Chub Rub Page 9

  When I had completely sheathed myself inside of her, my balls flush against her ass, I stayed there for a long minute, fighting the urge to move but enjoying the fuck out of the ecstasy plastered on Maggie’s face. Not being allowed to come was the punishment, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to enjoy the sex all the same. Slowly, I pulled out half way before forcing myself back in again, the sound of my nuts slapping her ass reverberating around the room. It was one of my top three sounds in the world.

  Over and over, I slowly pulled out and slammed back in, until I could feel myself too close to the edge. I had to back off or this would be over too soon, and the lesson would be lost. Moving my hand between our bodies, I found her small bundle of nerves and began a circulating movement around it, but never fully touching it. My cock creeped in and out of her pussy, demanding to come to it’s own release, but I wasn’t ready yet. Maggie needed to be brought to the edge a few times before I spilled inside of her. Thank God for birth control, I fucking hated condoms.

  When I felt the walls of her vagina close in on my dick, and her legs start to tremble, I knew she was close. Pulling out completely and removing my hand from her clit, I sat back on my heels and waited for her to come back down from the ledge. Her groan of disappointment flooded me with happiness. She hadn’t broken my one rule for the evening, but we weren’t done yet.

  “Are you ready to start again?” I asked, once her body had relaxed enough.

  “Yes, Sir,” she bit out between her teeth.

  Chuckling softly, I bent down and immersed my face between her legs, grabbing onto her tender clit with the barest of teeth. I couldn’t stop myself from tasting her. Her thighs involuntarily tried to clamp down on my head, and I used both of my hands to hold them back as I ate at her pink and swollen nub. Removing my hand from her thigh, I thrust three fingers into her dripping pussy and finger fucked her, making sure to curl my fingers up and hit that spot within her that would surely bring her back to the peak. Within moments, she clamped down on my fingers, on the verge of the orgasm her body demanded from her, and again, I pulled away before she could explode. It was just as hard for me because her come was one of the tastiest things I’d ever eaten. Fuck, I needed to come, and soon.

  This time no noise came from her, but I saw a single tear fall from her eye. Although the tear momentarily threw me off, I was positive she was still with me and doing ok.

  “What color are you, my sweets?” I asked.

  “Green, Sir,” She answered immediately, defiance coursing through those simple two words. She may have shed a tear, but she was taking her orgasm denial like a good girl. Damn, she was perfect.

  Not bothering with a response, I sat up and plunged back into her, desperate to fuck until I couldn’t see straight. I started a punishing rhythm of in and out, our skin slapping together, our breathing, ragged and shallow. Bending over so my body was flush with hers, I used my teeth to pull down the top of her corset, and latched onto her hard pebbled nipple, while still grinding into her. A gurgled scream escaped her lips, but I continued my onslaught, pleased with her response. My other hand came up and met with her throat, delivering a small bit of pressure. Not enough to completely seal her windpipe, but enough to have her tensing under me. She fucking loved it.

  When I felt her body tense up again, I sat up, withdrawing from her and pumped my fist up and down my shaft. I wasn’t going to deny myself an orgasm, and at this point I was too far gone to even try and stop my impending explosion. She watched on with fascination as I drew myself up to the cliff, before slamming into her one last time and dumping myself deep into her womb. I loved coming inside of a woman. It felt primal and real. Her pussy clenched all around me, and it took every effort on my part to look her in the eye, a clear warning in my gaze. If she ruined this by coming, I would be pissed. I had more planned for this evening once the punishments were sorted and we were on an even keel.

  She slammed her lids closed, concentrating on following my orders of not coming. Her lips moved as she chanted over and over again, Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come, silently. Again, I was dumbstruck with the way she so eagerly tried to follow orders and please. She was absolutely stunning, and in moments, I could feel the panic rise up in my chest again. This shit was getting ridiculous.

  No! I wasn’t going to let that happen again. Taking my own deep breath. I pulled out of her and sat back on my heels, willing my heart rate to return to normal, and forcing the anxiety down from my throat. When I reopened my eyes, Maggie was staring at me.

  “Thank you, Sir, I understand now,” she whispered. She knew why she needed it, and even though the pain of not coming was brutally visible on her face, there was also a look of deep understanding. She had never been more beautiful than she was in that moment, frazzled and in need of a release, but submissive and remorseful.

  I was never letting her go. I knew, that even through it all, my sweets was a strong and beautiful girl, and I was never letting her walk away. In one week, my entire life had flipped upside down and inside out, and it was no wonder I was having panic attacks seconds after a mindblowing orgasm. Fuck, this girl had unintentionally found her way in, and I was going to fight like hell to never let her out. I am caveman, me fight for woman!

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maggie

  If I remembered my science and anatomy classes correctly (which in my current state of mind, I wasn’t sure I could remember my own name), there were over a trillion nerve endings in the human body. Over half of them were in the brain alone. I wasn’t a neuroscientist, but I was pretty sure while those half of my nerves lay dormant in my skull, the rest had come to full attention at the surface of my skin.

  My body thrummed, and hissed, and begged for a release that I knew wasn’t coming. I pulled on my restraints and I tried like the devil to close my legs, just a little bit. All I needed was the smallest amount of pressure on my sensitive clit, and I knew I would be flying high. I also knew it probably wouldn’t be as good as it should have been, because he told me not to. I didn’t want to disappoint him again.

  At the thought of the sexy tattooed God, I looked up to see how he was fairing. The last time we had reached this point, I had been left with no explanation and no “aftercare”, as Polly had called it. When I had gotten home that night, I looked into what, exactly, aftercare entailed. In my own words, it was basically a way for both the sub and the Dom to get back to reality. Sometimes, it was through physical contact and cuddling, and sometimes through words, and most times it was a combination of both. It was a way to recalibrate the relationship to whatever the norm was between the two individuals. Master Jackson and I didn’t really have a relationship outside of the four walls of the club, so I wasn’t sure what would happen when he finally released me.

  I couldn’t understand the look on his face, couldn’t put a name to it. It seemed almost... panicky? Was this how it was for him? Did he not enjoy our time together? I knew that couldn’t have been it. He had been into it from the start, and even though I couldn’t physically feel what he was feeling, I knew his orgasm had to have been pretty good. He had even grunted out my name at the last minute while he plunged inside of me. The feeling of his come squirting inside me had almost made me climax on the spot, but I had willed myself to think of anything else and not come.

  My body had wanted the release more than anything else, but my mind HATED the idea of disappointing him. I had messed up. I had messed up incredibly bad. I had been what some people called a brat, or even worse. I needed to find a way to take back my words. I wanted to find a time traveling machine and go back to the start of the night, but at the same time, I didn’t. I could describe it, but I needed this lesson, and loathe as I was to admit it, I felt stronger, and a little more knowledgeable. He had thrust me into the next part of becoming a sub, and I was thankful.

  “Thank you, Sir, I understand now,” I whispered out. I didn’t know if it was the right thing to say, but I needed him to know that I did, ind
eed, understand why I needed the punishment, and I was grateful he had delivered it in the way that he had. If I couldn’t respect myself not to let some asshole talk to me that way Master Sam had tonight, then I didn’t deserve the mind blowing orgasm my body desperately craved.

  Something about my words changed his expression. No longer did I see anxiety, instead, a look of pure determination took over his features. I smiled a little at him, and waited patiently for his next move. When he smiled back at me, I knew I’d give up a lifetime of orgasms just to see him smile some more. What I had said was apparently the correct thing, and I was giddy that, for once, I felt like I had pleased him.

  When he leaned over my body again, those pesky nerve endings jumped back to attention at the contact. He unlocked my wrists and massaged each one to bring some life back into my fingers. The blood rushing back into my limbs was painful, but the need to come overrode the pain. I sucked in a breath when he kissed the pad of each of fingers and the inside of my palm before moving on to the next wrist.

  When he had completed the same conditions on my other extremity, he knelt back and released each ankle, applying the same massage, and the same kissing. If this was what aftercare consisted of, I was enjoying it. Unlike the last time, I didn’t feel used or abused, but more cherished and worshipped.

  I watched as he got up from the bed and went to the attached bathroom to clean himself up and come back with a warm wet washcloth. I couldn't stop the flush of embarrassment from creeping up my face when he ran the warm cloth up my swollen lips and down my drenched thighs. Even after his face had been buried down there, the act of cleaning me was intimate, something I had never experienced before. I felt a little vulnerable at his ministrations, but in the same moment, felt my heart beat a little faster. Somehow, I was going to need to lock up my emotions. This man had the ability to tear my heart to shreds.

  Throwing the rag on the floor, he climbed into bed beside me and pulled my back into his chest. His warmth seeped into me and cocooned me, making me feel a sense of peace I hadn’t experienced in a long time. When he ran his fingers through my hair, I could feel myself slipping into a catatonic state of relaxation. I wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep, but not in this bed.

  “Hey, little sub,” he whispered into my ear.

  “Hey,” I murmured back. I wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was for addressing him in a situation like this, so I stuck with just responding to his greeting.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m---- I’m good.” I hadn’t meant to hesitate, but I really was quite good. Even without the climax I so desperately needed.

  “Are you?” he asked.

  Turning around in his arms to face him, I looked up into his chocolate brown eyes, hoping what I was about to say didn’t cross any lines. The last thing I needed was another denied orgasm. It might literally splinter me from the inside out.

  “I am, Jackson. I want to come horribly bad, but I know why I can’t, and I--- thank you for this. Although my body is really wound up, my head feels more at peace, if that makes sense?”

  “It does,” he responded.

  Gripping me a little bit tighter, he pulled me in closer, and bent his head to my hair and took a breath. “You called me Jackson,” he stated plainly.

  Tensing up, I thought back to my previous statement. Shit, I had called him by his first name. What was the punishment for using the wrong title for your Dom? I didn’t know, and I was a little scared to find out.

  “It’s okay, my sweets. I don’t mind. Try not to make it a habit inside this room or during club hours, but while we’re out and about, I don’t mind. In fact,” he paused, “I kind of like the way you say my name.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said on a giggle. He liked the way I said his name. I didn’t know why I found that tid bit funny but I did, and it wasn’t long before I couldn’t stop the full blown laugh that was escaping through my mouth.

  Jackson looked down at me like I had grown a second head, but moments later, a genuine, beautiful, light-up-the-room smile appeared, meeting his eyes in the sexiest way. A beat later he joined in on my laughter, and started tickling me, which made me laugh even harder. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember the last time I had let loose like that. It was exhilarating.

  Rolling onto my back, Jackson straddled me to find more of my body to tickle. I was extremely susceptible to the torture he was using on me, and I had been from the day I was born.

  Something in his look changed, a heat flooded his eyes, and before my brain could register the change, Jackson’s head had come down on mine, his lips folding over my own in a fast, yet tender, claiming. I groaned into his mouth, my pussy clenching at the anticipation. I could only hope he wouldn’t leave me hanging again. I didn’t know if I could take it.

  Pulling away from me just as suddenly as the kiss had started, he leaned down and rested his forehead against my own.

  “Come home with me, Maggie?” he asked.

  WHOA! What? I thought to myself. That was the absolute last thing I had expected him to say, and my brain came alive with questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. Why did he want me to come home with him? What was expected of me there? Was I still a little sub or was I just Maggie? Did I call him Sir or Jackson? Was I spending the night or was he just showing me his home? My brain was suddenly on overload and on the verge of shutdown. It had been through a hell of a night, and the rapid fire questions it was spitting out were making me dizzy.

  “Maggie, calm down, darling. Tell me what’s wrong,” he soothed, laying back down next to me.

  I had a million questions, but only one mattered at the moment.

  “Why?”

  It took him a moment to form his answer. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t know why himself, or if he was thinking of what to say to convince me, but I sat there patiently and waited.

  “Because I’d like to see you in my bed,” he said sincerely. “Because I’d like to get to know you, the real you, and because, after everything you endured tonight, I do believe you deserve a reward.”

  His last reasoning made my heart beat out of my chest. I really fucking hoped my reward was a quick and mind blowing release. But, his other reasons had stuck with me as well. He wanted to get to know me. Not “little sub” me, but the real me. The real Maggie. I didn’t know if he’d like the real Maggie, hell, sometimes I didn’t like the real Maggie.

  “What do you say?” he asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

  “I want to, but I don’t know. What about Polly and Master Chase? What will they think? How will I get home? How am I supposed to act when I’m there? Do I call you Sir? Wha--” he cut me off, pressing his lips to my own.

  When he disengaged, he looked me in the eye. “We will tell them you’re staying with me tonight. Who cares what they think? I will take you home tomorrow. You’ll act respectfully, but casual. You can call me Jackson. There. Does that answer all of your questions?”

  No, I thought, a thousand more swirling inside, but for now, I would keep my mouth closed. I really did want to go home with him, not just for the reward, but for the chance to get to know him better too.

  “Yes,” I responded to his question, “And yes, I’ll stay the night with you.”

  His response was a flash of his pearly white teeth, right before his mouth descended on mine again for a toe curling kiss that left me breathless and on the edge of release, all over again.

  Standing in front of his locked door, I had not only been a little shocked, I had been really confused. After I said yes, we had both had gotten dressed and picked up the room. The cleaning service, he explained, would be by in the morning to get everything back to its normal state.

  Grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the room, he headed right instead of left, to a door I had missed both times I had come down this hallway. It was locked, but he quickly inserted the key and opened the door, revealing the back of the club. A hundred feet away stood a large single story house, t
he garage on the left connecting with the club itself.

  I felt my mouth drop open. I knew he owned the club, but I didn’t know he basically lived here as well.

  Seeing my confusion, he spoke up, “The ‘garage’ is actually my home office and business office, and it connects to the club. The door is right behind the bar.”

  I couldn’t do anything else, but nod. I had assumed we would be travelling by car to his residence, but it seemed, with my heels in hand, I just had to walk a few feet and I’d be there. The tension in my body rocketed sky high. There was no turning back now.

  He must have felt my unease because he took me into his arms and held me for a minute until my posture relaxed into his.

  “Are you ok, Maggie?”

  “Yes, I’m, I’m good. Promise,” I smiled up at him.

  There was no reason for me to be nervous just because he lived behind the club. My imagination was getting me into trouble again.

  When the door flew open and he flipped on the light switch, I took a moment to admire the room in front of me. It spoke of pure, untainted bachelor status, with a black leather sectional taking up a chunk of space to my right and a massive TV against the wall. It was obvious this space was all male.

  The entire room before me was completely open, not a single wall or half wall separating the different sections of the house. The far right corner sported a wide open kitchen with a butcher's block counter, island, and stainless steel appliances. To my left, a pool table dominated the space surrounded by a few heavily filled bookcases, and to the back left, a dining room table and chairs.

  The space was clean and modern, but had no feminine touches in sight. There were no flowers or family photos to be seen. No pretty rugs or knick knacks on the shelves. This was a space that, it was painfully obvious, had never known a woman’s touch. My chest tightened for a moment with the realization that he had never had a woman live here with him. At least, that was my assumption.