Hurt Me (Your Pet For The Night) Read online

  Her skin was of a strange shade, not quite pale, not quite tanned. Her nipples were extremely dark, and they were large and flat-topped, like pencil erasers. Clarissa watched as the woman removed the last piece of her clothing, a small pair of black panties, and she folded the underwear and placed it on top of the pile of her clothes. Her sex was tightly groomed, and the hair there was jet black.

  The woman then put her hands behind her back and clasped them, and stood with her thighs spread slightly apart.

  Her eyes were still cast down toward the floor.

  He set the pan of wax back down on the warmer, and Clarissa watched as he took the new woman’s hand and walked her around Clarissa’s bound and naked body.

  “Admire her,” he commanded, and the woman looked up, her eyes roaming the exposed body before her.

  “You’ve been instructed, correct?”

  “Yes, Master,” the woman said, and Clarissa heard a strange kind of melody in the woman’s voice.

  “So please begin.”

  “Yes, Master,” the woman said, and slowly she climbed up onto the counter where Clarissa was bound. Clarissa felt the press of the woman’s cooler skin against her own, oil-slicked heated skin, and she exhaled a soft sigh.

  The woman placed her arms beneath Clarissa’s head and lifted her up into a deep and passionate kiss. Clarissa returned the kiss, nibbling on the woman’s thick lower lip, smelling the woman’s breath, slightly sweet as if she had just been eating chocolate.

  The woman broke the kiss and began to drag her lips down Clarissa’s glistening body, kissing down her neck, over her collarbone, down toward her breasts where she took one of Clarissa’s nipples into her mouth and sucked on it lightly.

  Clarissa could feel herself beginning to melt, like the wax had done so in the pan. The woman’s touch was stimulating, and the woman was obviously practiced. Clarissa moaned as the woman’s teeth closed in lightly on her stiff nipple, and she bucked her hips slightly, as if to give direction.

  The woman recognized the invitation, and Clarissa gasped as she moved quickly down her naked body, until she was completely off the counter and positioned just inches from her heated sex.

  “Sit on this,” he commanded, and he brought a cushioned stool over to the end of the counter.

  “Yes, Master,” the woman whispered, and she took her position in between Clarissa’s legs, and instantly was upon her with an array of gentle kisses, licks, sucks.

  Clarissa moaned ass he felt her bud manipulated by the woman’s deft tongue, the warm wet and powerful muscle moving firmly up one side of her clitoris and down the other. She felt the woman’s tongue work inside her, drag up her slick sex.

  She moaned deeply, her body already on the edge, so very near. She felt the woman’s fingers find their way inside her, and she was lost in the flow of it all, being taken downstream to the inevitable pool of pleasure into which she would plunge.

  Suddenly a swath of hot pain was slashed across her left breast, and she cried out and opened her eyes to see her Master wielding the paintbrush. He cut another swath of heated pleasure across her right breast, and she squirmed in delight.

  The third swath was laid on both her nipples, and she yelped at the heat and she moaned as it cooled. Hot to warm. Sting to soothe.

  The woman continued to work relentlessly between her legs.

  Hot wax. Hot tongue. Stinging and soothing and pleasure and teasing. The tongue circling her clit. The paintbrush circling her nipples. The fingers moving in and out of her, quicker and quicker, harder and harder.

  Her mind whirled and her eyes rolled back and she could see the end in sight. She was nearly there…

  Clarissa exploded with an enormous orgasm, and the sound of her pleasure filled the tiny room. Ecstasy convulsed through her body in wave after wave, and she pulled hard on the ropes, and he slathered her in hot wax once more. The tongue didn’t stop. The fingers didn’t stop. The paintbrush didn’t stop. The heat didn’t stop.

  Clarissa screamed out again as a second climax shook her violently. Her whole body convulsed and spasmed at once. She pulled at the binds that held her wrists until they hurt.

  She felt another gush of heat as he poured the remaining wax on her, and her breasts and nipples and stomach and armpits were bathed in a ferocious heat. The fingers drove her through her second orgasm until it began to ebb, and slowly they retreated, and slowly the tongue stopped, and slowly the wax cooled.

  And Clarissa was a panting, heaving wreck on the counter, and her lips spread into a grin, and she hummed at him, telling him of her pleasure with a single sound, of the deep, intense and organic climax that had rippled through her every nerve ending.

  “Okay,” he said to the girl, and she nodded and moved the stool to the corner of the room and sat on it. Clarissa watched as he removed his clothes, and she saw that the woman was watching too, her lips opened slightly and her breathing quick and shallow.

  He removed his clothes slowly, steadily, and his muscled body came into view, the harsh shadows created by the flickering flames of the candles strewn across the room highlighting his toned and hard body.

  His manhood was hard with desire, standing large and erect.

  Clarissa watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he came toward her and untied her wrists, as he lifted her carefully, pressing his cool skin against her hot skin, feeling the wax and oil lubricate their bodies. He kissed her deeply and passionately, and she let him take her mouth and explore it.

  She knew that he was waiting just a little longer, knowing that she’d still be sensitive. She returned the kiss teasingly, occasionally sucking on his tongue or biting on his lip.

  They kissed for minutes, and she could feel herself readying again. Being held in his powerful arms, the gentle firmness with which he impressed himself upon her.

  He was telling her of his desire for her through physical touch, an ancient language.

  She knew that he could sense her readiness, but she moaned softly into his mouth, a gentle nudge. He responded immediately, and she felt him slip into her effortlessly, and she moaned at she felt his thickness fill her, as she felt her sensitive sex ignite.

  She heard him groan softly, and knew that her tightness, her heat was playing on him. He had been watching for so long. She knew that it wouldn’t be long.

  Slowly he began to make love to her, and her moans of pleasure became more intense, more urgent. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her body, pulling her tightly onto him, embracing her as if to claim her, as if to say she was his and only his.

  She was lost the flow again, quickly, and their bodies pressed against each other and she knew from his breathing that he was in bliss.

  His thrusting became more forceful, more urgent, and he pushed into her deeper and deeper as his groans began to quicken and become louder. She moaned for him, knowing that her body could not possibly climax one more time so quickly, but replete in that knowledge, satisfied.

  It was his turn now.

  He groaned loudly as he thrust into her deeply and powerfully in slow succession, once, twice, three times more before his eyes twitched shut. She felt his manhood flex inside her, and his groan of ecstasy filled the tiny room, and he ejaculated his hot and sticky seed inside her.

  He slowed down, breathing heavily, and once again took her mouth for a kiss. She kissed him back, feeling herself clenching around his manhood.

  She was spent. So was he. She only vaguely noticed the woman in the corner, face bunched up in pleasure and hands running circles around her glistening sex. She only vaguely heard the woman’s near silent orgasm, the convulsing shiver of her body, the shut eyes and pared mouth and breath expelled all at once.

  She was only vaguely aware of the woman as she got dressed and left the room and clicked the door shut silently behind her.

  She felt him growing smaller inside her, and he slipped out of her. He untied her binds and lifted her into his arms effortlessly, and carried her out of his dungeon, u
p the steps, and into the bathroom. She watched him from below as he moved with purpose, as he smiled down at her, as he laid her gently into the tub and began to fill it with warm water.

  He climbed into the tub with her, and he bathed her slowly, carefully, passionately before bathing himself.

  He carried her out of the bathroom draped in a towel, and laid her down on the bed. He dried her hair, her body, and his own.

  She smiled as he pulled the covers over her, as he climbed into bed with her. She felt nothing but a kind of blissful contentedness, and she drifted off into a dreamland sleep, his arm wrapped around her, protecting her.

  And in the middle of the night she stirred briefly, and her mind was once again on the pleasures of that night, on the touch of his paintbrush, of his fingers, of his manhood.

  And of her touch, her tongue, her fingers, her thick lower lip.

  She would have that woman again, and next time it would be on her terms.

  # # #

  On behalf of all erotica authors, I would like to thank you for supporting the genre. It is hugely popular, immensely diverse, and is filled with myriad examples of great writing, and yet it is rarely afforded the privilege of shelf space (and in the virtual sense, too!). Your patronage is what allows us to keep doing what we love.

  For that, I am eternally grateful.

  I hope you enjoyed this story at least as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to send me feedback in any way, shape, or form.

  If you are comfortable doing so, leaving a truthful review (so that means negatives, too!) would not only help me with my craft, but it would also give me direction on what to write next.

  Thank you - AG.

  About the Author

  Audrey Grace is the pen name of a thirty-something traveler who has followed her father and his job around the world. A rebellious tomboy in her teenage years, Audrey first discovered her love of scribbling smut with an erotic short story written for class when she was fourteen. It was titled The Erotic Adventures of Hercules and earned her an appointment with the principal.

  Having lived in Australia, Canada, China, Hong Kong, Japan, and the United Kingdom, smut (and traveling) have always been Audrey’s one consistent. Blessed with a hyperactive sex drive, it’s the one thing she just can’t stop doing. Audrey is currently based in Melbourne, Australia, but she won’t stay there for long!

  www.AudreyGraceErotica.com

  [email protected]

  Check out Audrey Grace’s Author Page at Amazon!

  * * *

  Bonus Material 1

  Check out this excerpt of Audrey Grace’s pain and power themed tale, also part of the Your Pet For The Night series of BDSM shorts:

  Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night)

  By Audrey Grace

  * * *

  Claire is leashed by her Master, and dragged around downtown Melbourne. He takes her from club to bar, and her torture is unending. She's forced to watch him get a lap dance, and then she's forced to flirt with a stranger. And all along her jealousy writhes and squirms within her.

  But when she's finally alone with him, she fails to heed his orders, and so she is punished quite severely... with molten candle wax.

  * * *

  You pull me roughly by my collar into a darkened alley. It’s a tiny space between two buildings, and metal piping surrounds us. You push me hard against the brick wall, and the force of it, it shocks me. And then you move in for a kiss, a kiss like no other could be.

  You break the kiss and urgently whisper into my ear. “You’re mine,” you say, “you’re mine,” you say, “don’t you ever forget that!”

  I nod and purr in your ear and your hand dives into your pocket. You retrieve the leash and fasten it once again to my collar.

  “We’re going back to the hotel,” you say with boiling passion. “I’m sorry but we won’t be able to go to the cocktail bar.”

  You tug on my leash and walk quickly away and I am left to follow. Except this time I know where we are going, but still…I must follow.

  And still, I want to follow.

  We walk up to the fancy five star hotel, and burst into the lobby. People are too busy chatting amongst themselves to notice us walk in, even though I am leashed to you.

  Even though I am wearing this collar.

  We cram ourselves into a lift, our backs against the metal box that swifts us upward and upward. I look at you but you do not look at me. Your breathing is rapid and heavy, and I can see that your trousers are tented.

  You are so excited already, and it makes me excited. I bite my lip in anticipation, wondering what is to come.

  We get into our hotel room and you slam the door behind you, and you walk me to the bed, and you tell me, “take off your clothes, but leave the collar,” and you turn your back to me and and go and do something else.

  I undress myself slowly and efficiently, and fold my clothes and place them at the foot of the bed. I stand there naked in front of you with nothing but my collar around my neck. It takes a while for you to notice that I’m already naked, and when you do a smile flickers briefly across your features. It’s wicked, devilish, even a little scary.

  You walk to me and reach past me and gently peel back the covers, and then you take all of the pillows and throw them on the sofa. You say, “lie down,” and so I do, my back flat against the sheet.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, and you turn to look at me.

  “Be quiet,” you say, “and don’t move,” you add, and you walk away from me, and I lie there, exposed and naked, for what feels like forever.

  But then you return to my great relief, holding something for me, and it takes a moment for my mind to realize what it is.

  In your hand are a bunch of small tea light votive candles, and you place them across my whole body, and look at me and smile.

  “You must stay very still,” you tell me quietly. “I’m about to place a bowl of wine on your lovely belly. If you spill any of the wine, you will be punished, and don’t think for a moment that it won’t be severely.”

  * * *

  Bonus Material 2

  Check out this sneak peak of Audrey Grace’s scorching BDSM OB/GYN short in Submitting to the Doctor:

  Submitting to the Doctor

  By Audrey Grace

  * * *

  Michelle Marshall is a Sub. She trusts her Master. When her Master books her a gynecological exam, and she thinks that it will just be an ordinary check up. But she couldn't be more wrong. Dr. Pike tells her that her Master has left him very specific instructions, and that she's to obey his every word. She can see the doctor is enjoying it, but what choice does she have?

  * * *

  “I can also see by your chart that someone else called in your appointment for you.” He looked back down at the chart, nodded, then looked back up at me. “A Mr. Matthew Stone. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. That was Master. I felt a small prick of embarrassment that a man had called in for my gynecological exam, and desperately hoped that my cheeks weren’t turning red.

  “He seems to have left some very… specific instructions,” the doctor continued.

  “Oh?” I asked, feeling a surge of warmth in my face. My heartbeat quickened and I began to breathe a little more quickly. “I, um, don’t know about that.”

  “Is Mr. Stone your regular doctor?”

  This time, my cheeks burned. “Um, well, no, he’s, uh—”

  “He’s your…?” the doctor prompted.

  “My Master,” I whispered, looking down at the ground.

  “I see.” Dr. Pike replied. A short silence settled between us before he spoke again. “That explains a lot, such as why he asked me to make sure that you were wearing a butt plug when you arrived here.”

  I bit my lip and winced, feeling the prick of embarrassment and shame turn to a million stings. Goose bumps erupted on the tops of my arms and I shivered involuntarily.

  “So, Ms. Marsha
ll,” Dr. Pike said, and I heard something new in his voice. I looked back up at him to see that his boyish face had turned into something darker, something scarier, and his mouth was pulled into a devilish grin. “Are you?”

  “P-pardon?”

  “Are you,” he began, spacing out the words and enunciating each clearly. “Wearing a butt plug?”

  Shit, I thought to myself. I was going to pop it out when I changed into my gown, and when nobody was looking, but realized that I wouldn’t have that option now. I could see in Dr. Pike’s face that he was already enjoying this.

  Fucker.

  “Yes, doctor,” I admitted. “I am.”

  The grin on his face grew wider, and his body seemed to brim with a new energy. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stone has left very specific instructions. He told me that I am to check, physically, that you are indeed wearing your butt plug.”

  “Oh,” I sounded, my heart racing. I was beginning to feel quite hot, and I wiped away beaded sweat from my upper lip.

  “I’m going to need you to stand against the wall, placing your palms on the wall above your head.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, feeling uncertain and a little afraid. Though Dr. Pike had managed to keep his voice relatively professional, I could see the bulge in his trousers, and could practically feel the sexual energy radiating off him. The man was aroused. He was getting off on my discomfort, getting excited just anticipating my coming humiliation.

  But what could I do? These were Master’s wishes. These were Master’s orders. I shut my eyes for a moment, before standing up and moving slowly to the wall. The nerves and fear gave way to some excitement, some anticipation, too. My body was whirring, my emotions a complete clash. It was why I was practically panting. It was why my hands were trembling.