Warning: READ THE DAMN AUTHORS NOTE!
For those of you who are familiar with my writing, this is VERY out of character for me. VERY.
"Written Confessions - Smooth Vanilla and Deviant Sprinkles"
The rich, buttery, smooth silk of vanilla. So pleasant on my tongue.
But so incredibly plain, so ordinary without sprinkles or chocolate topping."
She sighed as she scrawled the words down, biting her lip against the guilty thoughts, against the shame and feeling of betrayal that throbbed in her head when she finished her written ponderings. The words held a double meaning, of course they did, but she couldn't make herself write what she wanted.
She would never get what she wanted. She was too ashamed to ask. Or maybe just too shy? It was a mixture of both.
He was happy, seemingly satisfied and never complained, only screamed her name in ecstasy. But he had long since stopped noticing that her own screams were less passionate. Shouldn't he be able to notice the lack of contractions? That her skin wasn't flushed?
The accusing thoughts were immediately replaced by guilt. He had no reason to believe she was lying. She had no right to blame him for her lack of confidence and inability to voice her displeasure out loud. And he had always been able to make her cum in the past.
She put her head back down on the pillow and turned off the light on the bedside table once more, frustrated and wanting to sleep so she could forget all about her dissatisfaction.
But two hours later she gasped and opened her eyes, finding darkness in her bedroom and wetness seeping between her thighs. The incredible dream was over all too soon.
"Oh, come on!" she whined and pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She was worked up, almost angry, and her body so needy for release and attention she could barely wrap her mind around it.
She turned silently to her husband, who was lying on his stomach, his toned, muscled back and firm forearms visible in the slight illumination of the light from the street below.
It was a sight that made her lick her lips and sigh even harder.
The man of her dreams, even in a state of unconsciousness.
And as she watched him inhale and exhale, flashes of her fantasy, her recent dream, came unbidden to her mind. She felt her pulse race and throb, her heart increasing its rate at once.
"Shit!" she cursed, squinting her eyes and cracking her knuckles in frustration.
She would need to do something about her needs now or she would never fall asleep.
Lying back on her pillow, she sighed and pushed her flannel pajama pants down to her knees, followed by her thong. She tensed the muscles in her thighs, preparing for a quick and hard orgasm so she could finally rest.
She pushed the top of her t-shirt up over her stomach and exposed her breasts, finding her right nipple and playing with it. She pinched and massaged it, feeling the sensations of both pleasure and slight, stinging pain shoot through her, from the source of her ministrations to down between her thighs, making her clit throb.
Moaning and sighing silently, she placed her other hand on her stomach and made her way steadily down to her sex, finding slick moisture, the result of an endless ache, an unsatisfied desire that was begging to come out and play. She made no fuss, having no patience to prolong it tonight, and used two fingers to rub firm circles around her clitoris while fantasizing about the man beside her doing unspeakable things to her in the dark.
Her hips rose to her quick, steady rhythm and her legs tensed impossibly more, preparing for her release. And just a few seconds later, it hit her, the sensations rushing through her body like a tidal wave, momentarily blinding her, the pleasure almost impossible to contain as she whimpered in the dark and finally released a sigh, her hips falling back against the mattress.
She smiled, feeling a little more sated now than she did a few minutes ago, and allowed herself to relax for a few minutes before she pulled her thong and pants back on. She rolled out of bed silently, padding across the room to the bathroom to clean herself up.
Little did she know that there was a very unhappy husband in their bed, his stomach churning and his eyes prickling with the need to shed tears.
He was losing her, and he knew it. But he had no idea why.
It was the third time this week he had woken to her whimpers of pleasure, but he never said anything. He had missed it too much; her sighs and moans as she released, the sated satisfaction and the delicious smell of her sweat and sex in the air when she came.
But he was so afraid of losing her, almost as afraid as he was of asking.
Maybe she just didn't find him attractive anymore.
He turned to his left and saw her notebook on the bedside table. It was open and a page had been scrawled on.
Silently, he crawled over and peeked at the white paper, the words illuminated by the streetlight through their bedroom window. It said:
The rich, buttery, smooth silk of vanilla. So pleasant on my tongue.
But so incredibly plain, so ordinary without sprinkles or chocolate topping."
And his confusion did not lessen any.
Movement from the doorway alerted him to her return and he quickly slumped down on the mattress, pretending to be asleep again, but cursing himself for occupying half her bed too.
He expected her to be annoyed with him when she finally entered the bedroom, but was surprised when he heard the gentle footsteps and heard her linger by the bed. She sighed and chuckled, murmuring words of affection before grabbing the notebook and sitting down on the bed again.
He heard her whisper words under her breath that he barely caught, but the scrawling of a pen against the paper was loud and deafening in the silence.
She finished after nearly half an hour, sat still and looked at her writing with a solemn expression. She wiped a single tear from her cheek.
"Fuck, I'm disgusting!" she murmured, sounding like she despised herself. She then ripped the pages out of the book harshly, crumpling them and throwing them in the waste bin.
She put the book down on the nightstand once again, and slid in under the covers next to him, wrapping her slender arms and petite body around his own large frame with a sigh.
"I'm sorry Edward..." she whispered, resting her cheek on his back, soft, wet, salty tears trickling from her eyes and onto the skin of his back, her breath shuddering with her silent sobbing for a while. She finally fell asleep again, clinging to him like a scared child.
When he felt sure she wasn't going to startle awake again, he gently wrestled himself out of her grip and slid along their sheets until he slipped off the bed, padding over to her waste bin and finding the crumpled pages of his wife's midnight confessions.
She was tired and frustrated when she left the office later that week. Her mind was stormy and stressed with work, her little sister, her computer crash and not to mention Edward, who had been distant and acting strange recently.
She didn't read too much into it at first, but slowly, the unease settled in her stomach and she began feeling on edge. She tried to smile, to kiss him affectionately and to stroke his back. He would smile back and meld his lips with hers, but for some reason, there was hesitation there.
He kept space between them, both emotionally and physically. He didn't initiate sex like he usually did almost every night. The lack of physical attention, or rather physical need, on his part had been the one thing that truly made her worried. So, for once, she attacked him in bed, riding him hard and long, or blew him while they were on the couch watching a random comedy.
She felt like she was losing him and it was not a good feeling at all. She knew she had been acting distant herself, but surely not enough for him to draw back too? Had he already begun resenting her for her body's needs and inability to voice it?
Or did he assume she simply didn't desire him any longer?
No, she had shown him love and affection to the best of her ability. She faked better now too, she thought. He had no reason to believe she was anything but happy and satisfied.
But then why was he so far away?
She got takeout on her way back home that Friday; Mexican because they both loved its spiciness, and walked home with a heavy heart, wishing she was . . . well, not so damn needy.
She wished her fantasies weren't so deviant and that she could find her pleasure in the missionary position night after night; that she knew her body better, that he knew her body better.
And last, but not least, she wished she wasn't such a good faker.
The pavement was slippery and wet with a mixture of snow and rain, gray and slushy. And ruining her new boots, she was certain.
They lived in a cozy two bedroom apartment just a fifteen minute walk from her office, but the walk seemed longer today than it did yesterday.
She reached the entrance with a frown, looking up to the fourth floor and the window where their living room was, finding the curtains closed. She hesitated for a moment then, finding it a very strange thing to do, but finally shrugged and walked through the door.
She took the elevator today, knowing that she was more than likely to spill something if she attempted to wobble up each step with heels.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened, letting her inside and closing a little too fast, nearly catching her skirt between the doors.
It reached the fourth floor with yet another ding and the doors opened soon after. She quickly stepped out, almost tripping in her hurry, afraid that the traitorous doors would attempt to snap shut prematurely again.
She fidgeted with her keys while balancing the food unsteadily in one arm. She hoped he would be home, but either way they always kept their door locked. The neighborhood was not that safe.
She found the keychain eventually and walked over to the third door on the left, placing it clumsily in the lock and turning the key while pushing at the handle at the same time. The door creaked open without protest, but the entryway was not illuminated like it usually was.
It was dark as pitch.
She used the light from the hallway to see where she was placing the food and bags on the floor. Then she shrugged off her jacket and hung it by the other coats in the foyer.
"Where the hell is that light switch?" she whispered finally. Her hand searched behind the door, but didn't find it. Finally, she decided to let the door shut so she could find her cell phone and use the light from the display to look further into the room.
But the moment the door closed, two things happened at once.
The room went completely dark, and before she even had the chance to reach into her pocket for her makeshift flashlight, someone shoved her hard against the wall.
She gasped in horror and surprise, completely taken aback and scared beyond belief. Her instincts told her to scream and fight, but just as her fight-or-flight reflexes caught up with her, a large hand was placed over her mouth.
She was pressed up against the wall, blinded by the dark and shivering with fear, her screams muffled and her movements disabled when another, strong arm circled her torso and clamped down over her arms, keeping her in place. Her heart was crashing in her chest and she began feeling faint, but then warm lips touched her ear, and they whispered something that nearly gave her a heart attack.
"Shh... I read your notebook Bella, and the confession you threw away. I'm tired of vanilla too."
And before she could even grasp the words that had come out of his mouth, barely putting together that it was her husband holding her against their wall, she was pressed further up against it, her entire body held in place by the weight and pressure of his. He didn't release her mouth though, and she felt the dampness on his palm from her rapid and nervous breath gathering.
A clinking noise sounded followed by some rustling. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, cold metal closed around her right wrist tightly.
Handcuffs. Holy shit.
She could only gasp in response, her eyes widening in surprise, anticipation and not to mention fear.
Completely at his mercy, at anyone's mercy . . . she had never been in this position before.
Seconds later, metal clicked in place around her other wrist, both her hands trapped behind her, his body there still.
"Be quiet, little girl. . . ."
His tone of voice had changed now, it was darker. There was a dangerous undertone to it that made her shiver, both in fear and in excitement.
"Or I'll make you regret it."
Holy smokes! He was really going through with this? She could hardly believe it. He had quoted her written confession word for word.
Before she could even comprehend anything else, his hand disappeared from her mouth and fabric rustled behind her. Suddenly, something satiny was placed before her eyes, pressing down slightly, and she felt him tie a knot at the back of her head.
She was blindfolded?
She was blindfolded!
The shock of his sudden attack had left all her senses slightly numb, but her body had swiftly begun recovering. Moisture like she had never felt before seeped and soaked her thong.
"'Yellow' means wait, slow down or that you're uncomfortable. 'Red' means stop at once. Got it?" Her Edward was back now; his voice sounded more like himself again, but it held and air of "no nonsense."
"Yes," she managed to choke out, beyond excited, but still slightly scared.
What was he going to do to her?
She didn't have to wait long to find out.
As soon as the word of acceptance was out of her mouth, he pulled her away from the door and placed her roughly over his shoulder. She assumed he was carrying her into the living room.
All she could hear was the padding of his feet against the hardwood, all she could feel was his warmth and the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other, all she could smell was him. But fear was no longer the dominant emotion.
Her love for him was reignited, her desire for him electrified and sparked once more.
In the darkness, she was forced to rely on her other senses; her ears had to listen harder, to interpret the source of the sounds she could not use her eyes to see.
Suddenly, and roughly, her butt hit the hard surface of what felt like their dining room table. She jumped and yelled out, surprised by the sudden halt.
"I will release you now, girl, but make no mistake: if you try to defy me, try to escape, you will not like the consequences," he warned menacingly as his hands trailed from her arms down to her wrists. She heard the lock clicking as he freed her hands.
He was releasing her? She was slightly disappointed.
But then she remembered her written confession. He was working right from a script she had written herself.
And in that script, he had spoken the very same words. And she had run!
As soon as the thought entered her mind, she shoved him out of the way and landed unsteadily on her feet, clad in shoes with heels too high and on top of it blindfolded. She began stumbling through the darkness and tried to release the knot on her blindfold at the same time when he caught her around the waist.
Screaming in real surprise, she flailed her arms and legs everywhere, kicking in the air and slamming into him, every emotion feeling so raw and real in their role play.
"You naughty girl!" he growled, his voice becoming that of a predator once more.
She felt her back landing on the table again, but this time there was something like a thin pillow or a blanket underneath her that softened the blow.
How did that get there?
He was suddenly covering her body, his chest against hers, his erection against her thigh, his face and lips above her face.
"I warned you and had you been compliant, I would have settled for a blowjob, but now I'll have to punish you," he whispered, his breath washing over her wet lips, a hint of danger in each syllable.
Her mind went blank then, her mouth dry. She couldn't quite remember the rest of her script. But she would be damned if she was stopping now, not even the word "yellow" could be uttered. She had a feeling that if she spoke, he would stop or lower his intensity, or even call it a bad idea after all.
She wanted this, she needed this.
No, she wouldn't say a word.
So instead, she waited for him to make a move, to instruct her, to give away his plan, her heart thundering loudly in her chest.
Suddenly, he rose off of her body. She felt him placing one knee on each side of her waist, barely brushing against her, barely touching her, just hovering.
"But I can't have you run off on me like that again now, can I?" he mused.
It was not a question for her so she didn't answer.
She remained on her back, shivering slightly, both in fear and in anticipation. Her plan and written confession were lost on her. She was completely at his mercy.
"I guess I will have to tie you down," he decided, and Bella gasped.
Snickering, he smacked her right wrist and hand down on the table, palm up, and pushed a leather cuff around it.
Almost hyperventilating, she instinctively dove for her tied down wrist with her other hand, intending to free it, but was he roughly took her left hand in one of his, and put both pointer and middle finger in his mouth, biting down.
She yelped in pain and surprise, the stinging lingering even though his teeth didn't.
"I'll bite them off next time if you try that again," he growled and licked at the mark he had probably left.
It was so feral, she couldn't even contain her whimpering response, feeling slightly humiliated by it. He only chuckled at her reaction and put her left hand back on the table.
"Leave it there or you know what happens," he warned, his voice a whisper now.
She complied this time, squirming slightly under his control, too turned on and unable to wrap her mind around it. She felt him tightening the strap around her wrist, not uncomfortably, but still enough so that she knew she wouldn't be able to escape if she tried. He then took her other hand and repeated the motion, wrapping it in a cuff and tightening it.
Both restraints where tied to the legs of their sturdy dinner table, and she could barely lift her arms up when she tried.
Blinded and restrained, her arousal and fear grew alongside each other. She trusted Edward implicitly, but there was something about being robbed of both motion and senses that made her feel caged and helpless. Which was all part of her deepest, darkest and most shameful desire, her ultimate fantasy.
She screamed out in surprise as she felt cold air hit her now exposed upper body and chest, her blouse ripped away by swift and skilled hands.
Panting, trying to gather herself again, she felt his hands move to her thighs and to the top of her skirt. He undid the zipper slower, more in control it seemed, and pulled the fabric down her legs and completely off. It left her in a thong, shoes and a bra that hooked in the front. It was fire engine red, matching her panties.
She wondered what would come next then. Her desire burned like fire through her every nerve at this point.
What she had not expected though, was Edward's capability with Shibari knots.
She had barely done the research herself, knowing less than nothing about it, only that it was a Japanese rope- art that demanded certain techniques and skills. It was used in Bondage rope play.
She felt linen ropes, probably the width of her index finger, being wrapped skillfully around her waist, thighs and knees in intricate knots.
Maybe fifteen minutes later - she couldn't be sure about how much time had passed in silence as she felt him tie her up - her legs were spread wide, her knees and thighs tied together on each side. Leather cuffs around each ankle were tied to the table, her butt resting at the very edge now.
"Now, I think its time to have you completely under my control, little one," he decided, his voice dangerous and everything she had ever dreamed of.
She knew what would come next: three important details that rendered her completely helpless.
Two final straps, wide and flat, were placed, one across her stomach and once across her shoulders, keeping her down and disabling any movement except light squirming. She heard him as he walked up to her face, placing a light kiss on her lips, letting her know that Edward was still there, in control, in every sense now. He whispered "Red and yellow, my love... Red and yellow," before depriving her of her sense of hearing and placing a pair of noise cancelling earphones over her ears.
She was deaf, blind and tied to a table, at the mercy of her captivator. Living out her submissive fantasy.
She could hardly wrap her mind around it, that it was vanilla old Edward towering above
her helpless body, watching her squirm and able to do with her as he pleased.
She waited while she felt movement around her, the shifting of air across her overheated skin. His presence and hovering was all she felt, the building excitement, the fear and not to mention the growing moisture.
She had never been this turned on in her entire life.
And part of her felt ashamed, perverted and sick for even thinking about fantasizing about the things she was.
But all shame, all doubt and all guilt dissipated when she felt his hands on her face, stroking down both cheeks and to her neck. One finger pressed into the side of her throat, feeling her pulse beat rapidly, while the other traveled until it settled between her breasts, at the magnetic clasp. She felt it unfasten and the cups slip away, leaving what certainly had to be hardened nipples free and exposed.
She gasped, all sensations new and ten times as intense when all she could do was feel.
His hands were warm, such a contrast to the cool air, his touch so firm and unwavering, so sure of himself, like he had pictured and planned every action a thousand times.
She was heaving for air as she felt his body warmth come closer, damp and hot air against her lips. And then he licked her!
He licked her lips, hard and wet and unrelenting. She was his to do with as he pleased, and he was letting her know it.
Both his hands found her breasts as she tugged at her restraints instinctively, caught by surprise.
As she lay panting, exited and scared on the table, wondering what he would do next and in the back of her mind wondering and worrying whether she was pushing him too far, he was standing over her with exactly the same thoughts and fears. He had never known she lusted after loss of control the way he had desperately desired it.
And her erotic poetry, the words written, her desire to just be . . . taken. He thought about the words he had read on the crumpled pages and licked his lips: "To be taken by force if not given willingly. Tied down, strapped to a bed, a table, to the floor. At his mercy, senses deprived, bare, lying like a naked sacrifice, a meal for him to feast upon. To be forced, with no choice, to orgasm. To writhe and moan uncontrollably with pleasure that I have no control over, mixing with the imagined fear, the raw sensations coursing through my body."
He had always felt like a closet freak because of the ways he wanted to have her, the things he wanted to do to her body, the fantasies that he whacked off to when she wasn't home. But now . . . her words written down, her writhing, shivering, willing and submissive body strapped to their dinner table, he realized he was not alone in fighting his sexual deviance in this relationship.
A rape fantasy! A pleasure-slave fantasy? Who knew? He sure hadn't!
But now, after the days, weeks, even months of frustration over her lack of sexual pleasure and constantly faking her orgasms for his benefit, he would have his revenge.
He walked to the end of her table where her legs were bound and spread, and found her red thong a shade darker than it should have been. Her pussy had soaked the satin with her desire.
He walked swiftly over to the grocery bag that lay on a discarded chair and found the self- heating massage oil.
Oh, yes. He could finally take his time now that the only sounds in the room were her rapid breaths of nerves and desire and the occasional squeaking sound when she moved under the straps and ropes, testing their hold on her body and finding them tight and unrelenting. He stepped in between her legs at the end of the table, the sight making him groan as he gazed upon her helpless body.
Her peach and rosy skin covered in a heated flush he hadn't seen in so long, the rise and fall of her lush breasts as they rose and fell along with her breathing, the leather cuffs and ropes and straps holding her in place. And the desire seeping through her panties steadily. How he had missed being able to do that to her.
He took he massage oil and dribbled some into his left palm and then placed it next to her on the table.
He rubbed his hands together and then leaned forward, letting her feel his body heat, letting her know he was close. He placed his palms firmly on each side of her neck. She jumped and yelled out in surprise, a shiver of fear running through her body, but she relaxed again soon after, releasing a small sigh.
Her lips were half open as he rubbed the oil on her skin, murmuring inaudible things under her breath as his touch became firmer.
He worked down to her breasts slowly, grabbing the bottle of massage oil and adding some more every now and again. She was shining now, slick and wet all over, her body and the slippery, aromatic substance on her skin reflecting light like a diamond.
She began moaning as soon as his attention was focused on her nipples, his fingers teasing, firm and then harsher as her panting increased. He began pinching slightly, a light nip at first to see her reaction, and then squeezing harder when she yelped and moaned like her life depended on it, arching her back towards him, offering her breasts willingly, begging for more.
He couldn't resist a taste then, the taut maroon nubs looking like little unopened flower buds. He leaned down and captured her left one between his lips and circled it with his tongue slowly.
"Unnghh..." she sighed, biting her lip hard to control her need to scream out. She was worked up beyond imagination, excited beyond her dreams, helpless and completely under his control. He gently, but without warning, bit down suddenly and the action made her scream out, the sensations shooting straight to her clit, making it twitch. He switched nipples after a few minutes of delicious torture, and used his thumb and forefinger to play with the neglected nipple affectionately.
When he finally felt that she had received sufficient attention to her breasts, he released both abruptly, watching her panting for air and her head swaying from side to side slightly.
"Please..." he heard her whisper between breaths.
He stepped back in time to catch the sight of her legs tensing against the ropes, her thighs trying to squeeze together in an effort to create the friction she needed, her toes curling.
Grinning devilishly, delighted to hear her beg for release and hardly able to contain his giddy excitement at the prospect of seeing her orgasm again, he placed a hand on her stomach, a silent command to lay still. She stopped struggling then, her hands fisting as she placed her ass back on the table and tried to relax her legs.
He gently slid his fingers down her stomach then, his middle finger slick with massage oil, dipping in and circling her navel once. Goosebumps were left in his wake, the skin puckering, and whimpering giggles as he tickled her skin, slipped from her lips.
He reached her crimson, soaked thong soon enough. He ran his fingers across her concealed pussy with feather-light pressure and still managed to have her buck up against his hand. So sensitive now, it was almost ridiculous.
Smirking, he brought his hand to his face and watched his fingers with fascination. They were completely coated with her desire. He brought them to his lips and tasted, smiling at the salty sweet, foreign and yet so familiar taste of her body. He couldn't remember the last time he had tasted her.
Sudden impatience came over him. As soon as the thought entered his mind, and without warning, he grabbed the hem of her thong and ripped it off of her hips. It left red marks behind and a resounding scream of surprise in the room.
Bella had not expected that at all.
Her hips bucked up in the air again, having no control over her body at this point and he pushed her hips back down on the table with a firm hand.
Reluctantly she obeyed. He saw the struggle it was to stay still for her at this point. He walked over to the kitchen sink and found what he had prepared there more than ready for his use.
A little basin of hot water was there, colorful objects bobbing up and down under the surface as he carried it over to the table and placed it on the floor under it. He then moved to the freezer and withdrew a long glass rod from inside. He wrapped a kitchen towel around it, rubbing up and down slightly, feeling the spiral contours that ran up and down, feeling the cold contrast against his hot skin.
She was still again now, tense and biting her lip nervously, waiting for him to come back and end her torture.
Edward smirked at the prospect.
He walked back to their table and placed the towel-wrapped sex toy on the floor next to the basin of water, walked over to the bag of extra goodies and found a bottle of self-heating lubrication.
"Oh yes," he grinned and let his eyes wander to her helpless body once more, fantasizing about her reactions to what he had planned for this particular item.
He was almost giddy with anticipation at this point, not really knowing how she would react to this, but could hardly wait to find out. He walked back over to the end of the table, letting a hand travel from her breasts, squeezing them slightly, before trailing down her torso to her waist. She jumped and screamed out when he suddenly laid hands on her again, but relaxed once he reached her mound.
He ran a finger down her slit, just barely grazing it, and avoided her clit at all times. Her hips bucked automatically though, and she moaned and whimpered and tugged at the leather straps and ropes.
"There, there my sweet," he cooed, though knowing perfectly well that she couldn't hear him.
He bent down to the basin of hot water and retrieved the first toy he wanted to use, flipping the cap of the bottle of lube open and dripped the liquid all over down the entire length of it. It was a long jelly string, soft, yet firm, with beads that increased in sizes, starting small at the bottom of the chain, and grew the further up the shaft you got until you reached the handle, which was a small ring at the end of the toy.
Anal beads. She had never tried anal play before as far as he knew, not with him at least. And he had wanted to, so much, but finding himself too ashamed to ask his perfect Bella to bend over and take it up the ass.
But now, now was a completely different story. She was bound at the table, completely at his mercy, living out her own, dark fantasies, and she had safe words.
If she didn't want it, she could tell him and neither would be offended.
But he hoped dearly that she was willing to try.
Edward brought the bottle of lube to his right index finger and rubbed some on it, placing it down on the table. He placed himself slightly to the left of her thigh so he could put a hand on her stomach to feel her breathing, and for better access so he could watch.
At the feel of his hand on her skin again, she jumped, but this time she didn't scream out. Instead, she started panting louder. She had a feeling he was finally going to do something. If only she knew how right she was.
He took his slicked finger and brought it in between her ass cheeks, finding her other entrance with ease, and circled it lightly to see her reaction.
And screamed in surprise.
Her breathing increased from swift and deep to near hyperventilation.
He hesitated then, waiting and leaving the finger he had against her other entrance still, to see if she would try to object.
But when a moment had passed and her lips had been chewed on sufficiently, she took a deep breath and gave the slightest wriggle of her hips, an unspoken acceptance and hesitant encouragement.
It was all that he needed, and he stroked her stomach soothingly while he gave his finger more pressure and felt it slip inside slowly.
"Ohh..." she gave a little involuntary moan in response, bucking her hips which made him slip deeper.
Sighs of pleasure escaped her as he worked his finger slowly in and out. He grabbed the bottle and added a generous amount of lube to the mix while pushing in a second finger. This time she tensed some, but as soon as he stopped pushing, she relaxed again and was ready for more.
A few minutes passed, the wet movement of his fingers and her heavy breathing the only sounds in the room.
His hand on her stomach and chest, altering between keeping her calm and feeling her breathing, watching his hand move in steady motion in and out of her and her hips rocking back and forth to meet him. He finally slipped his fingers out, eliciting a displeased whimper when she felt the emptiness he left behind. He snickered at her reaction, feeling rather smug.
He walked around to the end of the table again and found the sterilized wipes in the bag with the massage oil and lube, wiping his hand and watching her writhe. Her need for release was growing impossibly stronger from the new and foreign sexual stimulation that heightened her arousal, but did nothing to help the need for an orgasm.
He reached for the anal beads that lay ready at the table and moved them to her opening, pressing the first bead inside easily.
"Oh shit!" Bella shook on the table, clenched her muscles and fisted her fingers in surprise. Edward placed one palm on her stomach in silent consolation and waited until she was ready again.
She relaxed soon enough and he started pushing another bead inside, and then another, and another. They slowly increased in size, right along with her moans.
Her breathing was irregular and her fingernails scraping at the table as he slowly pulled them back out again, watching them popping out one after another until there was only one left. He then proceeded to push them back in again, this time going further down the chain and stretching her open wider, pushing her to take more.
When he had worked the entire chain in and pulled it out a couple of times, he left it inside and went for the basin again. He found a rather large version of the rabbit vibrator there called "The Goose".
Edward had really enjoyed shopping at the local sex shop yesterday, and this one was recommended by sexologists. It was wide, with a shaft that rotated in wide circles, decorated from top to base, except for the very head, in little rubber knots. At the end of the shaft was a slight mound with a white egg inside it, intended for this mysterious G-spot they talked about. On top of that was the "Goose" itself: a swan-like figure with a broad wingspan and a beak that teases and tickles relentlessly on the clit. The wings and body were supposed to massage the lips and outer labia.
It had orgasm-guarantee.
He checked the batteries and buttons to see if it was working properly, having spent some time submerged. As soon as he hit on, it began making an awful lot of noise, the machinery working perfectly well and looking like a very pleasant experience for his "victim" on the table.
He grazed the end of the chain of beads in her ass on purpose when he reached out and grabbed a cheek, making her startle and moan. He brought his other hand up to her slit and stroked up and down firmly, causing her to jump, her clit oversensitive from too much teasing and too little attention.
Grinning, he bent forward and wrapped his lips around the swollen flesh, sucking and nibbling slightly, hearing her gasp and scream in pleasure and surprise, cumming instantly, like he expected. He pushed two fingers into her just before she started contracting, and used the other hand to yank the chain of beads out.
The howling that escaped Bella was deafening. The orgasm rocked her like a seizure, her skin on fire and covered in sweat.
He stood back up again and watched her pant with her release, a lazy smile on her lips as she relaxed against the table.
As soon as her guard was down though, he took the jelly beads and forced them back into her anus. She moaned at the intrusion and shivered when the final, thick ball was pushed inside with more lube and her own juices.
He grabbed "The Goose" off the table without hesitation, placed it against her entrance, the warm silicone matching the temperature of her overheated body now, and pushed in slightly while setting the rotating button to its slowest sequence.
Whimpering and bucking against the toy, she tugged at her restraints and tried to arch her back.
He took it as a cue, and pushed the toy further inside, hearing her whimper as the little nubs along the shaft nudged at her inner walls. He reached the G-spot egg, slightly elevated and right under the little bird on top, and pressed the toy downwards towards the beads in her ass.
The vibrations against the other toy made her scream, but not before he forced the egg all the way inside her, stretching her more, and leaving it to vibrate against her inner wall. He then hit the button that triggered the little bird on top of the toy, guiding it to her clit and watched it flutter violently.
Screaming and screeching, she bucked her hips up and down, part of her trying to escape the extreme and overwhelming sensations, but he would not allow it. She was his to do with as he pleased now, and he would force as many orgasms as he possibly could upon her body, knowing she had missed out on so many.
He thrust it back and forth gently, but firmly, making sure she adjusted to the size and shape of the foreign intruder.
And then he turned up the intensity and speed on both the inner and outer stimulation, causing her to scream. He thrust it in and out heavily, bumping her clit with the bird- beak every time, making sure to go deep and point it downwards so it grazed against the beads.
Her legs tensed after a few minutes and he knew she was close again. He doubled the speed and hardened the thrusts, pulling at the chain of beads so the top two slipped out slowly, and heard her whimper in response.
One harsh thrust of "The Goose" later, she tightened, her inner walls gripped at the toy, and he pulled the string of beads out swiftly, pushing the vibrator further inside her and hearing her screech in pleasure and shock.
She shook and cried as she came. The orgasm seemed more powerful this time. She panted and came down from it slowly, her muscles relaxing in time to feel his body closer and naked skin.
He had dropped his pants and boxers while waiting for her to soothe, and now he had grabbed his erection in his right hand, an extremely powerful vibrator called "The Magic Wand" in the other, and was ready to force a few more earth shattering orgasms out of her submissive body.
It was a long rod of thick plastic with something that looked like a white tennis ball at the end of it.
Yes, this would be fun, he thought viciously and licked his thumb, pressing it to her clit, making her jump. As soon as she was aware of his presence, he thrust his cock into her smoothly, causing her to whimper and groan. He flexed his hips and thrust mercilessly, evenly, in control while she writhed. When she was properly worked up, he turned the "Magic Wand" on high and slid it over her right breast, letting her feel the vibrations against her nipple, and then moving to the other. She gasped at the dual sensations. He felt the moisture of her desire slick and new, gushing out, and pulled the toy down her stomach slowly, finding her clit and kept it there firmly.
She screamed and screamed, filled to the brim with his cock and the relentless, perfect vibrations of the massager sent her into a multiple orgasm frenzy.
Her tight contractions were too much for him to hold out though, and as she kept on cumming, he finally released and removed the toy, turning it off and putting it on the table beside her.
Breathless, he rested his head against her stomach, feeling her chest and upper body rise and fall as she calmed down.
He rose up off her after a few minutes time, leaving her resting and wondering as he gathered the toys from around her and carried them to the sink in the bathroom, cleaning each item with a special soap and drying them off, placing them in a little box. He walked out again and found her relaxed and limp on the table. She had fallen asleep waiting.
He smiled then, feeling content for the first time in a long time. It was the first time she had fallen asleep before him in far too long, first time she had looked so sated and relaxed from an orgasm since . . . well, he wasn't quite sure she had ever had this glow.
He felt so powerful towering above her helpless body, one of his ultimate fantasies fulfilled, and hers too.
But he wasn't done with her yet.
He found the clitoris vibrator in his pocket and grinned at the prospect of waking her up like that.
He walked up to her swiftly, bent under the table and found the glass rod that he had fetched from the freezer and wrapped in a towel. It was now sweating moisture, cold and slick. He placed it beside her and took the little vibrator in his hand, pressing it against her clit.
She immediately woke up again, the skin so sensitive down there that she had no idea what to do about herself. She wailed from the moment it touched her, trying to close her legs and fight him off.
"Oh shit, oh shit, stop, stop!" she whimpered, but she didn't use the safe words so he kept going, knowing she wasn't in pain, just incredibly over-stimulated and sensitive.
Her legs started to stiffen again, and he put two fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out rapidly, working her up to the brink. He felt her tighten hard, and swiftly withdrew his fingers and the vibrator, fetched the icy glass rod and pushed it inside. He leaned down and bit at her clit.
She screamed. Oh, how she howled.
Her groans, every limb stiffening. The heat and softness of his fingers at the brink of cumming replaced by the icy shaft of smooth glass in just the right moment was something out of this world.
He withdrew it gently after a minute and placed it on the towel beside her once more.
"No more," she begged then. "I can't take anymore Edward. . . Please!" she begged. "Red, red! Crimson red!"
Edward laughed loudly and walked up to her head, removing the earphones and blindfold swiftly. She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed, gazing happily and lazily into his eyes.
"That was . . ." but she trailed off, words failing her.
He just nodded and grinned. "It really was . . . I've missed your pleasure, Bella."
He released her leather cuffs and found a pair of scissors on the chair beside him, cutting the ropes around her legs and releasing her ankles. He moved up to her stomach and undid the belt that held her down, and finally unbuckled the bindings around her shoulders.
She was free now.
"Wait here," he instructed, walking into the bathroom and fetching a warm washcloth. He came out and had her lay back down as he cleaned her reverently, chuckling every now and then as he brushed against her clit, which was oversensitive as hell.
He finished and walked into the laundry room, disposing of the cloth. He grabbed a pair of flannel pajama pants and one of his tee shirts for her to wear on the way out. Showering could wait until she had eaten something. He didn't want her to faint.
But when he returned to the living room, she sat still as stone on the table, her face red and puffy, and tears glistening down her cheeks.
"What's wrong Bella?" he asked, his voice loud and anxious, dread coursing through him. He must have been too rough on her.
But she just shook her head, her lip quivering. "It's nothing. I . . ."
He wrapped his arms around her tightly, sitting on the edge of the table beside her.
"Tell me . . . Please tell me. . . ." he begged, kissing her hair.
She took a deep breath. "I just . . . Thank you so much, but . . . do you think I'm... I feel so . . ."
She shook her head, unable to find words, but the disdain in her voice revealed her emotions to Edward easily. "Do you think I'm a freak?" That was what she wanted to know.
"Of course I don't think that. You are perfect. I'm just . . . I'm so sad that . . . that we never talked, never spoke up. . . . It hurt so bad to see you withering, to see you not enjoying yourself . . . to wake up to your moans at night and hearing you pleasuring yourself."
She gasped at this confession, her face red with shame. She hadn't fooled him even once, had she?
"I used to think it was me. That you didn't want me . . . that you wanted more . . . that there was someone else . . ."
He sounded so bitter.
"But I found your written confession in the trashcan. I read your darkest fantasy and was shocked to find that . . . I was the one starring in it."
He lifted her chin and made her look him in the eyes. "Baby, I have never been more surprised at you, but never more happy to help out either. To think that you fantasized about the same things I did . . . Amazing!" He looked awed.
"I liked vanilla," she whispered. "I really did, but . . ."
"But so incredibly plain, so ordinary without sprinkles or chocolate topping," Edward finished her thought, quoting her diary perfectly.
Used to be a longer story, now a oneshot.