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He bit down on her lower lip and she gasped.
"No…talking," he whispered roughly. She cried out as he flipped her suddenly so that her cheek was pressed to the wall, her back and buttocks exposed to him. He pulled her hips flush to his and she gasped again, feeling his erection against her ass. His teeth nipped at her shoulder and she let out a little breathy moan. "You are so beautiful…"
His hand ran down her spine as he pulled away. "You’re not going to understand what happens next, Claire, but I need you to be patient with me. I promise that you’ll enjoy it eventually."
His steps retreated, back to his bag, she supposed. She felt something soft and cool brushing her thighs. He tapped her ass with it and she froze. No…surely not.
The only warning she had was a soft whish just before the riding crop cracked against the skin of her ass. She yelped, her back arching, pressing her breasts into the wall. A second blow, and she heard herself let out a breathy moan. Where did that come from?
"You’re doing well, Claire," he breathed. He sounded aroused, and she realized how sexy she must look to him, pinned to the wall, squirming underneath his abuse.
Another sharp slap, this one at the top of her thigh. She squealed, arching against the wall, going up onto the balls of her feet. His fingers drove deep into her and she gasped as he roughly fingered her; she was hot and dripping, her clit swelling to painful proportions. "Yes, you’re doing very well," he purred, tapping her ass with the crop as he prodded her G-spot. She whimpered, panting.
"Please…please," she pleaded breathlessly. Another yelp left her lips when the crop came down harder. Suddenly the blows were coming hard and fast, coming down and then up, right, left, left, right, thighs, upper back…she lost count of how many times he whipped her. She only knew that she shook and trembled and sweat and moaned and even cried, becoming nothing but skin and sensation, melting into his wall.
She seemed to come back to herself when the whipping slowed and then stopped. There was a soft clatter as the whip fell to the ground and then a clinking as the cuffs were unlocked from her wrists. He spun her around and whipped the blindfold off. She blinked, his face flushed and heightened, his eyes bright.
Marc’s mouth came down on hers and she felt him lift her, cupping her sore, welted buttocks in his hands. Her legs went around his waist automatically.
Her breath left her in a rush as he slammed into her, sliding easily into her wet, enflamed sheath. "W-wait…condom," she breathed, clinging to him.
"Already on," he growled against her mouth, nipping at her lip before thrusting his tongue into her mouth at the same time as his hips rocked back and then slammed forward again. He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, as strong as the manacles.
His eyes bored into hers, amusement and desire dancing in them. "Do you want to come, Claire?" he asked, his thrusts becoming rougher, the tip of his cock dragging over her clit on each backslide, sending sparks shooting through her abdomen.
"Yes…yes…!" she gasped.
He nipped the side of her neck, sucking and surely leaving an obvious hickey. "Beg me," he breathed against her ear, nibbling on her ear lobe.
"Please…"
"Please, what?" he demanded.
"Please, Sir! P-ple…oh, god, please!"
"Please, Sir, what, Claire?" he goaded, laughing as she let out a keening wail. He ground inside her, his pubic bone stimulating her clit as his cockhead massaged her G-spot. He felt her clamp down and quickly pulled back. "Ah-ah-ah, no coming before I say so," he teased and she sobbed. He slowed his thrusts, gazing into her eyes as he did so. She was nearly hyperventilating with her desperation. "You only have to ask, Claire."
He saw the actual snap in her control, and felt his triumph; she was submitting to him, finally.
"Please, Sir, can I fucking come!" she shrieked.
The hand supporting her ass came around to grasp her clit, giving it a rough pull. "Come, you little slut," he growled in her ear and slammed balls-deep into her.
Her whole body shook with the spasms that overtook her, adorable whimpers and moans falling from her lips as her pulsating cunt urged him to his orgasm.
Claire gasped for breath, his deep groans in her ear making her orgasm continue. Only when it was over did she slump against him. He released her wrists to wrap his arms around her, carrying her to the couch before his own legs failed him.
He sat her in his lap, cradling her head to his chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Well done," he said softly, brushing her hair off her damp temples. She smiled weakly, nuzzling his pectorals. He was still almost fully clothed, only his chest bare. His jeans were scratchy against her ass, which felt like it was on fire.
Her shakes finally subsided and she lifted her head to look at him. He must have seen the question in her eyes because he smiled. "I’m sorry I went about this the way I did. I hope I didn’t scare you." She shook her head.
"No, I wasn’t scared. Confused, maybe, and definitely shocked. But I wasn’t scared."
"You did like it, then?" She blushed and her smile was more than a little shy.
"Yes…I did like it. I never imagined anything like that. Thank you," she said sheepishly. He smiled and kissed her lightly.
"Would you like me to take off all these straps?" he said, playing with the leather collar around her throat. She nodded and he went to work unbuckling the straps. He went to remove the collar around her neck but she stopped him.
"Leave that one," she said with a soft little smile. He grinned and kissed her again. "Can I see the painting now?"
"Maybe you should get dressed first," he replied with a cheeky grin. "It’s already hard enough to keep my hands off of you."
She laughed and slid off his lap, going to the little puddle of clothes on the floor, pulling his soft clothing on. His arms wrapped around her from behind and she smiled, leaning her head back to look at him. "Don’t distract me, I want to see it," Claire teased and he laughed.
"Alright then, come here."
He led her to the easel and then covered her eyes before he let her see it. "Ready?" he asked softly. She nodded and he uncovered her eyes. She gasped.
She wasn’t against a wall at all. She had big but broken dirty white wings, her face half concealed by her hair. The part that wasn’t covered looked to be in a sort of tortured bliss. The straps and chains covering her body were stark and contrasting with the bright pink of her nipples and the cream of her skin.
A man clad all in leather was behind her, one of his hands in her hair and the other lifting her leg to drive into her. Even with the mask around his eyes, there was no mistaking that it was Mark. The background of the painting was in harsh red and clay browns, and the floor beneath the leather man’s feet was dark grey.
And what really drew her eye were the cuffs. They were the brightest thing in the painting, seeming to gleam right off the canvas. She looked over her shoulder at Marc. "It’s beautiful."
"So are you," he murmured. His lips trailed over the side of her neck as she glanced back at the painting.
"Hey, Marc?"
"Hm?" he mumbled, distracted by the curve of her shoulder and neck. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access.
"When can you paint me again?"
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