neck and pulled her close to him for a deep, lingering kiss that took her breath away. “No. Never. Tell me how it feels.”
He walked her back toward the bed, where he settled her on the edge of it. He pushed her legs open and knelt between them. He ran a thumb over her damp panties and pushed the silk to one side, exposing her.
“It hurts. But everything is centered there, now. In my nipples. Like everything in my body, my blood, everything, is all flowing into my nipples.”
“Not here?” He flicked her clit. Then pinched it lightly.
Simone groaned, head falling back as her hips shifted forward. “That feels good, too.”
“And this?” He smacked her clit sharply.
Laughing, gasping, Simone managed to say, “Yes. Oh. God, yes.”
He tugged a little bit on the clothespins, one at a time, as he slid two fingers inside her. Simone went molten. She writhed. When he bent to flick his tongue along her clit, she shuddered. Her cunt bore down on his fingers, and she thought she was going to come, but he stopped moving just before she did.
“Tell me what you want, Simone.”
“Oh, fuck, Elliott, I want you to fuck me.”
“You want to come?”
She gave another breathless laugh. “Yes. That, too.”
“I want to make you come,” Elliott said, reaching to tug again at one of the clothespins, then the other, until Simone let out a low, guttural shout. “From this.”
When he withdrew his fingers, she let out a frustrated whimper. “Evil.”
Elliott gave her a half smile, tilting his head to study her as though he wasn’t sure just what to make of her. “You are so beautiful, Simone. You know that?”
Her first response was to say ‘of course.’ To play along with him, to keep up the front of self-confidence. But something in the way he’d said it brought emotions surging into her throat stinging the backs of her eyes, and she nodded, silent.
“I’ve been with a lot of women,” he began, and at her snort, he kissed her quiet. “None of them liked … this.”
Another tug on her nipples had her writhing and moaning. “I fucking love it.”
“I know you do. And I want to give it to you. I want to make you come so hard,” Elliott murmured, “you won’t be able to stand for a week.”
All she could do was smile.
“Tell me what you want,” Elliott said. “Tell me what to give you.”
Simone got up from the bed and went to his dresser. Curled in the top drawer was his collection of belts. In leather. One black, one brown. A blue belt of some webbed fabric. That wouldn’t do. She took the black belt, feeling the smooth leather in her fingers. She smelled it, closing her eyes at the scent.
She brought it to him. Held it out. Elliott took it, looking at it with narrowed eyes.
“You don’t have a cane or a whip or a flogger,” she told him. “But this will work.”
She turned and put her hands on the edge of the dresser, a highboy that stood nearly as tall as him. She spread her fingers wide apart. She looked at him over her shoulder.
“When fingers are spread apart, I’m ok. If I need you to ease off, I’ll close them. Like this.” She demonstrated, then gave her head a tiny shake. “I won’t need to close them.”
She turned around. Elliott snapped the belt between his fists. He drew in a short breath.
“You sure about this?”
“I want it, Elliott. I want it from you.”
He let the leather slide down her back. Simone breathed. Waiting for the pain. Everything about her felt swollen. Ready. Waiting. Her clit pulsed. Her cunt ached, empty without his fingers or cock inside her. She pushed her ass back toward him a little, spreading her legs to show him her wet panties.
“Don’t use the buckle,” she told him with a laugh, her eyes closed, head bent.
“I haven’t beaten a woman with my belt before, Simone. That doesn’t mean I don’t have any clue about how to do it.”
She breathed a shuddery, drawn-out sigh. “Ah. Porn?”
His laugh answered that for her.
Learning to Kill: Stories