Baptized By The Belt

by Andrea Myer 2 years ago in erotic

Old Love, New Game

Baptized By The Belt

“Fuck it,” she says and drops the towel, opening the door. It’s silent in the apartment. All the lights are off, except for the glow from under the bedroom door. She stops in the hall, not sure what to expect. The horrifying image of Mike standing on the other side in a full leather bondage suit complete with gimp mask, whips, and chains flashes in her overactive imagination. There is no way. She thinks. Her feet are hesitant to find out. She walks slowly to the door, listening for rattling of chains. It’s silent. You’re ridiculous.

With a deep breath she knocks softly, unsure of protocol for situations like this. “Come in,” he answers lightly through thin walls. Amanda braces herself and opens the door. He’s sitting against a pile of pillows on his bed, legs outstretched in jeans and nothing else. Thank goodness. She thinks, no mask. There’s a book in his hand. He places it on the nightstand and smiles. “Well aren’t you eager to please?” He stands and approaches her with quick, fluid steps.

“I didn’t have m-”

“Did you forget the rules already?” He cuts her off with that smooth gentle voice. “You should have worn your towel. But, you didn’t.” He looks at her with an almost cruel smile. Leaning in, he breathes in her ear. “You’re…” One hand runs down her back to her ass, cupping the bottom of one cheek. “All…” He squeezes tightly with two fingers and his thumb. She winces but stays quiet. “Mine.” He lets go, circling her. The pain of nearly bruised skin radiates into pleasure. She sighs, wanting more. He steps behind her, close enough that she can feel his heat.

“Now, on your knees.” She lowers herself, cheeks burning. “Turn around.” She does, looking up into his face. Then, to the bulging zipper before her. She reaches for the buckle of his belt, excited to see what’s pushing at his jeans. Her mouth waters at the thought, looking forward to reacquainting herself properly. His hand comes down over hers.

“Tsk. Tsk. You weren’t told to do that, were you?” His melodic tone is infuriating. Is he really talking like this? She questions herself. More importantly, am I really responding? She looks in his eyes brazenly, hands still on his belt. With his bear paw of a hand still holding hers. She continues working the buckle, challenging him to stop her. “Are you sure you want to do that?” She smiles and finishes the task. “All right then. Pull it out.” She goes for his zipper. He squeezes her hand tightly. “Oh no… The belt.” Her eyes snap up to meet his. Heat flashes in her cheeks again. She narrows her eyes, and knits her brow. “Yes, the belt.” It glides with ease through the loops as she pulls slowly. The whisper of leather against denim speaks to something inside her she never knew was there. The thrill is a surprise. “Now, turn around and crawl to the bed.” She does as she’s told. Slowly, as she would on stage, back sloping, ass high. She turns to him with fire in her eyes. Silently asking, like this? He grins and shakes his head, raising his belt up to his chest in both hands. He pulls the loop flat with a crack. Her skin jumps at the sound. She moves quickly. The carpet soft on her knees. He follows a step behind. “Up on the bed. Face down.” His even tone leaves no room for argument.

Obediently, she climbs onto the mattress. Looking back as she lowers her face. Mike cracks the belt again. She braces herself. His hand, large and warm caresses each round cheek. “You weren’t so bad really,” he says, stroking her all the while. “You just wanted to please me.” She relaxes into the bed. Her ass still high. “But…” He stops petting her abruptly. “You did disobey.” Warm leather meets soft skin. Once, twice, just hard enough to sting. The pain is exhilarating. Fantastic pleasure rushes from the bottom of her ass to the top of her head. Her breath heaves in her chest. Damp hair sticks to her face and neck.

“Ooh.” She breathes.

“Shh, shh.” He pats her bottom gently with rough hands. Her mind and pulse race. He removes his hand. She waits, suspended in agony, somewhere between his touch and the sharp kiss of his belt. “More! Oh please, more!” she whimpers.

The belt falls with a soft thud beside her face. She looks up at him. His eyes sparkle with delight. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” Resting a hand on her hip, he kneels beside the bed. His face is level with hers. “When a punishment is requested, it ceases to be a punishment at all.” He pats her gently as he talks. “Then, removing the punishment, becomes the punishment.” He laughs at himself. “Your first lesson, I suppose, is about desire. Longing for what you want to the point of madness.” He stands.

“You liked the belt?” She nods, her eyes on his. “Tell me you liked it.”

“I liked the belt.” Her voice is not her own. He’s pulling the words out of her with ease.

Stroking her ass, he asks. “Have you had it before?”


“Ah-ah.” A hard pinch on her soft, fleshy bottom accompanies his words. “I didn’t tell you to speak. Remember, no words, unless I ask for them.” He’s petting her as he talks. “Back to desire. The belt is new for you.” He picks it up. “You like it. You like the leather on your skin.” He rubs the belt gently over both cheeks, down and up each long, trembling thigh. “Does it excite you?” She nods. “Good girl.” A quick crack against one cheek. “Do you want more?” The supple leather stays still against her. She nods, waiting for more. He doesn’t move. Just stands there, holding the belt in place. It’s dormancy is driving her mad, as promised. Her skin is alive, clamoring for more. The sting from the first lashes has gone. She sways her hips back and forth against it. He still doesn’t move. “You are an eager one.” She pleads with her eyes. He toys with her, tapping the belt gently over her crack. She swells with each tap, backing into it. Her swollen parts are dripping down her inner thighs. He’s barely touched her. Yet, she can’t remember ever being this turned on. His gentle taps lull her into a state of calm acceptance. Though, she wants so much more. As she begins to relax again, he brings it down with another glorious crack. It lands where her thighs meet her ass. She cries out in shock as the belt, like a hot tongue, strikes her swollen labia. Burying her face in the sheets, she raises her hips. She waits for another as they buck uncontrollably. Nothing. After a pause that seems to last a lifetime, he wraps the belt around her waist. He buckles it at the small of her back, bringing the excess to rest over her ass. It dangles like a tail between her legs. With every breath it shifts against her, utter torment.

She turns her head both ways to find him. To say enough’s enough. But, he’s out of her range of sight. She can feel his eyes on her as she shifts uncomfortably, painfully aware of the belt and his presence. There’s a rattle behind her. “Now, put your hands behind your back.” She does as she’s told, heat rising to her cheeks again. Is it embarrassment, shame, excitement, or all three combined? He straps leather cuffs to her wrists and clasps them to the buckle of the belt. She is helpless. Her face and ears continue to burn at the thought. Now what? She wonders, pulling at her bonds, testing their strength. His hand comes down over hers. He squeezes them both. “What to do with you now?” He says, softly. His other hand runs over her belly, from one hanging breast to the other. She writhes with his touch, every cell vying for attention. With strong fingers, he pinches and twists one nipple. She shudders, her knees weak. “You like that too?” She nods, eyes closed, breaths slow and heavy, leather tickling her twat.

He pulls at her wrists, lifting her upright with ease. Her damp hair is plastered to her face. She opens her eyes. With one hand he brushes the sticky hair away from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. She leans into his fingertips against her skin. The last vestiges of her pride fall away when their eyes meet. He holds her face in one hand. She nuzzles it like a cat. Completely under his spell, she’ll do anything to feel his hand on her skin. In this moment, she’s reborn. Baptized by his touch, by the belt. He slides his hand over her chin, down to her throat. It lingers there, fingers stroking her tender flesh. One soft squeeze and time stands still. Their eyes are locked together. The thrill of his hand around her throat is indescribable. “You are mine.” His statement sounds more like a question. She nods. “Tell me. Tell me, you’re mine.” He is suddenly more vulnerable than she. Though, he could snuff her life out with the clench of his fist. Her words have more power than his hands.

Her heart races. Blood rushes everywhere, hot cheeks, pounding pulse. “I am yours.” She’s breathless. “I always have been.” It’s nothing more than a whisper.

Silence, as his hand slips to the back of her neck. He pulls her to him, crushing her lips with his. With his other hand, he presses her to his chest. ‘No more games.” His words are barely audible. Both of his hands work to free hers. Chains jingle as they fall behind her, along with the belt. Free to roam. Her hands travel his body, over the taut, smooth skin of his shoulders and arms. Then, along his broad solid chest, her fingers though dark hair. Then, down, following the fuzzy trail to his jeans. One button and a zipper to searing heat of rigid flesh. She pulls her lips from his. Their eyes open, hers wide with delight, his heavy with desire. No more games, he said. She strokes the smoothness of his shaft and squeezes. It pulses in response. She grips tighter. His pants fall to the floor. He kicks them away as his greedy lips find hers again. His hands in her hair, on her neck. She bites at his chin, through his thick beard. Kissing her way down, she lowers her face to his cock.

With one hand around the base, she traces her lips with its smoothness. She takes the plump head in her mouth, sucking at it like a ripe fruit. His hands rest on her head as he stands above her. A quick glance up. His head is thrown back in ecstasy. Pulling more in her mouth, she tugs at the base. He grips her hair. The thickness fills her mouth, her tongue can barely work around it. As it nudges the back of her throat, her insides roll in response. A ripple of sheer joy follows the realization of how much more there is left. With determination she pushes down, past the point where her throat says to stop. All the way down. Until the fine dark hairs tickle her nose. It’s like going under water, no air, no breath. He releases her hair with a surprised grunt. Then, gathers it back in his grip, pumping slowly in and out. Her hips match his rhythm until she can’t take any more. She sucks at the tip while catching her breath. Rising to meet him, he looks with wild shock in his eyes. Her passion mounts. “Please.” She says, stroking him temptingly. She kisses his lips, his face, his neck, bristles and heat. “I want it.”

Laying back, with knees high, she opens herself to him. He takes her in, briefly, before lowering to meet her. Throbbing shaft meets dripping folds, pure delight. She’s quaking instantly, digging her nails into his shoulders. They bulge with each thrust. Wave after wave of bliss wash over her as she rocks with him. He rises to his knees, dragging her with him, her back still on the bed. With his hands gripping her thighs, his frenzied pumping shakes her. She watches his face. His eyes are closed, his jaw slack. He’s lost in the sheer joy of it. Then, his nails dig in. With cock throbbing, he thrusts deeper, bursting inside her. He’s above her again, one hand bracing himself over her head, the other still on her thigh. His eyes open. He grins a shy grin, kisses her tenderly.

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Andrea Myer

I"m a 30 something mother of three, married to my soul mate.  When I'm not writing I'm cooking, gardening, or spending time with the ones that I love.  My favorite being the latter.  Hope you enjoy a glimpse into my mind!  

See all posts by Andrea Myer