I tried catching up on sleep, my body still sore from Kevin's enthusiasm, so I did not notice that we were heading in the opposite direction from home. Mathew gently guided my head to his shoulder, and I silently accepted the gesture, nuzzling in closer. He wore a combination of sandalwood and rose, with a hint of something expensive that had to be worth a small fortune. He pulled me closer to him, engulfing me with his warmth, and soon enough, I was skipping in dreamland.
I woke up just as Mathew was laying me down on the bed. I could instantly tell by the almost all-black décor that this was not my villa. Mathew quickly got on his knees as I got up so that he was positioned between my feet and looked up at me with a look of longing so powerful I felt it echoing in my own heart, pulling at strings.
"What's wrong?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked in the smallest voice I had ever heard him use.
I smoothed his hair, running my fingers along it, removing invisible tangles. I kept up the motion because as soon as my hand touched his head, he nuzzled into the touch with a near whimper escaping his lips. Although I had not known him long, I had Lisa memories of him; he was a cold, astute guy who was more interested in business than in pleasure. He had expressed displeasure at being skipped over in this consummation business, but I attributed it to a desire to maintain rank rather than to actual interest. The tall man crumpled before me was a far cry from the man he typically presented himself as.
"I can give you everything they have given you and more."
"What is it you need?" I asked, even though the lust in his eyes was almost tangible
"You can do anything you want to me, I just want you. Please, mistress."
Once again, one of my husbands was attempting to give me a heart attack from sexual tension that was currently taking over my body. How did he know this was one of my very few weak spots? He crawled backwards, somehow making the awkward movement dignified, and took on a submissive posture as he knelt with his hand clapped on his laps head lowered. I fully confess that I may have had a mini orgasm sitting still on the bed.
"So where are we?" I asked, getting on my feet, needing no encouragement when it came to BDSM, a lingering attachment of a past life.
"This is my penthouse in town its closer to my office, and it was where I lived before moving to the villa."
"I guess you are a bit of a freak," I said, running my fingers across the extensive collection of neat sex toys.
" I bought them for us," he replied, his tone lower still, facing the floor
"So when did you buy them?" I picked up a whip that had multiple prongs made from leather and walked back to him
"Three days ago," his voice had become so low it was barely audible, a far cry from its usual commanding tone, and that change made it sexier.
"Close your eyes and don't move your hands," I commanded this dynamic, more familiar to me than soft lovemaking. I understood deriving pleasure from pain rather than soft intimacy. How freeing it was to give yourself over to someone who could kill you but held back to make you feel alive.
He flinched when the first lash landed on his skin, but was still for the next ten. I helped him peel off his shirt and was satisfied with the blooming welt marks covering his back. Even better was how well Mathew had taken an intense beating. It seemed I had found my equal and my new favorite. I believed in giving as much as I took.
Following my instruction, Mathew stripped down and lay spread-eagled on his back on the bed. I secured his limbs on the corresponding bedpost and stood back to inspect my handiwork. Mathew stood at six feet five inches, and with his limbs outstretched, he was slightly taller than his bed, giving him a bit of room to move despite the short chains that anchored him to the bed. I proceeded to deprive him of all his senses, putting a blindfold, a ball gag, and ear muffs on him.
I lit a candle and dripped hot wax on him until his body was covered in red splatter. He flinched against the hot liquid, which quickly solidified as it cooled down, sticking to his skin. I paused to take several pictures of my naked lover, making a mental note to frame them for my bedroom. Taking several ice cubes, I gently slid them on the space on his skin. He remained painfully erect as he had been since the whipping, not at all deterred by the biting cold crawling on his skin.
Using my teeth, I painstakingly grazed the wax off his skin, alternating between gently scraping and nipping hard, driving his frenzy further. He was now buckling and straining against the chains that held him, looking for release. I explored lower past his navel, which was wax-free. My breath fanned his member, and it twitched in response, bringing a smile to my face. When my tongue touched his tip, he lost all semblance of control, thrashing erratically, but the sturdy chains held.
The harsh foreplay was followed by hardcore riding, and the only reason he lasted for the remainder of the hour was because of the ring that made it impossible to ejaculate. I untied him with the last strength I had and collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Despite his own exhaustion, Mathew carried me to the bathroom and gently washed my body while I struggled and failed to keep my eyes open.