I watched my target from the car. The night was mild and dry, and the street was lit with yellow light broken from occasional windows blinking on and passing traffic. The city sounds were muffled, but I focused on my quarry. He exited a building wearing a good suit but no tie and had a briefcase in hand. I gripped the wheel a little tighter, taking a deep breath.
I got out and followed. In the back was a bag with the equipment I needed for this job and moved quietly after slinging it over my shoulder. I slipped my hands into my bomber jacket; they were already sweating.
This was my first time playing this game, and though we’d gone over the rules, planned it with covert check ins and safe words, and we were all set, I was nervous.
He turned off, walking faster. I kept my distance, not following too closely. We fell into a rhythm, and it gave me time to focus and work off my nerves. The street was quieter, darker, and he fished in his pocket for his keys, slowing to pick the one he needed. I closed in, my heart beat hard, but I found calm at the moment I needed to act.
As he slipped a key into the lock of a pretty house on the leafy street, I rushed him, pushing him through the doorway, letting it close, and threw myself on top of him, forcing him to the ground. He tried to draw in a shocked breath as I pinned myself over his back using my weight and thighs and slipped out the handcuffs from my pocket, and in a well-rehearsed move, secured his hands.
“Get the fuck off me.” He bucked up, grunting as he thrashed.
I leant over him, elbows in the back of his shoulders. “That’s not how this is going to go. You’re going to do exactly what I say.” I put my hand to his throat and squeezed.
He went still. “What do you want?” He was rigid and furious but kept still.
“There’s some information I want from you.”
“I won’t tell you anything.”
“That means there’s something to know.” While I spoke, I rooted through the holdall over my shoulder and dug out a knife. It looked impressive, and though dangerous, it wasn’t sharp. I leant over him, running it along his cheek. “I’m going to get up, and if you want to keep all the blood in your body where it is, you’ll do as I say.”
He swallowed and nodded once.
Dropping the bag and knife as I leant back, I slowly slipped off him. He didn’t move, sprawled on the hall floor hands cuffed behind him. I nearly broke character but bit the inside of my cheek.
I took his feet and dragged him along the smooth oak floor. He flipped over and kicked out, sending me onto my back. He tried to get to his feet, but I tackled him at the knees, making him fall, and grabbed his crotch.
“Do you really want to fight me?”
He thumped his head back with a grunt before looking at me with a glittering sneer.
I could just about reach the bag and slipped out the knife again. He eyed it as I held it against his thigh.
“Where is the artery?”
“I’m not giving you anything.” His wild dark eyes were alive and intent on me.
“Yeah, yeah. You said that.” I smirked. “Up.” With the knife at his neck, he scrambled to his feet, and I walked him to a dining chair in the open plan living area.
I shoved him into it, and he looked me up and down. I knew what he saw, but I didn’t feel like myself. I had my baby-fine blond hair in a high ponytail, where it normally was down. I usually wore dresses that complimented my large breasts and rounded figure. But I wore all black, skinny jeans and knee-high boots. Long-sleeved black tee.
I’m innocuous, non-threatening. Soft. But the side of me that I rarely embraced? He wanted it. He wasn’t handsome in a traditional sense. Tall, broad, no six-pack or gym made muscles. But manly. Hairy chest, acne scars dotted his cheeks, but his jaw was strong. His strength lay in gentle determination, and his integrity was charismatic, alluring. His beauty overwhelmed me sometimes. It was the little things I loved; his thick lashes, generous smile, the veins on his arms and large, careful hands.
His eyes glowered with fury. He’d only ever looked at me with devotion, but this was more than thrilling.
His chest heaved up and down, his black curls on golden skin fell forward as he leant to shift his weight.
From the bag, I took the zip ties and raised a brow. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Securing each ankle to a chair leg, I glanced up at him. “Don’t look so angry. Just give me what I want, and this will all be over.”
“No.”
I grinned in what I hoped was a threatening way. “Oh, you will.”
I straddled his lap, securing his upper arms to the slatted back of the chair. My chest brushed his, my breasts pressing against him. His eyes fluttered closed, and he hardened. A bead of sweat fell down his temple. He radiated so much heat, it seeped into my skin. Putting my hand on his heart, I felt it pound.
“What are you going to do to me?” he whispered.
“I’m going to hurt you until you scream and beg. I’m going to make you feel things you never imagined. You won’t remember your name by the time I’m finished with you.” I pinched his chin.
He squirmed and whimpered.
I slid two fingers in his mouth, making his eyes widen. “I think you’ll enjoy it. I know I will.” I let him go and made sure my tits brushed his face as I stood.
His dick was like rock, pushing at the fabric of his trousers. With him secured, I undid the buttons of his shirt methodically.
“Please don’t.”
“I love it when you plead.”
He let his head fall back with a moan. I watched him carefully for a minute before carrying on. He licked his lips as I pushed the shirt and jacket off his shoulders, letting them hang there. I took the phone from his jacket and turned it off. Then I went through his wallet.
There I was. A photo from a party booth at my birthday bash last year. I wore a gold sequined bustier, and I was covered in glitter, caught in mid laughter. He’d just whipped his dick out for a second off camera. It was his favourite pic of me. Said it was pure joy.
“Who’s she?” I showed him the photo.
His fear and anger focused. “I’ll never tell you.”
I tossed it on the table. Running my fingers down his chest, enjoying the feel of him at my mercy, I pressed my lips to his shoulder.
He froze.
“Who is she?”
“I’m not telling.” He shuddered as I ran my tongue over his collarbone and back to the muscle of his shoulder.
I bit down.
He shouted. “Stop, please.” His cry was delightful and desperate.
I let go and blew on the wet, red marks of my teeth.
“Who?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I went for his other shoulder. He lurched his hips forward, dick pressing into me. He hissed and growled his breath.
Again. And again, until the tops of his arms were marked; the fleshy muscle perfect to bite on. I slid down onto my knees, biting all over him until tears swam in his eyes, and there was a definite damp spot on his trousers. His heat made me sweat.
“See, I told you you’d like it.”
He shook his head.
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“Never.” He virtually spat it at me.
I undid his belt, and he bit his lip.
I wrestled them off roughly, along with his underwear, to the floor. Exposed and hard, moisture covered the tip of his dick.
He was so tense.
Propping my chin on a hand, I made sure my elbow dug into his thigh. “Aww bless. You do like it.”
“I don’t. I don’t want you to do this.”
“Now we both know that’s a lie. To put a stop to this tell me who she is.”
All he had to do to get out was say the word, and as we stared at each other, I thought he might. Instead, he raised his chin and stayed quiet.
“That’s what I thought.” I ran my finger up the length of his dick.
His eyes flickered. I grabbed the knife and dragged it up the inside of his calf and the top of his thigh, weaved it around the bite marks that’d bruise on his chest, and to his neck.
He opened his mouth wide and drew his knees in.
“Oh are you close? This is agony, isn’t it? All you want is her. That sweet woman who’s kind and precious. But she’s not here, is she?”
Tossing the knife, I grabbed his dick, squeezing. He shouted. When I let go, he slumped, straining at the zip ties.
“Tell me.”
“Fuck you.”
“You will.”
I put the bag on the table and picked out some latex gloves, slipped them on and pushed up my sleeves.
“What are you going to do?”
I set out a bottle of lube and a butt plug. He went very still. I undid a few buttons on my top, partly because I was hot and partly so he could see down my cleavage.
Urging his hips forward, I made him perch off the edge of the seat with his thighs spread. With a dollop of cool lube to the silicone tip, I nudged it in.
“No.” His eyes fluttered.
“Stay still. You know how this works.”
With a deep and guttural moan, he watched me work the length in, and then it slid to the wide lip.
“There. Ready to have a little fun?”
His lids were heavy when he pulled his lips into his mouth and then swallowed. “Please.”
“Please? What do you want? Say it. Be honest with me.”
“I… need to come.”
“There. The first honest thing so far.” I kissed and sucked his thigh and wiped off any excess lube.
He licked his lips as I ran my finger over his cock. Working the moisture all over. He was so hard. It twitched, and he took a sharp breath.
I did it again, watching for his reaction. That one perfect spot always was the most sensitive. He hissed when I circled a figure-eight over it.
His gaze fell to my chest. Tits pressed against the inside of his thigh.
“Are you looking at my tits?”
He turned his head away.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“You’re a liar.” I stood. We stared in silence at each other. I was torn between ending this and pushing harder. Both were love. Instead, I pulled off my top. He moaned. My bra was necessary support but not sexy. He did like what it did to my cleavage, though.
I straddled his lap, and he pressed against me. “Tell me,” I whispered into his ear, grinding against him.
“No.” He sounded less angry, less sure. I kissed his neck, the rough stubble and sweat there was like catnip. My mouth watered, and I was getting as turned on as he was. For a minute, I let myself have that pleasure but slapped him and got off.
He tensed and un-tensed, precum seeping out. I needed to pull him back a little.
A short reed cane was his favourite. It left so many pretty marks. He struggled, brought out from his lust.
“Stay still. We don’t want to get your cock or balls accidentally.”
He complied.
“You can end this. Tell me.”
He raised his chin in defiance.
“So strong and brave, aren’t you?” I smiled and used my best cooing tone.
He stared straight ahead.
Putting one hand on his knee, I closed his thighs a touch and lined up. I struck the top of his leg. He jumped. Then the other. I knew the pain. The sharp sting. The cool tingle and hard heat that followed it. The singing in his mind as pain rushed and chemicals were released. I licked my lips.
Each precise, careful strike left a perfect red line. He flinched. Sweated more. Breathed harder. He grunted with each one.
With a cry, he looked down, and his hard, heavy dick twitched against his hip. His face twisted, and he went rigid. I stopped.
He laughed, high as a kite. He was mine. He slow blinked, delirious. “Please.”
“I know what you want. You want me to give in and set you free. You’d tackle me, rip the clothes from my body and fuck me.”
The dangerous grin that spread over his face as he leant forward made my clit pulse.
“All you have to do is tell me.” I leant to him, pinched his chin and pecked his lips. “Give in, and you can have what you want.”
He sneered and pulled my bottom lip through his teeth. “No.”
I slapped his face. “That was your only chance.”
“Let me come.” He nearly sobbed.
“Tell me.” I grabbed his hair, lifting his head back.
“Fuck you.” He panted, vitriol dripping from him as he squirmed.
Instead of answering, I ran my finger over that spot on his cock, barely touching with the gentlest skim of a latex-clad finger.
He shook his head with a pained moan.
I stopped and let his head fell back.
He was marked all over, cock red and the desperation of him was glorious.
“Tell me, and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you need.”
The line of his neck altered as he swallowed, and I wanted to bite it.
“I can’t take anymore,” he slurred.
My heart stuttered. I was sweating and desperate myself.
“Then tell me, and this will be over.”
His chin wobbled. I unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the ground. His eyes widened.
Then my boots and jeans. All I wore was my pretty lace knickers.
“I was going to untie you if you told me, but now?” I slid down my underwear. I straddled his lap, and he blinked rapidly with his body tense.
“What do you need?”
“You,” he grunted.
Instead, I ground my pussy up and down his length, letting him feel how wet I was, almost inside me but not quite. “Well?”
The sound was feral, desperate. He ground as much as the plug allowed.
“Tell me,” I whispered into his ear.
“Fuck.”
“Give in, say her name, tell me, and I’ll give you everything.” My tits brushed his chest in the way that drove him wild.
He shook, but relaxed and stilled. His eyes swam, bright and beautiful. “Her name is…”
“Yes?” I held my hand to his throat and spoke into his hot mouth.
His brows furrowed together. “Iris.”
I grinned. And with my other hand, I grabbed his dick, and then slid onto it.
He shouted, the need radiating from him.
I didn’t move but licked my lips. “Tell me about her.”
He shuddered and squirmed before meeting my gaze. His wild eyes were calm, wide and pupils huge. “Iris. Her name is Iris. She’s the love of my life. Strong, beautiful, fearless. She lives her life with every fibre of her being. She’s the most generous spirit.” A tear fell down his cheek. “She’s the first to step up and help. She makes me a better, more thoughtful human, and I’d die without her.” His bottom lip trembled.
I blinked back my own tears, and though my heart soared, I stayed in role.
I grabbed his face, my mouth turned down, and yet he looked at me in the haze of subspace and utter love.
Then I rode him, squeezing his neck.
“Relax, let me give you this release. Don’t fight it.”
He stuttered a breath and then gave.
“My beautiful man.”
He hauled in a breath when I loosened my grip. “Iris, Iris, please, please I need it so bad.”
I smoothed his frazzled damp curls and kissed him before squeezing again. The half-smile on his perfect mouth was my focus as I fucked him. He got higher and higher until I saw the change.
I released his neck as his mouth pinched.
“Fuck, I’m coming.” He grew frantic, hips canting, and then he cried out in a guttural need. It was all I needed, my own strain and desperation overwhelming me. My tits brushed against his chest, our skin slapped, and the perfect vision of him lost to pleasure, spiralled my own. The pull of his cock inside me as he went lax came just as I peaked.
“Come, Iris, yes.”
I lost all control, pulling at his hair, wild through the pleasure.
“Iris? My beautiful Iris.” He panted.
I slumped and let my hold go.
“I love you,” he said it over and over.
I reached for the knife and cut his arms free, and still on him, reached for the little key in the bag. With his hands loose, he cupped my face, kissing me hard and deep, hands exploring me. Squeezing flesh and holding tight.
I laughed at the need.
He didn’t want to let me go, but I got off and released his feet. He kicked the rest of his clothes off and urged me onto the floor. With gentle care, he slid into me again, and I wrapped my legs around him. He shifted to cradle my head and pressed little kisses to my forehead, trembling.
“Are you okay? Talk to me,” he said quietly, still kissing me, and emotion thick in his breathless voice.
“Yes.” I kissed him, pressing my cheek to his. “Are you?”
The grin that spread over his face was so full, my heart burst. He hummed, moving inside me a little.
“That was so much fun.” He laughed. “You’re incredible.”
“I thought I went a little hard on you.”
“I’d have taken a lot more.”
“I broke you.” I narrowed my eyes, but his joy didn’t change.
“You wish you did. It was so good. Fuck. Though I need to get this thing out of my arse.”
We both laughed.
“Well, why don’t you do that, then I’ll tend to your wounds.” I pecked his lips.
He sighed when he licked them. “In a minute.”
He nuzzled me, and I stroked his back. We came down together until discomfort interceded.
I joined him in the shower when I heard it turn on, and this was my favourite bit. I’d cleanse and comfort him, and we’d live it all over again.
I loved being someone else for a little while to know who I am, and we always came home to each other.