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awn-moo · 2 years ago

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1. Hoenn! And the outskirts of Lilycove City.

2. Klink

3. I used to live in Kalos and just recently arrived in Unova.

4. Sinnoh. I want to learn more about their history, especially Hisui.

5. Groudon and Kyogre are bitches. Rayquaza is cool though.

6. Kalosian legendaries are interesting. Not much to say, as the life/death theming of them is one I have seen in plenty of stories.

7. It's a bit obvious, but I'd run a Ghost gym!

8. Both. I've competitively battled for most of my journey, but sometimes it's fun to just battle for, well, fun!

9. Know your typing matchups. Have a robust moveset that will be able to do hard hitting attacks with status effects. Or send out a Pokemon with status moves first then when they're down enough, move into those heavy hitters. It's a very offensive play for me.

10. Oh goodness, hard to choose. But if I have to, Diantha. She was so fun to battle!

11. Morty! I've looked up to him for a while, especially because he's a Ghost Trainer. I've always wanted to try and go to his gym for a challenge.

12. I've seen her in ads and TV, so I know nothing about her personality, but that Psychic Type Gym leader in Paldea gives me a vibe that I don't quite enjoy.

13. Quite the challenge, actually. As it was my first Elite Four challenge, I wasn't fully aware of the ropes yet. But I had fun! Phoebe also helped me learn the ropes with my Ghost pokemon.

14. Oh, I haven't checked the news lately, but I've seen something about weird storms a bit ago.

15. Banette

16. The Dawn and Dusk stones are both so beautiful.

17. I've hand decorated all my team's PokeBalls. They're themed for the pokemon. And I've used specialty balls, just not often. I mostly stick to the main ones.

18. Rock and ground have some overlap, but they very much are different.

19. Is a flower a bug? Are bugs flowers? No. They are seperate typings. There are bug types with flower disguises, but that does not make them a grass type.

20. Ice and water are different types. A water type like Vaporeon cannot survive in the glacial cold unlike their ice type counterpart and vice versa.

21. A few of my team have accessories. Noir has an everstone pin on a bandana. Dyre has a small backpack that they carry around. And Miss has some beaded jewelry hanging off her brim. It was actually made by me and all the beads were picked out by her!

22. Dyre loves his backpack. He keeps snacks in it along with some personal items of mine. Flit found a shiny rock as a litwick and she likes playing with it occasionally. Noir was found with it's everstone that we turned into a pin.

23. Yep! Though I'm not battling much at the moment, though I'm sure they'll be dragging me back to the battle subway soon.

24. I have been in one back in Hoenn and I don't think I'll do one again. But my Houndoom Scoobs had fun.

25. Sable likes when I give them gem treats, Flit likes it when she nibbles at my soul, Dyre likes pokepuffs, Marion, Miss, and Noir don't really have a favorite, and Jumper likes sweeter treats.

26. Pokepuffs. They're quite fun to make and I've gotten pretty good at making them. I've made my own recipes that Dyre enjoy.

27. Dyre! I shared this before, but I found them as a Gastly one night. They've been my partner pokemon for about, goodness, 17 years I think?

28. Flit was my most recent pokemon. Since I found her in Kalos, as opposed to most of my team being from Hoenn.

29. Ghost, but also Fire and Steel.

30. Flying and Normal.

31. The Hisuian variant of Typhlosion. Mixing my two all time favorite typings and one starter Pokemon I always wanted? It's always been a dream.

32. I've run into the three legendaries of Hoenn...

33. Trading Dyre for evolution was hard. I almost lost him. I traded with a former partner who thought they could easily take him away afterwards. I now avoid trade evolutions.

34. Noir is genuinely scared of Evolution. If they lose their everstone, they're absolutely terrified. I always keep a spare on me for them.

35. Marion had a rough time after evolving. Though now they're not as spiteful. They know I love them and I'm not going to ever leave them.

36. Miss Fortune. Since she was a Pokemon I was seeking out for my team, we didn't have the bonds like my other pokemon. It took a while, but eventually she warmed up. Though she can be a little shit (affectionate) at times.

37. I like to think I don't, but looking at the names of my team, it's obvious I stick towards a convention of spooky.

38. This is a bit embarrassing, but I thought eevee were pretty rare. That is, until I found out that there's so many people breeding them and the likes. I caught jumper as a kid in the wild, and I was so excited to find a "rare" pokemon. My parents didn't have the heart to tell me otherwise.

39. Most of my team has championship ribbons and we've gotten all the Hoenn and Kalos badges.

40. I love my whole team, but Dyre has been my first pokemon and my longest friend. They're partially my service 'mon too. I don't know where I'd be without them, they are truly my best friend. I can't easily describe how much they mean to me.

Pokéblr Ask Game

General Questions 1-20, Pokémon Specific Questions 21-40

What region are you from? What town?

What’s your Unovan horoscope?

Have you visited other regions?

What region would you most like to visit if ever given the chance?

Thoughts on the legendaries of your home region?

Thoughts on the legendaries of another region?

If you were a gym leader, what kind of gym would you run? If you are already a gym leader or gym trainer, what’s your gym like?

Which do you prefer, competitive battling or battling for fun?

What type of battle strategy do you tend to use with your Pokémon? If you do contests or something else with your Pokémon, what is your preferred approach to that?

Favorite Pokémon League champion?

Favorite gym leader?

Give us a random celebrity (gym leader, tv personality, musician, etc.) you can’t stand and why.

Thoughts on your home region’s Pokémon League?

Weirdest recent local news story?

If you had to pick a Pokémon to represent you, what Pokémon would you pick?

Favorite evolutionary stone?

Do you prefer to hand decorate your Pokéballs? Do you have a preference for any specialty Pokéballs?

Do you think Rock and Ground are distinctly different Pokémon types, or largely the same and incorrectly categorized?

Do you think Grass and Bug are distinctly different Pokémon types, or largely the same and incorrectly categorized?

Do you think Water and Ice are distinctly different Pokémon types, or largely the same and incorrectly categorized?

Do your Pokémon wear any fun accessories?

Does your Pokémon have a favorite item?

Do your Pokémon battle?

Would you ever enter one of your Pokémon in a contest? Which one?

What type of food do your Pokémon prefer? What flavors?

Pokéblocks, Poké Puffs, Poffins, Poké Beans, Curry, or Sandwiches?

Who was your first Pokémon? How did you get them? How long have you had them?

What is your most recently obtained Pokémon?

What is your favorite Pokémon type?

What is your least favorite Pokémon type?

If you could have any Pokémon in the world to add to your team, what Pokémon would it be?

Have you encountered any rare or unusual Pokémon?

Have any of your Pokémon evolved? If so, what was in your opinion the most difficult one to evolve?

Do you have a Pokémon that refuses to evolve?

Did any of your Pokémon have temperament issues when they first evolved? How did you handle it?

Which Pokémon took you the longest to bond with?

Do you have a naming convention for your Pokémon?

What Pokémon did you grow up thinking was rare only to find out they’re common elsewhere?

Do you and your Pokémon have any badges or contest ribbons? Which one are you most proud of?

Favorite thing about your partner Pokémon?

#pokemon #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #ask game #unreality

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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

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Grounded chapter 4

“I’m on Stephan’s team,” I said quickly. If I was going to play, it may as well be to win.

Justin pointed at me. “You’re going to pay for that.”

And I did. We ended up playing for hours, and I got camped. Justin killed me, again and again, with no remorse. He apparently took it personal when I picked someone else’s team. Good to know.

Marion brought us food while we played, since we were at it for so long.

We won some matches, and lost some, but it was more of a contest between Justin and Stephan. Javier and I were hopelessly outmatched.

I elbowed Justin as he shot my army guy in the head yet again.

“This game is so sexist,” I complained. “I can’t believe that there isn’t even an option for me to play as a girl.”

“Do you think that if you were playing as a busty blonde it would distract me?” Justin asked, amused.

“It couldn’t hurt.”

He tossed his controller on the ground. I gave a little embarrassing shriek as he tossed me over his shoulder. “We’re done, guys. Buttercup wants to distract me. Consider me distracted.”

The guys called out goodnights as Justin carried me away, even though it couldn’t have been even six p.m. It seemed that they understood that if we went to our bedroom, we wouldn’t be coming back out.

I was surprised when Justin didn’t take me to our bedroom, instead heading to the studio.

“Will you pose for the nude?” I asked breathlessly, as he jostled me on his shoulder.

“Yes. With a condition.”

“What condition?”

“I want you nak*d, as well, while you paint.”

It didn’t seem fair to argue with that stipulation, but I still sort of wanted to.

My breath whooshed from my lungs in a rush as Justin suddenly dumped me onto the cushy divan that took up a corner of the studio near the window. He didn’t pounce on me, as I’d half assumed, and wished, that he would. Instead, he began to strip.

“Take off your clothes and paint me, Love,” he said with a heart-stopping smile.

I set up my supplies first, setting everything up just so. The sun was slowly setting, and the best of the day’s light had passed, so I turned on the bright overhead lights to illuminate the most beautiful man in the world lounging on a divan, nak*d and at my service.

I started to paint, forgetting that I was supposed to be nude, as well.

Justin had no qualms about reminding me. “Take the clothes off. All of them. Now.”

I stripped slowly and a little awkwardly. It was no strip tease. I didn’t think I had that in me. I didn’t doubt that I had something wild inside of me, but it just wasn’t that.

I wore nothing but my collar and my earrings as I began to paint. Surprisingly, I was able to jump right into the project, not nearly as distracted by my own nudity as I’d thought I would be. That was probably because I was utterly captivated by the man that had inspired the painting.

Justin watched me paint, as he’d said he needed to. It was hard to feel self-conscious, even nude, when someone was looking at you as though you were the most beautiful and fascinating creature on the planet.

I had painted most of his face and torso before I got distracted by the subject at hand. When I’d painted his chest, I’d wanted to touch his chest, to kiss it, and bury my face there. I’d felt a similar urge when I’d been working on the curve of his neck, and his abdomen, hell, even his hair. But when I started to work on that sexy little V shaped pelvic muscle, I got sidetracked in a hurry.

I felt myself licking my lips a lot, as I studied that area of his body. Felt it, but couldn’t seem to stop it.

As though it had snapped me out of the dreamy trance I seemed to go into when I lost myself in a painting, I suddenly felt the air against my bare skin, like the temperature had just risen ten degrees in the room. My skin felt hot, my br**sts so heavy, my n**ples hardening until they quivered. I knew with a certainty that I wasn’t going to make any more progress on the nude that night.

I set down my palette, reaching for another one. They were a luxury I’d never indulged in before. Generally, I mixed paints on whatever piece of plastic I found that was the right shape and size. Justin had a dozen for me here, in their own designated drawer.

I began to rifle through a selection of acrylic paints that were sorted by color. I found one named Turquoise, but it wasn’t quite right, so I mixed in just a touch of emerald on the palette.

“What are you doing? You mix mediums like that on paintings? I didn’t notice that on any of your work,” Justin asked, sounding surprised.

My cheeks flushed in pleasure. That he knew so much about my little hobby, that he studied what I did, it still surprised me, but more and more, it was only a good surprise. My natural instinct to doubt everything he said and did was turning into something else now. He didn’t lie. Not about anything. It was freeing for me somehow as I realized that. If he didn’t lie, I didn’t have to question every little thing he did and said. It was a liberating realization.

I grabbed a larger sable brush, dipping it lightly into the paint of my new palette as I returned to my easel. I stood as though I were going to paint on the paper, then brought the brush slowly to my own chest. I traced the large globe of my right breast with a light touch.

Justin sucked in a breath, sitting up to watch me. His c*ck had calmed down to semi-hard, for once, but it quickly stood at attention, inflating like a particularly wonderful toy.

I traced the brush down the middle of my abdomen, nearly reaching my sex before tracing to the side to paint one hip.

“Come here,” Justin said gruffly.

I had been intending to tease him a bit, but my body began to move instantly at his words, walking to him slowly, dragging the paintbrush to my other hip with a leisurely stroke.

He licked his lips. “Keep going,” he said, making no move to touch me even after I’d moved close.

I painted up my torso again, tracing my ribs one by one slowly, first one side and then the other. I dipped into my palette, picking up a generous amount of the turquoise. I painted the bones of my collar, being very careful not to graze my locked choker. I painted my other breast, moving the brush in wide circles over its roundness until I reached the rock hard nipple in the center.

Justin made a little, “hmm,” of approval in his throat, so I lingered there, painting small circles while he watched my brush move with rapt attention. I gave the opposite breast the same slow treatment.

Justin leaned back on his elbows. He patted a spot near his hip. “Put your foot right here. I want you to paint your thighs for me.”

I propped my foot at his hip, and he sucked in a gasp. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are from here.”

I painted down my body, down my hip and to my thighs. I painted the very upper edges of my thighs carefully, stopping just shy of my mound. I painted back and forth, back and forth, from the top of my inner thigh to my knee and back again, teasing him with the movement.

“Are you sore?” he asked, his voice thick.

“Sore how? From the roses?” I asked, painting an idle pattern down my shin, then back up my calf.

“I know you’re sore from the roses. I saw the marks on you. I’m talking about inside. Are you too sore for rough f**king?”

“Hmmm. Only one way to find out,” I told him.

I moved over him, straddling his thighs, skimming over his quivering erection, finally settling myself against his taut stomach. I traced the brush over one perfect cheek. He tilted his face up to give me better access. I’d thought I’d done the color of his eyes justice, but as I saw the paint set against that tarnished color, I saw that I hadn’t even come close. His had little gold flecks around the iris, and his eyes were paler, a paleness that pierced, as though being lighter somehow gave them more substance.

“You have the most beautiful eyes in the world, Justin.”

He hummed in pleasure. He soaked up every little compliment I gave him like a sponge, which always surprised me, since I couldn’t imagine that he didn’t hear things like that every day.

I painted a thin line down his nose, then along his perfect jawline. I dragged the brush down his neck to his collarbone. I lingered there, enjoying just looking at him. I could never get enough of the sight of his skin, and no matter how much I got, I still felt deprived.

I painted little circles all over his right pectoral muscle, loving the hard and supple play of muscle under his skin.

I leaned forward to kiss the red Selena over his heart before I painted there. As I bent forward, I felt his c*ck between my ass cheeks and I arched against the hard length, making solid contact. I circled my hips, rubbing my wet sex against his stomach, my butt against his twitching erection.

“When are you going to take me here?” I asked him, grinding back against him. “You said you would take every inch of me.”

He grabbed my hips, stilling me to do his own grinding. The tip of him dragged along my lower back as his length moved against my butt.

“Do you want that?” he asked. “I’ll hurt you more than I’m willing to if I just ram in with no prep. I plan to make you come so many times that every muscle in your body is relaxed before we try that.”

I rubbed against him. “Hmmm. That sounds nice.”

He let out a choked laugh. “It won’t be nice. It will be a lot of things, but not that.”

I moved my brush along his torso. He was so much more fun to paint than I was, with so many more angles, defined lines, and hard ridges. I loved the spot just below his chest, where a deep line defined the spot between his muscle and his ribs. And his abs. God, his abs.

My h*ps made little involuntary circles against him as I moved the brush lower and lower, over the rock hard ridges of his abdomen. I had to move my own body to work lower, and I groaned as I passed over his c*ck again on my way down. I rose high to rub my wet sex there. I groaned but kept moving to straddle his thighs. I shivered with pleasure when I saw his wet tip.

I painted his hips, and that perfect edible V, stroking my brush just shy of his jutting cock. When I began to paint slow circles on his thighs, brushing up against his scrotum, he snapped.

Hard hands gripped my hips, drawing me abruptly over his member. He let go. “Take me inside you,” he rasped.

I worked him into me slowly, enjoying the stretch as I pushed every perfect inch of him deep. A powerful shiver wracked my body when I was finally seated to the hilt.

Justin took the palette and brush from me, and after dipping the brush, began to paint me with leisurely strokes. The paint on my skin was already beginning to dry, and the wet paint he spread over me dragged deliciously over the first coat.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

My body began to move into a posting trot naturally. The exaggerated movements were perfect with his long, thick cock.

“How do your wrists feel?” he asked, moving the brush along a taut nipple.

“Good,” I said, my voice low and thick.

He snagged one of the wrists in question, studying it and then bringing it to his lips. “Good.”

He bucked against me suddenly, jostling me just enough to make me clench deliciously around him.

He groaned and gripped my hips, unseating me completely and sprawling me onto my back.

He stood above me, leaning down to hook a finger into the ring at my collar. He pulled me up slowly, carefully, until I stood beside him. He gripped my hair, pulling my head back. We watched each other for long moments. I honestly couldn’t tell which was driving him tonight, the Dom or my tender lover, there was such a mix of feelings in his eyes.

He broke eye contact to drag me to the window, one hand pulling my hair, the other my collar. He pressed me hard against the window, crushing my br**sts against the cold glass. I gasped and shivered.

He pressed my palms to the glass, spread out wide from my body.

“Don’t move an inch,” he told me, moving away.

I saw him move to a spot on the wall beside the large window, then heard the whir and clank of something grinding metal. That sound made me think of the contraption he had used on me on the fouth floor, when he’d held me suspended to flog, and then fuck. I loved that sound.

I shifted a little, wanting so badly to look around, to see what had made that noise. As it continued and got louder, I realized it was directly above me. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to look up.

I felt Justin move behind me again and then he was lifting my arms. I felt firm padding against one wrist right before the solid click of a handcuff held it captive. He pushed some sort of bar into my palm. “Grip,” he ordered. I gripped the bar tightly. He repeated the process on my other wrist, moving back to that spot on the wall just at the edge of my vision.

I gave a little yelp as the chains began to clank again, drawing me up until I was right on the balls of my feet. I had no leverage in this position, no control whatsoever. My eyes closed as I felt Justin at my back again. He pushed me hard against the glass. “I’m going to f**k you against the glass, but you don’t get to come until you’re looking into my eyes.”

I whimpered, because I didn’t want to wait, because I was already on that fine edge, ready to come, and because I wouldn’t, not without his permission.

He gripped my hips, tilting them back so that my br**sts pressed harder into the glass. My cheekbone stung where it dug into the window, but I just didn’t care.

He drove into me, stopping only halfway inside of me, and I moaned a protest. He worked the rest of the way in slowly, agonizingly, working my h*ps with his hands to control every inch of me that he penetrated.

He put his mouth to my ear when he hit the end of me, grinding hard. “Now remember, you don’t get to come until I’ve turned you around.”

I had some evil thoughts about the sadistic bastard as he began to pound against me, his h*ps slapping against my ass with the heavy movements. I could have come, wanted to come, within the first few thrusts, but he didn’t relent, dragging himself out then driving back in with fast thrusts. I cried out against the glass as he moved behind me, against me, inside me.

He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, thrusting relentlessly. I thought my body would betray me and ignore his command, my release building so powerfully that I didn’t know how to stop it.

He wrenched out of me, turning me on the chain with surprising ease. It must have been what the thing was designed for.

He gripped my hair in one hand, tilting my head back to look at his eyes straight on. His other hand moved to my ass. He pushed himself inside of me with the smoothest motion. He thrust once, twice, three times, and I was going over the edge.

“Come,” he grunted, but I was already lost. I knew my eyes showed my need for him, that vulnerable, raw thing that had become my feelings for him. His eyes were so tender, so loving as they absorbed the look in mine. It was a perfect and terrifying moment of absolute clarity. I’d never go back from this. I would be as lost as Lana if this ended, pining hopelessly for this man, if it all went up in flames.

The thought should have made me want to withdraw from him. My sense of self-preservation had been perfectly healthy before I’d met Justin, and I wondered now if it had deserted me completely, but as I came back down from my own little slice of heaven, I found it hard to summon up the energy to care.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mr. Damaged

He unfastened me swiftly, cradling me against him. He laid me on the couch, crawling on top of me. He smiled down into my eyes, his dark golden hair framing his face. He looked like an angel.

“We’re going to need a new divan in here. This one is covered in paint,” he said softly, but not like he minded.

I shook my head, running a hand along his cheek and into his hair. “No. This room is going to see a lot more painting sessions. I say we leave it.”

He smiled, a joyful smile, the most carefree expression I’d ever seen on his perfect face. “I love the sound of that. Have I told you today how happy you make me? I can never go back from this, Selena. It would break me to let you go. You know that, right?” Had he read my mind?

I felt a tear slide down my cheek, then another. What was it about being in love that had turned me into a baby? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t seem to stop it, whatever it was, no more than I could stop the being in love part. I had fought it every step of the way, but that hadn’t helped, not even a little. I had it bad. So bad.

“I wouldn’t know how to go back from this, Justin,” I said in a whisper. It was perhaps the closest thing to making a long-term commitment that I’d ever given to him, paltry as it was. But he knew what I’d given him, and he accepted it with such a loving promise in his eyes that I couldn’t be sorry for it.

“If you could pick one place in the world that you want to visit, any city, any country, any continent, where would it be?”

I studied him, my brows drawing together as I tried to follow his strange thought process. I didn’t even have to think to have my answer, though. “Japan. Especially Tokyo.”

He looked a little puzzled. “That was a quick but unexpected answer. Why Japan?”

I gave my little shrug, though it wasn’t quite the same with him pinning me to the bed. “It just fascinates me. It always has. And it is the home of manga and anime.”

He grinned. “Of course. Okay, Japan, especially Tokyo. Got it.”

I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Why? What are you planning?”

“Nothing yet, but in a few weeks, maybe a month, I want us to get away for a week or two.”

That sounded divine, but… “Justin, I can’t take any more time off work. I used it all up with my…injuries.”

He gave me an imploring look.

I caved in a heartbeat.

“You just need to find someone to pick up your shifts, right?” he asked. “You can drop as many as you want, if you find someone else to work them. Stephan explained it to me. Leave it to me. I’ll handle everything. Just say you’ll go.”

I should have said no. I should have told him that yes, I could drop the shifts, but it was really hard to find people to pick them up at straight time, when they could be working overtime for similar shifts, not to mention that if I dropped those shifts, I wouldn’t be making any money for those days. I meant to tell him all of that, but instead I looked into his eyes and just caved. “Yes. I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

He squeezed me so tightly that I yelped. “Thank you.”

He picked me up again, cradling me as he left the studio and carried me to our bedroom. It was on the same floor and close, thank God, because we were both buck nak*d and covered in blue paint.

He took us directly to the bath, stepping into the deep tub with me as it filled with water.

He washed me slowly but thoroughly, scrubbing the paint where it was caked onto my skin. The bath quickly turned blue. We laughed as it just got darker and darker.

Justin had to work on us both for a while.

“Want me to help?” I asked, so relaxed that I wasn’t sure I could work up the energy to be that helpful.

“No, Love. I want you to relax. When we’re done in here, I’m going to take you to the fourth floor and give you a very thorough massage.”

“Mmm,” I said, closing my eyes. I felt his fingers move between my legs, and I opened them wider. He began to stroke me, humming against my throat as his clever fingers got to work. He pleasured me with his hands while he sucked on just the perfect spot on my neck. It was an almost leisurely orgasm, at least compared to what he usually gave me.

When he continued to thrust his fingers into me even after I’d come, I wiggled. “I want you inside me, Justin.”

He bit my neck, hard. “You’ll know when I’m ready to give you my c*ck because you’ll have it inside of you,” he said, thrusting the c*ck in question hard against my butt. “In the meantime, open your legs wider.”

He worked at me with two fingers thrusting inside, dragging his other hand down my body to rub my cl*t just so.

“Come,” he said into my neck, and I fell again.

We ended up showering after the bath. I had been a little overzealous with the paint apparently, because the bathtub ended up looking like it had been attacked by a paint-gun.

Justin dried me but left us both nude, pulling me to the elevator by the collar.

I had a thought, fingering his mother’s earrings still in my ears, wet hair trailing around them. “Oh, Justin. I forgot I was wearing your mother’s earrings. I didn’t mean to get them wet.”

He shot me a very doting smile over his shoulder. “They aren’t my mother’s. They’re yours now, and a little water won’t hurt them.”

He went directly to the elevator, pushing the button. He grinned down at me. “Just pleasure tonight, Love. You need some time to heal from the roses. The fourth floor isn’t only about the pain.”

“I know,” I said softly.

It had always been about more than pain, every bit of it.

He pulled me into the car as it opened, pushing me hard into the wall, pinning me there. “Have you ever been f**ked in an elevator?” he asked with a smile.

I laughed. “You know I haven’t.”

I had thought that he was joking, but of course he wasn’t, and he slid a leg between my thighs, pushing them open, and lifting me up. He had me wrapping my legs around his h*ps and was sliding into me in a flash. He pinned my arms above my head with his hands and began to thrust. I gripped him tightly with my thighs, whimpering as he pulled out of me, dragging along those perfect nerves and drove in again, driving me relentlessly towards another orgasm. He pounded at me, those mesmerizing eyes of his watching me with desperation, and an ardor that made it seem impossible that he’d already taken me less than an hour ago.

“Fucking come,” he gritted, his words hard, his tone hard, but his eyes so unbelievably soft on mine.

I obeyed, losing all control at his command. “Justin,” I cried.

He kissed me, not letting me down, not pulling out of me. He let my wrists free to wrap his arms around my back.

He began to walk, but didn’t let up kissing me, didn’t pull himself out of me. He padded down that ominous gray hallway and into our playground.

He was bending forward at his waist, and abruptly let me fall back.

I gasped. I didn’t fall far, my back making contact with a firmly cushioned table. He thrust into me twice roughly before letting himself come with a low groan. “Mine,” he said.

I only then realized that I was lying on a massage table as he dragged his thick length out of me, turned me over onto my stomach, and shifted me until my face was over the table’s opening.

Within swift moments, he was pouring warm liquid into the center of my back, rubbing the oil firmly into my skin. He massaged up to my neck, rubbing on that sensitive area for long minutes, working over to my shoulders, taking his time, rubbing until each of my muscles had been loosened thoroughly by his strong hands.

He worked down one arm, paying special attention all the way down to each of my fingertips. He worked back up and over, paying equal attention to my other half.

“Your hands are magic,” I said to him, my eyes shut in pleasure.

He didn’t respond, working on my back, kneading and rubbing that tissue into relaxed submission. He spent extra time on my lower back, working with teasing slowness into my ass. He made a delicious little noise in his throat as he kneaded my butt. I felt a kiss there a scant moment before I felt a finger at that entrance. I gasped and tensed as he pushed a well-lubricated finger into me.

“Shhh, Selena, relax. Relax.” He pulled that sneaky finger out of me, leaving me for too long before coming back. He began the massage where he’d left off, kneading at my butt and upper thighs.

He covered every inch of my back with strong kneading strokes, all the way down to my toes, before he flipped me onto my back. He began the same treatment at the front of my shoulders, taking his time, relaxing every part of me as he worked down. When he reached my sex, he plunged a finger into me. I was wet, of course, and he worked that flesh with sure strokes, using his other hand to part my legs wide, drawing my knees up into my chest. I gasped and tensed as he used his other hand to breach my other entrance again, working a lone finger in slowly, not stopping the smooth strokes at my sex with his other hand.

“You see why you need to be relaxed?” he asked me, leaning close as those wicked hands worked together to bring my overwhelmed body so much pleasure.

I did see; the other penetration more alarmingly intense than I would have guessed. It wasn’t even about pain, but more about the oddness of it, the strange fullness in a place where perhaps it shouldn’t be, whereas having him fill my sex only ever just felt right. Still, I didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want him to let up. The strangeness gave the act an almost forbidden quality that the perverse part of me relished, as it did all of the taboo things Justin was attracted to.

Both fingers moved inside of me, working together, and he had me gasping out another orgasm with consummate skill. Before I’d even come down from that blissful trip he was shoving another finger into each entrance, one cleft getting hard thrusts, the other a gentler, easier touch, just working inside and making delicious little circles.

“Relax and push out, yes, like that,” Justin said, jamming the fingers inside of my sex harder and rougher until I came again.

He pulled one set of fingers out, using that hand to shift me back onto my stomach and dragging my h*ps until my legs hung off the edge of the table. He moved his h*ps against me from behind, bringing a hand to the front of my neck and applying a light pressure.

“Don’t move,” he said. I heard him walk away, knew he left the room, heard a door down that daunting hallway open and close, then open again. Short minutes later he was at my back, moving close behind me, parting my legs to get close.

I felt something warm and hard and vibrating brush my cl*t and I knew it wasn’t a part of Justin.

“Justin,” I protested, as he worked my cl*t with that too intense pressure.

“Shhh,” he said, moving the vibrator from my clit, teasingly over my cleft. He dipped it in once, and then again, holding it inside of me while he worked another well-lubricated, softer object into my other entrance. I knew it wasn’t him because it was smaller, and though it was firm, it wasn’t hard enough.

“Justin,” I said again, my voice more urgent this time.

He worked the toy into me slowly, the vibrator in my sex still embedded deeply. “Relax.

“It’s too—“

“Yes, you want my cock, I know. Relax for this and I’ll give you what you want.” He growled, and I tried to obey him, tried to relax around those two strange pressures.

I felt like I was just growing accustomed when he pulled it out and replaced it almost immediately with his cock. It was so slick, but also so much bigger than the other. But it was Justin, and I found that my body submitted much more quickly with that knowledge. He worked in slowly.

He dragged the vibrator out of one entrance even as he pushed himself into the other. I heard a ‘thunk’ as he dropped it to the floor, bringing his now free hand to the front of me, circling my clit.

He began to thrust when he was nearly in, small thrusts that went a little deeper with each movement, but never pulled all the way out. I whimpered. The feelings were strange, but still not precisely painful, more of a stretching that felt like it went too far.

“Justin,” I cried as his fingers worked and his thrusts got bigger and faster.

“Say it, Selena,” he said into my back, then bit hard enough to leave marks. I thought that the bite was to distract from the fact that he was pounding into me now, and that it did hurt. But pain had never been a deterrent to my own pleasure, and I came, a hard release that left me limp.

“I’m yours, Justin,” I gasped. “Yours.”

He emptied himself inside of me, lingering long enough to kiss my back and soothe me before pulling slowly out of me.

He picked me up, cradling me. He carried me down the gray hallway. He slipped into one of those dark, mysterious rooms, and as he turned on the light, I saw that the room closest to the playground was just a large bathroom with an insanely large white tub.

“Since our other tub is blue at the moment, I guess we’ll be using this one,” he said, a smile in his voice.

I giggled, a little delirious from what felt like a hundred orgasms.

He carried me into the tub, arranged me until I was straddling him, my cheek pillowed against his delicious chest, and started the water.

He stroked my hair and I sighed in pleasure as the hot water slowly covered us. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so relaxed, so deliriously content to just lie down and enjoy the moment. I had been restless since I could remember, always having the instincts of a runaway, always anxious that the next moment would bring something bad, and it felt so good to just let that anxious part of me go, and savor something so wonderful.

I was lost in my own thoughts, practically purring against him, when I looked up.

His face was a carefully blank mask.

I stroked his cheek with a hand. “What’s wrong, Justin?” I asked.

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. He didn’t answer for a long time, but I knew he wasn’t ignoring me. I knew as well as anyone that the really rough stuff always took time to form into words.

“That thing we just did—that act, takes my head into a dark place,” he said finally, his words so quiet that I had to strain to hear him.

Of the two of us, he was by far better at showing his feelings, but I could tell that it was a struggle for him to share that with me.

I rubbed my hand soothingly over the spot where my name was etched so beautifully. “Will you tell me about it?”

He swallowed hard. “We won’t be doing that often, if ever. I don’t want to disappoint you. I needed to do it once, needed to claim you like that, but it doesn’t take me to a good place. It’s like the roses for you, I think, taking me too deeply into the thing that made me like this.”

I understood so well just what he meant. We were so alike in the really important ways. I cupped his face in my hands. “I won’t be disappointed. I liked what you did, I enjoyed it, but I certainly don’t need that. You fulfill so many needs that I didn’t even understand about myself, and that was not one of them. Thank you for showing me, for initiating me into so many things that I find wonderful. Don’t ever think that you could disappoint me by telling me your preferences—by telling me no.”

He was silent again, and I couldn’t tell if my words had reassured him, or if I had even reached him at all. His eyes were faraway and a little glazed over as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Spencer did that to me,” he said finally, his voice raw but his eyes still blankly looking up. “It made me feel so helpless, so…worthless. I don’t know how to explain it. I know you weren’t unwilling, but I just remember how I felt after he would do that, and some part of me feels like I’ve done something awful to you, something terrible, something like what he did to me.”

“I knew it would make me feel that way, if not during, then at least after, and I still did it, still managed to enjoy it. I feel…loathing, for my weakness, for my need, wondering if it made you feel even an inkling of what I did. It makes me wonder if everything I do to you is a sort of rape—if I’m taking advantage of that beautiful submission that you give to me.”

I started to speak, to try to reassure him, but he cut me off. “I know you’ll tell me that’s not true, and some part of me even knows it, but I still feel it. Like I said, that act just puts me in a dark place.”

I cupped his face softly. “I understand. The roses were like that for me. They reminded me more of my father than anything you’ve done, and they terrified me. I felt more pain and more fear on the violent end of those than anything else we’ve done, but the pleasure was just as great…more so. It made me think of those dark things even as it made me come. I couldn’t control my pleasure any more than I could control my fear. That terrifies me.”

I had to take a few deep breaths before continuing, still finding it hard to be generous with my emotions, and my words, even though he had been nothing but generous.

“We don’t have to face those dark thoughts alone anymore, Justin. I can’t say I’ve been through what you’ve been through, but I do understand your self-loathing about a thing you can’t control. You admit you’ve been a slut with your body, but I think you’re more well adjusted than I am when it comes to sex. You have a preference, but you can still function without that preference. I have a fetish. I wasn’t even interested in a man until I found you, until I found this. That terrifies me too, how broken I am. But I also know I’m lucky, so lucky, to have found someone so perfect for me, so safe, to help give me the things I need without taking my self-respect, and without putting me in danger. You’re a gift to someone like me, Justin. Don’t ever forget that.”

He pushed my face hard into his damp chest, my chin just skimming the water, but not before I saw the tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Selena,” he said, his voice shaky.

I closed my eyes, my tears sliding slowly down my cheeks and onto his chest.

“Thank you, Justin,” I said, my voice thick.

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