Saturday, 2 November 2013

Teaching Maya - the second 5 chapters

Author's note: These 10 chapters are also available on Literotica, and I figured that while the chapters were up on Lit, they might as well also be on my blog. Enjoy! This is close to 20,000 words - a generous preview. If you like what you read, please consider buying the book and leaving a review on the Kindle store! 


Teaching Maya (A BDSM Romance Novel)
By Tara Crescent

Text copyright © 2013 Tara Crescent
All Rights Reserved

Chapter 6

“You look like you could use a vacation, Maya.” Ivar's words weren't a surprise. It had been a long three months after the family retreat. Work had been insane. One of our senior employees had gone rogue a month after the retreat, and the fallout had been painful. Ivar and Marco had been working sixteen hour days for the last two months, and my workload had been almost as bad.  
But finally, everything was back to normal. A small group of us had gathered in Ivar's apartment to celebrate - Ivar and Marco, of course, but also Paul, the CFO, Kelly, our Chief Counsel, and Nate, the head of South American operations. Poor Nate - it was Brazil where most of the damage had occurred. Nate looked like he hadn't slept for two months. 
I was easily the most junior person in the room, and normally, I wouldn't have been invited to this gathering. Ivar and Marco typically went out of their way to avoid any appearance of nepotism. But I'd been Paul's right hand person during the crisis, and Paul had insisted on my presence. 
We were all standing around Ivar's kitchen island. Ivar had celebrated by leaving work early and cooking for us, and we were all looking forward to this meal. The drinks were flowing freely, and even though it was early, we were all a little buzzed. 
“A vacation would be nice...” I admitted. “But would you believe, I'm becoming such a workaholic that I have no idea where to go, and what to do?”
Ivar shook his head in disapproval. “Vacations are important, kiddo. I take a full two months off a year. Marco, Paul, Kelly, Nate, all of them do the same. You'll burn up in this job if you don't learn to unwind...” 
“Why don't you go to Paris? Paris is lovely in winter.”

I looked at Ivar sharply, but his face gave nothing away. “What did he know?” I wondered. Yes, Ryan and Ivar were very good friends, but I assumed Ryan would keep the details of our tryst quiet.

“Maybe...” I kept my voice light, and wandered away to the balcony.
I sipped my glass of wine in the balcony, and struggled to keep back the tears. Somewhere, without knowing it, I’d fallen in love with Ryan. The real Ryan; the one who was calm, competent and amused; but also warm and caring.
He’d never replied to my text; I hadn’t heard from him since the family retreat. The logical part of me didn’t really expect to; we’d had a sexual interlude, and once it was over, the expectation was that we’d both go back to our lives. But deep inside, there had been a part of me that had been hoping he’d call.
I was holding it together during the day, but every night since I got back to San Francisco, my sleep was consumed by nightmares. I would dream of Ryan with another woman. The images were eating me up inside. Ryan, holding a whip, staring down at a tied up girl. Ryan, smiling his easy, warm, approving smile as this woman complied willingly with his orders. Ryan’s mouth on some other woman’s breasts; his dick in some other woman’s pussy. It was keeping me from sleeping at night, and driving me insane.
“Silly Maya,” I whispered to myself. “Don’t play adult games if you can’t deal with adult consequences.” I blinked the tears back and fought for self-control. I had held my feelings at bay for the last three months, and had poured myself into work. Now though, with work finally approaching normalcy, I’d have to face my nightmares, and deal with them.
“All by yourself, Maya?” Kelly’s voice cut through my reverie. I had been so lost in my thoughts; I hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open.
“Hey Kelly.” I liked Kelly. She was amazingly competent, like everyone else who worked at the firm, but Kelly also had a wicked sense of humour, and she didn’t take herself too seriously. She was a lot of fun to work with.
“You look lost in thought, kiddo.”
“Ivar thinks I should go on vacation, and I pondering where to go…” I lied smoothly. It was plausible enough.
“Gods, I know! I’m going to take a week off, myself, and spend the entire week in bed; I’m so tired! Maybe a bit of reading, the new Clayborn book is coming out soon, and getting some great reviews…”
My heart skipped a beat. “There’s a new Clayborn book?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice casual.
“Yeah, he was on the radio this morning, promoting it. He was saying that he had spent the last few months putting the final touches on it… It’s on every best-seller list, of course.”
Oh. My heart was suddenly a bit lighter, and a tiny ray of hope appeared. Ryan wouldn’t have had time to do very much else if he had been writing for three months. No other women, perhaps?
But then, as I thought about it just a bit more, my heart sank again. What did it matter who he was sleeping with? He had made it clear that he’d regretted sleeping with me, and that it wouldn’t happen again.
My dream that night was the worst yet. I was tied on a cross. Clamps on my nipples; my arms and legs spread wide. Ryan started whipping me with a long bullwhip. It hurt, a lot. Welts appeared on my skin as I cried out in agony. “Hold on, kitten,” Ryan soothed. His voice was calm and reassuring. He walked towards me, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek.
But suddenly, I was watching the scene; Ryan’s hands were stroking another woman. “Hold on, kitten,” he repeated calmly to her. She smiled at him. It was a smile of utter submission. “Yes, Sir,” she said softly. “Thank you for whipping me, Sir.”
“See this, Maya?” Ryan didn’t look at me as he addressed me. “She’s the woman I’m sleeping with… So much more compliant than you…” His hand raised, and he struck the woman again with the whip.
Pain. I felt lashes and lashes of pain, with no accompanying pleasure. He touched the faceless woman tenderly, leaning in to kiss her. “See this, Maya? She can feel pleasure…” he said, cruelly. The woman started to laugh. “You’d never had an orgasm? Freak!” he sneered, as she chortled with glee. His mouth found her pussy; I moaned with longing. “Please, Ryan…” I begged. “Please…”
I woke up, shaking, my cheeks wet from my tears. The next week, I was on a flight to Paris.
How can I explain why? He hadn’t replied to my text, and I was driving myself insane. I could have learned to ignore the dreams of Ryan with another woman. But I wasn’t willing to live another year like the last one, consumed with thoughts of my sexual inadequacy, this time, with the additional feeling that I was being mocked by Ryan. I needed to know what he’d thought, I needed better closure.
I’d arranged to stay at my cousin Nina’s. She wouldn’t be in town during my visit; something she was very apologetic for. But in a way, it was more convenient. Ryan and Nina were good friends; I wouldn’t have to lie to Nina while I sorted out this tangled mess.
I was nervous and jumpy all the way from CDG to Nina’s apartment. It was as if I’d expected Ryan to somehow know that I was in Paris, and to magically materialize out of thin air. The truth was that I didn’t even know if Ryan was in Paris. For all I knew, he could have been in a race somewhere, or back at the cottage.
At Nina’s, I quickly showered and dressed. Nothing elaborate, just jeans and a t-shirt, with a sweater and a jacket to protect against the winter chill. It was early in the evening the week before Christmas; Paris was filled with light and festivity. Any other time, I would have been enraptured at the beauty and bustle of it all. The Quartier Latin was jam-packed with people going about their Christmas shopping. But I was making my way towards Ryan’s apartment, and I was a bundle of nerves.
Ryan lived in an old historic apartment building near the Place de la Sorbonne. I would have normally had to be buzzed in, but a couple was exiting as I walked up, and they held the door open for me. “Merci,” I mumbled. My French was rusty, but serviceable.
Here it was. Number 6. I look a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
Nothing. No response. Had I made a mistake, was Ryan not in town? Or worse, was he out and about with a woman? I knocked again, louder.
 “Un moment, s’il vous plait!” Ryan’s voice came through the door. I heard movement in the apartment, steps walking towards the door. The door opened. Ryan stood there, bare-chested, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp; he looked like he’d just come out of the shower.
“Ryan,” I said, uncertainty clouding my voice, as I drank in the sight of him. “Can I come in?”
For an instant, Ryan didn’t say anything; he just looked at me. Then he nodded and stepped aside so I could come in. “Maya, what a surprise it is to see you.” His voice was expressionless.
I gulped. This wasn’t the welcome I’d hoped for.
“Grab a seat while I put on some clothes.” He disappeared into a room; I could hear him move around. In a minute, he’d come out, this time, dressed casually in sweats and an old t-shirt.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked politely.
I nodded. He was being cordial, but my showing up had obviously made him uncomfortable. I’d made a huge mistake coming here. I realized I didn’t even know if he was dating someone. I felt like a fool.
“Red wine okay?”
I nodded again. He walked away, but returned in a moment with a bottle and two glasses in his hands. He poured, and sat down in the couch across from me.
“What brings you to Paris, Maya?” The question was polite, but his voice was disinterested.
“Is something the matter?” I asked. A question in response to a question.
“Is something the matter?” he repeated. Suddenly, he sounded livid. “Yes, I think something’s the matter, Maya.” I’d seen Ryan angry, once, for a brief second, when I’d asked him how to go about finding a sex partner. But then, his irritation had been quickly masked, his control quickly reasserted. This time though, he was just angry.
“Your last text message to me was quite the parting gift, Maya.”
“Huh?” I was puzzled. I’d expected many reactions to the text. Pity, maybe even mockery or amusement, but never anger.
“Tell me, Maya, you don’t think that maybe it was relevant information before we’d had sex? That your previous sexual experience was awful? That you’d never orgasmed?” There was ice in his voice.
“Why are you angry with me?” I asked. Tears were spilling down my cheeks; his anger was unexpected and painful. “I wanted to be treated like a normal woman, not some kind of freak – can’t you understand that?”
“Shit.” Ryan swore. He got up and moved quickly to sit next to me, and gathered me in his arms. “Hush, kitten…” he soothed. He held me in his arms as I composed myself.
“Why are you angry with me?” I repeated, nestled up against him.
“Because you should have told me, Maya. I had the right to know something that important before we slept together. I would have done things differently, gone easier on you…”
“So, pity sex.” My voice was flat.
He laughed. “Maya, for someone who’s supposedly pretty smart, you are an idiot; do you know that? You are utterly gorgeous. I slept with you because I really, really wanted to. And had I known about the stuff between you and your previous boyfriend, I would have still really, really wanted to sleep with you. Trust me; there would have been no pity.”
“However Maya,” he continued, “you let me tie you up and beat you, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about your previous relationship. I’ll be honest, Maya, I feel used. And I don’t like it.”
Crap. He was right. I had been so consumed by the idea that Ryan would magically fix my problems that I’d ignored the fact that he had a right to know what he was getting into.   
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I really was sorry. “I should have told you.”
“Mmm hmm.”
Ryan was still holding me; I took that to be a hopeful sign. “Can we be friends?”
Ryan laughed, humourlessly. “Ah Maya… Nina and I are friends; Gayla and I are friends. You and me? What I feel about you, Maya, whatever it is, it isn’t friendship.”
“And what do you feel about me?” The question hung, unspoken in the air, but I didn’t have the courage to ask.
“What now, then? I asked instead.
He answered with a question of his own. “Why are you in Paris?”
It was time for honesty, and so I told him about the last dream. I didn’t leave anything out. I told him all of it; how I dreamt I was tied up and being whipped by him, how the faceless woman had laughed at me, Ryan’s cruel words in the dream. I was revealing more than I wanted to, but he deserved the honesty.
He continued to hold me in his arms, but he was quiet as I talked. There was silence when I’d finished my story.
 “Ryan?” There was hesitation in my voice as the silence stretched.
 “There’s no faceless woman, Maya.” His hand stroked my hair lightly. His voice was now wry. “On the other hand, the cross and the whip really do exist, if you want to see them.”
Hope blossomed in me. “Just to be clear,” I asked carefully, “are you actually propositioning me?”
“Maya Martinez,” Ryan said, the words serious, but with amusement threading through his voice, “will you let me tie you up and whip you?”
I grinned like a goof, and looked up at Ryan. “Yes, please.”

Chapter 7

“Idiot,” Ryan mentally chided himself. All reason had fled at the sight of Maya at his door. He’d spent a difficult three months, trying desperately to focus on his work. The planned writing session at the cottage had never happened – he’d spent a week there trying to write, but instead kept reliving her moans when tied up; her laughter, the feel of her skin against his, the way she’d unconsciously snuggled against him when she slept. He’d been worried about her getting too involved – he should have instead worried about protecting himself.
Getting back to Paris was no help either. He found himself unwilling to call his usual sex partners. His playroom with its collection of bondage gear gathered dust, and its emptiness mocked him. Angry at himself, he’d thrown himself into work, and written three months of utter drivel. It was a good thing he was between books – his editor would have either killed him or herself if she had read the junk he’d produced.
For more than eight years, since the debacle that was his relationship with Patricia, Ryan had kept a tight rein on his emotions. He didn’t date; he chose women to sleep with who were as commitment-phobic as he was; he never got too close, and he never got involved. Getting involved was a short cut to getting hurt – Ryan had been taught that lesson over and over again in his life.
But somehow, all his rules had gone by the wayside with Maya, perhaps because the Martinez estate was one of the few places in the world where Ryan truly let down his guard. Somehow, Maya had managed to find a way in; she had become important.
When he got her final text, it had torn him apart. He had cursed himself for days, angry that he hadn’t probed more; that he hadn’t tried to understand why she had propositioned him. She had had a good time in bed with him; he was an experienced enough lover to know that, but he wished he’d kept the sex more vanilla. She didn’t need to be exposed to the whips and chains – she was a relative innocent, who deserved to be with someone more conventional.
And yet, now that she was here and nestled in his arms, he was offering to show her his playroom? “You are such a hypocrite, Clayborn,” Ryan muttered to himself, shaking his head in disgust.
 “You have a dungeon?” I asked, intrigued, yet amused. “It all seems so, umm, gothic.” Ryan’s lips quirked. “Just for being such a smart-ass, kitten, I’m going to give you a few additional strokes with the whip.” It was not really a threat; Ryan was more amused than annoyed.
“I don’t call it a dungeon.” He grinned. “I think dungeons need to be underground by definition, don’t they? And we are, after all, above ground. More a playroom, if you will. Shall we?”
He led me down a corridor, opening a door at the end. I followed him inside with a mixture of trepidation, curiosity, and arousal.  Mostly arousal, if I was being honest.
My first impression was that the room was space. It was light and airy, with windows covering two walls. Then my eyes were drawn to the large St. Andrew’s cross in a corner. I gulped. It looked formidable.
Ryan’s eyes followed my gaze, and he grinned at me.
“That’s quite the conversation piece,” I said, warily. Back at the cottage, it was just some rope and some clothespins. This was different, more serious. I wasn’t sure how I felt.
Ryan looked at me. He’d sensed my increasing nervousness, and his eyes caught mine. They were all warmth and kindness. “Relax, kitten. We’ll ease up to it. But first, I need to talk to you. Come here…”
He pulled me on the bed; we sat, side by side, leaning on the headrest.
“I will admit, I’m not entirely sure if us playing again is the best idea, Maya,” he said, quietly, taking my hand in his, entwining his fingers in mine. My heart dropped. I couldn’t deal with his rejection.
“But… yet, here we are, again, and I find myself wanting to touch you so badly…” he continued.  
I looked at Ryan. He was obviously struggling to say something. “Maya, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it badly. I like you, a lot. I had a great time this summer. And I’m thinking that, given your very explicit dreams, you like me too. But here’s the rub – we cannot date each other.  This isn’t about the age gap, though that matters. And it isn’t about the San Francisco, Paris locations. Essentially, I have no desire to be in a relationship. It just isn’t going to happen.”
He liked me. My heart sang. I heard the rest of his speech, but for the moment, I refused to let it bother me. Though I’d fallen in love with him, I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the score. If I’d hoped for something more than just sex with Ryan, I’d kept it buried deep in my subconscious. But in this room, sitting next to him, with his fingers lacing mine, I very much wanted the sex.
“I know that,” I said, after a moment of silence… “But I’m here now… if you aren’t otherwise occupied; perhaps you could show me how this thing works?” I gestured to the St. Andrews Cross, and looked hopefully at Ryan.
Ryan looked at me. “Are you sure, Maya?” he asked. There was no amusement in his voice; he was as serious as I’d ever seen him.
I leaned over, boldly, traced his cheekbone softly with my other hand, the one that wasn’t entwined in his. “Yes,” I said softly, leaning over and kissing him.
His lips felt like sweet water to my parched throat. All the need I’d kept at bay for the last three months poured out as I touched him, as I felt his tongue move in my mouth, insistent and demanding. Gods, I had missed the way he made me feel, soft and vulnerable. He groaned, and pulled me in so I was sitting on him; I could feel his erection against my pussy. My entire body was tingling with arousal, as his hands moved over them, touching me, stroking me…
I moaned in his mouth; my hands clutching his back, pulling him in towards me. I desperately needed to feel him against me. The wetness in my pussy was threatening to soak through my jeans.
I half-expected him to stop me, to slow me down, to reassert his control, but it seemed like he had no desire to wait either. He moved me off his lap, threw me on the bed, and tore my jeans off me. Quickly stepping out of his clothes, he plunged into my wet, waiting pussy. I mewled in utter arousal as his shaft buried into me.
He pounded into me, hard and fast. This wasn’t slow and gentle lovemaking; this was primitive and animalistic. My brain had shut down, I was reduced to just feeling. My legs wrapped around him, and he was on top of me, slamming into me, and all I could do was to move my hips to meet him, and embrace the intensity and the toe-curling pleasure.
The quaking started, deep down inside, as my nails curled into his back. “Ryan, please…” I begged, though I didn’t know what I was begging for.
“Hold tight, kitten…” Ryan muttered. Sweat shone against his skin as he continued his assault on my body. 
“Ryan, I can’t hold on…” I moaned.
“Then, come, Maya,” Ryan murmured, as his fingers found my clitoris. That was it; I came hard, thrashing under him, my nails digging into him, as waves of intense pleasure washed over me. Ryan thrust in me, impossibly harder and faster, and then he came too, with a choked-off shout.
He collapsed next to me, and we lay quietly in the darkening twilight, as we recovered from the earth-shattering intensity. I still had my t-shirt on, but I shivered slightly as the sweat on my skin cooled.
“Here…” Ryan pulled me into his arms, and pulled a coverlet over the both of us.
“Mmm…” My brain wasn’t capable of forming words yet, as I snuggled into Ryan.
Thoughts washed over me as I lay there. What did he want from me? Was this the last time we’d have sex? It seemed like every time we slept together, we did it against Ryan’s better judgement. I sighed. It all seemed so complicated, when it should have been simpler. I wanted him, he wanted me. We were both single. Wasn’t that enough? I guessed not.
“For how long are you in Paris?” Ryan asked, interrupting my thoughts. His fingers stroked small circles around my nipples, and they immediately hardened in response. Gods, I was aroused again! I could feel the wetness seep from my pussy, as I pushed my hips into his.
He pinched my nipple, hard. “Answer my question, Maya…” he chided softly. “And hold still.”
Fuck. I hated holding still. “Till New Year’s Day…” I said, distracted.
“Not spending Christmas with family?” he asked, momentarily surprised.
“Nah, everyone’s doing their own thing this year.” I moved against him, hoping he’d resume touching my nipples.
He pinched the other nipple, harder. I yelped. “I told you to hold still, you know,” he said mildly. He sounded amused.
“Fine.” There was grumpiness in my voice.
He laughed. “Silly kitten…” he muttered. “Where are you staying?”
What was this, Twenty Questions? “At Nina’s, while she’s away in Moscow,” I said, but this time, I held still.
“Would you like to stay here instead?” Ryan asked, tentatively.
“What?” There was shock in my voice, I hadn’t expected this. I turned to face him. 
“You will be punished for not holding still…” he said, his lips quirking, as I looked at him in astonishment.
I ignored that for the moment. “You want me to stay with you? For two weeks?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. This was… unexpected. A quiet joy was rising in me.
“Sure…” he said, his hand softly stroking my hair. “I could show you around Paris… it is your first time in the city, isn’t it?”
“Would you also show me around your dungeon?” I asked, need filling my voice. Was he just offering to be my tour guide? I had to know.
“It isn’t a dungeon,” he corrected automatically. “But yes, if you are interested, I’d very much like to show you around my playroom.”
Wow. I got to stay with Ryan for two weeks, while he showed me his city during the day and did wonderful, depraved things with my body at night? Every bit of me wanted to say yes, but I had to understand.
“Why?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me.”
“I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone,” he said. “It isn’t personal…” He hesitated, forming his words with care. “But I find that I really would like to spend the next two weeks with you.”
My choices were laid out in front of me. I could walk away now, or I could walk away, two weeks later. But in either case, I would have to walk away. Nothing more was being offered.
If I had any sense whatsoever, I would have walked away at that point. Already, I could not stop thinking about Ryan; I shuddered to think of the emotional mess I would be after two weeks of non-stop Ryan Clayborn goodness. But I’d done the right things all my life - going to school, working hard at the firm, dating the proper boys, and I wanted, desperately, to be stupid and impulsive; to be irrational, to act on the feelings coursing through me.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll stay here for the next two weeks…”
“Good.” He reached for my face, and kissed me briefly and possessively. “We’ll get your bags from Nina’s tomorrow. But now… Maya…” There was laughter in his voice.
“Right now, Maya, it’s punishment time.”

Chapter 8

Should I have feared my punishment? I didn’t. I’d been dreaming of being whipped by Ryan, of orgasming as he lashed me. Anticipation surged through me.
“You are supposed to look at least a little nervous at the idea of punishment, you know…” Ryan remarked, laughing. “My reputation will be in smithereens…”
“I think your reputation will be just fine…” I said, snidely. Women approached me all the time, asking me if I could introduce them to Ryan. It got tiring after a while.
Smack. His hand had reached around, and he’d spanked my naked ass. I could feel the heat spread from his hand, through the rest of me.
“Don’t be snide, kitten, it doesn’t suit you…” he rebuked. “Come on, up you get, take off all your clothes, please.”
I did as I was told, quickly pulled the t-shirt over my head, and throwing it onto the bed. I stood there naked, at the side of the bed, a little self-conscious. Ryan lay in bed, naked, on his side, just watching me.
“You are so gorgeous…” he murmured.
I felt the colour rise in me. He was openly staring at me, and I felt the urge to cover myself.
“Eye contact, please, Maya.”
Damn it. I was embarrassed by his scrutiny. I reluctantly met his eyes. They were laughing. Damn it, this gorgeous guy who had me dreaming of being tied up and whipped was laughing at me. I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my eyes. I didn’t like this.
“Cup your breasts, Maya. And then, pinch your nipples. Hard. Pull on them, make it hurt.”
What? I was shocked. I couldn’t touch myself in front of him. I hesitated.
His mouth tightened in an annoyed line. “I really hate repeating myself, Maya. It will get worse if you don’t obey.”
I obeyed. Biting my lip, I cupped my breasts.
“Offer them to me.” His voice was hoarse. I snuck a look at him. He was hard and ready to go. Gods, I wanted him in my mouth; I wanted to taste the hard perfection of Ryan; wanted to reach with my tongue and lick that tip of pre-cum, glistening on the head of his dick. I was dripping wet.
I held my breasts towards him, as if on a platter. “Please, Ryan, will you touch my breasts?” I asked. My voice was breathy with need and want and longing.
“Pinch your nipples.”
I lightly pinched my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Damn, but this was getting me wet, touching myself in front of Ryan, in response to his firmly-voiced commands.
“Pinch them harder, Maya.” His voice was clipped.
I couldn’t hold back a moan as I pinched harder. Unconsciously, I pressed my thighs together, trying to subtly rub them together, my pussy clenching, as I tried to bring myself to an unobtrusive orgasm. But of course, he was having none of it.
“Oh come on, Maya, legs apart.” His voice was laughing. “Do you really think that will be allowed? If you want to come, you’ll have to ask me for it.”
“Please make me come, Ryan…” I said promptly, longing etched in my voice. I was standing, naked, in front of him, while he ordered me to pinch my nipples; I had no pride about asking him to make me orgasm.
“Not just yet, kitten…”
“Pull your nipples away from your body, Maya.”
I moaned, again, as I obeyed. His eyes were on my breasts as I complied with his order, stretching my nipples out, pulling them away from my body. My nipples grew hard as they responded to this rough treatment. I bit my lip as I fought to keep my legs open, as I’d been ordered.
“Offer them to me again, Maya.”
I cupped my breasts again, and held them towards Ryan, the need obvious on my face. My nipples were standing out; they were larger than I’d ever seen them. I could feel them throb. I didn’t speak, words didn’t seem necessary.
“Nice,” Ryan muttered, appreciatively. “See how they’ve grown, Maya…”
He was still on the bed, watching me. It was weird; I was embarrassed to be touching myself in front of him, even more embarrassed at how turned on I was getting…  my body was flush with arousal, my pussy was dripping.
“Let’s add some nipple clamps, shall we, Maya?” Ryan said, softly.
I moaned. When we’d played with the clothespins, back at the cottage, it had been really, really intense. I wasn’t sure how I felt about nipple clamps…
My trepidation must have shown on my face. “Relax,” Ryan soothed. “They won’t really hurt, you’ll be fine …”
“The clamps are in the dresser, Maya. Top drawer, left hand side. Please fetch them for me…”
Fuck, I would have to get them? I coloured all over. I had to turn away from the bed to get the clamps, and I could feel Ryan’s eyes on my back. Unconsciously, I added a swing to my hips as I walked away from the bed.
The clamps were shaped like tweezers, with little bells at the tip. I found them exactly where he’d said they’d be. Pity, really, since the dresser drawer was full of interesting looking toys, balls, gags, cuffs. I wanted to stay and explore the contents of that drawer.
Ryan laughed behind me, a rich, wholehearted sound. “We have plenty of time later to explore that drawer together, kitten…” he said, warmly.
“Now, bring the clamps here, please.” His voice was even again.
I walked towards him, maintaining eye contact, trying hard to keep the blushing under control. I was naked, my nipples were hard, and I was about to hand him a set of nipple clamps. I was mortified at how wet I was by this.
“Nice,” Ryan repeated, taking the nipple clamps from my outstretched hand. “Now, Maya, pinch your nipples again, offer your breasts to me, and beg me to clamp your nipples.”
Holy crap. I gulped. I was going to have to ask him to put the clamps on? This was intense, this was… shit – this was my punishment!
My eyes flew to his face. “This is my punishment, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “You would have had too much fun with the whip… it would have hardly have qualified as punishment, would it?”
My lips twitched in response. Gods, he was devious. “What makes you think I’m not enjoying this?” I asked him, as my fingers tweaked my nipples, hard. I pulled on them, hard, yanking them away from my chest. They elongated. I let myself moan, sneaking a peek at his face. His eyes had shut momentarily in need. Good. I liked affecting him.
“Please Ryan,” I asked, my voice now soft, hesitant, needy. “Please, Ryan, will you put these clamps on my nipples?”
He got up, in one fluid motion from the bed. His cock stood erect. “Since you asked so nicely, Maya…” He came up to me, pulling my back against his chest. “Raise your arms…”
I complied instantly. I lifted my arms above my head, and leaned against his chest, feeling his erection press against my ass. Mmm. This was really hot.
“Ready, Maya?” Ryan’s voice was easy, relaxed, a calm counterpoint to his obvious arousal. Quickly, he placed the clamps on my nipples, and set the bells tinkling.
My muscles had clenched in anticipation of the pain, but it didn’t hurt, not any more than my nipples being pinched. My nipples were throbbing though, and molten need was threatening to overflow my pussy…
I moaned, again. “Please, Ryan…”
“Please, what, kitten?” Damn his calm. I was shaking with need. The bells jingled. He was still pressed against my back, his hands tracing idle circles around my breasts.  My breathing was uneven.
“Please fuck me…”
“A very tempting request, but not just yet, I think…” His hands trail lower, now tracing circles around my belly button, and then, lower still. I held my breath, parted my legs slightly to allow him better access. Would he touch me?
He did. He dipped one finger into my wet, waiting pussy, but carefully away from my clitoris, keeping his other hand on my clamped nipples. I moaned, again. “Please…” It was all the words my brain could form.
“See how wet you are, Maya… here, taste…” His finger was at my mouth. My lips parted, I sucked my pussy juice from his finger. The bells chimed again. What was Ryan doing to me? I felt so wanton, erotic.
 “Still want to get whipped?”
I nodded. Yes, I definitely wanted to get whipped. My pussy was throbbing in response to the pulsing in my nipples. I was a wet, quivering mess under Ryan’s control, yet I felt incredibly alive. I wanted more.
He led me to the St. Andrews Cross.
“You can be tied up facing the cross, or facing outward,” he explained, “but let’s do outward since you have the clamps on.”
He made it sound like I had a say in this, which was such a lie. Not that I really wanted a say, I loved Ryan’s evil plans for me.
He was quick and efficient as he strapped my ankles in the restraints. I obediently held my arms up above my head; those were cuffed to the cross as well. I gulped. My legs were spread wide, and I felt very, very exposed.
I chewed on my lower lip.
“Want a drink?” Ryan asked, kindly.
Actually, now that he mentioned it, I realized I was pretty thirsty. “Crazy hot sex can do that to you,” I giggled to myself.
“Yes, please.”
He wandered away to the kitchen, to reappear a moment later with my glass of red wine.
“Your arms seem to be tied up at the present, Maya,” he said with some amusement, looking at me, holding my glass. “Here…”
He held the glass so I could take a sip. I blushed. If I was meant to feel helpless, it was working...
A few drops dribbled from my chin, onto my breasts. He groaned.
“Maya, you are killing me here…” he muttered, as he lowered his mouth onto the spilled drops of wine. I hissed, trying to push my hips towards him. It was all too much to bear, the warmth of his tongue against my breasts, now lapping at a nipple… now his fingers were setting the bells ringing again, and his hands were all over my body… my brain stopped working; all I could do was feel…
He stopped, moved away from me, towards the dresser. He was obviously trying to steady his breathing. I was inwardly triumphant.
“You know,” he said, considering me quizzically, “it seems to me that you aren’t holding still very well. He held up a belt-like strap. “I think I should help you out here…” He moved towards me, placing the belt around my waist, and quickly strapped my waist to the cross. I moved experimentally against it to see how much slack I had. Not a lot at all.
“Much better,” he said, his lips quirking. “I do love seeing you all helpless and tied-up, kitten…” His hands traced my nipples, setting the bells off again. Heat radiated from them, all the way down to my pussy. I’d been wet for hours, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Ryan, I can’t take much more of this…” I begged.
He just grinned at me. “And we haven’t even introduced the whip yet…” he said softly, looking at me. He leaned in, and quickly kissed my lips. “I love seeing you tied up like this…”
Back once more to the dresser, and then back again. This time, Ryan held a many-stranded black whip in his hands. I stared at it in curiosity.
“It’s a flogger,” he said, in response to my unasked question. “Not too long, made of suede, it’s a good, beginner flogger. Definitely more pleasure than pain, or so I’ve been told.” His voice was amused again.
My eyes were still on the flogger. Experimentally, I tested my cuffs. Damn, I was secured pretty well.
“Nervous?” Ryan asked, looking at me intently.
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Why?” He glided the flogger on my skin. I took a sharp, inward breath. Every nerve in my body tingled in response. I moaned.
“Why?” he repeated.
“I don’t know… it’s too much…” It was the transition, I thought. Earlier today, I’d been on a plane, consumed with nerves at the thought of our upcoming meeting. Earlier this evening, I’d cried on his couch, and been comforted in his arms. And now, I was tied up, bells on my nipples, and he was going to flog me? It was just too much of a pendulum shift…
“Kitten…” Ryan was in front of me, looking into my eyes. “What’s wrong? Do you want this to stop?”
 “No.” I definitely didn’t want that. My voice was stronger.
“Do you want me to put away the flogger?”
I shook my head. I was feeling a bit like an idiot for killing the mood. “Sorry, I just needed a moment. I’m okay now.”
He looked at me steadily. His hand came out, fingers softly stroking my jaw. He leaned forward and kissed me. It was the softest kiss, all warmth and reassurance. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“You know, this will stop anytime you want. Just say no. Or safeword.”
I nodded, again. He looked so concerned; I wanted to reach out and touch him. “I’m okay.” I said, again.
“Okay, then, Maya.” His voice changed, it was now crisp. “Ready?” With that, he raised the flogger, and expertly brought it down on my thighs.
Ooh. Wow. It felt like little strands of fire on my skin, but they didn’t burn me, they just warmed me up. An answering fire started kindling within me. I clenched my fists in the cuffs, my toes were curled in the leg restraints. This was wonderful…
“More, please…” I begged.
Ryan smiled at me. “Happy to oblige, kitten…” The flogger came down again, this time on my stomach. My muscles clenched. My nipples ached deliciously in their clamps; the bells chimed as I moved.
And again, this time on my right hip. And again, left hip.
His hand rose and fell, leaving flames behind where the flogger touched me. He whipped me steady, but with care – avoiding my clamped nipples, and staying clear of my pussy. I was pushing myself towards the flogger, as best I could; I was burning up, my body begging for release…
“Ryan, I can’t…” I begged. I couldn’t take much more of this…
He must have agreed, because he leaned in towards me, kissed the side of my neck. “Almost there, kitten…” he whispered into my ear. Then, with a quick movement, he removed the clamps from my nipples, and before the blood started rushing back into the nipples, the flogger had delivered four firm strokes on my breasts, and Ryan had dropped on his knees in front of my parted legs, three fingers pushed into my gushing pussy, his mouth on my clitoris, skillfully pulling me on the path of arousal, till my knees began to shake, my hands clenched in their cuffs and my thighs tense. Then it was all flames and heat and warmth everywhere, as the most glorious release erupted in me, starting at the point where his mouth was meeting my body, and spreading through my body.
“Umm, wow…” I said softly, when I could form words again. That had been the most amazing experience of my life. “I think I like your playroom….”
He laughed, as he unbuckled me, and grabbed me to steady me. “Come on, kitten,” he said firmly. “You’re exhausted. Time for bed…”
He carried me out of the playroom, and down the hall to his bedroom. I felt so vulnerable in his arms, so small and soft and oh-so-breakable. Warning bells were breaking out in the back of my head, far away, cautioning me that I wouldn’t find walking away after two weeks easy at all. I shook my head, determined to ignore them. This was not the time to dwell on that.
He lay me down on the bed; I fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter 9

Sun was shining through the windows when I woke up the next morning. Ryan wasn’t next to me, but the smell of coffee was wafting through the apartment, and I jumped up, eager to find a bathroom, and to grab some coffee. I was astonished at how rested I felt.
I was, of course, naked. I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the adjoining bathroom. My body was a little flushed, but there were no obvious marks from last night’s flogging. “Nicely done, Mr. Clayborn,” I remarked to myself, wryly. Ryan was clearly no stranger to the flogger.
Ryan had laid a set of towels on the bathroom countertop, along with an unopened toothbrush. “Again, nicely done, Mr. Clayborn…” I murmured. Ryan evidently also knew how to cater to women sharing his bedroom. “Well, what did you think, Maya?” I scolded myself. He had always been surrounded by women.
“Good morning!” Ryan raised his eyebrows at my grouchy look, as I came into the kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts. “You look grumpy, kitten,” he laughed at me, handing me a cup of coffee. It was perfection. Milk, sugar, just the way I took it. How did he even know how I took my coffee? Oh, but he was good, really, really good.
“I went downstairs for some croissants, come…” he gestured to the kitchen table. There was a basket of croissants, some butter and jam, and orange juice. It looked mouth-watering. As did he. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and he looked utterly delicious.
“Have you been up long?” I asked. What time was it? I looked around for a clock, saw the one on his kitchen stove. “Shit, it’s 11am?”
“Mmm-hmm. I didn’t have the heart to wake you…”
I sat at the table. He settled down across from me, and poured me some orange juice.
“You haven’t eaten yet?” I asked curiously, helping myself to a croissant. “You must be starving…”
He grinned. “I did eat…” he said, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “And now, it’s time for second breakfast.”
I giggled. He looked so very cheerful this morning. “Second breakfast, isn’t that a hobbit thing?”
“Say what you want, baby,” he said loftily, munching on a croissant, demolishing it in two bites, and reaching out for another. “If you do want another croissant though, I suggest you hurry up and eat your first one before I finish all of them…”
“Why are you so cheerful?” I asked.
“Why not?” He smiled sunnily. “A beautiful woman is in my apartment, she’s agreed to spend the next two weeks with me, it all seems pretty good to me…”
“Hmm.” Sure, it was all pretty good to him. For me, the cold clear daylight had revived my sensible side, the one that was now engaged in reminding me how much it would hurt at the end of these two weeks.
I ate my croissant, took another sip of the perfect coffee. My good humour, uncertain since I woke up, was slowly returning, with each sip of the coffee. I decided to ignore my sensible side for the present.
“What do you want to do today?”
“Okay, I know this is ridiculously touristy, but I want to see the Eiffel Tower.” I was prepared for him to roll his eyes at me. God knows, I always rolled my eyes at people who came to San Francisco and wanted to see Alcatraz.
“Eiffel Tower it is, then…” Ryan said, agreeably, with absolutely no trace of eye-rolling.
“Seriously? You are okay with going to the Eiffel Tower? You live here, isn’t it too touristy?”
“Sure, it’s touristy. But if you want to go to the Eiffel Tower, Maya, then, now’s as good a time as any. It’s Monday, its mid-morning, its winter – if it is ever not going to be flooded with tourists, now’s the time…”
I smiled at him. He was being so good-natured. “Thanks, Ryan…”
He looked at me intently. “I’m happy to do this, Maya…” he said. “By the way, I got your stuff from Nina’s while you were asleep; I hope you don’t mind…”
“That’s great, thanks…”
“So, want to shower, perhaps wear something a bit more, umm, covered, than the t-shirt you have on, and we can get going?”
I laughed. The t-shirt had ridden up almost to my pussy when I sat down, and I was naked underneath. I was beginning to fear that that had passed unnoticed. Good, I liked that he noticed.
“Mmm,” I stirred the coffee with a spoon, and then put the spoon in my mouth, licking it gently. He visibly swallowed. I smiled, just a little bit smug. Where had this version of me come from? “Want to join me in the shower?” I asked.
“Sultry temptress.” Ryan shook his head at me. “We’ll never make it to the Eiffel Tower if I join you in the shower.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, mischief in my voice. I scooped some jam onto my fingers, and extending my fingers towards him, smeared it all over his right cheek. “Oops…” I said, grinning. “I guess you’ll have to clean up in the shower…”
He laughed, shaking his head at me. “Oh kitten,” he said, mock menace in his voice, “you are seriously going to regret doing that…”
I ran for it, turning to wink at him. “You’ll have to catch me first, you know…”
The shower was lovely and warm and crowded with the two of us in it. I leaned forward and licked the jam off Ryan. “Glad you could join me,” I teased. I was surprising myself with the way I was acting towards Ryan. I think deep down inside, I’d decided to just make the most of these two weeks.
Ryan groaned in response to the feel of my tongue on his face, grabbed my back, pulling me into his hard body. The water cascaded around us. I leaned against his chest, feeling his erection against me. Mmm. This was an exceptionally good way to wake up.
“Don’t fall asleep, kitten, your mouth has work to do,” Ryan said easily. “Come on, on your knees, you have some atonement ahead for that jam…”
I beamed. I wanted Ryan’s dick in my mouth.
Ryan’s back was to the shower, blocking most of the water from hitting my face. I kneeled in front of him, and took his hard, ready dick in my hand. My tongue darted out and tasted the bit of precum that glistened on his cock. Ryan groaned. “Stop teasing, kitten…” he growled. “Hands behind your back, take me in your mouth.”
I obediently linked my hands behind my back, but I wasn’t really done teasing yet. I leaned forward, spreading my knees for balance, and took the head of his lovely cock in my mouth, sucking it like a popsicle. He growled again, but held still, letting me set the rhythm.
I sucked on his head, swirling my tongue gently around it, lapping up the precum as it formed. Ryan tasted delicious, salty and male and perfect. I moaned with him in my mouth. Already, my pussy was moist with need.
My tongue snaked down the length of his dick, and I experimentally licked Ryan’s balls. Ryan groaned in response, and his hands entwined in my hair. I expected him to pull me closer and deeper in him, but he didn’t. The reminder was clear though. For the moment, I could tease all I wanted, but his hands were in my hair; and at some point, his patience would wear thin.
I grinned to myself. I was going to enjoy this. 
“Naughty, naughty Maya…” Ryan said, his voice hoarse with arousal.
In response, I plunged my mouth down the full length of his dick, withdrew, and plunged back down. His dick was hitting the back of my throat, but I did my best to breathe through my nose, and focused on setting a deep, hard rhythm… His hands tightened in my hair; his grip was almost painful. It was incredibly arousing.
And then I slowed again… Shallow strokes once again, sucking just the head of his hard, ready cock in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. Lapping at him like his cock was a rare treat. Long, slow licks, as the water fell, unnoticed, all around us. The heat rose in the shower. My pussy was drenched, it had gushed the instant Ryan had threaded his hands through my hair, reminding me, ever so subtly, that he was in charge.
I pulled back slightly, and looked up at him. His eyes met mine. They were clouded over in need. I kept eye contact, and very slowly reached my tongue out and licked his head. I wasn’t really giving him a blowjob, I was just exploring his body, varying the speed and the intensity, from hard to slow to fast to soft and back again. Ryan’s eyes shut in need. This felt good; I loved knowing that I could do this to him. 
“Kitten, you are killing me here…” Ryan grated.
“Mmm,” I said. I looked at him and winked. “That’s sort of the point…”
Ryan shook his head at me in rebuke, but his eyes were amused. His hands tightened in my hair, and he pulled me forward on his cock. “I’m going to set the pace now, kitten…” he said.
Gods, he took charge so well. My pussy gushed again in response. I moaned into his cock, as he slid my mouth up and down his hard length. His dick hit the back of my throat, and I fought not to gag. He gave me a second or two to recover, and then resumed.  My eyes watered, yet my nipples were hard points, and my entire body was tingling in arousal.
“You’ve got to learn how to control that gag reflex, Maya…” Ryan remarked conversationally. “Here…”
He pushed the full length of his dick deep down my throat, and held still. I fought to breathe. My hands balled into fists behind my back.
“Breathe through your nose. Relax…” he instructed. Warm water ran all around us, unnoticed. I struggled to obey.
One of Ryan’s hands balled my hair up into a ponytail; the other moved to my chin, holding it at the precise angle for him to thrust down my throat. He looked at me, all warmth and caring. “This is going to be intense… use your hands to stop me if you need, okay?”
I nodded. I didn’t want to stop him. I wanted to please him.
He smiled in response, and then his eyes shuttered, and he pushed straight into my open mouth, thrusting hard, as I fought to remain steady, to breathe, to relax my mouth and let him penetrate it. He was right, this was intense. I was drooling, mixed in with the water from the shower. My throat was being fucked at the pace he wanted; it was powerful and forceful and passionate and extreme, and I hated it a little, and loved it a lot.
He paused, and pulled back. I gasped for air, struggling to even my breathing. He looked at me intently. “Too much?” he asked, with a touch of concern.
I shook my head. “Mostly in a good way…” I had regained control of my breath.
He nodded. “In that case, Maya, back again.”
And so it went. He controlled my body expertly, stroking into my mouth, setting the pace, pausing when he could tell it all got a bit too much. Everything was reduced to simplicity. Breathe. Accept his cock in my throat. Relax. Breathe.
He didn’t touch me, other than the one hand in my hair, and the other holding my chin at the angle he wanted, but I was shuddering in arousal; I was entranced at the effect I was having on him, and it was sending shock pulses through my body. I was teetering on the edge, so close to an orgasm…
Ryan stopped. He shut off the water, and looked at me. His eyes were glazed with lust as he contemplated me. I still knelt on the bathtub, my hands obediently linked behind my back. I looked back at him in utter need.
“I want to be in your pussy, Maya…” Ryan growled. “Come…”
A quick rub of the towel; the weave of the fabric raising goose-bumps all over my body. Then, I was carried to the bed in the playroom, tossed down on it… I lay on my back, and I met Ryan’s eyes… “Ryan, please, I want you in me…” I begged. 
“Soon enough…” he murmured…
He quickly cuffed me to the headboard. My arms spread wide, tied to the two ends. My legs, raised over my head, also tied next to my arms. I silently gave thanks to my yoga classes in San Francisco.
“You are so very helpless right now, Maya.” Ryan grinned at me. “So, tell me again, the jam, was that a good idea?” His eyes twinkled at me.
I giggled, and tried for the appropriately serious expression, but my lips couldn’t stop twitching. “No, Ryan, the jam was a very poor idea,” I said, with my best attempt at contrition.
Ryan winked at me, as he grabbed a condom and rolled it on. “Naughty Maya…” he said, amused. “That was not convincing at all…” He thrust into me. I moaned. Gods, in this position, he was so deep in me, it was almost painful.
“I think I’ll have to punish you…” Smack. His hand smacked my exposed ass, as he continued thrusting. I bit my lip to stop from crying out aloud. This was so incredibly erotic. The spanks mixed in with his deep strokes; pleasure layered upon pleasure; heat rising. Again, I was clenching my fists, my hips were rising to meet Ryan’s strokes, my moans mixed in with his grunts, and then, he was coming in me, his face clenched in passion, his fingers touching my clitoris, demanding response, and my response was instantaneous and passionate, and I exploded in a sea of colour and sparks.
He pulled out, and quickly uncuffed me. I straightened with a groan. “Thank heavens for yoga class…” I muttered. He laughed. “Indeed,” he said in agreement.
We lay next to each other, recovering.
“Ryan…” I asked hesitantly, as something struck me. “In the shower, was that punishment?”
He raised himself on one elbow, and looked at me. His fingers reached out to smooth a tendril of hair back. “Did it feel like punishment?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“You were very in control…” I responded. That wasn’t really an answer to his question. I tried to put words to the feelings. “It was good… and I was turned on… but…”
He raised an eyebrow. “But what?” His fingers still stroked my face though, and I felt brave enough to continue.
“In the shower, when you were fucking my mouth… it felt a bit, umm, impersonal.”
Ryan’s hands were now on me, and he pulled me into his body. “I’m sorry…” he said, softly. “It’s not meant to be impersonal. But I forget how little experience you have…”
“It’s all just a game, Maya…” he said, quietly. “The game has some guidelines, but at the end of the day, it’s just a game. There’s no such thing as punishment, if you think about it, because you are a grown-up, and I have no right to punish you. So when I threaten to punish you, it’s always just a game…”
“I know that…” I interrupted. I did know that. I trusted Ryan. “I always feel safe with you…”
“Good. Anything I do to you, either in bed or in the playroom, anything you do to me, it’s always about pleasure. I’ll stretch your limits, maybe, there’ll be some pain sometimes, but it should always be primarily about pleasure. If it isn’t, at any time, say no. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want either.”
I contemplated what he said. “What if I’d hated the whipping yesterday?”
“Then we wouldn’t have done that,” Ryan said, without hesitation.
I shifted, uncomfortably. “But Ryan, you like the whipping, right? If I didn’t like it, wouldn’t you have been bored?”
Ryan laughed, but without much humour. “Oh, sweet Maya… you still have no idea how hot you are…” He kissed my shoulder. “Maya, a few of the women I’ve slept with have no interest in the whips and the chains. And so we don’t. It’s still pleasurable and good, either way. Whips, no whips, it’s all good.”
 My heart twisted at the thought of other women in Ryan’s bed, but for the moment, I firmly ignored that.
“Kitten. You’ve got to understand. You are not my slave. I’m not your master. We are two consenting adults having sex. Sure, there’s whips and chains involved, but at the end of the day, you should have fun, and I should have fun.”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t have fun with Anthony…” I said, softly.
“And you took it personally.” He didn’t word it as a question.
I nodded. “He’d had sex before, I was a virgin. I thought I was doing something wrong…”
Ryan turned me towards him, and kissed me softly, with infinite tenderness. “Trust me, kitten, you aren’t doing anything wrong. You are so responsive, you are driving me insane…”
“Really?” There was a thread of disbelief in my voice.
“Oh Maya, I’m breaking every rule here. I slept with you at the cottage – I’ve never done that before. I invited you to stay here, when every sensible bone in my body is telling me that you need to date someone your own age… I find you utterly irresistible; I can’t keep my hands off you…”
My heart lifted with every word, I was practically singing at the end of it. “Really?” I said again, and this time, there was hope in my voice.
“Yes indeed, Maya.” His voice was wry. “Now if you want to go to the Eiffel Tower, you better get up and get dressed.”

Chapter 10

I rummaged through my suitcase in increasing despair. I’d been a confused, sleep-deprived mess when I packed for this trip, and it showed. I had serviceable jeans, plain t-shirts, warm sweaters. Boring cotton bras and panties. I’d brought nothing with the slightest bit of allure whatsoever. Crap. I needed to go shopping.
I got on the phone with Nina. She was in Moscow, two hours ahead, which made it about 4pm. She picked up the phone on the second ring.
“Hey Maya! Found everything okay in the apartment?” Her voice was cheerful.
“For sure,” I said evasively. Nina could not find out I was staying at Ryan’s. “Listen, I forgot to pack some stuff. Do you have any suggestions for lingerie stores?”
“Lingerie?” Her voice was speculative.
“Mmm-hmm.” The less I said the better. Nina was both perceptive and chatty, the worst possible combination for the present.
Thankfully, there was a voice in the background on her end, and a bit of commotion. “Crap, I’ve got to go… I’ll email you a list in 5 minutes, Maya, okay? Merry Christmas!”
“You too…” I said, to an empty receiver. I wondered what was going on with Nina.
Okay. Boring clothes were going to have to suffice today, but I was determined to wake up early tomorrow and go shopping. Whatever Ryan said, I didn’t think the allure would survive if he saw me day after day in jeans, t-shirts, and the plainest of plain cotton bras and panties.
I dressed hastily, grabbed my purse, and made my way to the living room.
“Sorry about the delay,” I apologised.
Ryan looked up from the book he was reading. He was draped across an armchair, all easy elegance. “No worries,” he smiled at me. “Traffic and parking are always hell near the Eiffel Tower – you okay with taking the Metro?”
“Not a problem.” My phone buzzed. I took a quick look; it was Nina’s promised email with a list of lingerie stores. Excellent.
Ryan’s phone rang at that point. He took a quick look, made an apologetic face towards me, and picked it up.
“Hey Gayla, when did you get back?” he said into the phone. I moved away; I was a tiny bit jealous of the mysterious Gayla. I didn’t really want to listen to this call. Trying to ignore the conversation, I took a proper look around Ryan’s living room for the first time.
The overwhelming impression was of warmth and comfort. The room was beautiful; high ceilings; large windows; there was a couch on one end, and a couple of battered leather armchairs on the other. One wall was entirely filled with books, and odd little knick-knacks. I don’t know what I thought Ryan’s apartment would be like, but this was filled with personality. I really liked it.
“Hang on…” I heard Ryan say. He covered the receiver with a hand, and looked at me quizzically. “Maya, if you aren’t doing anything else New Year’s Eve, want to go to a party?”
“A party?” I repeated.
“Yeah, Gayla’s throwing a party. She promises it’ll be fun.” His voice sounded resigned.
“I’d love to.” I said, cautiously. It was going to be interesting to meet Gayla.
He smiled at me, and spoke into the phone. “Okay, Gayla, I’ll be there. And I’m bringing a date.”
I could hear her squeal on the other end, and start talking. Ryan shook his head in bemusement, and cut her off. “Galya, got to run, okay? We’ll see you next week.”
“Women…” he muttered to me, putting his phone in his pocket. “Okay, kitten, ready to go?”
The Eiffel Tower was magnificent, and thankfully, not too crowded. I was lucky, the day was clear, and we had spectacular views of Paris. We stayed and watched as dusk crept over the city, and the lights twinkled on. It was magical. I leaned backward into Ryan’s chest as I gazed.
“Be careful, Maya,” my sensible side muttered. “He’s not your boyfriend, stop treating him like one.” But Ryan didn’t move back, his arms snaked around my waist, and he pulled me closer. “If you are cold, I can think of ways to warm you up…” he whispered in my ear.
I blushed. His hands were on my waist, and my body knew his touch, even through the layers of clothing I wore. “The playroom then?” I murmured.
He laughed. “Ah, to be twenty-one again…” he grinned. “Maya, I need to eat if you insist on having your evil way with me in the playroom. Dinner first?”
I laughed with him. I liked this version of Ryan. When we’d played at the cottage, he was more tense, curter, somehow. Here, he was more relaxed, more open. I turned towards him and kissed him briefly on the lips. “If you insist…” I mock-pouted.
He chuckled. “Do you like Moroccan food? One of my favorite restaurants is in the Marais – want to try it?”
The restaurant was lovely. It was small and intimate, busy, but not excessively so. Ryan was clearly a regular; he was greeted warmly by the smiling hostess and we were seated instantly with menus placed in front of us.
Ryan offered me the wine list. “They have a great selection of local wine here…” he said. “Anything strike your fancy?”
I shook my head. “I know nothing about wine,” I confessed. “It’s embarrassing for someone who lives close to Napa Valley, I know. I’m much more of a craft beer person.”
“Really?” Ryan asked with curiosity, as he quickly ran his eyes down the wine list. He said something in French to the waitress who’d appeared at his elbow. She smiled and nodded.
“Craft beer? Tell me more.”
“California has a lot of excellent microbreweries…” I said. “I spent a summer a couple of years ago being a grunt at a brewery once, trying to learn how to brew on the side. It was loads of fun…”
“They let you work in a brewery when you were nineteen?” Ryan looked surprised.
“I had fake ID,” I confessed, slightly embarrassed. Ryan burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked, a bit indignantly.
“Sweet Maya…” Ryan chuckled. He was trying to hold back the laughter, but he wasn’t succeeding very well. “Most people use their fake ID to drink, not work, you know.”
The waitress brought us the bottle of wine, interrupting the smart-ass comment I was going to make. Probably just as well. Ryan took an exploratory sip, and nodded his thanks to the waitress. She filled our glasses and left.
“Ryan, can I ask you a question?” I took a sip of wine, and looked at Ryan.
“I think you just did,” he said, grinning. “But please, ask away…”
“How’d do get into the whole whips and chains thing?” I wasn’t sure if he’d answer; I was prying dreadfully.
He took a sip of wine. “Like most people, I’d imagine… I slept with someone who wanted me to spank her, I liked it more than I expected; the rest is history…”
“That is the vaguest of answers…” I snapped.
His lips quirked. “Precisely how much more detail do you want, kitten?”
“How long ago was this?” I asked. I was so very curious about Ryan. I wanted to know everything – what made him tick; why he kept his distance from almost everyone; why he refused to be in a relationship.
“Seven years,” he said, sipping his wine. “Drink your wine, kitten. I promise you, it’s excellent.”
I took a sip. It was indeed excellent. “How long did you date this woman?”
“I don’t date, Maya,” he answered reflexively. “But we slept together for about six months.”
“Does she live in Paris?” I hated my curiosity, but I couldn’t stop the inquisition.
“Not anymore, as far as I know. I think she moved to Lyon? I’m not really sure… we haven’t kept in touch.”
“Why did you stop sleeping with her?” I lowered my head, sipping my wine. This was the heart of it, knowing how and why the end came about. Was I trying to understand, to forestall what was going to happen with us?
Ryan shook his head at me, and sighed. “Why’d you care, Maya? Its old history, not relevant to the here and now…”
He sipped his wine, choosing his words carefully. “Her name was Emily. I think she’d been in a proper submissive relationship before, and she missed it. She asked me to spank her, which I enjoyed.” He paused, looking pensive. “But then, things escalated. First, spanking. Then, whips. Then, canes – raising welts on her skin, sometimes, breaking skin. More and more, it seemed like pleasure wasn’t the main point, it was about pain… When she wanted me to try needles on her, I broke it off. I’ve told you the way I play; what Emily wanted was too much for me…”
I took a large sip of my drink, as I processed what he just told me.
“But you kept playing, with the whips and chains…” I said, trying to understand.
“I like being in charge… I don’t like causing pain. The needles, the blood – that was too much for me,” he said easily. “But the whips or the spanking, or even the clothespins – has it ever been more pain than pleasure for you?”
“No.” My answer was emphatic. It had indeed always been about pleasure. Sure, there had been pain mixed in with the pleasure, but the pain had just served to highlight the pleasure.
The waitress had been hovering in the background as we talked, but she came forward when there was a pause in the conversation. I took a quick look at the menu, it was all in French. Crap. “Ryan,” I asked, “would you order for me, please? I’m going to take forever if I have to read the menu...”
He nodded. “How spicy do you like your food?”
“Spicy is fine. I live in San Francisco… I’m used to it.”
Ryan smiled, turned to the waitress, and rattled off our order in fluent French. She smiled and wrote it down. She seemed a little star-struck by Ryan, no surprise there.
“I have to say, the one thing I’m pretty grateful for,” Ryan turned to me, once she’d left, “is that they speak absolutely no English here. Our conversation isn’t exactly for public consumption.”
“Oh,” I said, abashed. “Sorry, I didn’t think…”
“No harm done…” Ryan said, easily. “But it’s a good habit to be watchful… the paparazzi are everywhere nowadays, unfortunately…”
I thought Ryan was being a bit paranoid, but I didn’t contradict him. The restaurant was filled with diners, conversation filled the air; everyone was eating, drinking and having a good time. I hardly thought anyone was listening to our conversation. 
“You don’t speak French? How did you escape the Martinez 3-language rule?” Ryan was referring to one of my grandmother’s foibles. She had insisted growing up that we all spoke at least three languages.
“I didn’t, really,” I muttered ruefully. “I hated my French teacher in high school with a passion though; it’s always prevented me from learning the language properly. I speak fluent Spanish, and enough Mandarin that I can get by. That mostly satisfies Grandma. How do you know about the rule?”
“Your grandparents brought me up when my mom died, remember? I wasn’t exempt either. French lessons, Spanish lessons, and a stint in college in Russia. Your grandmother is formidable. One does not say no.”
I laughed. It was true. We all adored my grandmother, but Ryan was right, she was formidable.
Our food had arrived. I was starving; I hadn’t eaten since my croissant mid-morning. We both dug in, and ate companionably. I studied Ryan from under my eyelashes as I ate. Despite having a crush on him through most of my teen years, I hadn’t known Ryan very well at all. Now, sitting across from him, eating a meal, I realized how likeable he was. It was a potent combination – laid-back and easy-going outside the bedroom, and totally in charge in the bedroom. I was falling steadily under his spell.
We both refused dessert. I didn’t want to be too full; I had learned that morning that flexibility was important when playing with Ryan. We walked home; it was cold, but the skies were clear, and it was lovely. People were hurrying back from Christmas shopping. I realized I would be spending Christmas with Ryan. Hmm. I needed a present for him.
Back at the apartment, I looked at Ryan. I’d had a lovely day with him, what now?
“Did I hear you say earlier you wanted to go to the playroom, Maya?” Ryan's lips twitched.
In response, I winked at him, and took off my sweater and threw it across the room. My t-shirt and bra followed. “Coming?” I said, laughing, as I sashayed to the playroom. I could hear Ryan’s chuckle as he followed me.
“So, Maya. I thought we’d try something different today.” Ryan’s voice was crisp, but his eyes were still laughing.
“Yesterday, you looked like you wanted to explore the contents of the dresser. So, today, you pick. There are clamps, handcuffs, vibrators, dildos and plugs in the dresser, whips, floggers, crops, canes, and assorted furniture in the closet… you name it, it’s probably in there. Pick a few things, and we’ll play.”
I eyed him with a bit of nervousness. My nipples had perked up in the cool air; goose bumps rose up on my skin. “I might not know what everything is…” I said, cautiously.
“I’m right here if you have questions…”
Hmm. This was going to be interesting.
“I do think you should take off your jeans first though…” his voice was definitely laughing now. His hands reached towards me, and his fingers stroked the sides of my breasts gently. My hands balled into fists at my sides. I knew better than to lean into him; I had to keep still. His hands moved down my stomach, to the waistband of my jeans. He slid his fingers into the waistband, and gently stroked me. My pussy clenched in arousal. I bit my lower lip to stifle my moan.
He unbuttoned the jeans, and knelt down, pulling them down my legs. I stepped out of them, and stood, exposed in my plain black cotton panties. 
“Keep the panties on for a bit…” Ryan said, his voice rough with need.
I nodded, and turned to walk towards the dresser. I could feel Ryan’s gaze on my back.
I started by opening the same drawer as yesterday. I picked up a long metal rod, with 4 cuffs along its length. I raised an eyebrow at Ryan.
“Spreader bar, keeps your legs spread open,” he said promptly. “The middle two cuffs are for your hands, the outer two for your legs…”
Umm. Intense. And lots of flexibility required, evidently. I’d have to think about the spreader bar.
I rummaged in the drawer again, picking up a set of handcuffs. They were metal, and looked utterly formidable. I couldn’t wait for Ryan to use them on me. I set them aside on the bed.
“Nice…” Ryan muttered.
I picked up a bulb-shaped plug. “Butt plug,” Ryan said, in response to my quizzical look. “Have you had anal sex before?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding me? Anthony didn’t really even like going down on me.”
“And you wonder why you never came?” Ryan muttered, rolling his eyes. “This guy sounds like a prince. If you want a butt plug, I’ll get you a smaller one…” He walked up next to me, and quickly found an unopened plug. It couldn’t have been more than an inch in diameter.
“Really?” I asked. “That seems really small…” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Not only was I okay with the idea of a butt plug, but I was asking for a larger size? It all boiled down to trust, I realized. I’d always trusted Ryan, but more and more, I was comfortable with him and I realized he’d always be watching out for me. He would never do anything that made me uncomfortable.
“Eager kitten…” Ryan chuckled. “Start with this, we’ll go larger if you want.”
The butt plug joined the handcuffs on the bed. I found a pair of nipple clamps, connected by a thin chain, and added that to the bed as well. A butt plug, handcuffs, nipple clamps. The start of a perfect evening.
Ryan looked at me intently. “Maya, you are so hot. I am so turned on right now…” I could see the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. I moved over to touch him, but he moved back, grinning. “Go pick stuff out of the closet, kitten…” he murmured.
The doors of the closet were hung with racks of whips, floggers, crops and paddles. There were also two canes. They didn’t look that scary, really.
“Nope.” Ryan’s voice was firm. “No canes, not yet. I don’t think it’ll be pleasurable for you at all. If you do want to try the canes, we’ll work up to it.”
“Okay,” I said. I eyed the rest of them. I picked up a really short crop, and looked at Ryan enquiringly.
 “It’s for your pussy,” he said. His voice was hoarse, arousal clear in his eyes. Ah, so he was a fan of the pussy crop. My lips twitched as I added it to the pile on the bed. I looked at the rest, considering, and added a medium size paddle.
“Your poor ass…” Ryan remarked wryly. “No, keep it there…” he ordered, as I went to remove it from the bed. “Try it, safeword if you can’t handle it.”
Gulp. This was going to be one heck of an evening.
“Might I suggest some furniture?” Ryan’s voice was in my ear, he was at my back, his hands cupping my breasts from behind. I was nearly naked, and he was fully clothed, and the weave of his jeans rubbed against my ass. He leaned his head forward, kissing the side of my neck, first softly, then taking little nibbles. Flames of arousal were making their way all down my body. I moaned. I wanted him to squeeze my breasts harder, I wanted him to pinch my nipples…
“Furniture, Maya, before we both get too carried away…” Ryan’s voice sounded rough, his breathing was ragged.
He selected a leather and metal bench from the closet, and dragged it into the room. I looked at the bench with some trepidation. It was padded in four places, for my hands and knees, I assumed. There was a raised padded portion in the middle, and it had a tripod-like contraption on one end, and a metal brace on the other end.
“It’s called a punishment bench…” Ryan explained. “Your elbows and knees go here…” he gestured to the padded portions. “Your waist goes here, keeps you from slumping…” That explained the central padded bit.
“What’s the tripod-like thing?” I asked, pointing to one end.
“It holds a dildo…” Ryan grinned wickedly. “Let’s try that feature, shall we?” He turned towards the dresser, and quickly found an unopened package. Unlike the butt plug, the dildo was not small. I gulped. What was I getting myself into?
The bed now contained a butt plug, handcuffs, nipple clamps, the newly added dildo, a crop and a paddle. I decided to stop stressing, and just enjoy myself instead. After all, I’d selected most of what was on the bed.
“What’s the brace for?” I pointed to the other end of the bench.
“Neck brace. Locks your head in.”
I looked at Ryan, warily.
“Relax, kitten…” he smiled at me. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”
I nodded at him. He was right; I always had an amazing time with him.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said meeting his eyes.
He smiled at me automatically, but he looked a little troubled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I really shouldn’t be corrupting you, Maya.”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “I picked out the toys, I want to play. I’m not a child, I know what I want.”
“Do you?” he looked at me steadily. He made a small gesture of dissent. “Reason goes out the window when it concerns you, Maya. I don’t break my rules, ever. Except with you, evidently.”
 “Still…” he muttered, his eyes sweeping my nearly naked body, his gaze resting on the dampening triangle between my legs. “You did go to all that trouble, picking out your toys…”
I kept very silent. He was teetering at an edge; he might call off the entire play session if I said the wrong thing. I avoided eye contact too, focusing instead on the punishment bench. The seconds dragged by.
“Eye contact, please, Maya.” Ryan’s voice was once again firm, crisp. Good, whatever inward debate he’d been having, it had been resolved, and he was still here, ordering me around. I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding, and looked at him. There was no hiding the need in my eyes.
“Maya, this is going to be your most intense session yet.” Ryan’s voice was serious. “I’ll be pushing your limits here. You won’t be able to move, you won’t always be able to see me. It is therefore imperative that if at any point, you are feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable, that you tell me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I responded.
“Will you stop me if you feel like things are impersonal?” he asked again. His voice was still serious.
“I will.” My voice was untroubled. Ryan might think that he was coercing me in some way, but he wasn’t. I was here because I wanted, with every fibre of my being, to be here.  
“Okay.” He came up to me, and lifted me onto the bench. His strength surprised me a little. Ryan wasn’t a big body builder type; he was lean and firm, built like the runner he was. But there was no doubt as to his strength as he placed me on the bench. I was on my knees, holding onto the waist padding to keep steady.
“Hang on…” Ryan said, expertly strapping my knees in, and then my calves and my ankles. My legs were completely immobilized. I wiggled a toe experimentally. My feet were free, but otherwise, I was pretty locked down. My knees were spread; my ass and pussy were soon going to be on display. I felt very exposed and very vulnerable. I was also soaking wet.
“Okay?” Ryan asked. He was in front of me, his eyes searching mine for any hint of disquiet.
“Stop coddling me…” I said crossly. “I’m fine.”
Whap. His palm made contact with my ass, hard. It hurt.
“Maya, any more sass from you, and it’ll be the paddle. And I won’t be gentle, okay?” His voice was level, even. He was behind me, I couldn’t see his eyes. I gulped.
“Yes, Ryan,” I said, meekly. One spank, and I was quickly reminded who was in charge. My pussy gushed again.
“Okay, give me your arms,” he said, coming around the front of the bench. “Here…” My elbows and wrists were strapped in quickly, as was my head in the neck brace. I had to hand it to him; he was frighteningly efficient. I was completely immobilized in seconds.
I considered my position. My knees were spread wide, my ass in the air. My midriff was supported by the bench. My head was at the right level to receive Ryan’s cock in my mouth. My breasts hung loose, my nipples hard. I could feel him looking at me. My hair covered my face for the present, for which I was glad. It was slightly embarrassing how very aroused I was. My body felt flush, my pussy was swollen in need. All this, and he hadn’t yet laid a finger on my pussy.
He moved away. I tried seeing where he went, but the neck brace limited my motion. Damn. I could hear him walk away from the playroom. I considered my options. I could call out to him, but that wouldn’t be in the spirit of the game. I was supposed to remain quiet, to consider the immobility. I steadied my breathing, striving for a place of calm.
He wasn’t gone long. “Your hair will get in the way if we leave it undone. He quickly tied it up in a ponytail, and let it hang down the side of my face. “There, that should be okay for most of the session.” His fingers brushed against my back as he tied the ponytail, and I shivered. I craved the feel of his hands against my body.
Ryan crouched down, looked into my eyes. He looked slightly amused. “Maya, the rules today. Speak when you are spoken to. Otherwise, I don’t want you talk, okay? Except to safeword, or to say no.”
I maintained eye contact, and nodded. He smiled at me in pleasure, and leaned in to kiss me on my lips. “Such a pretty kitten…” he murmured. He moved away. I could hear him rummage through the toys on the bed.
And then, darkness. The lights of the playroom suddenly went out, and everything was dark. I gulped. I wanted to call to Ryan, but I remembered the rules. Silence.
“Good…” Ryan’s voice was behind me, approving. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.” His hand made a reassuring stroke down my back. I swallowed, and bit my lip. The darkness magnified every sensation. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to just feel. I had goose-bumps all over my body. Every nerve of mine was extra alive.
“Are you attached to your panties?” I could hear Ryan’s voice behind me.
“No…” I said, softly.
“Hold very still…” he warned. “I’m going to cut them off with a pair of scissors.”
In the dark? I gulped, and did what I was told. I had no desire at all to get cut. I didn’t need to worry though; Ryan pulled the panties away from my body, and three efficient snips later, my panties were off.
“Soaked through, Maya… it appears that you are enjoying this…” his voice was wry. 
I could feel him move again. Ryan’s hands were on my ass, kneading them, pinching them, and occasionally spanking them slightly. Heat flowed through my body. I moaned. Now, his hands were pushing my butt cheeks apart. I clenched my muscles involuntarily; momentarily afraid of what was coming next.
Whap. The heat from his spank flowed from my ass, through the rest of my body. As best as I could, I pushed my hips towards his hands, but I couldn’t move very much; he’d made sure of that. I moaned again. His hands were once again running over my ass. “Relax, Maya. Don’t clench…” he ordered, evenly.
I took a calming breath, and willed myself to obey.
Now, there was a trickle of liquid running down my ass. “Lube,” Ryan said, in response to my unasked question. His thumb traced little circles around my puckered ring, gently pushing the lube into my tight hole. His finger followed the lube in. I hissed at the violation, my ass clenching inadvertently around his finger. “Relax,” Ryan urged again, holding his finger still. “That’s right, kitten…” he added warmly, as I forced each muscle to unclench. His finger was still buried in my ass; I could feel it in me. It felt bigger somehow… I bit my lip.
Ryan moved his finger, wriggling it around in my ass. His other hand was stroking my inner pussy lips, gently tugging on them, pinching them, distracting me from the anal invasion. It was unbearably erotic. I was getting used to the sensation of his finger, and somehow, perhaps because I was tied down, unable to move, unable to resist, it was making me even wetter. I could feel the juices drip down my thighs.
“I’m now going to turn on a spotlight, Maya…” Ryan said, again behind me. I could feel him move away towards the wall, flicking a switch. And now, I was bathed in light, while the rest of the room was still dark. He moved towards me, but he stood in the darkness, and I couldn’t see his face. “You okay, kitten?”
I nodded. “I’m fine…” I said, quietly. The darkness, the spotlight, his finger penetrating my ass, his hands on my back, the overwhelming sensations were putting me in a magical place. Everything narrowed to just this space, to the two of us and to the small cone of light I was in. I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to feel.
I could feel his hands again on my back; could hear the sound of a package tearing. Either the dildo or the butt plug, I thought. Which one?
His hands were at my puckered ring. Butt plug. I willed myself to relax. I could feel the tip of the plug resting against my asshole.
“You can move your hips just a little, right Maya? Push back against the plug; beg me to put the butt plug in you.” Ryan’s voice was level. I gulped. Okay. He wasn’t joking here; he was utterly in charge, and I was going to have to beg.
I gulped again. “Ryan…” my voice was soft, aching with need, “will you please put that butt plug in my ass? Please?”
“Mmm-hmm. Sure thing, Maya…” he said, easily. “But let’s see you push back against it, kitten.”
I could only guess at how lewd I looked. In the spotlight, legs spread wide, my ass in the air, begging him to push a butt plug in my ass, pushing back against it myself. I swallowed, and moved, hesitantly, backward, impaling myself with the plug. I didn’t have much range of movement, but he pushed the butt plug into me at the same time, and it was quickly buried in me. It hurt a little as he pushed it in, but mostly, I felt filled. Really, really filled.
I could hear Ryan’s sharp intake of breath. Good. He was still clothed, and my pussy was dripping juice all down my leg, there was a butt plug buried in my ass, and I felt very, very open and vulnerable. It helped to know he wasn’t entirely unaffected.
His fingers were tracing the base of the plug, nestled against my ass. “Such a pretty ass, Maya…” he muttered.
“Now for the clamps…” he walked over to face me. He was still in the darkness, I couldn’t see his face. I moaned. A hand reached out, his fingers caressed my lower lip. I tried to suck his finger into my mouth, to show him how strong my need was, how potent my arousal. But he was having none of it… I moaned again, this time in protest. He chuckled. His fingers reached down to pinch my nipples, to roll them between his fingertips. He pulled on them, steadily, stretching them out, preparing them for the clamps. The pain flowed through me; my pussy kept gushing. I watched, fascinated, as my nipples responded to his hard fingers. And with two quick movements that sent shudders through my body, the clamps were on. I whimpered. These were harsher than the clamps I’d worn last night.  My nipples throbbed with pain.
“Relax. Take deep breaths.” His voice was in front of me; he was still in the darkness.
“Ryan…” I moaned. I needed to see him, to feel his touch against my skin.
As if he’d read my mind, Ryan moved into the light. His eyes were warm, infinitely kind. He leaned towards me, traced my jaw with a fingertip. “Want me to stop, kitten?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I ground out. Already the pain of the clamps was receding into the background, and my nerves were tingling where he touched me. He smiled at me. “Stubborn kitten…” he whispered. He moved away. I could hear him behind me.
And back again, this time with the short crop. He was grinning. “Now Maya,” he said, his voice betraying his anticipation, “I will admit, I can’t wait to use this crop on your wet, waiting pussy…” I looked at him warily. Should I fear his eagerness?
“Kiss it. And ask me to crop your tight little pussy.” His voice was steady. The crop was at my lips. I parted my lips a little, kissed the crop tentatively. It smelled of leather, a smell I’d never associated before with sex. I had a feeling that would change soon.
“Please Ryan,” my voice very, very soft, “please will you crop my pussy?”
“Since you ask so nicely, Maya…” he said, his voice silken, “I’d be happy to.” His voice turned crisper. “Remember. You have a safeword.” 
 I nodded. At the same instant, the crop came down, hard, not on my pussy, but on the side of my breasts. I tensed, expecting pain, and there was a sharp pain, but only for an instant. The next instant, Ryan’s fingers were stroking my breasts, stroking the pain away, replacing it with pleasure.
And again, on the other breast. He avoided my clamped nipples, for which I was grateful. I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I could withstand this expert control of my body. My body shone with sweat, as he wielded the crop, short strokes on my breasts, then cropping my back, and then my ass. His fingers pulled my butt plug out, and pushed it back in, cropping me at the same time. I groaned. So much pleasure. My hands were clenched into fists; I was breathing in short gasps. The crop was on my ass, now on my inner thighs, near my pussy, as I clenched in anticipation of the point when that crop would strike my open, waiting pussy. Perversely, I felt myself push towards him, as if I wanted to feel that sharp pain in the most intimate part of my body. Did I? What was Ryan doing to me?
Every nerve of my body was tingling. I could feel the juices from my pussy drip down my leg. I was so very close to orgasm, I was teetering at the edge. I could hear myself moan almost continuously now, as the crop controlled my exposed body.
Whap. The crop finally found my pussy, and the sharp stroke of it pushed me into orgasm. I screamed, shuddering, as I came, fists clenched, writhing against my restraints. My climax was still flowing through me, when Ryan cropped my pussy again. I screamed again in response. The crop was triggering shuddering pulses in me, my pussy was convulsing in reply. And one last time, the final swift stroke of the crop, and a swift thrust of the dildo into my pussy.
I screamed, as I could feel every muscle in my pussy clench and spasm against the dildo. It was stretching me open; I was filled to overflowing, with the butt plug in my ass, and this large dildo in my pussy. Another orgasm shuddered through me.
I slowly came back to earth. I could hear Ryan adjusting something on the bench. The dildo remained in me, as did the butt plug. I held very still. Any movement would trigger another orgasm, and I needed to recover, to regain some resilience to withstand the intensity.
Ryan was at my face. He held a glass of water with a straw in one hand, a towel in the other. My forehead was damp with sweat; he very gently ran the towel along my face. I took a greedy sip of the water. My breathing was slowly returning to normal.
“You still have all your clothes on…” I pouted. It wasn’t just that I felt exposed, naked under a spotlight while he was fully clothed. I would have also liked to feel the hard length of him in me. The dildo in my pussy was a poor substitute.
“It appears that I do…” his voice was amused. “Remember the rules though; no talking unless you are spoken to.”
Crap. I’d forgotten. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I was very conscious of his skill with the crop, and the fact that the paddle hadn’t yet been used.
“Mmm. Here, drink some more water…” he said easily. I took another sip. “So, Maya, ready for round 2?”

Teaching Maya (A BDSM Romance Novel)
By Tara Crescent

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