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Warning: This book is not intended for anyone under the age of legal adulthood. It contains graphic sexual scenes, including fetish, kink, and BDSM-related activities. This book is intended as fictitious fantasy only. This book is not intended to be used as a resource for sexual education, or as an informational guide to sex or BDSM. The scenes within this book are not meant to depict realistic expectations of BDSM or fetish-related activities. The Kinks/Fetishes Within: First time/"virgin" anal (including use of toys), degradation/humiliation play (including degrading language), public play
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Aiden had never seemed shy. Quiet, yes, but in a thoughtful, stoic way. Tall, pierced, and tattooed, his presence alone usually spoke for him, and it could be pretty damn intimidating. That intimidating look was exactly what drew me, since I knew he wouldn’t judge my own weirdness.
But I kept getting distracted by his hand gripping the gear shift. Long tattooed fingers, some sporting thick silver rings, and pale blue veins bulging under his skin...I couldn’t help it that visions of that hand wrapping around my throat kept popping into my head. A firm grip that would push me back against the car seat and hold me still as he - Woah. Woah there, Violet. Easy girl.
“Oh, you are so gonna get whipped,” he said, flexing his hand on the throttle. The vibrations of the bike between my legs, and the perverted meaning my mind immediately attached to his words, made my thighs clench. Whipped - another distracting image for my brain to focus on. An unbidden vision of Aiden bending me over the side of the bike and unbuckling his belt, scolding me all the while, invaded my mental space.
I wouldn't have expected that a cocky attitude would have me drooling, but his taunting was worsening the tense, warm feeling between my legs.
My face flushed hot. I didn’t dare ask what he meant by I’d “be in trouble,” but I could certainly fantasize.
“Why thank you," he bowed, grinning victoriously. “What do you say to a break for some drinks? Whipping your ass made me thirsty.” “You wish you could whip my ass." The words slipped out before I’d really thought about them. My jaw tightened, and my face went hot. But Aiden laughed, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and muttered, “You have no idea.”
I did have a Twitter: it wasn’t under my name and it definitely wasn’t something I told anyone about. The account was solely an outlet for my horny thoughts - and, yes, my nudes. I never showed my face, but the exhibitionist rush of posting my body for strangers to see never failed to make my heart beat faster. It was a safe way to word-vomit my kinky thoughts into the world without having my friends look at me like I was a complete freak, and without having to make myself be brave enough to ever speak to a date about it in person.
He smiled, his chin resting on the palm of his hand and his thumb rubbing idly along his lower lip. “You look really cute when you’re embarrassed, Violet. Wiggling in your seat like you don’t know what to do with yourself, barely looking at me. If it makes you feel any better, your secret is safe with me. We all need an outlet.”
I giggled nervously, but his expression didn’t break. He was serious - serious in an amused, eager, absolutely sadistic way. My head felt light. I could hardly believe this was happening. “What are you going to do to me?” “You’ll find out.” He leaned away, and raised his hand for a tab from the bartender. “The first thing I'll need you to do is get rid of your panties. You won’t need them for the rest of the night. Go into the restroom, take them off, and bring them back to me.”
Aiden was watching for my return, and a smile spread across his face again at the sight of me. It was a hungry smile, like a cat sizing up a mouse.
“How does it feel, Violet?” he asked softly. “Do you like this? Or does it scare you?” “It terrifies me,” I said, not daring to bring my voice above a whisper. I knew people were looking, but suddenly I didn’t care. What mattered was answering his question. What mattered was making it as clear as I could that this was exactly what I wanted. “It terrifies me but I love it. It feels...dirty. And humiliating. But that’s what I deserve, right?”
“Good girl.” His words sent tingles all the way down my spine. I never would have guessed that such a simple phrase could act like a shot of dopamine straight into my brain.
“It’s too bad this isn’t the place for exhibition,” he said softly. He moved a little closer, and rested his palm against my cheek. “I would love to punish you in front of a group like that: I’d let them see how desperate you get; I’d let them hear you beg. Only able to watch and not touch you.”
“To be honest, Violet, my goal is to have you crying in desperation by the end of the night,” Aiden smiled a little wider at my bleary-eyed expression, and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on my forehead.
“Good girl” had such an instant, overwhelmingly positive effect on me. It was a burst of joy straight to my brain, so strong that I wanted to whimper and bury my face against him just to hide the ridiculously happy expression that was taking over my face.
I began to tremble, anticipation gripping my belly like a vice. The thought of what I must have looked like - bent over and spread, ass plugged, pussy glistening - was almost unbearable. And yet...I didn’t want it to stop. This was the fulfillment of my deepest fantasies, all my dirty desires brought to life.
I was at a loss. Did I even want to win? When his punishments were so good, did I need a reward? But I could only imagine how much better his rewards would be, if his punishments alone could make me orgasm.
My clit was still throbbing from the cruel mixture of pain and pleasure. I knew he’d think of something even more devious if I lost again. Yet, as scary a thought as that was, I still felt excited at the threat of being punished by him again. I imagined him holding me down and doing all manner of painful, wicked things to me - and I felt another rush of heat between my legs. God, I was even more perverted than I had thought. My masochistic fantasies had been one thing, but now that I was acting them out, I realized just how deeply I craved it: the pain, the fear, the domination, the rush of
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Aiden stuck his lower lip out in a mocking pout. “I just love watching you struggle. I love seeing how hard you try to stay straight-faced when you’re blushing and squirming, how you try to stifle your own sounds as the pleasure overwhelms you.” He smiled at me sweetly, as I clenched my fists and helplessly squeezed my legs together. “And I’m really going to enjoy watching you try not to cum as this vibrator stays on inside you.”
“Look at me, Violet,” he commanded. “Do not hide your face from me, understand?” I uncovered my eyes, my face hot, just in time to see him lean down and bury his face between my legs.
“Filthy slut,” he growled. “Look at you. Dripping and moaning in a dark alley. Do you think I’m done with you?” Still catching my breath, leaning heavily against the wall, I tried to shake my head but his grip wouldn’t let me. “No, sir. No...I know...you’re not done…” “Damn right I’m not,” he released his hold on me, only to slap his palm against my cheek and grip my hair instead. “I’m going to make you cum until you can’t stand, and then I’m going to fuck your limp, overstimulated body until you’re all used up. Understand?”
Besides…” He grasped the plug and began to twist it back and forth. “I’ve noticed that you get wet when you’re embarrassed. How fun to fuck a wet, humiliated girl - following her lust even though it’s so degrading. Such a good girl for me.”
“We have to get this tight little hole used to being fucked, don’t we? How else will I fill your ass with cum after you’ve orgasmed yourself silly?”
“I love the way you feel coming on my fingers,” he said, his voice soft - reverent despite his brutality. “You sound so cute when you cry.”
“But you broke your position.” His fingers caressed the dark leather of his belt, his eyes locked with mine. “You’ll need a lot of training, that’s for sure. Pleasure is no excuse to disobey, now is it?”
“You’re going to look so pretty with my marks,” he said softly.
“Such a very good girl,” he praised gently. “Such a good little cum-drunk slut.”
Could I bear to cum again? There was no doubt in my mind of whether I could cum or not - my body would be forced over that precipice no matter how intense, no matter how unbearable. But at least now I wasn’t forced to remain standing: my head lay against my dress, mouth open, drooling helplessly. I craved the release of orgasm more than I feared the pain.
I’d likely cum a dozen times at that point, and he not even once; I could only imagine his eagerness to finally use me.
His moans were deep, guttural, and every sound from him filled me with excitement. I wanted him to enjoy me, I wanted him to experience the same pleasure he’d given me. I hoped he felt the same all-encompassing ecstasy overtaking his body as he pressed into me again and again. The thought of his pleasure stirred the heat inside me and my eyes rolled back as I moaned.
“Yes!” God, yes, it was. Used, fucked to exhaustion, my shaking body becoming a vessel for his pleasure. All I wanted in that moment was to hear his moans deepen, to know that I’d pleased him-
I couldn’t get enough. I wanted more. I wanted his dominance, his deviancy, his darkness, again and again.
