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But he abruptly pressed me into the bed, holding my hips down. He moved off me and it sounded like he was standing up. There was one hand, spread out on my lower back, warm and holding me in place. I could hear him breathing heavily.

“Tristan, please.” My voice was an unrecognizable moan. I was so wet and swollen it hurt.

“Little girl, you’re going to learn. Learn what need is. Then you can beg me for it.”

I moaned, nearly crying. Twice now, he’d moved away just as I was going to come. Teasing me. Beyond teasing. And now the leather. God it felt good, me naked, him in his rock star leather.

His voice again, dark and slow. “Do you trust me?”

Mine, trembling. “Yes.”

Then I heard it, moving through the air, before I felt it, and I heard it, the leather of the belt stinging me, hitting me just at the top of my legs. I heard my voice, gasping pain and surprise.

“Ask me to do it again.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Do it again.”

And he did, hitting the same place with precision, so close to where I needed him. And like he had heard my thoughts, he brought the leather down right there, just hard enough that it felt like a touch, biting through me. I cried out.

“Yes, that’s it.” He was breathing harder now, and he swung and the belt struck my ass this time, just above where I was aching. He repeated this motion over and over, the whistling of the belt through the air the only warning of what was coming. My skin was stinging, but the pain was sucking up all the pulsing want, all the anger, all the frustration, all the thinking. I was just one idea, and that was to have him do this again, and again. I cried out with each blow; it hurt, but just enough that it created a need. An addiction. I wanted him to touch me; I wanted to feel him, hard, in me. And he then would hit me again. Slowly. The music went on and on and I felt like I was a part of it, losing my boundaries. Crying out with it.

His voice again. “Now I think you’re getting the idea. Let’s see.”

And the belt came down again, right on my clit, once, twice, again, I was losing count, I was crying, “make me come, Tristan, please, make me.” Sobbing.

The dark tones of his voice. “Now. Now you can let go.” And he whipped me again, the leather stroking over my pussy like his tongue, hard, burning and I started coming, my legs shaking, my hips thrusting into the bed, delirious, crying out his name, tremors running through my entire body.

“Now you’re ready to be fucked properly,” his voice a threatening whisper just over the sound of a zip and a packet being opened. His leather clad arm around my stomach, pulling me up, pulling my hips towards him and then his cock, the fantastic hard length of it, finally in me, opening me up, touching me where I needed the pressure and I started coming again, rocking into him. His voice, his mouth buried in my neck, whispering, “fuck me, fuck me harder, show me how much you need me, how much you liked me whipping the fuck out of you, let it go.”

I thrust back into him, the feel of the leather on my skin heating it up, the burning on my legs and ass insane. He bit me, marking me. I cried out. “You like that don’t you? Oh fuck you make me so fucking hard.” His voice was incredible, liquid dark in my ear. I felt his fingers at my clit. “I can make you come again.” And he pinched my clit, twisting it, making me jump against him. “Oh that’s good.” And he did it again, and I jumped, making him enter me even deeper and we both cried out. “Oh god, little girl, you’re too much.” And his fingers worked faster, then stopped.

I whimpered and he laughed. “Not yet, not yet, when I tell you. Let’s play another little game. Turn off your brain. You’re mine, and I control you and you do what I tell you. And if I tell you to come, you come. And you show me you like what I’m doing.” And his fingers came around and pinched my nipples hard and I cried out. “I like it when you scream.” And he pinched them again, holding on to them for leverage as his cock moved in and out of me, slowing down, as I started to shake. “No. Not until I tell you.”

His hips were rotating against me when he suddenly pulled out. “No, I want it different.” And he pushed me up on to the bed. “Get on your hands and knees.” He laughed. “Ah, no not your hands. Lean on your elbows. That’s it.”

I felt his hands running smoothly over my sore backside. “Oh, that’s nice. Yeah.” And he slapped me, hard, with his hand. It hurt. It felt good. And it made me want him back inside me. I moved back, searching for his body, and his hand connected with me again. “Looking for something?” And I felt his cock again, rubbing up and down my pussy. And it was gone, replaced by his tongue, warm, and wet and soft, licking me in long strokes. I shuddered, and he stopped, instantly. And smacked my ass again. “No. I told you.” And he forced his cock back inside me, and pulled out again almost all the way, slowly. I tightened around him, trying to make him stay inside, and we both sighed, together, as he thrust his way back in. “Yeah, girl, do that again. Like I told you.”

I tried to keep his cock deep inside me, but his words had made me wetter and I couldn’t grip around him now that he was moving faster now inside me. Then he stopped, and I could feel his leather clad legs. He pulled me up, and then down, on to his lap, moving me up and down on him, slowly, as I felt his body behind me. We were silent for a moment, just moving, getting used to the new position. Then he pushed me back down, lying flat on me. “I like you under me. You need to be restrained.” He spread my legs further apart, and began exploring me with his fingers. “You need to beg more,” he replied to my moans.

“Fuck me, please, now.” I needed to come again, I needed to feel him come, I felt a kind of craziness taking me over. Frustration. “I want you so badly, I can’t control it.”

“Good.” He laughed. And pulled out of me. I groaned.

“Tristan, please, you’re torturing me.”

He laughed again. “I think that was the idea.” And I could hear the sound of him stripping off the condom.

“What are you doing?” My voice an anguished howl.

“You’ll see.” And he walked away again.

Now I did feel like crying. I banged my tied wrists against the bed in frustration. I heard his footsteps coming back in. I didn’t care if he saw me.

“Wound up, are we?” His voice was low and soothing. “This should help.”

I yelped as he pushed an ice cube inside me. All my muscles tensed up as the coldness spread inside, and the melted ice water ran out of me.

“That’s it. Remember you’re here for me to play with. Did you forget?” His voice dropped lower still. “Do you still trust me?”

I moaned as he pushed his fingers inside me and flexed them, moving what was left of the melting ice cube around. “Yes,” I managed to get out.

“Good.” His voice was hard. He pulled out his fingers and pushed in another ice cube. I jumped as the shock of the coldness inside me almost made me cramp up. My voice came from somewhere else, crying out.

Then he ran yet another piece of ice over where he had whipped me earlier. It felt good, cold soothing the soreness, melting fast on my superheated skin. But he slid it down, down to my clit and rubbed it over and over with the ice cube. The pain of it, the coldness, my muscles tensing up. His rhythm, perfect pressure. The feel of his leather jacket against my skin. Knowing he was watching me. My breathing sped up, even as I tried to be silent and stop moving, trying to hide from him that I was about to come.

But he stopped, again. “You don’t know that I can tell when you’re going to come? It doesn’t say much for the lovers you’ve had before. I think you need to be fucked a lot to make up for that. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.” My voice was a low hiss. “Please.”

His voice was tense. “That’s not begging. Too polite.” He laughed. “Try again.”

I felt desperate. Hollow with need. “I want to beg you, but I don’t know how.” I would do anything now. And I realized I knew nothing, nothing at all. What a joke everything had been that had gone before. I thought I could hear him smiling.

He pulled me to my feet and held me against him, until I got my balance. “Hold on to me.” He walked me in the direction of the bathroom, up the stairs, but went left, not right. My thighs were suddenly against the arm of the sofa. “Bend over.” I did, and my ass was sticking out, my body lying tense against the pillows of the couch. I felt completely exposed.

“That’s it. Yes. Now tell me you want me.” And he put a finger inside me. The ice cubes were completely gone, but it was still cooler and wet inside me.

My voice was shaky. “I want you.”

“No. Let’s start slowly. Repeat after me: I want your cock inside me.” I imagined what he must look like, in his leather, standing over my naked body. Smiling. Victorious.

I took a deep breath. “I want your cock inside me.”

I heard the telling rip of another packet. “Say it again.”

“I want your cock in me. Now. Please. Please.”

“I think I can do that. Look at you, open, wet.” He slid inside me. “Oh, that’s good. Yes. Maybe I’ll let you come on me.”

“I want to come. I want you to come in me. Please.” I felt like I had no control of my voice. Words were coming out, unforced.

“Do you now?” He thrust up, and further in to me and I moaned. “You like that.” His fingers found my clit, and began teasing it, and I felt the beginnings of my orgasm. “Oh no, not yet.” And he stopped. Again.

I started actually crying with frustration. My words were broken up and rasping out of me. “Please Tristan, please god, I need to come so badly. I want you so much, it hurts, it hurts, please fuck me, hard, I’ll be, I’ll be whatever you want, please, you’re driving me insane, I’ve never felt like this ever, please, god.” I was taking in big gulps of air, frustration and need and pain and desire making me hysterical.

“That’s it, baby, let it go.” And he sped up, just slightly, angling my hips so he plunged into me even deeper. “You know I want to give you just what you need. But you,” and he paused, flicking my clit with his fingers as I sobbed, “need to give me what I need.”

I could do it. I had to. I started murmuring, “fuck me please, you’re so fucking huge, use me, you make me crazy, I’ll do anything you want.”

He gasped, and pulled back on my hair, making me cry out. “That’s it, fuck you’re so lovely, you’re fucking tight, you’re so small around me, squeeze me like that again, clever tricks, oh god.” And he sped up again, his breathing heavier. His fingers rubbed against my clit again. “Soon baby.” I cried out, making him moan again. “Yeah, that’s it.” He moved against me, his cock sliding in and out of me, his leather pants burning friction on my skin. He moaned again, “oh baby, soon, oh fuck.” And he held my hips down, like before. His voice was altered. “You make me fucking crazy, tell me you want me, little girl, make me come, make me come, so fucking hard.”

And he was plunging into me, faster now, his fingers moving circles around my clit. I felt my orgasm start to shake me, tearing me up. And he said, “yes now, now come for me, fuck,” and his cock was pulsing inside me, over and over, as his loud cries cut into my body. His sounds, his orgasm going on and on as I tightened around him, coming so hard, rattled, out of control, both of us together as my body followed his convulsions as though we had known all this forever.

And I opened my eyes. And there he was, beautiful, mysterious, his heavy lidded gaze filled with a million thoughts that I didn’t know. I looked up at him, taking in all of his face, his messy hair, dark brows, long eyelashes, his strong bones and masculine nose, but I returned to his eyes. There was his real beauty. The intelligence, the questioning, the complications. And we stared at each other.

He placed a gentle kiss on my nose. “Come little girl. So much to talk about, but we’ll leave it until tomorrow.” He began taking off his jacket, then stopped, and looked at me again. “Unless you want to go home?”

I drew in a breath, sharp and cold. I tried to find an answer to his question in his eyes, but there was nothing. His expression was careful, neutral. “Do you want me to go?”

“I want to hear what you want to do. Tell me.”

I played with a snap on his leather jacket as I considered everything that meant. Yes, I was still scared. Yes, it would be easier to go home. Did he want me to? What did I want to do? And all this closeness now…what would happen? Ah, fuck it.

I raised my head to look at him and tried to smile. “I’d like to stay. I’d like to feel you close to me tonight, try and sleep again with you.” I couldn’t believe I felt shy saying it after all the things we’d just shouted to each other, fucking like rabbits.

His eyes lightened, and he kissed me again. “As you wish, little girl. But let’s have a bath first. It’s hot under here.” He held one side of his jacket and moved it around, as though he were fanning himself. He gave me a lopsided smile and began walking towards the bathroom. Without him there, I felt very uncertain, and I began to teeter slightly. I stuck out an arm, still feeling pins and needles, to hold myself up. But he noticed, and was there, back next to me, in an instant. “Slowly now. I’ve thrown a lot at you. You’ve done so well. We don’t want you falling down, not now.” He curled his arm around me, and placed me in front of him. “To the bath.” And he pushed me gently forwards.