that. If I dared to call her names like slut or whore during sex, she’d lock up my cock for a week.
For her, it’s about the sensation, the intensity, the feeling. She says getting flogged is cathartic, being spanked releases endorphins, having her nipples bitten makes her blood boil. And because I love her and want to please her, I do as she says. It’s a different kind of submission than any I’ve ever known, but I like obeying her, and knowing how turned on she gets. It’s like reverse psychology, where you tell someone to do something and hope they do the opposite. With us, though, I do the opposite of my impulses, for her. Sasha makes sure to show me appreciation—when she’s not ordering me around.
“Now the other one,” Sasha grunted, and I transferred my lips to her right nipple while she tugged at my hair. I dared to brush my cock against her leg to show her how hard I was. I’m grateful that she likes to get fucked; I’ve been with women who loved nothing more than to tease me, to have me watch them with other men’s dicks in their mouths and pussies, to tie me up and let me see a vibrator do the work I longed to do. With Sasha, as long as I get her primed with her favorite kind of pain, she is more than ready for my cock.
She usually holds herself back from convulsing, but this time she didn’t. “That’s it, right there,” she moaned as she leaned back, making my teeth tug her nipple even more. When her fingers tapped my cheek, I opened my mouth. She handed me a flogger. Yes, it’s true—I flog my domme. Before her, I’d never so much as raised my hand to a woman. I’d discovered early on which way my kink went—or thought I had. Now, I actually like hitting her. Not the causing pain part, but the giving pleasure part.
“You know what to do,” Sasha said with the smile that can indeed get me to do anything. She whipped her favorite little vibrator off the bedside stand and pressed it to her cunt. The buzzing was the signal that I should start beating her breasts with the red suede toy. If it were my choice, I would gently stroke the soft lashes all along her body, thud it against her back to a beautiful rhythm, drape it against her pussy. But my Sasha wanted something else entirely.