Braided Glory

It took so long to get ready for this party. I'm not the type to wear a dress and absolutely shudder at the thought of heels but, here I am. A simple black dress, plunging neckline, hitting mid-thigh and, 4.5" stilettos. My girlfriend is working on my hair since I only know how to put it in a ponytail. It's very 40's and the makeup matches right down to the blood red lipstick. I'm quite happy with the results.

Just as we finish up and take a few pictures for proof that, yes, I can look like a lady, my ride arrives to take me to the party. Black tie, business, champagne and hors d'oeuvres. It's not my cup of tea but, I have to at least make it through the presentations.

I walk over to the bar with my escort and order a bourbon on the rocks. That's better. The ladies at the party (the real ones, not like me with dirt and grease stains under my nails and calluses on my palms, heaven's no) are glaring at me. Not one has been more than polite to me this evening. Snarky comments on my appearance are most of what I've gotten. It affects me very little. I look damn good, if I do say so, myself.

The men at the party are far more cordial. I've always gotten along better with them, anyway. We finally sit down, myself being the only woman at the table and, get through dinner. The presentations are an absolute bore. Standard awards and shout outs to certain members of the company. Yawn.

I feel my phone vibrate in my purse and open it. It's him, wanting to know if I need a ride out of there. He knows me too well and by the time I reply to his text with a desperate plea for help, he's already walking through the door of the event center. God, bless this man.

Quickly, politely, we make our excuses and exit the building. Once in the parking lot, he says, "I didn't know you could wear anything but boots." Right. Simple cowgirl (literally) in stilettos. I can still run a tractor in these, I bet. Run circles around this pompous ass with his wingtips. Who wears those anymore?

He knows better than to open the car door for me. I know, I'm a weird one. We get in and head to a local dive bar for a beer and karaoke. We can both sing pretty well and stay a little longer than intended. My song, "Help Me Make it Through the Night" scores me a couple shots of whiskey from the regulars. These shoes are really too much but, I can't show that I'm suffering. He sings a song and then we get together for "I Need You" by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.

We are completely dedicated to this song. Keep in mind, this man is one of my best friends and we share the same twisted sense of humor. The look of longing on my face, his outstretched hand as he holds a note. We're ridiculous but, it's selling. The crowd buys it as we pretend to be so much in love that we can't see anything or anyone else during this song.

But, I see the look in his eyes. That look he gave me the last time he took me home. He's up to something. Something dark, dangerous. As if on command, my body reacts to the thought. I'm already halfway to orgasm, thinking about our last encounter that involved rope and the knife he used along my skin. Fuck, that felt good.

I struggle through the last chorus of the song as my clit jumps and twitches. It's unbearable, this burning, aching need to have him touch me there. Now. God, I need it now.

The music ends. We pay our tab and head for the parking lot. His hand just above my ass as we walk through the door. My insides are screaming. He knows exactly what he's doing, I'll give him that. I notice the bulge in his jeans when he walks to the driver's side of the car. Good, he's worked up, too.

We drive in silence until we reach the end of town and take a backroad. It's my turn to tease. I take off my seatbelt and quickly undo his belt and jeans. He helps me slide them down but, hasn't said a word. I mean over the console and tease the hell out of him.

His hand finds its way up my dress and everything goes black. All I can concentrate on is how good he feels, tastes. How is he driving when I can't even see straight?

We get to my place and all but run inside. The dress lasts less than ten seconds and it's on the floor. I'm wearing nothing but my heels and tattoos. I waste no time undressing him and go down on my knees while he tanks the bobby pins out of my hair and royally fucks it up. The fake nails I put on for the evening run up and down his stomach, around to his adorable ass. He pulls me up by the hair and leads me to the bedroom.

Once on the bed, he takes off my shoes and throws them across the room, never breaking eye contact. I'm so wet at this point, I can't stand it. His eyes, almost as black as my morning coffee, burn through me. I never cared for brown eyes until I saw his. He grabs my upper arms and digs his nails into my skin. It hurts and will probably bruise but, I love it. I've learned to let go of control when he's around.

He's more rough than usual tonight. I don't know what's gotten into him but, he seems to need this. His hand closes around my throat as he settles himself between my legs. I'm in absolute agony, waiting for contact but, he stops and sits up. He casually runs a finger from my navel to my now incredibly wet and wanting pussy. He stops there, does a little tease, then instructs me to lie on my stomach and not move.

My first thought is that he's going to tie my hands again. No. It's so dark in here, I can't see what he's doing but, I know he's over by the closet. He comes back to the bed and ever so gently caresses my bare ass. He tells me to use our safe word (which had been a joke up until now as I've never said it) if it's too much.

I start to ask what he's going to do as I hear the air being cut and what feels like fire comes down on my ass. He's got a belt. My belt. My braided leather belt that I wear every day. Jesus Christ. The initial shock covers some of the intense pain before he lightly touches the already rising welt. Instant pain to pleasure. God, he's good.

Again, the belt comes down with a loud *crack* and I feel the second welts rise along with goosebumps. He asks if this is ok, if he can continue. Of course, I say yes. This is wonderful in the most disturbing way. I reach behind me and grab his cock so I can play with it while I'm getting whipped. He's rock hard and I feel the pre-come beading on the head. I ask if I can taste him and he obliges.

He continues to punish me while I have him in my mouth. My moans are a mix between pain and ecstasy. I can't tell anymore. He's getting close, I can feel it. My fingers tease his balls and my tongue dances on his cock. He pulls back, lays me down, and bites my neck before he finally slips into my throbbing pussy. It doesn't take long for either of us to release.

He pulls me into his arms and spends some time massaging my very sore butt. Touching each welt with such tenderness, I almost cry. I am completely in love...with a sadist.

He holds me for a while and we both rest. Wore out from the party, the singing, the whiskey, the whipping, I curl up as close to him as I can. I know this part won't last. It never does. This is stuff only couples do. We're "just friends."

Such a bitter thought to enter my mind at a time like this. I remind myself that I agreed to this. No strings, no relationship, no love. Well, shit. I have no control over my emotions when it comes to him. He's everything I've ever wanted in a lover and a friend. Gentle and rough, sweet and sinister, funny and serious. He is my favorite person.

As I have this internal battle with my heart, he shifts, stretches and sits up. He's leaving. Again. He takes my hand, kisses my fingertips, and says he's got to go. I don't know how to respond so, I just say "alright."

I hear him open the door, lock the handle, and close it behind himself. His car starts and the headlights shine through the bedroom. Another reminder that this is it. This is all I can have. My eyes burn as I bury my face in my pillow and finally let out the scream that's been waiting behind my lips ever since the first crack of the belt.