Mud Angel Ch 03

Before you read, I would like to say that BDSM outdoors in the mud is not a good idea, as biting, scratching, whipping, or anything else that breaks the skin can lead to all sorts of infections. This is a complete work of fiction from my own perverted brain, not something that has happened or that you should do. However, I had a lot of fun writing this story and I hope you enjoy!

*****

"You smell nice," Claire murmured, her nose pressed into the back of Nick's head, breathing in the rustic, earthy fragrance, his hair tickling her face.

They were both lying naked in bed, their sheets and clothes strewn haphazardly around them like some Renaissance painting, spooning each other in their brilliant but tired afterglow, bursting into fits of delirious giggles like a couple of teenagers. Claire had her chest pressed tightly to his back, her nipples hard against his skin like smooth pebbles, and she cradled him in her arms, absently fondling his cock with one hand.

"I still smell like shit," he groaned.

"No, I'm serious," she laughed, "I think you smell very manly."

"Mhm... I don't think that your lotion really did anything," he said, recalling the peppermint-scented lotion that they had slathered on each other before her birthday dinner to try to mask the scent of dirt that the shower seemingly couldn't scrub away.

"It totally did!"

"For, like, fifteen minutes," he retorted.

She playfully pinched his nipple in response, eliciting a sharp "Ow!"

Nick had to laugh to himself, though, he still couldn't believe the reason that he smelled so bad, or manly, according to her, was because earlier that day he had willing rolled around in a giant puddle of mud, getting the stuff stuck in his ears, eyes, nose, mouth, hair, and various other places where mud should never be. And not only that, he had fucked her in it. For her birthday. He was still laughing at the absurdity of it.

The events of that day and the soft heat radiating from her skin pressed up against him had his eyelids feeling heavy, and he burst into another spasm of giggles. She made a contented noise and snuggled up closer to him, burying her face in the back of his neck and wrapping her arms tightly around him. Her embrace made him feel safe and loved, like nothing in the world could stand between them.

"Good night, angel," he murmured.

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"I want..." Nick's throat closed up, dry with nervousness.

Claire squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You can tell me anything."

"I know," he said, his eyebrow creasing, "but it's just hard to put into words..."

"C'mon" she smiled, "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

He gulped, deciding to take a leap of faith, figuring that once the words spilled out of him he couldn't stop them. "I want you to hit me."

The words barely registered in her brain before her hand lashed out, seemingly on its own, and struck him hard across the left cheek with a loud, satisfying smack. "Like that?"

Crisp, hot pain shot through the soft flesh of his face and he cried out, his head lolling to the side.

"Oh my god," she gasped, covering her hands with her mouth as she realized what she did. "I'm so, so sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He groaned, still overcome by surprise, but smiled weakly. "Ow..."

There was something so gloriously humiliating by being hit by a girl, and such a beautiful one at that. He loved how the pain fizzed in his skin like carbonation on his tongue, how there was something freeing in just letting her take control of him, completely giving her body to her and trusting her.

"Oh..." she groaned, "I should have asked first..."

It was his turn to squeeze her hand reassuringly, and he grinned broadly, a red mark already forming on his face. Claire still couldn't believe what she had done. As much as he liked to be sexually dominated, she had never hit him like that before, only light, playful pinches and smacks at worst. Nick was such an innocent sweetheart and sometimes she thought he didn't deserve some of the things she did.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," he said, and he couldn't help but feel a tingle in his cock as she kissed the tender area on his cheek. "It's exactly what I wanted."

"Y'know, Nick, thank you for putting up with me. I didn't mean to hit you, I should have asked first, and I should have also asked you how you felt about mud... Sometimes I just feel like I'm not—"

She was cut off by his lips locked to hers, his hands running up and down her body and through her hair. "Shut up," he growled into her mouth. Surprised, Claire leaned into him, and they ground their bodies together, melting into one another as naked flesh rubbed against clothing as they made obscene, unabashed moans.

"I love you," Nick said when they pulled apart.

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Stepping closer to the edge of the mud pit, she grinned haughtily as she scooped up two handfuls of thick, gray mud and slapped them onto her lingerie-clad body, promptly ruining the expensive-looking red lace as she smeared the mud all over.

"Ooh, you like that, don't you?" she teased, running her hands over her stomach and breasts, moving and twisting her body erotically. Nick's heart fluttered at the sight of the gorgeous woman covering herself with clay-rich mud, the strange contrast of beauty and filth confusing but exciting him. With a suggestive smirk on her lips, she fondled her large boobs with her mud-caked hands, pulling the lace away to reveal her erect nipples.

Nick reached up and paused the video playing on Claire's phone, still a little bewildered yet pleasantly surprised. "So this is, like, an actual fetish? You're not just really weird? Actually, nevermind, you still are really weird—"

"Hey!" Claire protested. "I am not!"

"Sorry," he grinned, chuckling to himself. "But people actually just make porn of girls covering themselves in mud?"

"Yep, pretty much. Do you like it though?" she asked, stroking his hair.

"Yeah, it's certainly interesting..." he said, even though the model's performance had him feeling massively turned on.

"Y'know, there's basically no videos like this of men. Maybe we could film—"

"No, no thank you," he interjected, "I'd prefer to keep that stuff off the internet."

"I'm just messing with you, baby," she teased. "But I can tell you're totally enjoying it."

"What?"

"Then why is your dick so hard?"

"Oh, Claire," he groaned defeatedly, feeling awfully exposed.

"I'm still messing with you," she laughed, "but on your birthday I'm going to give you something so much better than any video."

He made a happy noise and snuggled closer to her.

"Oh, and speaking of which," she said, "I probably should have asked a little sooner than, well, now, but I got some stuff for your newfound BDSM fetish—"

"It is not," he protested.

"Then what is it?" she asked, chuckling at how his nostrils flared.

"It's— uh, it's... Um... Fine, it's just BDSM," he said, exasperated, as Claire let out a snort of laughter.

"Well, since you've admitted it," she said, her green eyes beginning to sparkle with excitement, "is there anything that you don't want to do?"

He bit his lip, thinking. Normally they liked to play rough with each other, both in and out of sex, but it was more in a friendly banter kind of way. He wasn't quite sure what BDSM would be like and how it would be different, but seeing as this was both their first foray into it, he decided that they should go gradually and experiment as they went. "Uh, nothing super painful. It's still my first time and I think we need to go slowly."

"Agreed."

"Oh, and nothing up my ass either. At least not in the mud. I don't want to get an infection," he shuddered.

"Fair enough," she laughed. "Are you okay with everything else? Bondage?"

"Yep."

"Choking?"

"Yep."

"Spanking?"

"Yep."

"Biting?"

"You didn't ask about that one before," he grinned good-naturedly, rubbing the bruise on his shoulder from where Claire previously bit him in the throes of a particularly intense orgasm.

"Oh, sorry..."

"Nah, that was actually kind of sexy. I wouldn't complain if you did it again. Well, as long as it's in a place where my clothes would cover the bruise, because I don't want my coworkers asking why I have a bite mark—"

"Understood," she grinned. "Also, are you okay with humiliation?"

His lips parted slightly in surprise and delight, his eyes dilating. "Oh, hell yes. I... I think I would really like that."

Claire giggled in response, reciprocating his excitement. "Ooh, kinky." She reached up and grabbed his head, her body laid bare next to him, and pulled him close. Her lips tickled his ear, her hot breath brushing the side of his face. "So," she said salaciously, "can I tell you what a pathetic little slut you are?"

His body went rigid in response and he let out an involuntary little squeak, drinking in every insulting syllable and savoring the brush of her breath against his ear.

"Y... Yes," he moaned.

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"Holy shit..." Nick gasped. "You look... incredible."

"I know, right?" she grinned, running her hands over her front. "I'm glad you like it." The truth was, he really, really liked it. Her outfit had him feeling very excited and a little breathless. His heart fluttered at seeing her natural beauty brought out so much; she looked delicate yet powerful, like a black rose.

She had added streaks of hot pink to her long, dark brown hair, which was curled into waves framing her freckle-spangled face, her green-gray eyes brought out by mascara and rimmed by dark purple eyeshadow, red lipstick on her soft lips accentuating her natural smirk.

His eyes roamed down, a tight black choker was buckled around her pale, elegant neck, and her soft breasts were pushed up alluringly by a black leather overbust corset, the front cut into a V shape to expose the entirety of her cleavage, taut ribbon crisscrossing the dip as if straining to keep her curvaceous breasts in place. The corset pinched her waist into an hourglass shape and short denim shorts hugged her ass, a hint of pink underwear peeking out from the top edge. Her long, slender legs were wrapped in sexy fishnet stockings, twisting down her skin like black spiderweb.

But what really sent a thrill down Nick's spine was the black, tough-looking combat boots she was wearing, making her look powerful and commanding. He had explicitly asked her to hurt him, which she clearly had no problems doing, and he couldn't help but dream up all sorts of scenarios in which she kicked him or shoved his face into the mud with those boots.

She truly was stunning, almost like she had an aurora of authoritative beauty around her. The dichotomy of her rugged boots and her magnificent outfit that showed off just enough of her body to tease him had his mind in a whirlwind, casting away all rational thoughts and restraint and innocence and filling it only with her and thoughts of what she would do to him.

"I've never seen you wear a corset before," was the only thing he stammered.

"You like it?" she asked flirtatiously, putting her hands on her bust. "I thought you might. It's really pretty."

"Claire," he said gently, "how much did this all cost?"

"Oh," she laughed, her beautiful, addictive laugh tickling his ears like wind chimes. "It's not like it matters, it's your birthday. It's my present to you."

Nick nodded, amused.

"Ooh, and I got my nails done too," she announced, and flipped her middle finger at him, her red nails long and dangerous-looking. His cheeks heated, delightfully embarrassed at being on the receiving end of such a rude gesture.

"I'm so excited to trash it though," she squealed, "this is going to be so fun!"

Nick scanned her body once more, feeling a little inadequate in nothing but his swim trunks, an erection already clearly visible.

"I'll race you to the mud!"

Before he knew what was happening, she yanked his shorts down to his ankles and sprinted out of the room and out the back door. Clumsily pulling them up, he stumbled after her.

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The mud pit was only about a quarter-mile through the woods just behind the back of their house—far enough away that no one could see or hear them, but close enough to still be easily accessible.

It was his birthday today, which happened to be in the dead of summer. Normally the woods would be looking a little dry and sad in the 90-degree heat, but a recent rainstorm had revived the plant life, and it was shimmering green in all its glory. Unfortunately for him, however, the air was awfully humid and it was hard to run after Claire, especially through the woods without shoes. As he ran out the door after her, he hadn't remembered to put any on, but the soft ground and blanket of dead leaves was safe enough that he didn't have to worry about breaking an ankle.

When he got to their mud pit, Claire was already there, hands on her hips and sticking her tongue out at him. She wasn't even out of breath—the only sign she had just been running was a telltale sheen of sweat on her face and neck. He didn't even want to ask how she was able to run in boots and a corset.

"Hey, loser," she greeted, using the term affectionately.

"Hey," he panted.

"Since we're doing some... new stuff today, can I call you kitten? I really think it would set the mood."

"Why kitten?"

"Because you're small and cute."

"I am not small," he said incredulously, "I'm six foot one!"

"And I'm five eleven," she retorted, "plus I have a fat ass, so that makes up the difference."

"I literally hate you so much."

"I love you more."

He sighed, but couldn't suppress a laugh. "Fine, call me kitten."

"And one last thing, what's the safe word?"

"Most people just use red, right?"

"How do you know that? Been reading smut?"

"I—" He let out an exasperated sigh. "Claire..."

She snickered mischievously. "So, red it is then. I've got some pretty fun BDSM stuff planned, but if it gets to be too much, just tell me. Don't let your overinflated male ego make you think that using the safe word makes you weak, because it's only your first time," Claire said, smiling reassuringly at him, "and I probably, I mean definitely, will get a little carried away." She grabbed one of his hands between hers, feeling his sweaty palm. "Nervous?"

"A little," he grinned, trying to be confident.

She craned her head up and planted an intentionally wet and sloppy kiss on his lips. "It'll be okay. And remember, it's perfectly fine if you have to use the safe word."

"Okay. I'm ready."

"Well, then, kitten, we're going to have some fun," she declared, dropping into the personality of a dominatrix. She walked around him as if inspecting him, tracing her red fingernail sensually over his skin. Her finger tickled and little cold shivers shot through him wherever she touched him; already he was getting quite excited and breathless and his cock was starting to grow again. He was surprised at how quickly they were already getting into things.

After she had run her finger over most of the skin of his upper body, Claire got down on her knees and slowly moved her finger up the inside of his leg from the ankle to his crotch, lingering on the tip of his hard erection. He remained completely still and silent, frozen with excitement, not wanting to disturb the moment. She pulled his swim trunks down a little and grabbed onto his cock, giving the sensitive underside a long, slow lick with her wet tongue while her big, slate-green eyes stared up at him flirtatiously.

Nick shuddered in pleasure, but just as soon as she started she was done, and she snapped the waistband back into place, making him groan in disappointment.

"Patience, kitten."

She continued her treatment, digging her fingers into his flesh and dragging them over his body, leaving hot, raspberry-colored trails, then pausing to suck his cock, kiss his testicles, or bite his neck.

His skin was becoming energized and extremely sensitive from her relentless teasing, and his cock had become even more swollen and purple. Nick reached out, desperate for some reprieve or satisfaction from touching her body, but she coyly slunk away, denying him any such pleasure. He could have walked to her, but his knees felt so weak he thought that if he tried he would have collapsed.

After a few more rounds of her teasing, his cock slick and dripping with precum, desperate for orgasm, he cried out, "Claire, I can't take this anymore!"

Suddenly, a hard slap struck him across the cheek, and he yelped at the stinging pain, clutching his face.

"What did I say about patience, kitten?"

He whimpered and nodded, feeling weak and pathetic, loving how she took control of him.

"The more you talk, the longer this will take."

He nodded, having learned his lesson. By the time Claire had deemed that she was done, he was visibly trembling, flowing with sexual energy. His swim trunks halfway down his thighs, she pulled him by his pained cock to the edge of the mud pit, which the recent rain had made into a gray-brown soupy paste. Claire smiled to herself, thinking that taunting him with a face full of mud would really get him riled up.

"You want to get in that?" she asked.

He nodded, gulping.

She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his back and neck, squeezing his throat just a little. "Really? You're disgusting."

"No, I—" Claire silenced him by squeezing his throat tighter so that he only let out a strangled groan.

"Just look at you. So horny. So pathetic. I'd bet you'd fuck that nasty stuff if I let you."

He groaned again, making her incredibly horny too at teasing him. She gave him a gentle shove towards the mud, but he resisted, staying firmly planted on the dry ground.

"Ooh, so you don't want it? Well, I won't let you orgasm until you cover yourself in it."

"No, please," he gasped. His cock felt fat and heavy, balanced so precariously to orgasm he thought that if Claire accidentally brushed it with her hand he would come all over it.

"You're so desperate," Claire laughed wickedly. She placed one hand on his chin and tilted his head up, exposing his vulnerable throat, glistening with sweat. The red-tipped fingers of her other hand ran down his neck, raking across the flesh and into the hollow of his throat.

"You're not going to fight back? Of course you wouldn't. You're too weak."

He made a breathy sound, delighting in the humiliation. But there was also happiness in the fact that he could trust his beautiful angel to do this to him, let himself be weak while she dominated him.

"Okay, I'll let you have the mud if you admit it. Say that you're pathetic."

"I'm pathetic."

"Say that you're weak."

"I'm weak."

"Say that you're disgusting."

"I'm disgusting."

"Say that you'd fuck that mud if I let you."

"I'd... I'd fuck that mud if you let me." A new thrill went through him at each announcement he made, his resolve chipping away little by little. He couldn't believe how much he loved being humiliated with her dirty words.

Claire let out a whoop of excitement and jumped up onto him, piggy-back style, knocking him off balance and sending them both into the mud. Surprised, he stumbled and twisted in midair, but they both splashed into it at the same time, mud and water spraying everywhere and splashing their skin. She let out a satisfying groan at where the cool, smooth mud touched her skin, offering refreshment from the midday heat. As Nick whimpered and pulled his face out of the mess, she giggled and looked down at her outfit, the mud clinging to the left side of her boots, legs, shorts, and corset, its lace and ribbons glued down flat by the brown, sticky mud. She thrilled at seeing her sexy outfit so gloriously ruined, the shimmering mud accentuating her curves and hiding her imperfections, the thought of the stains it would leave as a permanent reminder of their antics.