Chapter 38 – Keyshawn
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Keyshawn
Months later…
D eacon isn’t in bed when I wake up, but there’s a card in a red envelope on his pillow. I yawn and lazily pry open the envelope. It’s so early in the morning, I don’t know how he had time to do all of this.
We haven’t had sex in months and I don’t care how much he tries to kiss up to me with flowers and chocolate. Just because I’m a mother doesn’t mean I stopped having needs. If anything, I miss sex. The thought of sex makes me feel like it’s something the “old me” did, and I need to feel like the “old me” sometimes to cope with the massive change in our lives.
Deacon has me intrigued because when I pry open the envelope, I don’t find yet another gift card to a designer store. It’s a handwritten note. In cursive. I honestly didn’t know this man could write cursive. I flip the paper open and my brain has to slow down to understand every curly word .
My dearest wife,
I humbly request your company for the grand opening of our new sound-proof playroom. Since our dearest son has finally started to sleep through the night, I can think of no better way or occasion to celebrate. Please present yourself fully naked at the foot of the bed on your knees by 8:30 p.m. sharp.
I miss your lips.
Forever yours,
Deacon Hollingsworth
This dramatic ass man actually signed his last name. I can’t even mentally push him away for that because I have been downright desperate for this for way too long. Just the mention of the playroom gets me wet. The schedule works perfectly for my plans to get John Henry down for a few hours and I’ll have plenty of time to shower and prepare myself.
Hey, it’s not like I need to pick an outfit.
I just need to kneel and turn my brain off.
My ass tingles instinctively at the thought of Deacon inflicting fresh new torture on me. We discussed this several times in the past. His needs haven’t changed because I gave birth to a baby. Our mutual need for intensity remains. I can’t believe I’m in a situation where I genuinely miss the fucked up way Deacon treats me in his playroom but… it’s just the truth.
The pain he causes isn’t regular pain. It’s transformative. Special. And pushing my limits in our playroom gives me this sense of ease and freedom I can’t get anywhere else. It’s so fucking relieving to just turn my mind off with a big, sexy man that I can actually trust to give me pain and pleasure without pushing it way too far.
Deacon’s handwritten note works perfectly to build my excitement for the day. Not like I don’t enjoy feeding every two hours and changing out one vomit soaked shirt for another on roughly the same schedule. That weird cycle is oddly fulfilling, but I’m still over the damn moon about our first time together since the baby.
It’s one of those weird days where you get nothing done and before you know it, you have to jump in the shower and go somewhere. In my case, “somewhere” just means kneeling at the foot of my bed without a stitch of clothing on. I’m so excited to meet Deacon like this that I get in the shower forty-five minutes early and scrub every inch of my body so clean that my skin is raw.
We’ll most likely end up in the tub again tonight, but I have to do what I can to take the impatient edge off of waiting for my husband to get home. Mr. Hollingsworth.
I kneel ten minutes before Deacon commanded me to be ready for him. I have too much time to think on my knees like this. My heart races. What if he changes his mind? What if we can't have the excitement anymore? What if we lost our spark with each other?
Ten minutes is way too early for just kneeling on the floor... But I don't want to leave my position and accidentally fall asleep. My desire for connection with Deacon is too strong and my obedience gives both of us exactly what we need. I can let my mind go and let this strong, gentle giant take complete control over me.
I hear his Toyota 4Runner in the driveway, purring gently when he finally arrives home. Goosebumps break out over every inch of my skin. Daddy's home. Deacon has always had an insane amount of patience and the amount of time we've spent away from his playroom doesn't change his behavior in the slightest. The front door to the house opens. Keys jingle together and then he rests them on the counter. (The hook is right there but he never remembers it). I imagine him taking his long-sleeved leather cut off and exposing the white-button down he wears underneath when he works late.
He looks so fucking hot when he rolls the sleeve up halfway up his forearm, exposing his tattoos. My heart beats more intensely as I listen to Deacon's footsteps moving with slow precision towards our bedroom. He opens the door and exhales slowly. I keep my gaze averted, even if it's pure torture. I can't see anything yet, but he turns on a small lamp with a warm yellow light. I can see his shadow across the floor.
It gets harder to breathe. A wet patch grows between my legs. Deacon stands in front of me. Black jeans and plain white socks. It's a small detail, but the absence of his shoes signals his impatience to me. Continuing to breathe slowly, he unbuckles his belt and exposes his cock. Deacon's dick nearly hits me in the face because that man is fully hard already. I haven't touched him or said a word to him but the thought of what we're about to do tonight already has the tip of his cock oozing with excitement.
His fingers sink into my hair as he grabs the top of my head and establishes the firm grasp of my hair necessary for him to control my pace. He moves my head and his cock so the tip of his dick pushes past my lips. I only have an instant to adjust and Deacon doesn't have the patience of desire to take things slow with me anymore. He slides his cock as deep as he can with one stroke and my body jerks forward as the tip scrapes the back of my throat. I gag and let spit build up around his shaft so I can take him more easily while he fucks my mouth.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as oxygen struggles to get through my nose. Just when I can't stand the lack of airflow, Deacon pulls his dick out of my mouth to allow a moment of reprieve before sliding all the way back in.
I love how Deacon’s cock feels sliding down my throat. I spread my lips wider and tilt my head back so more air can seep in through my nose and I can take him deeper, demonstrating my willingness to submit to his cock in hopes that he punishes me thoroughly in the playroom and we can keep our kinky connection alive.
“Fuck, your lips feel good,” Deacon whispers. He pulls his dick almost entirely out of my mouth, allowing the tip to continue oozing with desire for me as I stick my tongue out and feel the heat coming off the tip of his dick. I look up at him from my knees, watching Deacon’s desire for me bring all of his strong, masculine facial features into sharp control.
Our eye contact is too much for either of us to really resist. Deacon releases his grip on my hair and I have to silence my brief moment of internal disappointment. I have to trust his plan for me, trust the months of preparation that went into the new playroom he designed specifically for me.
“I love you,” Deacon whispers, withdrawing his dick completely, but giving me the verbal reassurance that we’re nowhere near done for the night.
“Stand,” he commands, leaving nothing for me to imagine or think about tonight. I get to experience either pain or pleasure at this man’s hands. We both share the desire to mix pain and pleasure together. I stand up, feeling petite next to Deacon, which is a rare feeling considering I’m a few inches taller than the average woman. Still, tiny compared to him.
His eyes never leave mine, even if his hardness tells me he must be tempted to take the rest of me in, if not fuck me right here on the bed. Or on the floor.
“Playroom,” he instructs, his hand wandering to my ass. I shiver as he gropes my ass cheek, half expecting him to hit me. Not yet. He’s not ready to unleash his kinky desires on my butt yet, but teasing is another part of his game. We walk towards the hidden door, behind a bookshelf again. This time, the entrance switch hides behind a hollowed out copy of “Dracula”. Deacon let me pick the book and he said it couldn’t be Heather Gay’s “Bad Mormon”, so I picked something more classic.
The scent of fresh paint lingers, but the perfume-saturated velvet overpowers the paint. Deacon pushes against my ass to get me into the playroom, but he doesn’t turn the light on until he shuts the door behind us and cuts us off from hearing anything outside the playroom.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ve set an alarm to go off if John Henry wakes up.”
“Will we hear it?”
He pushes hair away from my neck and kisses the exposed spot softly. “Not your concern. I’m going to turn on the light and show you the exact spot I’m going to spank your ass every time you disobey me, turn me on, or just… whenever the mood strikes me.”
Deacon squeezes my ass cheek and my pussy dribbles involuntarily. I almost slam my hand behind me to reach for the light switch, but I force myself to show the slightest bit of patience, allowing Deacon to unveil his hard work to me at his own pace, even if it frustrates the hell out of me to wait so long after already waiting for what continues to feel like an eternity.
Deacon exercises his preference for dimly lit rooms and the black velvet only makes it harder to see. But my eyes are hungry for light and even hungrier for the detailed attention Deacon placed on construction here. He maintains his preference for bending me over a velvet platform to take me from behind and conduct various spanking-related experiments, but I can observe from my first glance that this platform is shaped specifically to my body, made perfectly for my height.
The floor is also soft, with a padded, velvet carpet that smells brand new. Deacon reaches around to grab my ass again and makes no effort to restrain his desire to touch me. His fingers slide between my lower lips, which are slippery enough that the pads of his fingertips brush against both my pussy and asshole.
Deacon leans forward to kiss my neck, his lips practically burning with heat. I can taste the emotion on his lips and feel just how much he’s restraining himself here.
“I want to spank your ass so hard,” he whispers. “But is it all different now? Am I screwed up for that?”
His hand lingers on my butt cheeks. Then he separates my cheeks and runs his thumb from my soaked pussy lips all the way to my asshole. I shiver, but don’t dare make a sound that risks dragging Deacon out of this moment. He can’t seriously expect me to think right now, especially not after this much time away from his rougher urges.
“If it’s too much, you need to use a safe word,” he says. “Something you would never say in bed…”
“Patrick Mahomes…”
“Just hearing his name gets me mad…”
Deacon hates the Chiefs and I hope teasing him with that name pushes him not to go easy on me.
“Platform,” Deacon commands. He’s urgent. Firm. Everything I need him to be right now. I leave the warmth of standing next to him and try not to race to the platform. I should savor this — my first time in our new playroom. The closer I get to the platform, the more my pussy drips with excitement. I want him to spank me hard. I want him to be relentless and brutal — prove his love by doing something that he could only do to me…
I bend over before he instructs me to do so, but Deacon shares my urgency and doesn’t reprimand me. He stands behind me and I half expect him to slide inside me without waiting — make the punishment even worse by making me wait longer for the mixture of pain and pleasure that we spare together. I couldn’t get that lucky. Deacon groans once I bend over.
“You have the sweetest ass,” he whispers.
He pauses to breathe deeply and admire me. I don’t dare speak and interrupt this moment. He spent months planning this. Even longer. I should know Deacon well enough by now to know that this won’t be over quickly. He exhales slowly with a breath so steady that his levels of control concern me.
“How could I ever imagine going easy on that ass?” Deacon says with a low growl. “I would be out of my fucking mind… ”
I won’t lie, his continued desire for me reassures me. We share this dark desire together. And he has been so damn patient… Deacon’s hand wanders over my ass cheeks and down my thighs. He squeezes my tight hamstrings and then his hand wanders back up to my ass.
“You don’t get to choose tonight,” he says. “I have big plans for you… Huge…”
His thumb wanders between my ass cheeks and then past my tight back door down to the first knuckle on his thumb. I don’t gasp out loud but my body tenses instantly in surprise. Shockingly, Deacon has never gone back there before. He never threatened or so much as hinted he might have any interest in my ass before.
But now…
His thumb wriggles around a little more and then he groans as he slides the thumb all the way inside my ass. I relax my body instinctively. The only way I can see myself getting through this is if I trust him — not resist him. Deacon groans and slides his thumb out before pushing it all the way back in again.
“I need to feel that tight hole gripping the fuck out of my dick the second I’m done turning your sweet ass purple.”
He withdraws his thumb suddenly and guilt surges in my chest as my desire for him swells and I can’t even hide it because my pussy dribbles excitedly all over my thighs. I never sat around thinking about taking a man’s dick in my ass, I’ll be honest, but the idea of doing it with Deacon gives me a craving for it that I didn’t know I had.
There are so many little parts of the experience I want to share with him, even if right now my first thought is how gross it’s going to be. If he cared… I guess he wouldn’t have his thumb up there. I don’t have more time to think about my pending anal penetration. The moment of relief Deacon so ge nerously bestowed on me disappears once I watch him approach the black drawers fastened to the playroom wall.
He conceals all the toys in this playroom on purpose to give himself additional control. From my position, I can just hear him open the drawers and feel my butthole pulsing in discomfort from Deacon’s previous intrusion. The velvet platform grazes against my nipples, but the fabric is too soft to be really uncomfortable.
Deacon takes a painfully long time to select the weapon he wants to spank me with. My heart drops to my stomach when I see it. I should have known he would pick the most sadistic weapon after waiting this long to have my ass. And secretly, I wanted him not to go easy on me. I wanted him to prove that we still have the capacity for intense passion from before the baby.
Facing the reality of the riding crop is much different from my fantasy. Deacon turns to me wielding it with obvious pleasure, and he teases me further with his words.
“I’ll be easing you into things tonight,” he says calmly. “Only ten. But… if you squeal or make any loud noises, we’ll have to begin again.”
Bastard. He knows this isn’t “easing me into things”, but he also knows that I’ll rise to the challenge. The inner control freak that makes me perfectly submissive to him in these sexual situations comes from my masochistic need to rise to any challenge — especially a physical one that ends in orgasms like the ones I get from Deacon’s dick.
“No complaints,” he says, barely concealing his giddiness. “Perfect.”
He positions himself behind me. I barely have time to get a deep breath in before I feel the leather crop biting into my ass and stealing a piece of my flesh with it. I know his first strike drew blood, but I don’t dare make a sound. Nine more. I can survive nine more. Even if it’s been forever.
I want to prove to Deacon that the special intimacy we share still lives. He strikes my ass again more gently the second time. “Gentle” by the standards of the riding crop is still enough that I have to engage my entire mental capacity not to flinch or cry out. The next four become a blur. But I keep count, slowly repeating the number in my head.
Six. Six. We only have four more. Deacon walks away from me with the riding crop and internally, I panic. There aren’t many other responses available to me with this much adrenaline surging through my body. He rests the riding crop on top of the black drawers and then reaches inside for something. I can’t see what it is, but it must be able to fit in the palm of his hand and clearly, he doesn’t want me to see what it is.
Armed with his riding crop and the mysterious object he pulled from the drawer, Deacon positions himself behind me again. I prepare myself for another slice from the riding crop but his soft palm touches me instead. The contrast always causes my pussy to leak with the growing craving for affection that rises during our power play sessions.
His fingers move to my butthole again and I use the opportunity to focus on breathing deeply through the pain on my flesh and the cruel anticipation of the last four lashes. He wouldn’t have forgotten them, would he? And what is he doing to my ass? Deacon’s thumb slides in and out of my ass. I stifle a moan, just in case he’s trying to trick me into crying out and starting over with the riding crop.
“I got something to stretch your hole and make it easier for you to take me,” he says. “It’s a very pretty hot pink butt plug. When I’m not horny as fuck, I’ll take a picture.”
He presses the hard silicon tip of the plug against my backdoor. He must have taken some lube with him as well because I feel warm liquid sliding all over my butthole and then with a forceful push, Deacon’s hot pink butt plug spreads my ass open. He pushes it in a little more and to keep myself from screaming, I have to force my body forward and press my nipples harder against the velvet platform.
“Damn…” he whispers. “You have the perkiest ass I’ve ever seen…”
I should have known a strike would follow his compliment, but he surprises me and I almost break my focus. My ass stings. I nearly go blind from the pain and I can feel blood trickling from the opening. Three more. I only need to survive three more. Deacon wipes juices off my legs with something warm. I plant my feet harder against the ground.
The best part of this will come when I can prove to myself how much I can take. The strongest part of our bond comes from Deacon’s intimate knowledge of my limits. He knows just how much he can push me and he takes pleasure from doing it and watching my pain tolerance and obedience grow…
My body remains awake and alive for the next two lashes. But the last one might force a scream out of me, especially if Deacon hits me in a particularly cruel place.
“Last one,” he growls. “And then I’m going to slide that plug out and take your pretty ass for the first time.”
My surprise comes from how gently he hits me for the tenth strike. Bastard. He wants what he wants and tonight, he clearly had a plan. My pussy dribbles with desire and honestly confusion. How will taking him back there really feel? Could it possibly feel good? And if it hurts… How far am I really willing to go for Deacon’s pleasure?
Will my failure to take his dick up my ass change everything between us ?
Deacon leaves me no time to panic. He grips the butt plug and slides it out of my ass slowly. Every inch of me tingles with awareness of how my asshole feels with the new absence. Lubricant keeps me slippery and I feel my backdoor stretched open for Deacon. He nudges my ass with the head of his dick. My flesh stings, but I already survived the spanking. My biggest concern right now is Deacon’s dick pressed against my asshole.
He pushes forward just enough to keep me spread, but not enough to hurt me yet. This man has an enormous cock. There’s no way he’s getting inside me without causing some pain. The stinging pain from my ass taking the riding crop turns into a throbbing sensation deep within my muscles and then tingling all over my skin. His gentlest touch sends a surge of euphoria straight through me.
Deacon pushes his dick deep enough inside me that the head stretches my ass wide. I shudder and freeze in place. This is going to hurt so much more than this because Deacon has to slide so many more inches deeper in my ass. It’s hard enough to fit just the head up my ass. I have to breathe slowly to numb the pain, but Deacon pushes forward when he detects me calming down. Another inch of his cock inside me hurts.
But I want my husband to enjoy this and I want to trust him enough that I can enjoy this too. Slowly, Deacon slides his dick all the way inside my ass. He takes so long that I can adjust to each initial burst of pain. When he gets his dick inside my ass all the way to the hilt, my relief is only temporary. He has to move that dick back and forth inside my tight asshole and just getting him inside took so long.
Deacon leans over me slowly. I can feel his breath on my back and then his hand reaches in front to spread my pussy lips.
“I’ll touch you while I fuck your ass to ease the pain,” he whispers. “I’ve been waiting to do this for months.”
He teases my clit with his fingers as he pulls his dick out of my ass. I hold my breath as I wait for him to slam back in, but Deacon just keeps playing with my clit as he slides back inside me with a slow, precise rhythm. He continues playing with my clit and fucking my ass at a slow, easy pace until a shocking tight pleasure builds in my core. I gasp for breath and Deacon grunts.
“Good,” he whispers. “Cum with my dick in your ass. I want to feel that little hole get tight around my cock…”
Deacon keeps teasing my clit, not really giving me a choice about cumming. The pleasure is too intense and the way his dick spreads my ass apart causes the friction to rub my clit in an unexpectedly exciting way. The orgasm building feels huge. I gasp Deacon’s name and impulsively throw my ass back to meet his thrusting, completely forgetting the slices up and down my butt cheeks.
He groans as I throw my hips back against him and my impulsive actions don’t just surprise him, but force him to finish inside me before he was fully ready. He grips my ass cheeks, pressing his palms into my cuts as he tries to regain control over himself that he already lost. My pussy throbs as a deep anal orgasm overwhelms my body and Deacon’s cum erupts in a thick, sticky gush inside my butt.
“Fuck,” he growls, pushing his hips forward to shove the cum deeper into my ass. “Your ass is fucking perfect.”
I can’t believe I just came… Deacon doesn’t share my surprise. He slides his dick out of me slowly and lifts me to my feet. He wraps his arms around me, showing me affection much faster than he normally did after our rough sessions.
“Bath,” he whispers. “We won’t have much time before the baby wakes up.”
“My boobs already hurt from wanting to feed.”
Deacon chuckles. “Don’t tempt me to have a taste…”
“Deacon…”
“What? It’s instinctive.”
“It’s gross.”
“Fine,” he whispers. “Next time. Tonight, I’ll sponge you clean and cuddle you until our little one needs his mother.”
I lean against my husband, ready for him to sweep me off my feet and into a nice warm bath. He knows exactly what it takes to put me into this blissful state of mind. I slip my hand in his, ready to leave our new playroom together, but already aching with excitement for us to test out all his toys in the future…