Safeword: Mayday by Candace Blevins

Chapter 19

Heather entered the great room twenty-five minutes later, and her gaze went straight to the ropes hanging from one of the colossal beams overhead. There was also a fancy sawhorse, but with leather padding on it at various places, and extra bits on the legs.

She looked at Marcus, expecting he’d explain, but he nodded to the wrist cuffs on the coffee table and said, “If you were submissive to me then you would bring me the cuffs, kneel before me, and ask me to put them on you. But tonight you are my bottom, not my submissive, so you can put them on yourself, and then I’ll check them and show you the correct tightness once you think you have them right.”

She walked to the chair by the table and sat. She started with her right wrist, struggling a bit to get it on with her left hand, but finally managed it. It was easier to thread the second strap with her right hand, and easier to maneuver the buckle mechanism to get it secured.

When she was done, he sat in the chair beside her and told her, “I’m going to point out the differences for just a little longer, to be sure you understand. If you’d agreed to submit to me, you would come to me — I would not come to you, as I’ve just done.

These are small shows of power, nothing drastic, but each little piece adds up. Kyle thrives on that kind of thing. He doesn’t need cruelty, he just needs someone who gives lots of reminders of who is in charge and who is not. Reminders can be subtle; they don’t have to be over the top.”

“And eventually, I’m going to need to submit, in order to see that for myself?”

“Maybe, maybe not. As I said, we can have that discussion in another four to six weeks. It’s possible that just bottoming to me will give you what you need. I honestly don’t know at this point. Once I come to a conclusion of whether I think it’s needed, I will advise you, but it’ll be your decision.”

“Fair enough. What happens now?”

“Now I’m going to blindfold you, then take your robe off, and then walk you across the room and restrain you with your arms above your head.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to walk me over there and then blindfold me?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re going to blindfold me first? I appreciate that you’ve tried to show me the difference in how I’d be treated as a submissive versus how you are treating me tonight, but this still feels an awful lot like submitting.”

“As my bottom tonight, we must establish trust. This is part of it.”

She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to get on with it.

“For the record,” he said dryly, “if you were my submissive tonight, you’d be punished for insolence.”

“Should I punish Kyle for that kind of thing?”

“That’s between the two of you. Some Doms are okay with a certain amount of cutting up, others have what they call formal rules and relaxed rules. I’d be okay with it during relaxed rules, but with cuffs on your wrists, the rules would be formal, so it would be punished.”

“Can we please get started before I get overwhelmed?” Heather didn’t get overwhelmed, but it seemed easier to say it this way, rather than to admit she was in danger of losing her nerve. The idea of being walked while blindfolded was a little terrifying.

“Thank you for the please. And yes, we may.”

He slipped the simple mask over her head and the room went dark. It was lightweight, but it completely blocked all light. She tried moving her eyeballs to look up and down, right and left, but couldn’t see a hint of light. She felt him release the belt on the robe, and then felt his hands on her shoulders, and then down her arms, removing the robe. The cabin was warm, but she felt the cooler air on her body. On her nipples.

He must’ve just laid it to the side, as she only felt one hand come off of her and then right back to her shoulder. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“I need you to answer me verbally with a yes or no, please.”

“Yes, it’s okay. Or as okay as it can probably be, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. Walk with me. Trust that I won’t walk you into anything. I know it’s hard, but we don’t have far to go.”

The first step wasn’t terrible, but only because she knew what had been directly in front of her. Each step was harder, because she knew less about where she was walking. She went slow, stubbornly holding back when he clearly wanted her to move faster.

It occurred to her she wasn’t doing as he’d asked — trusting him. And what was the worst that could happen? She’d run into something. It wasn’t like she was in a cave where she could step into a fifty-feet-deep hole. She took a deep breath, felt a reassuring squeeze to her arm from his hand, and started walking at a normal speed, trusting he would steer her safely. Seven steps later, he brought them to a halt, “Thank you for your trust. I am honored.”

“No sense half-way doing this. I either trust you or I don’t, right?”

She felt his lips on her forehead above the mask, a gentle, warm, affectionate kiss.

And then he lifted her right hand and felt around the cuff, and did the same to the left.

He adjusted the left, fiddling with the buckle only a few seconds before releasing it. “You had the right one on good, but the left one was a notch too tight. Your hand would’ve gotten cold or gone to sleep before long. We’ll talk about that more later.”

He raised her arms and secured them above her head, explaining as he worked, and she wondered at that, remembering that he’d said he wanted her to feel and not analyze tonight, “I’m attaching a telescoping bar to your wrists.” Once both were connected, he said, “Now I’ll pull it apart. You’ll hear the clicks as it lengthens, spreading your arms apart.”

She felt the difference in having her arms directly over her head, and in having them restrained far apart. Less control on her part, more restriction. It felt as if she was more open, more vulnerable. It didn’t make sense, but she’d have never understood this difference unless she’d experienced it.

She felt something wrap around her ankle, and he said, “For safety reasons tonight, I need to immobilize you as much as possible. Hitting a moving target with a whip can be dangerous, and I don’t know how much you’re going to want to move around. Some people go still and just feel the sensations, other’s need to fight it every step of the way.”

Whatever he attached the ankle cuffs to, it spread her legs apart, making her feel even more open. More vulnerable.

Next came the coconut oil, and it was warm, almost hot, and she felt the heat soaking into her skin as he rubbed it on her back, then her ass and the backs of her legs, and finally, her chest and stomach, down to almost her knees.

The combination of the conversation, the restraints, and now the warm oil on her skin had her pulse racing, her clit throbbing, and even her nipples felt different. She wondered at first if it was a chemical warmth, as the ginger had been, but then decided he must have a fondue pot with the oil in it somewhere close. She gasped when his hand went from her bellybutton down to her folds, opening her. She tried to pull her legs together, but she couldn’t, and she moaned in frustration when her pulse sped and she felt her rapid heartbeat in her clit.

He ran his finger around her clit, and then she felt his other hand at her ass, a finger gently working its way inside her. She moaned again, and flexed her hips, feeling herself starting to move, to try to bring relief to the feelings he was stirring up in her. He added a finger in her ass, stretching it more open. Having something in her bottom had felt so wrong the first time, and it still did, but not quite as wrong as before. She wanted it there despite how not-right it felt.

His fingers slid out, leaving her, but then something else touched the outside of her asshole and she felt it coming in. Hard and smooth. Pushing. Pressing. Invading.

“Relax for me Heather, it’s a touch bigger than you’ve had before, but I know you can take it. Relax. Allow it in for me. That’s good, there you go.” She almost safeworded at the burn and stretch because it felt as if he had to be causing damage, but then the pressure suddenly lessened, and he said, “All the way in. Excellent. Now for a reward.”

She felt it come alive in her ass, and she moaned and tried to fuck the air. She realized she had to look ridiculous — she couldn’t move her hips much with the way he had her restrained, and even at that, to just be standing there, roped into position, moving her hips as if she were being fucked, but he said, “Beautiful Heather. I love seeing you like this.”

His voice came from a bit farther away and he asked, “Ready?”

She nodded at the same time she remembered he wanted her to say it out loud, so she said, “Yes” before he had a chance to remind her again.

And then, impact — to the area below her left shoulder. Harsh. Heavy. Leather thudding against skin, but it didn’t hurt.

An identical strike fell on the right side, and as she was analyzing how it felt, the strands started hitting left then right then left then right. He established a rhythm of about one strike every three seconds, and each impact had a lot of weight behind it. She absolutely felt it, but it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t exactly a caress, either, but it wasn’t bad. The tempo, the sounds; it all worked together, and suddenly, her bondage was a support, rather than an annoyance.

Thirty seconds into it, she relaxed and let the sensations hit her. She leaned her head forward as if she were looking at her feet, and then back up as if she were looking straight ahead, experimenting with the sensations. The strikes stayed at the same weight and the same rhythm for a while, and then everything shifted.

Now he was hitting her ass. The same weight and impact, or possibly a little harder. She could feel the skin and muscles moving — compressing and bouncing back.

She’d forgotten about the vibrator in her ass, and had no idea when he’d turned it off. Now that he was hitting her butt, she felt it holding her open, felt the muscles protesting as they were struck.

The strikes on her ass felt like he might be gradually hitting harder, but the rhythm was the same... right side, left side, right side, left side. It was like a meditation, and she sank into the sensations, the rhythm, the smells.

Some time later — ten minutes? Thirty? She had no idea, but everything stopped, Marcus moved around a little, and then there was another sensation. Sharp. Hot. It stung, but it was exactly right. Whatever this was, it was still leather, but it felt completely different. There was pain this time, but she wanted it. Needed it.

“Harder, please.”

She heard, “My pleasure,” and then she got her wish.

The rhythm picked up and the impact levels increased. Before long she felt more than warmth. Heat. Burning.

She started moving around a little, as much as her restraints would allow — not so much to avoid the lashes, but because she just couldn’t stand still. Her arousal levels were off the charts. She needed an orgasm, and the strikes hurt, but she wanted them to hurt more. She wanted to feel this pain. It was almost like when she used to cut herself, back when she’d thought it helped her feel alive, and she wanted that now. “Please, more, harder, I need... I don’t know what I need, I just need more.”

Without pausing, the strikes began landing on her upper back, and she gasped.

Maybe she’d been wrong, and this wasn’t leather? Each strand felt as if it delivered a line of fire to her naked skin, and there were a lot of strands hitting at once. It hurt — there was actual pain — but she didn’t want it to stop.

She marveled at that, the pain she felt, each lash making her more and more alive, and somehow, more relaxed with each strike.

Heather needed to come. Her clit throbbed, her insides felt empty. “I want... please, Marcus, I want to come... this isn’t enough, please help me.”

“You’ll come several times before I’m through. For now, trust that I know how to build up to those earthshattering orgasms you like so much. Trust, Heather. Feel the sensations. Let the orgasm build in you.”

“I want more Marcus. Please. More sensations. More pain. Please.”

The flogging stopped. “I can do that. We’ll start with six strikes of a cane. You may want to safeword a few seconds after the first strike. I’m going to ask, if you can handle it, that you allow for three of them before making that decision. If it’s truly too much, please safeword immediately, but if you can hold for three, I think they’ll work for you.”

She was out of breath, from just standing still. “Yes, okay.”

Not even a minute later, something hit both sides of her ass at once. A single horizontal line, but it wasn’t so bad... until... a line of fire ignited across every nerve ending the cane had struck. She noisily inhaled air until her lungs were beyond full; every muscle frozen in place except her diaphragm.

The heat and weight of Marcus’s hand touched her shoulder, and it grounded her, gave her another sensation to concentrate on. Was it possible for someone to create this much actual pain without causing damage? She hadn’t thought so, and then the second strike landed and this time she was ready for the lightning strike to her nerve endings that came just afterwards, or she thought she was.

She screamed out every bit of air she’d just dragged into her chest. The hand on her shoulder moved to her left breast, circling the nipple, and then squeezing her entire breast. She gasped at the sensation, and then the third strike landed across her ass cheeks and she was going to remain silent this time, but then the pain registered and she heard her shrieks echoing off the walls and back to her once again.

His hand left her breast and he must’ve moved to her other side, because before she was ready for the next strike, one landed from the opposite direction, but it wasn’t quite as harsh, and she only needed to gasp when the secondary pain hit this time. She was trying to catch her breath, not knowing when the next strike would land, when one landed under her cheeks, on the top of her thighs, immediately followed by one to her ass again. Overwhelmed by the pain, she gave a full-throated scream and tried to lift herself up by her wrists, but her feet were bound in place, and she couldn’t.

Marcus’s arms came around her from behind, his front to her back, the heat of his body against the heat of hers, and she felt the places he’d struck with the floggers and the cane — hotter than the rest of her.

He plucked at her nipples, massaged her breasts, and then reached down between her legs to play with her clit. He kept at it until she was moaning and thrusting her hips, fruitlessly trying to come, and then he stepped back. “I want to use a single tail on you, Heather. My intention is to make you orgasm from the pain. It’s going to hurt so much worse than the cane.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I want you to orgasm from the agony I pile onto you, lash after lash after lash, can you do that for me?”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to see.”

“That’s all I can ask of you. I’m going to step away from you now. You’re safe, but it’s going to hurt, and I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”

She nodded, and thankfully he didn’t insist she speak. She didn’t know how much time passed, and she heard the sound of air. A lot of air, followed by what she thought might be a gunshot, but she didn’t feel anything.

“Marcus?”

“It’s okay. I’m just warming up. That’s the sound of the single tail. I’ll let you know when it’s coming so you can be prepared. Just relax a few minutes, and listen.”

She heard him pop it again and again, at least a half dozen times, and her fear climbed with every snap.

Finally, he told her, “Okay, Heather, here it comes.”

Pain exploded in her right ass cheek. Not a sensation she’d been taught to identify as pain, but actual, excruciating pain. She screamed, and was about to yell out her safeword, but then the butt plug came to life in her ass and she remembered she was horny, and the pain blurred into something else. It still hurt like a motherfucker, but she didn’t want Marcus to stop.

She was terrified for the next strike, but she was also scared it wouldn’t hit. And then pain exploded in her left ass cheek and she screamed again — and then felt herself tipping over the edge. The sensations in her body floated up and detonated, like fireworks, all over her body. He was with her now, hands on her nipples, squeezing them, twisting them, hurting them, “That’s it, come for me Heather.”

Overwhelmed by pain, pleasure, and too many other sensations to try to name, Heather let it all take over, like a tidal wave inundating her, sweeping her up on the shore, and then out to sea. Her entire body spasmed, pulling at the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, fighting to jerk and release despite the bondage, or maybe in part because of it.

The release lasted forever, her inner muscles squeezing and flexing around the plug in her ass, her pussy flexing around nothing. Every time she thought the orgasm was dying down, he’d do something else — run his hand around her clit, or pull at her nipples, or turn the vibrator in her ass up even more. Once he gave her ass ten hard hand-spanks right over where the last whip had landed, and it was like a whole new tidal wave drowning her in pain and sensation while her insides rocketed with pleasure.

When she at last hung by her wrists, wrung out as one does a dishrag, she felt him releasing her from the spreader bar over her head and realized her ankles had already been released. His strong arms lifted her like a baby, carried her through the house, then gently settled her on the bed, on her side. The plug was still in her asshole, spreading it wide, though it was turned off. She wanted to ask him to take it out, but she couldn’t form words.

“Can you hear me, Heather?”

She tried to say yes, tried to nod, but couldn’t do it. After a few attempts she realized she could make a fist, so she made a fist and did what she hoped was a “yes” signal with her hand, nodding it as if it were her head.

“I’ll take that as a yes. If you wanted to say ‘no’ that way, what would you do?”

She rotated her wrist sideways and he said, “Very good. Looks like you’re a little overwhelmed, which is perfectly normal. I’m going to rub some soothing lotion on your back, ass, and legs. You may take the blindfold off at any time. You aren’t restrained, and the lights are turned down low.”

She made a “yes” with her right hand again, and the bed sank down beside her.

This time, he rubbed something cooling on her skin, soothing the heat, and she rolled to her stomach so he could reach every place he’d struck. He moved from her back, to her ass and then to the backs of her thighs, and before she knew it, she was moving around again, her clit throbbing, her pussy empty, and her asshole still filled and spread by the plug.

“God. It isn’t possible for me to be horny again, is it?”

He jiggled the butt plug, and she pushed her ass up, towards him.

“I want to take you here, Heather, but I won’t do it unless you ask me to.”

Heather stilled, and he went back to rubbing the cooling mixture into her ass, making sure to jostle the vibrating plug every once in a while, ramping her arousal levels higher and higher.

She was a bundle of conflict: on the one hand, she wanted more orgasms, and the idea of him taking her that way excited her. On the other hand, she loved Kyle, and she was still conflicted about that. As if reading her mind, Marcus asked, “What did Kyle say to you, before you got off the phone?”

“He said…” She blew out a breath. “He said no regrets, to go with what feels right. He’s okay with anything the two of us do as long as you don’t submit to me. Did you tell him to say that?”

“I did not, but knowing Kyle as I do, his last words to you would be something to put your mind at ease, so it was a lucky guess. Your options right now are a sixty-nine with me on top, or for me to fuck your ass, or you can say your safeword. What’s it going to be?”

When Heather didn’t answer, he said, “Are you going to ask me to fuck your throat, or your ass? What do you want?”

His voice was calm, soothing, but his words were crude, and it just made her hornier. She was supposed to be having new experiences here, right? She started to take the blindfold off, but realized it’d be easier to do this in the dark. “My ass, Marcus. Please fuck my ass.”

His hands skated down the sides of her spine, from her shoulders, past her shoulder blades, through the small of her back. His fingers made a circle around her sacrum and then came together to trail down the crack of her ass.

“Stay put. You can lift your ass a little off the bed if you want, but don’t come all the way to your knees.”

She felt him moving around behind her, then heard the sound of a condom opening, and ten seconds later she felt him grasping the plug. He pulled it just hard enough she wanted to go to her knees for relief, but not enough to pull it out. “It’s my intention to give you lots of sensation. If something hurts, remember yellow and mayday, but I’ll be listening to the sound of your voice, and I think I know you well enough by now to know the difference between a good ouch and a bad one. Spread your legs for me, please.”

She did, and then jerked a little when he pushed down on her sacrum to keep her in place before pressing something rather large into her pussy. Whatever it was went all the way in, so it was no longer holding the outside parts of her open.

And then it started vibrating, and Heather involuntarily let out a stuttering “Oh” that lasted about ten seconds, and was at least three octaves lower than she was aware her voice could go.

“I love your reactions. Put your legs back together now.”

It was an order rather than a request, but Heather did it without thinking.

Strong hands pulled the plug again, and this time, with enough pressure to remove it. She felt something else enter her ass, super thin, and it was only in an instant before it was removed, and then the head of his cock was at her entrance, pushing its way in.

She wanted it inside of her, she felt empty without the plug, and she desperately needed to be filled again. He’d told her not to go to her knees, and that meant she couldn’t back up on to it, couldn’t make him go faster. His legs squeezed against the outside of hers, holding her legs together, squeezing her around whatever was vibrating away inside her pussy.

The head of his cock opened her, and the little ridge behind it went past the ring of muscles she’d never been quite so aware of before. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but she felt every millimeter of him as he drove in.

Marcus stopped pressing in with a small shudder. “You are so fucking tight, it’s taking all my willpower to go slow.”

“Then don’t go slow. Just fuck me. Please. I need something to make me come, please make me come again.”

“I’m going to take my time going in so I can make sure you can handle me. Once I’m in, I’ll give you what you need. Patience, grasshopper.”

As soon as the word grasshopper registered in her brain, something snapped, and her body figured out some kind of modified push up that lifted her butt and pushed back onto his cock all at once, sinking him into her a good three or four inches.

It hurt, but it was a good hurt, and she gritted her teeth and told him, “I’m not a fucking grasshopper. Now fuck me. Dammit.”

He leaned forward, grabbed her wrists, and pulled them around her, pressing them into the small of her back. This put her chest onto the bed, her ass sticking up in the air, impaled.

“Say please.” It was clearly a command, but Heather wasn’t in the mood to submit. She tried to move herself on his cock, but he lifted up on her hands when she did, lightly torquing her shoulders to still her. “Say please Heather. Are you aiming to see if you can make me punish you? Are you ready to bring that into our play?”

“No. I don’t know.” Maybe, but not if it meant pulling his dick out of her ass. “Not now. I just want you to fuck me, Marcus. Please. I need something. I need more.”

He let go of her hands and she tried to put them back, but realized the cuffs from earlier were still on her wrists, and he’d attached them together.

He put one hand at the top of each thigh, right where her legs bent into her hips, and said, “Ah, there’s the magic word. Hang on, my beautiful little Spitfire. Oh, I forgot, you can’t do that right now.”

And then he pulled back until he was almost out and slammed back into her, knocking the breath from her lungs as he impaled her on his beautiful, long, fat cock.

He was all the way in now, the front of his thighs against the back of hers, and Heather froze, spread open, violated. No, that wasn’t right. She’d asked him in. Still, she felt violated, but in a good way.

“Am I giving you too long to think?” He asked, a touch of humor in his voice. “I need a verbal check-in, my little Spitfire. You good?”

“I will be as soon as I can orgasm again.”

He pulled out slowly, so there was barely any friction, paused, and then slammed back into her, one hard thrust that filled her so completely she couldn’t manage the scream that wanted to come out.

He only paused a few seconds this time, and then he was suddenly pistoning in and out of her, and the thing in her pussy was turned all the way up, and she was trying to moan and scream but her vocalizations sounded like some kind of drumbeat because he was pounding into her — like when someone beat on your back as a child while you sang, making your voice come out funny.

She took another breath and then felt his hand at her clit.

“Come for me Heather.”

It was an unmistakable order, and her body obeyed — squirming, twisting, and spasming until she was flat on the bed, and he rode her down and stayed fucking buried in her ass. Her body contracted and jerked around whatever was in her pussy, rippled and tightened around his cock spreading her asshole wider than anything he’d yet to put inside her. The sensations pushed her orgasm even higher, and she felt her shoulders and feet shuddering too, then she heard him growling behind her, and felt him coming into the condom in her ass.

When it was over, she felt like melted jello. No way would she be able to get her muscles to do anything; they were completely useless. She felt the loss of him like an ache, and the sounds she heard told her he was taking the condom off and cleaning himself up, then his fingers were back at her pussy, pulling whatever had been inside, out.

It was some kind of orb, but it must’ve had wires sticking out that he’d used to remove it.

Next, he used what felt like a warm baby wipe to clean her ass, and he finally released the wrist cuffs from each other.

She rolled to her back as he leaned over the side of the bed, she assumed to throw away the baby wipe, and she reached to unbuckle the wrist cuffs because she didn’t want him using them on her again. Or, at least not in the next hour. Her fingers fumbled the buckle, though, so she gave up and put her arms back beside her.

“I know I said I’d let you decide when to take the blindfold off, but I’m ready to see your eyes.”

She felt his hands on her cheeks and then felt him lifting the blindfold. She slowly opened her eyes to look at him, and his face swam into focus in the dim light.

He touched her cheek. “There you are. You were magnificent. Here let me get these for you.”

He gently removed the cuffs and set them on the nightstand, and then wrapped his arms around her again, folding her into his strength. How could he hurt her one moment, and represent safety and comfort the next?

“How do you feel?”

“Umm, like I’ve been whipped and fucked? But in a good way, not a bad way.” Her voice came out drowsy. “I also feel like I’ve had a few joints, but I haven’t done weed in years. What’s up with that?”

“Endorphins. It’s called subspace. Maybe it should be called bottomspace instead, tonight.”

“Thank you, Marcus. I...” There was too much going through her head, and she had no idea how to put it into sentences, so she repeated herself and just said, “Thank you.”

“Sshhhh. Close your eyes and float for me. There’ll be plenty of time for talking later.”