Getting What She Fears Yet Craves by LimitlessLucy
***His alpha appearance and behaviour had been what first attracted her to him, yet the more they went on dates, the more he seemed to soften. But she didn’t want a perfect gentleman – she still craved the bastard! This is what happened when she finally got what she feared yet craved…***
He was bigger than her and taller than her. He was much louder and more sure of himself. Just being in the same room made her want to nervously hide. Yet some part of her was besotted. Some part of her craved his extreme oppositeness of everything she was or could be. Deep down she knew why – she was a masochist and craved somebody who would overpower her and hurt her for their mutual pleasure. Even so, she was always so shy around him that she was shocked when, one day, he had asked her out on a date.
Curiously, rather than finding herself the overpowered plaything of a bad boy, the good in her started to soften him. He became quieter and less forthright. He became kinder and less demanding. But, scary though he had been, she didn’t want a fellow sheep or a sheep in wolf’s clothing. She wanted the wolf.
As the man continued to take her on dates she started to deliberately irk him. To do the things she’d seen others do that he had had no patience for. Yet in each case he’d patiently sorted out the cables on her computer, he’d taken her out to lunch when she’d burnt theirs, and when she’d pranged his precious car he had gone out of his way to settle cash in hand, more concerned for her driving record and insurance costs than for his car. In short, he was looking after her better than anybody had in her life, yet all she could think about was how much she craved a bad guy to do bad things to her, to care for her by seemingly not caring.
When they had first started spending time together she had been scared that they would move more quickly than she was comfortable with, but he had remained the perfect gentleman. Infuriatingly so. Especially when she knew for a fact that he had usually had sex on a first date and infrequently made it to a second.
She knew she should have appreciated the fact he wasn’t rushing into anything – that he was working towards a relationship that would last – yet part of her was disappointed. After all, she’d not fallen for a bad boy because she wanted him to be good! So the more he treated her like a precious princess, the more she wanted to be nothing but a toy to him.
One night her hormones overwhelmed her and she knew she had to do something. The man was due to pick her up from her flat that evening to take her to the cinema – another date. Another date with no formal boyfriend/girlfriend label and him remaining the perfect gentleman. Where was the strong, self-confident alpha she had fallen for who didn’t ask, he took? Suddenly she couldn’t hold back her need anymore – she had to either get what she needed from him, or else get out before she was trapped into an idyllic little romance that couldn’t possibly hope to meet her deeper, darker needs.
She hastily stripped herself off and wrote ‘Use me’ in large letters across her chest. He’d never even seen her breasts before. It felt fitting that the first time would not be as a precious princess, but as a slutty whore.
Worried that he still might just cover her up with concern as though it was someone’s idea of a practical joke, she bent forwards and wrote ‘I’m wet for this. Check me!’ on her stomach. With blushing cheeks she added an arrow down to her pussy. She shivered in arousal. It felt so thoroughly naughty to write all over herself in this way. She loved it.
Lastly, she wrapped her wrists and ankles in her little pink leather cuffs and linked the ankle ones to the bondage strapping she had put beneath her bed. She was about to link her wrists in when another thought occurred to her. She reached into the top draw of her bedside table and took out four clips. Two she clamped directly on her pert nipples. She sucked in a heady breath. The bite of pain felt good. The other two she put on her inner labia. Those ones hurt. But she wanted to demonstrate that her plea to be used went far wider than sex. She was a masochist after all – she needed to be hurt.
With trembling hands she somehow managed to lock herself into position, pushing through the pain to force herself to fully commit to her mortifying and painful predicament. Now the only person who could free her was him, and part of her couldn’t help but hope he’d draw out her rescue as painfully long as possible.
Once she was trapped, the pain started to hit home. She was suddenly agonisingly aware that she had left herself nothing to temper the pain with. She moaned softly to herself as she squirmed her body in pain, but soon those light noises were replaced by a deep groan as her body responded in an almost primal fashion to her inescapable erotically painful stimulation.
She started to writhe, unable to lie still and take it when her nipples and labia were now throbbing with a pain that her arousal was only just keeping on top of.
She heard her front door open. She froze. While the man had started to let himself in because she never seemed to be quite as ready as she thought she was, he had never yet found his way to her bedroom. She suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.
Her whimpers quietened and her body tensed as she listened for his footfall. Suddenly her plan felt outrageously exposing in every sense of the word. Not only was she thoroughly naked, but there was also absolutely no denying her darker inner urges, and she suddenly worried what she might think of her if they became known…or when.
She muffled a pained moan as the clamps continued to crush her sensitive inner labia. The footsteps came closer. She silently cursed herself for leaving her bedroom door open. Had she really been so horny as to lose all sense of anything but her urgent desire for some kinky action?!
The footsteps stopped. He was standing in her doorway. She blushed and looked away.
He smiled and came closer. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He traced his hands over the words on her flesh. The first unchaste touch of their whole relationship. “‘Use me. I’m wet for this'” He kept his eyes on her as he slid a hand down her body. “‘Check me.'”
She whimpered in embarrassment, but couldn’t help but respond hungrily to the stimulation of his touch.
He smiled. “And clamps down here, too? Nice.”
He glanced around her room and picked up the underwear she had neatly discarded when she’d stripped. He walked back over to her. “Let me help you out.” Wadding up her knickers, he stuffed the ball of fabric partway into her mouth. He patted her head. “I think you’ll find it much easier to suffer when there’s nothing you can do or say about it.”
He sat on the side of her bed and idly rubbed her just enough to take the edge off the pain, but not enough to make it disappear. Part of her loved the wickedness of his inattention, yet she couldn’t help but crave so much more.