At the edge of trust often lies a little betrayal…
As Shakespeare wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth,” and the love between Michael L. Black and Natalie Smith is no exception.
Having fallen deeply in love with one another, Michael and Natalie’s passionate and, at times, tumultuous relationship continues to teeter on the edge of happiness as they explore their deepest and sometimes darkest desires of games, bondage, and sex. Michael’s dominant tendencies thrive as Natalie craves to submit her body and mind to him, bringing her to sometimes excruciating pleasure. Love never felt so right.
But their relationship will be tested. Truths are hidden. Secrets are revealed. And when Michael’s insecurities inflame his penchant for control and punishment, all the trust and love they have worked so hard to build dismantles itself within one split second. Will they forgive and trust one another again? Or will the betrayal leave them on the edge of devastation?
He crouched over me, like a lion over its prey, his eyes burning holes into my body, looking me up and down, undressing me, and fucking me with his now black eyes. I couldn’t help but moan, losing any anger I had towards him. Only lust remained as I squirmed under his gaze. He rolled onto his side.
“Stand up. Take off your costume, Natalie. Let me look at you. And do not hesitate, do not overthink this, or become shy, or let your guilt take over. Obey me this time, would you? I want to see your body. You’ve teased me enough with this outfit tonight, don’t you think?”
Oh my god. I had teased him? What? To think that I had some effect on him, the way he affected me all the time, was liberating, empowering. I slowly stripped as he stayed lying down on the rug, head propped on his elbow, staring up at me. I was embarrassed at how quickly I had lost my anger, how quickly I always lost my anger around him. Only moments earlier, I was ready to tear into him, give him a solid piece of my mind. Now, I was dripping wet and at his mercy. I liked obeying him. Plain and simple. It turned me on.
“Wait. Leave on those tiny, taunting panties of yours, and put your pointe shoes back on. Get up on your toes, Natalie, and stay there for me. Let the fire warm and illuminate your beautiful body.”
My empowerment was lost, replaced with an uncomfortable embarrassment, but I did exactly as he asked. I finished tying up my pointe shoes, got on my toes with my back facing him, the fire warming my front, and looked over my shoulder at him shyly. He just stayed there, staring at me, for what felt like an eternity. But god, I wanted him more than I ever had before. “You are so frustrating,” I whispered. “I was so mad at you.”
“Sssh. No talking,” he said darkly. “Stay right there. Do not move a muscle. Or I will punish you.”
I obeyed, staying on my toes, tightening the muscles in my legs, my ass. It was beginning to hurt.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, barely above a whisper.
“Michael. It’s starting to hurt. I can’t hold it much longer.”
“Good. I want you to hurt for me. I want you to feel what I felt earlier.”
I could feel my body weakening. I began to shake. I looked back at him, pleading with my eyes for him to stop, and yet, I loved his control. I had a sick desire to obey him at all turns. Pain and pleasure always felt right with him.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he finally said, “Good girl. Come over here.” He smirked at the power he wielded over me. “Lie down next to me on your stomach. Spread your legs. I am going to grant your wish.”
I held my breath, as again, I did exactly as he asked, lying down on my stomach, inches away from his body. The cramps in my legs slowly subsided. He turned my face to the side to force me to look at him. “Breathe, Natalie,” he instructed as I exhaled into his now probing mouth. He flicked his tongue and sucked my mouth. I moaned and began to grind slightly into the soft, plush rug that tickled my body underneath it. He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me. There was no other contact between us. I wanted his cock in me.
“Fuck me,” I begged again.
“Yes,” he said, but did nothing but continue to kiss me, holding my swollen mouth to his with his hands tightly gripping my hair. I could barely breathe. I couldn’t move.
He released my hair. I felt the heavy pressure of his lips against mine. He began to lightly flick his tongue on my tongue, teasingly, sensually. He was dripping in confidence as he smiled and licked me endlessly. I had never been turned on like this from mere kissing. My pussy throbbed, lying on my stomach, waiting in anticipation for him to fuck me.
He stopped all contact with me and stood up, slowly removing his jeans to reveal his throbbing cock. He smoothed a condom over it and saying nothing, he stood over me, removed my soaking wet panties, and spread my legs wide with his feet until I was sprawled out completely in front of him, flat on my stomach. I wiggled my pussy into the rug, and he still said nothing. He didn’t tell me to lie still. He didn’t tell me to be quiet. He just stood there, agonizingly, over me, as I lay there, feeling exposed and helpless and full of want and need.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he got down on his knees and again, just stayed there, tracing his fingers over my pointe shoes, up my calves over the ribbon laces, as my breathing quickened and my chest rose and fell in heaving anticipation. I was starting to lose my mind, panting, squirming, and wanting.
“Please,” I begged.
He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit, exposing its wetness and I moaned, lifting my ass a bit in the air to reach his cock. Again, he said nothing, but he thrust his palms forcefully on my ass and lower back, pressing me into the soft fabric of the rug again. He held me in place, legs spread wide, as he tickled my pussy and clit with the light stroke of his cock. I moaned and started to grind against his cock and he slammed it into me, startling me.
Author Bio and Links:
I can’t remember not reading. Even now, I constantly toggle between two to five books on my Kindle in all genres. But I have always been drawn to the more taboo side of storytelling, even as a young adult, from hiding books from my strict Catholic parents as a tween, to getting lost in the erotic section of my favorite bookstore for hours as a college student, discovering such greats as Henry Miller and Pauline Réage.
In my own writing, which I can’t describe as anything but a “trance-like compulsion,” I like to explore the darker nature of relationships, those riddled with the reality of insecurities and human folly. I am drawn to expose the vulnerability, emotional turmoil, and occasional pain that can come from losing oneself in the heat of passion.
I hold a degree in English literature and happily reside in the Northeast. I teach English and Shakespeare by day and write erotica every other chance I get. My writing comes from some hidden, unrecognizable place, very different from the reality of my waking world. I am in love with E.E. Cummings and try to embrace the philosophical idea of “Since Feeling is First” when I write my stories.