Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
BLAKE
I’m vibrating with anger and frustration.
Yes, Imani was so brilliant I cried today.
She was both unprecedentedly good today, while also giving the performance that everyone expected.
I had nothing to do with her getting here, but I will be so proud to be the person she comes to with that fresh medallion.
But she’s destroying herself, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Love her through it, I guess?
She won’t talk to me about what’s going on.
The new deal is that we’re due for a chat post-game.
Fine. Until then, I’ll take her to her limits while also taking my frustration out on her body.
Safely, of course. PRICK (Personal Responsibility Informed Consensual Kink) and all that.
I would never kink with her unless I were confident that I could control my rage.
But you can work a lot out through BDSM, and I intend to break us both down tonight.
Moving to my closet, I pull out my Blues hat and flip it on, tracing the brim behind my head when I settle it on.
Then I grab my wooden paddle with rainbow LEGOs on one side.
We haven’t done any impact save my very rough hands so far, so I’ll start with the wooden side. If she can handle it, we will level up.
“Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. What will I do with you?” I ask her rhetorically, walking around her in a circle and letting her see me and the paddle.
She shivers when she sees us. “Oh, you fucking slut. I haven’t even done anything to you, and you’re already halfway to creaming.
” I smack the wooden side against my own thigh to elicit a nice thuddy sound.
Imani jumps, and I laugh, throwing my head back.
Then I move behind her, grasp her chin, and pull her face back. “Open,” I demand of her.
Good little girl that she is, she immediately does so, eyes widening in excitement.
I spit in her open mouth. “Stay open—let it sit there. Bad girls get bad things done to them.”
Imani whimpers.
I spit twice more, watching my saliva catch on her pretty pink tongue. Fuck, I have plans for that mouth.
Snap.
Imani rearranges back into Nadu.
“It’s so strange, Cupcake. You’re being so good for me right now, but I think you’re just a desperate slut for my cock.” I push her forward and onto her hands and knees with my bare foot, making sure to put force into it.
Imani grunts but goes fairly easily. She does, however, wiggle her ass once she’s in the new position.
“Ah. There’s the brat. Let’s see what I get when you’re punished: Is it good girl Cupcake or bad girl Cupcake?” I flip the paddle so the flat side is facing her ass, then I double-tap in forceful but quick succession.
Imani shrieks, and it turns into a moan, but unfortunately, she falls forward onto her elbows. It has the beautiful effect of placing that sinful brown ass closer to me, but I can’t allow her to go off-book.
“Hands and knees. Now,” I correct.
Imani goes, but grumbles while she does.
“Unless I’m half naked in front of you, you don’t listen to a goddamn thing I say. And you certainly don’t listen when any of it’s for your benefit,” I growl, accentuating my words with a matching double-tap to the other cheek, then landing two more thuds on either cheek. I pause. “Color?”
Imani pants, catching her breath while I wait. “Green, Sir. I’m your… bad girl.”
“That’s fucking right, you are,” I agree verbally and also by administering a handful of thwacks. I move them all over her: the thigh, the ass, the hip.
Imani’s sounds are a symphony that I want to hear for the rest of our lives—a kinky soundtrack that I want to replay until I get too feeble to raise a hand to her.
I lean forward and bite into one beautiful globe, and our neighbors can surely hear the scream she releases, but I don’t give a fuck about them. I latch my teeth on and dig in until I achieve the satisfying taste of copper around my teeth.
When I pull back, I think about asking for a color, but Imani is mindlessly chanting SirSirSir, so I continue. I flip the paddle to the LEGO side and grin, blood pooling in the corners of my lips.
Grasping Imani by her bun like a handle, I hold her in place while I place strategic hits all over her backside, making sure to hit the bite mark several times. I listen to her music as I go, making sure we’re creating the same song—I don’t want to go too far.
When I’ve abused her so much a dark violet that’s nearly black has started to shade her ass and thighs in, I walk around to her front, but I don’t have to force her to look at me—she does it all on her own.
As expected at this point, her glazed pupils are completely blown out, her gaze full of stars. “How’s that subspace feel, Cupcake?”
Imani nods enthusiastically and reaches for my boxers.
Smirking, I decide to give her what she wants. “On your back.”
“Yessir,” Imani slurs, practically falling backward, splaying her little pink legwarmered legs in front of her. I see an obvious wet spot on the gusset of her black leotard.
I retrieve a vibrator from the closet and then come back to her bottomless, watching a satisfied smile creep over her lips. She may be blissed out of her skull, but she knows what’s fucking coming.
“Open wide, tongue out,” I repeat for the third time tonight, barely giving her enough time to follow through on my orders before I sit directly onto her fucking face.
Her tongue slides through my folds easily, finding my hole. It plunges inside, spearing me through and lapping up my arousal eagerly.
I let myself sink into the pleasure I’m allowing her to grant me, making note of her hands that come up to dig into my thighs as if she would gladly suffocate if it meant pleasing her Sir.
“Fuck, Cupcake. Bad girls do fuck better, don’t they?
” I croon, praising/degrading her in the way I know she’s craving.
Imani groans into my cunt, and I feel the happy vibrations of her mouth as she suctions harder and licks up to my clit, beginning to flick furiously. I mimic her, granting her my own sounds as I grind into her face just enough to make that bun on the back of her head press into the floor and hurt.
“Make me come, and maybe I’ll play with your pussy. Would you like that?” I purr, wanting to drive her insane with lust.
Imani’s pelvis bucks into the air as if she can spear herself onto my cock. Meanwhile, her lips and tongue are working me over in admirable fashion.
“I don’t know… Bad girls don’t deserve rewards. You’re already getting to taste me. Isn’t that favor enough?” I mock.
Those brown hands bite into my thighs so hard I know I’ll have some bruises of my own later, causing a wave of euphoria to crest over my body.
It’s not often I let a submissive have so much of me, but I confess that I do love being marked as much as I love doing the marking.
There’s something so territorial and primal about wearing the evidence of your lover—and for someone who spends a lot of time in locker rooms, I get to show them the fuck off.
Maybe one day I can tell everyone who belongs to me.
The thought makes me growl, and I can’t help but reach down and rip Imani’s leotard top open, displaying those pretty, pert breasts with their dark areolas and enticing nipples.
I’m doing her a favor, because this is probably making Imani’s job of making me fall over the edge easier, but I need to touch her.
I roughly pinch both points in my fingers, ensuring I elicit a shriek of pain that is muffled by her mouth on my lower lips.
Then I rail my hands back and smack both tits as hard as I can, making her back arch in the most beautiful movement.
The tableau of Imani in pleasure is the most inspiring portrait I can conjure in my mind, and I’m cognizant that I get the intense honor of painting her as I wish.
Finally, I come down her throat, and she swallows me eagerly. I feel the viscous cream of me flow over her cheeks as I scream into the room, letting her know how she’s pleased me.
“What a bad, naughty thing you are,” I tell her, ripping her leotard bottom open so that I can see the mound of her vulva and have access to her. “Shall I grant you what I promised, Cupcake?”
Imani’s only answer is to caress my thighs sensually and lick into me slowly, as though she can seduce me with her obedience.
I am, of course, absolutely gone for her. The only thing that ever stops me is my cursed neurodivergent sense of justice or a safeword from her. I’m the dominant, but I want to worship at her altar for… well, shit, the rest of my goddamn life.
Turning the toy on to the lowest setting, I place the rabbit-style vibe at her entrance.
I swirl the tip in, collecting her abundant moisture, then I swiftly insert it and start fucking her.
Laughing, I continue, but administer another solid hit to her breast. “I’ll stop if you stop, Cupcake.
That’s the deal. So you better figure your shit out and sing for your supper. ”
Imani listens immediately, but her movements have become jerky and artless.
I fuck in and out of her until she’s near orgasm, and then I abruptly stop right before she can reach her peak, causing her to scream into my pussy. Pulling out of her and standing, I look down into her glassy eyes. “Do you think bad girls deserve to come? Answer me.”
Imani manages a wide-eyed nod.
Shit, I think she’s gone non-verbal.
“Do you remember how to safe out with actions instead of words?” I double-check.
She reaches up to my ankle and taps forcefully three times, then follows it with three snaps that ring out in the room.
“That’s a good girl.” I consider her. I have plans for her, but I think making her a part of them is always a fun time. “Do you want to be skin to skin, both of us naked?”
Imani smiles and nods vigorously.
“Strip and get in humble position, head toward my bunk,” I instruct her, as I turn away to throw my hat and bra onto the floor in front of my closet—no one has time to fucking fold shit right now, especially when I could spend my time gazing upon Imani’s exceptionally wrecked body.
When I turn back, she’s followed my directions. Imani is indeed in humble, which is to say she’s on her knees, ass in the air, leaning down onto crossed hands, head lowered. A significant amount of the marks I bestowed on her earlier are visible from this angle.
I sit directly in front of her on the bed, and take a beat to gaze upon her, this woman I’m so in love with that when she hurts herself it feels like I need to tear knives out of my own abdomen.
Instead of giving her more directions, I again use her bun as a leash, pulling her head up to assess her via her eyes.
What I see there leaves me so breathless that I also go momentarily nonverbal, until I find my logic again.
The thing about subspace is that it looks very convincingly like love.
If I’m not careful, I’ll get caught up in that look.
I move on from her eyes, seeing that her face is covered in tears, mascara, and my cum.
At this, I grin. “My my, how the bad girl has fallen. And so conveniently at my feet. Look at what a fucking mess you are, Cupcake.” I lean forward to lick the fresh tears off her face, delighting in the taste of both of us that’s smeared all over that gorgeous complexion.
“Do you think you should have more?” I ponder.
Again, more nods, this time exceedingly hopeful.
I bite lightly into her neck—not enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her flinch, trailing nibbles up to her ear. “You’re a sight to see right now, Cupcake. Maybe I should reward you just for looking like the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten with my eyes.”
Imani whimpers and melts into me, my hold on her bun the only thing keeping her aloft.
So I let her go, and she squeaks in surprise as she has to brace herself on the floor so she doesn’t hit her head. Scooting back so I’m at the wall, I crook a finger toward her. “Come here.”
Imani’s face pops up from the floor, eyes sparkling, as she clambers onto my lap.
I give her a long, lingering kiss for her efforts. “Go get the lube out of my bag. You’re going to ride my hand, and we’re going to see how much of me you can take. It’ll be your favorite—a challenge,” I goad her.
Oh, this is going to be fun.