Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

Story time

First of all my apologies for the delay in posting. I’ve had some health concerns that took me away from the computer for longer than expected. However, to make up for it here is a story I wrote after a recent holiday. Enjoy.

I used to be that kind of girl. You know the type. Heads would turn as I walked past, eyes following the sway of my hips in my expensively tailored skirt. I used to care about my makeup at 8am. Used to wear the most outrageous shoes at ungodly hours of day and night. That’s all changed now. Different job different uniform.

I slipped a thousand baht note in the back pocket of my tight black jeans and returned my wallet to my bag, swinging it up on my shoulder. The city was cold and grey. A light drizzle had been falling all morning and threatened to work its way up to a storm as I hailed a cab. Somehow no one imagines the tropics this frigid; maybe months of 100-some-odd degree days have spoiled me for the cold.

The cab pulled up to the hotel lobby and I wondered, not for the first time, what the hell I was doing. I hadn’t seen him in years, three to be precise. He was a mystery when I met him and unlike every other man I have known had continued to be such throughout our acquaintance. He’d surface, emailing me with some random bit of information as if we had spoken only yesterday than disappear again. Last week he called, told me to meet him at the Amari; gave me a date, and a room number, then hung up.

I stepped out of the cab and checked my reflection in the hotel window before walking in. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself. Struggling to regain that sense of ownership over the world I had when I met him, I hit the button for the 9th floor. “He’s just another man,” I told myself “you’re in charge here.” But I couldn’t settle the flustered feeling in my belly as I knocked.

“Come in” I heard him say through the closed door.

“Long time no see.” I dropped my purse by the door and took a few more steps into his suite closing the door behind me. I found him at the teakwood desk seemingly engrossed in the morning paper.

“Strip.” He didn’t look up, merely continued reading this morning’s business section, apparently not in the mood for small talk.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe he would give me a bit more by way of greeting. When any further conversation did not seem forthcoming I unzipped my jacket and slid it off my shoulders. I draped it over the back of an upholstered chair near the wall then stepped out of my shoes, and stripped off my silk top and jeans piling both on the chair. I was left standing in my cream-colored lace bra and panty set, a little nervous, and more than a little curious.

Finally he put down the paper and looked at me. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He waved an impatient finger at my bra.

“You also didn’t tell me what you were doing in town.” I smiled.

He stood up then, and I expected him to hit me. He didn’t. He leaned against the desk taking me in, waiting with studied patience. The way he looked at me made me tense, like he knew that a disapproving glance would be the only punishment he ever need administer. I unclipped my bra, and slipped off my panties then stood looking at him, waiting coolly. Two can play this game. He took something from the desk then and came closer. I stood my ground, head held high meeting his eyes but failing to find the relaxed posture he assumed.

“Kneel” he said.

Again I hesitated, but this time he didn’t wait. This time he grabbed me by the hair and threw me to my knees with such force that I had to catch myself with a hand on the soft beige carpet. As I sat up regaining my balanced he leaned down and slapped me. Not hard, but unexpected. I inhaled through clenched teeth but looked up to meet his eyes.

“You came here because you wanted this,” he said, his voice cold, a little impatient. “Because you’re the kind of filthy little slut who likes to get her ass beaten, aren’t you?”

He pulled a knife from his belt opening it with a snap and then stood toying with it, watching me. I stayed on my knees, silent, neither giving him the answer he wanted nor denying what he said. He leaned down and traced my jaw bone with the knife as I willed my body to stay motionless.

“Because if you didn’t come here wanting to get your ass beaten you’d best be leaving. I have other business in this town, little girl.” He plucked my blouse off the chair then and threw it at me taking a few steps back to lean on the desk.

I caught it with one hand and tossed the soft fabric into a corner of the room.

“No?” He smiled.

“No. I don’t want to leave,” I confirmed.

“And why is that?” He tested the blade with a finger not bothering to look at me.

“Because I want you to fuck me,” I said.

“There are a million other men who’d be happy to fuck you, you little slut. Why are you here?” He asked.

I looked at the knife in his hand imagining how the cool blade would feel against my skin. He watched me with a knowing grin. We’d been through this before — he knew exactly why I was there, and I knew he wouldn’t let me off that easy. That’s why I kept coming back.

“Because you’re the only one who comes to bed with a knife.” I said. “And because if I’m very lucky you might bend me over that desk and beat my ass with that fine belt of yours before you fuck me.”

He came toward me then, leaning down to kiss me as he pulled me roughly to my feet. He slammed my body into the wall; his knee parted my thighs and his forearm pushed hard against my collarbone. I struggled, and found the bulk of him leaning over me almost suffocating. And then I felt the cold metal of his knife on my body again and froze. The blade traced my full round breasts teasing each pierced nipple. He pressed harder, making me gasp and fight to steady my body.

“Don’t move,” he counseled as he lifted one ring with the knife pressing the tip of his blade into my painfully erect nipple.

My breath came ragged as he ran the blade down over my belly and tickled my thighs. He slipped the knife up and I unwittingly parted my legs.

“Good girl,” he cooed shifting his weight and wrapping his free hand around my throat. He paused there a moment meeting my eyes, giving me just the barest hint of reassurance before his hand tightened, and I felt the tip of his knife against my clit. I screamed then, and against all better judgment I fought him. My breath came jagged as I tried to twist out of his grip. His hand constricting my throat, my panic and the weight of his body over me conspired to make me dizzy, and I pushed against him in a frenzy. In an instant the knife was gone. His mouth covered mine muffling my screams. His tongue pushing into my mouth felt suffocating as he pressed me into the wall pinning my arms over my head.

He pulled me stumbling across the soft beige carpet to the desk and bent me over its polished wooden top. He held me there a moment with one strong hand pushing between my shoulder blades and then I heard him unbuckling his belt. The swoosh of it being pulled out of the belt loops and the snap when it finally came free were maddening. My body tensed in anticipation and the wetness between my legs was enough to drown in. He let me wait.

The first stroke landed with a snap across my ass; the sharp sting of it giving way to the deeper burning warmth. I moaned then. Crushing my breasts into the cool surface of the desk, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I moaned. He let me savor it, let me feel all the nuances of leather hitting skin, and then raised the belt and brought it down again, hard, fast, and this time without pausing between strokes; his hand pressing into my lower back holding me still. I let the pain wash over me until I had lost count of the strokes and knew I was home as surely as if I had fit the key into the lock and carried my suitcase across the threshold.

Through my endorphin-induced haze I felt him come up close behind me. He wrapped his arm around me pulling me into him, his other hand tangled in my hair. His soft kisses on my shoulder a stark contrast to the beating he had just doled out. Too dazed to move, I surrendered to his touch, dimly registering that he was no longer dressed. I felt his naked body leaning over mine; his hard cock teasing its way past my neatly trimmed mound now covered with that tell tale slippery wetness. This got my attention, and I shifted my hips back trying to get closer.

“Is that what you were looking for, little girl?” he purred into my ear, stroking my back with slow lazy movements.

“mmm-hmm”, I mumbled. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I can see that,” he said and circled my clit with a slippery finger.

I moaned and stood up on tippy toes, pushing my hips into his body, trying to get closer to his retreating hand.

He laughed at that and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pushing roughly into my waiting cunt . Just the way I like it.

I exploded almost immediately, the combination of my sore ass and his unrelenting fucking making me scream loud enough to raise the dead. I bucked under his firm hands trying to get more of him in me. He teased, giving me just enough to make me lose my mind but not enough to be fully satiated until he was good and ready – until he had gotten the cruel amusement of making me beg for it, and then he plunged deep inside me riding my last powerful orgasm to his own.

Afterward, we lay on the bed sweaty and exhausted. He ran a rough finger over the knuckles of my left hand, pausing over the scar. “Tell me about this one,” he said.

I took back my hand. “It’s a long story.”

Written by kinkinexile

October 8, 2007 at 10:16 am

Posted in fiction, fun stuff

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