And I do. He has quite a few kinks that overlap mine which is what we usually do together, BUT I'm well aware that he has one that I don't really share. However, I figured between my imagination and reading some on the subject I could convey watersports on page semi-well. Yes, watersports - one of my paramours is fond of peeing on people. So I wrote the story. And since it is me telling the story there's also some fear, a lot of beatings involved, and a tiny amount of blood loss (from being cut - not from being beaten).
And when it was done he really liked it, but surprisingly, so did I. I liked it a lot.
And I wanted to share it with more people. So I spent the last few days editing it and adding important details like names, but now it's done. And I hope you guys like it. I'm going to start with it exclusively on Amazon so that people with Prime can borrow it for free, but I'm sure I'll add it to smashwords in a few months.
So now I've written a story where someone gets pee in her mouth (spoiler, but I'd rather warn people since I know it's going to be a turn-off for some of you) when I've never had that happen to me. However, I have experienced most of the other things in the tale, and, more importantly, I've talked to people that are into this. I actually read some stories about it. So I don't think this is going to be nearly as egregious as describing a flogger with knots in it as something gentle that is totally a good tool to use as beginners. (See above book cover.)
Anyways, here it is a first look for you guys:
We'd been texting all day about it so the negotiations were done. I knew what to expect when I walked through his door, and I knew he wouldn't hurt me...at least not too much. Still, my hand was actually shaking when I turned the knob.
His house was the quietest it had ever been. Normally he was there to greet me, but today he was waiting in the back. I paused to take a few breaths and gather my courage. My phone buzzed – making me jump – it was a text from “The Brent” (a joke since he hated being called “Sir” with a passion, and I'd insisted on adding something to show the high esteem I held him in.) It said simply, "Making me wait is probably not a good idea, Kylee. Get back here."
I heard myself giggling (stupid nerves!) and tentatively headed to the back. I opened the door to his playroom and saw... no one. "Crap," I thought, "Was I supposed to go to the bedroom? I could have sworn he said to meet –”
The attack was sudden. I didn't hear anything before I got slammed from behind. I only stayed on my feet because he'd wrapped one arm around me and held me upright. He was so fucking strong. He pulled up his other hand and I felt the cold, sharp blade of a knife at my throat.
I held as still as I could. I tried to slow down my breathing and calm my fears, but he was pretty terrifying. As he lowered the hand that was holding the knife and took hold of one of my nipples with his other hand, I had to admit to myself that this wasn't all bad. Not at all. Even as he squeezed and twisted I could feel my arousal growing.
"You like that don't you?" he whispered in my ear.
"Yes," I replied, in a voice equally quiet.
Abruptly, he spun me around so I was facing him. He looked so intimidating and yet so incredibly sexy. I wanted him to fuck me, hurt me, and scare me. And I wasn't really particular about what order he did it.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, "I'm going to give you everything you want. But first, I'm going to get everything I want."
“I think we want the same things, Brent,” I said.
"We'll see,” he said in a voice that promised horrible things. “First off," he continued, giving me a once-over, "you are wearing way too many clothes. Let me get those off for you."
He grabbed hold of the collar of my shirt and sliced down with the knife. There were lots of occasions where he took his time cutting my clothes off of me, but apparently tonight he wanted me naked, and he wanted me naked now. In just a couple more strokes my shirt was in pieces, and he ripped the rest off of me. Per his earlier instructions, I had worn nothing underneath, so now my breasts were fully exposed.
"Wow, look at you, walking into my house not even wearing a bra. What kind of slut are you?"
"The obedient kind," I said in my meekest voice. I was rewarded with a quick grin and a gentle stroke to my cheek.
"You are a very obedient girl, Kylee. Let's see how well you can hold still."
I wasn't surprised when he slapped me. I mean, his words had telegraphed pretty well that something unpleasant was about to happen. Still, I felt myself flinch and cursed myself for it. How hard was it to hold still? Eesh.
I got to find out as he hit me again. This time it was a punch aimed at my arm. I didn't flinch, but I didn't really hold still either as I moved to keep my balance.
"Man," he said somewhat resignedly, "you are really bad at this. Tell you what, we'll just practice 'til you get it right, how does that sound?"
He barely waited for me to murmur my assent before he began again. There was no pattern – at least not one I could discern – as he alternated between punching my arms, slapping my face, twisting my nipples upward (do you know how hard it is to keep your heels on the ground when every instinct is telling you to lift up?) and occasionally punching my breasts too. At least for that one, he did tend to grab onto me so I didn't fall backwards.
They say that practice makes perfect, but they probably never practiced holding still while getting beaten. It's not possible. At least, it's not possible for me. I tried really hard, and I guess I got "better," but I never did stay completely steady.
He seemed satisfied, though. After a while he told me I was doing well, and he was happy with the progress we'd made. I grinned with the sheer, delirious joy I get from making him happy. I felt fucking high from the endorphins caused by the beating and the pride in pleasing him. This high feeling is probably to blame for what I said next.
He leaned in and whispered, "What shall I do with you now?"
And I, high as a kite, responded, "You can do whatever you want."
He pushed me against the wall. It hit my head, not hard enough to hurt, but still. What the hell was this about?
"You dumb bitch," he said menacingly, inches from my face. "Did you just tell a fucking sadist he could do whatever he wanted? Do you remember what I said I would do to any girl stupid enough to say that to me?"
"Yes, Brent." I did remember.
I especially remembered him concluding, "…and when I'm done she'll be covered in my piss and her blood and maybe she'll think twice before being that stupid again."
Available now at Amazon.