In Which Amaranth Exposits
“Don’t touch that,” Amaranth said, when I reached up to wipe off my face. “I think that look suits you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“Oh, fuck, I’m… I’m drained,” Ian said. “Totally shot. That was incredible, but I think I’m done for the time being.”
“Ooh, don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Mason,” Amaranth said. “You just need a little time to recover, and some further… inspiration.” She walked over to my desk, pulled out the chair and pushed it aside. “Mack?”
Feeling surprisingly weary considering how little physical activity I’d actually done, I crawled over to her. She said nothing when I reached her, but looked down at me expectantly until I got unsteadily to my feet.
“Good,” Amaranth said, and with her hands, she more or less molded me into the position she desired, leaning over the desk, legs slightly spread. “You just wait like that, until we’re ready for you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I hoped she wouldn’t take too long to do whatever set up she had in mind… it wasn’t the best position for standing.
I watched her walking towards my dresser, her hips swaying alluringly, until she looked back at me over the edge of her glasses.
“That isn’t where I left your head pointing, is it, baby?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” I said to the wall, after whipping my head back into what I hoped was the position she’d put it in.
I heard the sound of metal studs sliding along the top of the dresser as Amaranth drew my paddle across its wooden surface.
“You’re, um… gonna spank her?” Ian asked.
“We are,” Amaranth said. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself?”
“No,” Ian said.
“Are you sure?”
“Look, the thing is, a couple of times before… I… uh, well I… slapped her,” Ian said.
“If you’re more comfortable with that, that works,” Amaranth said gently.
“I’m not!” Ian said. “She wasn’t… well, I was pissed and she kind of wanted it, but that doesn’t make it right.”
“Anger is the worst reason to touch somebody,” Amaranth said. “But… you’re not angry now, are you?”
“Why would you hit somebody if you’re not even angry?” Ian asked.
“Because you can,” Amaranth said, her sweet voice going husky. “Because she deserves it.” She turned matter-of-fact. “Most importantly–though you might not want to dwell on this one in the heat of the moment if it throws you out of the game–because you both want it. Is there really a better reason than that?”
“But, that stuff you said before,” Ian said. “About… me being the man, and her…”
Ian trailed off, and Amaranth said nothing. I couldn’t see her, but I pictured her… pursing her lips and cocking her head, waiting for him to finish.
“That’s just not how it is,” Ian said. “That’s not how the world actually works.”
“Um, well, no,” Amaranth said, and in my mind, she gave her hair a little toss as she said this. Unseen by either of them, I grinned at the image. I’d spent so much time with her the past few weeks I could hear the precise shape of her smile in her voice. “And it’s good that you understand that. But right here and right now, it’s how you work, and that’s okay. What’s more, you have a partner you can share it with, and that’s better than okay.”
“But what would people think if they saw me acting like this?” Ian asked.
“Wellll,” Amaranth said. My mental image put a finger beside her chin and pulled an exaggeratedly quizzical expression. “I think they’d probably wonder how they managed to wander into a locked bedroom and then they’d try to figure out how to sneak out without being noticed.”
“Look, can you be serious about this?” Ian asked.
“Okay, then, consider this: you don’t try to slip your man-stick inside of people when you’re waiting at the bank counter,” Amaranth said. “Do you?”
“Uh, no,” Ian said. “And do we need to talk about the definition of ‘serious’?”
“I am being serious,” Amaranth said. “So, obviously you accept the basic premise that what’s unacceptable in everyday behavior and casual social situations is not the same as what’s unacceptable in a consensual sexual encounter, right?”
“I guess,” Ian said.
“Honey, you don’t have to convince me or anybody else that you don’t think badly of women,” Amaranth said. “You can do that in everyday life, and so you shouldn’t have to convince yourself. This is what gets you off… and that’s okay. It’s not like you picked it, or could change it if you wanted to.”
“The thing is, I think it’s got a lot to do with how I was raised,” Ian said. “I mean, the way my dad acts, I think he really does believe… that kind of thing.”
“How you got here is less important than where you are and where you go from here,” Amaranth said. “Anyway, maybe your father really does believe it, but on the other hand, maybe if he had ever learned how to channel this kind of thing into play, he’d be, um… a little more pleasant? Though I probably shouldn’t pass judgment, since I don’t actually know the man.”
“Trust me, he’s not worth knowing,” Ian said. “Anyway, without knowing any more about what he does in the bedroom than I want to–and that’s nothing–I’d still bet he never had a problem working his beliefs into ‘play’.”
“Yes, well, some people try to justify their kinks by convincing themselves that they reflect some natural state in the world,” Amaranth said. “That’s a double tragedy, if they end up victimizing people instead of finding somebody willing to share in their fantasy. Other people end up trying to deny what they feel, and end up feeling insecure… or worse. If you internalize a fetish like that, it can mess you up for years. On the other hand, if you embrace it, it can help you deal with your emotions in a healthy place and get them out of the way.”
“You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Ian said. “Or is it all just natural for a nymph?”
“Oh, I’m sure some of it is,” Amaranth said with modesty that was impressive for her. “But I have thought about it, and read about it. I don’t know… maybe I’m biased, but I think a lot of the violent conflicts throughout history could be avoided if people were more honest and open about their sexual desires. To put it another way, ‘I destroy my enemy when I make him my lover.'”
“Um… right,” Ian said. “Look, the thing is… what you’re saying is all really well thought out, and it makes a lot of sense, and it’s… well… probably very well rehearsed… but it doesn’t make a lot of difference. I’m still not going to hit a girl if I can help it. It’s just not right. We can stand here all night talking and I might not disagree with any one thing you say but that’s not going to change the conclusion.”
I felt a twinge of irritation run through me. Not just because Ian was being stubborn, or because I was growing uncomfortable in the posture I’d been placed in, or because he was declining to spank me–I still had Amaranth for that, after all–but because I hated it when somebody said something like that. I mean, he was right about it sounding rehearsed, but his response was basically, “even though I don’t disagree with any of the steps you’ve carefully laid out, I’m going to keep believing what I want to believe.”
As far as I was concerned, that was like admitting they didn’t want to think, and if you weren’t going to use your mind you might as well not…
My line of thought was suddenly broken by the impact of studded leather against my bare ass. I yipped in surprise and jumped, then quickly composed myself back into the position I’d been put in. Amaranth wasn’t paying attention to me, though.
“Night’s far from over,” she said to Ian. “And I’m done talking.”
I expected her to punctuate this with another stroke, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned over behind me, pressing her body against me, and whispered in my ear.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she said. “But for once this is foreplay, not the main event. I’m going to try very hard not to bring you, so when Ian does later it’ll be all the more explosive.”
Bring me? What was she talking about?
“I’ll give you a proper punishing later, when you’ve had a chance to tell me the full story of today,” she added. She slid down a bit and kissed the back of my neck, then straightened.
“Watch,” she said, and then whacked me again, hard, on the split between my cheeks. I bit my lip. She was using the studs, and going for pain. “Listen,” she said, and did it again. “Do you hear that sound, Ian? Leather and metal on soft flesh.”
Ian said nothing, but there was a sound from his throat that was a bit like the rumbling of a stomach.
“It’s a good sound, isn’t it?” Amaranth asked, giving me a third stroke. I whimpered and bit my lip. “And so’s that. You’re in charge, Ian. Do you want me to stop?”
“I…. no,” Ian said, his voice suddenly hoarse and choked with emotion. I pictured him closing his eyes, and clenching his fists at his side. “No. Keep going.”
“Do you want me to stop, baby?” Amaranth asked me.
“No… no, ma’am,” I said, and the strap whooshed through the air and hit me again.
I was certain that Amaranth hadn’t been holding back the times she’d let me have the studded side before, but now she had to be winding up and swinging it like a battleaxe… bringing a lot more force to bear than she could manage when she was building up a rhythm.
“Beg,” Amaranth said, her voice as sharp and brutal as the paddle. “Beg for another.”
“Please,” I said. My voice quavered with more than pain or pleasure or anticipation. I wasn’t sure how one was supposed to beg for a paddling. “Please, spank me again.”
“You need practice,” Amaranth said, and the paddle’s studs bit into my ass, the cold metal leaving behind burning spots. “Beg again.”
“Please,” I said, with real desperation as I had no clue what else to say. “Please… ma’am… let me have another… please.”
“Why?” she said
“I… I want it,” I said.
“You aren’t here for your petty little desires,” Amaranth said, in a tone like her well-practiced voice of command but harsher. “Give me a better reason.”
“I need it!” I said. “I deserve it!”
“Better,” Amaranth said, and I seemed to feel the paddle striking my unprotected flesh before I heard the swish and crack. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Are you ready to take a turn, Ian?” Amaranth said. “I mean, just look at that butt… that slut’s butt. I’m sure you want to hit it… in more ways than one.” She giggled. “Some are off the menu for tonight, but there’s a lot of other things you can do, things she’ll let you do if you want to. If not, I’m sure she’ll let me keep doing this. She knows what she’s here for.”
There was a pause, and then Ian said, “I don’t need that.”
“If you’re more comfortable using your hands, that’s fine,” Amaranth said, laying the paddle on the desk.
“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way,” he said.
I thought about saying something reassuring or encouraging, but it really wasn’t my place to speak. Amaranth owned me. Ian was in charge. They would work things out between them.
He stood behind me, and I felt his dick–firm again, if not rock hard–brush against me from side to side. For a moment, just a moment, I was afraid he was going to go for something other than a spanking… and then when I felt his hands on my hips I was sure that he would.
“Bend over more,” he said tersely, pulling me back away from the desk until my arms and upper body were stretched out almost horizontally.
I heard Ian taking a deep breath, and then his palm clapped against my ass with a popping sound.
“Oh, you can do better than that,” Amaranth said.
Ian grunted, and did it again, this time with more force. He let his hand linger, cupping my bare skin. I could feel the greater roughness of his fingers, and I moaned with appreciation, wriggling against his touch.
“Quiet, slut,” he said, letting go and slapping me across the ass. I bit my lip again. “You’re here for my pleasure, not yours.”
I closed my eyes. The words… that voice… had an almost euphoric effect on me. I was here for him. Why did that make me feel so good?
His hand struck me again, and I sucked my lips in against my teeth to keep quiet. The weird, perverse-in-every-sense-of-the-word pleasure that normally raised up inside me when Amaranth turned her attention to my backside had not really been present. As Ian applied his greater strength with stroke after stroke of his bare hand against the left side of my ass, I felt something like an ember beginning to glow brighter, though it didn’t flare up and catch fire.
It was strange how I normally associated the sensation with water, but now it felt… hotter.
“Mine,” Ian said, spanking me again, harder… more confidently. “Your ass is mine.”
His.
“Mine,” he said again.
I did my best to keep quiet and keep still, but it was harder and harder as the spanking continued to grow in confidence and strength. Each time, he repeated that word, “Mine!”
I understood he meant his to take, his to use, not his to own, and it filled me with… pride? Pleasure? Something more like relief, I think… joyous relief. I felt like I, myself, the individual person that was me–the individual person who incidentally was half-demon and had done such horrible things–was no longer present in the room.
Ian was the man, I was just a woman. I was there to serve his needs. That was all. That was all.
He hit me hard, then, in that moment of epiphany, giving a feral, almost bestial cry and I gasped with the pleasure and pain of it all. My arms which had been supporting me gave out, and Ian grabbed me, pulling me back against him. His dick was pressed flat, sticking straight up and down between us.
I panted hard, fear and panic and other things rising up within me at the feeling of his dick wedged in the rift of my ass, the underside of the thick shaft actually touching the too-small opening. There was no way that he could actually take me while I was pressed up against him like that, and that’s what kept the panic from overwhelming me… but the sheer proximity kept it from retreating.
My breath was coming far too fast. I felt faint. My heart threatened to crack my ribs open from the inside.
“I need a ring,” Ian said.
That voice… the heat, the smell of him… so close, holding me, surrounding me…
Man.
Never before in my life have I wanted to shake a mans hand for having enough strength and acceptance of his inner desires to beat a woman. 😀
Yep! Honestly, since the first time I read through this story I’ve gained much more appreciation for this chapter. Most of my early partners were already very sexually open when I got with them, but my husband was a lot more like Ian, with internalised issues over his dominant desires, and I had to have a very similar conversation (multiple, actually) with him.
“…I hated it when somebody said something like that. I mean, he was right about it sounding rehearsed, but his response was basically, “even though I don’t disagree with any of the steps you’ve carefully laid out, I’m going to keep believing what I want to believe.”
As far as I was concerned, that was like admitting they didn’t want to think…”
Khee, Mack, that’s a very respectable mindset. I wonder what your Mechan and Arkhanite friends would think about it?