A free read. An oldie but a spooky. Originally appeared at Ruthie's Club many moons ago:
By Sommer Marsden
The first time David bit me, I wasn’t expecting it. I was also shocked by how quickly I came. The shock was instant—the orgasm a close second. Hard. Intense. Like nothing I had ever experienced before. And I was hooked.
I would look at them in the mirror every chance I got. I kept it a secret, even from him. I tried to ignore the secret thrill I would get when I touched one. Pushed on it. How the skin sang with the tender pain that only comes from abused flesh. I always felt a little sad when the marks faded, when the bruises slipped away from me.
In time, I found myself praying he would bite me while he was fucking me. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. When he did, I always wanted more, wanted him to push me further—up the ante of pain and pleasure. The anticipation would get under my skin and make me itch. Would he do it this time? I wanted him to so badly. Not once in awhile. Every time. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.
It got to the point that I wasn’t above biting myself on the shoulder while he fucked me. Just to get that rush. Just to feel that exquisite pain. I found out, though, that I didn’t cherish those marks. The marks I cherished were the ones he left. An alpha symbol that I was his? A territorial claim? Whatever the reason, those were the ones that made me wet by doing nothing other than provoking them with a harsh poke from my finger.
The time had come to confess. I was thirty-five this month. A fancy dinner. A special celebration. I would tell him what I wanted. For my birthday. A treasured gift from him to me. He would understand.
David came at dusk, at the end of his shift. I’m a night owl, so I didn’t have a problem with our late night dates. They worked just fine for me. He looked good enough to eat. Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled out the tailored black pants and pin-striped shirt flawlessly. His dirty blond hair was the perfect mixture of groomed and mussed. I could smell his distinctive scent—a cross between spice and musk. I wanted to skip dinner and haul his ass up to the bedroom. I could use the time during dinner, though, to gather my strength and try to figure out how to explain what I needed from him. How badly I needed it.
“You look lovely, as usual,” he said and kissed me. A good kiss. The kind that curled my toes and heated my blood. I murmured my appreciation. He inhaled the scent of me and I almost blurted it out then and there, just from the way he took a good deep breath of me, like I was perfume or fine wine. “Is my lovely Rowan ready for her big night?”
I nodded, tucking my chin for a moment in case he could detect that look on my face, the look that says I have something to get off my chest. “Of course I am.”
David lifted my chin with his finger and stared at me, a little too hard, a probing stare. “You sure? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing. Just hungry and ready to go,” I said and tucked my arm in his. “Let’s go. Feed me. I’m dying.”
“Well, we don’t want that, now do we? I like you very much alive. All rosy and glowing and thirty-five. Ripe.”
The tiny hairs along the back of my neck perked up when he put it that way. Ripe. Like a peach. Ready. David had no idea how ready I was. What I wanted. I was determined to ask. At thirty-five, you can’t be shy about what you want. No. It was time to speak up.
I straightened my shoulders and started to think about how I would put it, how I would phrase my request. Maybe it was really a demand, though. I wasn’t sure. I had chosen a tiny black dress for our dinner. It stopped just above my knees. It was tight enough to be revealing without being slutty—low-cut, not plunging—but the back was nearly missing, my shoulders bare and my neck exposed. The ties around my neck were the only fabric holding the bodice to my breasts.
I shivered and smiled. “Let’s go! I’m ready.”
And I was. I would explain over an elegant dinner. Then, if all went well, I’d get my way. I’d have my present.
The restaurant was barely lit. I could hardly see David across the table. The ambiance was perfect for a little debauchery. I wondered briefly how many couples had gone at it in the dark booths or perhaps ducked under the elegant white tablecloths. The whole place had that kind of feel. Very posh but a little wicked. I liked the choice. Very much. This was the kind of place in which I could confess my secret wants. I could find the courage in the shadows and the flickering candlelight.
“Something’s on your mind.” David said softly. “You’re not yourself.” He was taking tiny bites of his barely cooked filet mignon. The way David liked his steaks took “rare” to a whole new level. I called it “mooing.”
“There is,” I sighed. Time to stop thinking about telling him and actually fucking tell him. “There’s something I want from you.”
He raised an eyebrow and for what seemed like the thousandth time, I got sucked in by those otherworldly eyes, a blue I had never seen on another living person. Or in nature, for that matter. “A present? Rowan, I got you a present. It’s in the car. Did you think I would forget?”
“You’re not getting me.” I laughed. “I know you. You would never forget to get me a present. I’m also sure I’ll love it. Your taste is impeccable.”
“Of course—I chose you after all.” He took my hand and ran his thumb along the edge of my palm. “Only the best for me.”
“Yes. And for me?”
Again, his thumb traveled my skin, waking up all the nerves that had dared to go to sleep. I always liked his hands on me. It didn’t really matter where. Some places were preferable to others, but just the feel of his hands sliding over my skin was enough to get me aroused. I hummed a little but held my tongue. Maybe this would work—make him ask me.
“I’m not the best?” David asked in his best teasing tone, but just underneath was a hint of wariness.
“You are...” I sighed and stroked his thumb with mine, relishing the little zings of electricity coursing through me. “...which is why I should be able to be honest.”
He didn’t release my hand but he sat back, straining our contact. His face fell just a little and he seemed to grow paler. “Are you...breaking up with me?”
“What? No!” Then I understood the look. As I searched for the right words to explain, and slowly worked my way up to what I wanted to say, he thought I was trying to figure out how to let him down gently. I started to laugh. It was too funny. And I felt very stupid. “I was trying to find the right words to describe what I want from you...in bed,” I said, letting my voice fall to a barely audible whisper.
Both his eyebrows arched. A smile twisted those perfect lips and my body liquefied for just a moment. “Oh, now the conversation just got interesting. What do you want, Rowan? I’m dying to hear.”
The tone in his voice had me shifting on the soft leather banquette. I could tell him. Why was I so hesitant? I had never been shy about expressing my needs or wants before. Somehow, this felt different, though. Taboo, almost. Even with David.
“I want...” I hesitated another moment, feeling his gaze on me. Something in me said to just leave it. Not say it. Let it go. I couldn’t, though. I wanted it too badly. “I want you to break me.”
David blinked, the smile faltering a little. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I’m curious as hell, sure, but I don’t think I get it.”
I inhaled deeply, my head swimming from anxiety. “My skin. I want you to bite me, like you do sometimes. I love it. Live for it. Obsess over it…but I’ve never told you. And for my birthday,” I went on, my words hurried. “I want you to break the skin. Break me.”
His face grew even paler, his expression darkening. “Row, I don’t think that’s wise. Really, I don’t. I’d do anything for you, baby, but that can be dangerous. If you want the marks, I can do that. I will do that. Any time you want me to, just say the word. But breaking the skin…really biting you. Not good.” His eyes seemed luminescent in the dim light, his face a carefully controlled mask. He was turning me down and trying to gauge my reaction.
“I’ve thought of all that. The safety issues—infection,” I pushed on, not ready to give up yet. Not sure if I would give up. Ever. “And I’m not talking take a chunk out of my skin. I mean just a little. Just break it some. Enough that there’s a little blood.” I laughed and it sounded slightly shrill in the quiet restaurant. “Don’t go all Bela Lugosi on me. Just a little puncture.”
I felt a weight settle in my chest. If his face was any indication, I wasn’t going to get my way. I hadn’t convinced him. He stared at me long and hard without speaking. I felt the urge to shift and fidget but just stared back. Body language was everything when you went toe-to-toe with someone. Maybe if I looked dead-set on my wants, he’d give in. And I was dead-set. Not enough to lose David over it, no, but I desperately wanted him to cave to my urges. I would argue a few more rounds if I had to. I took a deep breath but remained still. I waited.
After what seemed like forever, he spoke, so softly, I could barely make out the words. I half heard them and half read his lips. “I’ll think about it. I can tell how ... important it is to you. I’m still not sure it’s advisable, though. In fact, I’m positive it isn’t, but I’m not saying no. I’m just asking for dinner and drinks to think it over. Is that acceptable?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was consideration. Really, all I could ask of the man. He had reservations and yet he would think it over. I nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
I barely tasted dinner.
The car ride home was quiet—not tense, just quiet. Not the birthday celebration I had in mind, but I was sure David hadn’t expected me to ask him to defile my skin either. So we were even. I waited, hoping against all odds that he would decide in my favor and give me what I needed. When we got home, I opened the door and stepped in. I didn’t turn on the lights. I let the dim glow filtering in from the street lamps light my way. I sat on the sofa and steeled myself.
“Now, tell me what you decided. The suspense is killing me.” I tried for lightheartedness, but my words and my tone were tense.
He sat next to me, gathered me in his arms and pulled me close. He stroked my thigh and his hands whispered over my dress. My body responded instantly, but my mind was in a whirl. What would he say? Would he say yes? Could I handle it if he said no?
I waited, the anxiety painting bright colors before my eyes in the dark living room—swirls of blue and purple and red where there was only darkness. David sighed and slid his hand up higher, let it rest on my waist. “I still say it’s not wise but I can feel...” he trailed off.
“...my desperation.” A bark of nervous laughter escaped me, and I winced. It was true. I was desperate.
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. My shoulder slid along his as it rose and fell. “The first time you did it, I came. I mean, I came hard. Harder than I think I ever have.” Another self-conscious shrug reminded me how close we were.
“I remember.” His voice was soothing, but there was just the tiniest hint of arousal.
“And the marks you left...” I slid my hand onto his lap and felt how hard he was. Maybe I would win after all. It was worth a shot. I started to stroke him through the material as I talked. “They got me off for days after you left them. I could get wet just pushing my fingers against them. The ache of where your mouth had been.” My hand slipped up and down the length of his cock, letting the fabric of his slacks ease my way. “I looked at them all the time. If I poked at them, I could go right back in my mind to you fucking me. Pounding into me. I like your mark on me,” I said on a breath. My voice had gone from tense to a deep purr. I ran my thumb along the head of his cock and although I couldn’t see it, I knew that if I freed him from his pants, I’d find a glistening drop of pre-cum there.
He let out a dark growl in the darkness. His head moved toward me. He took a deep drag of my scent as if just the smell of me intoxicated him. His mouth was so close to my throat I felt its presence. If he moved a fraction of an inch, his teeth would be against my skin. My body twisted into knots—fevered and taut and fluid. My nipples tightened the way they did when the temperature was brutally cold. They rasped against my dress and stopped my breath for just a second. Without thinking, I continued to stroke him.
Another growl and his hand wrapped around my wrist—a nearly painful grasp that set my pulse point below his fingers thumping. Even my blood was desperate to be near him, beating at the cage of skin that held it prisoner.
His mouth, still maddeningly close to my flesh, whispered, “I still say it isn’t wise. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You’re pushing the limits. Walking that line. Rowan, you don’t want to walk that line.”
Oh, but I did. I wanted to walk that line. I wanted to dance on it and slide on it. I wanted to cross it. Not just cross it, but leap over it in one freeing act. Break me. Make me yours. I screamed it in my head but waited patiently on the outside. He hadn’t said no. Yet.
“Please.” I didn’t pull against his grip, but I leaned in so his mouth was on my throat. It was all I could think to say at this point. It was my only hope.
He sighed and his breath was as light as a moth’s wings on my skin. The flesh at my throat pebbled under the subtle stirring of air. “Rowan.” There was a plea in the timbre of his words but I ignored it.
I gave a gentle tug. That was all it took and he released me instantly. David would never hurt me, I knew that. Not real hurt. I slid to the floor and quickly got rid of his belt and opened the slacks he looked so good in. He raised his hips to accommodate me, and I slipped his pants down and tossed them aside. I wanted him to say yes so bad, just as badly I wanted him in my mouth. One thing I couldn’t control. The other I could.
I took my time, relishing the slide of soft, steely skin between my lips—the secret taste of him, the way he smelled, the soft sounds he made when my mouth took him in. Suddenly, I was ravenous to take him and suck him, and I knew why. I could feel it, right in the center of my chest where the truth lives. He would give me what I wanted. I was certain. I licked the length of him, enjoyed the feel of the engorged head of his cock on my tongue. I ate him like an ice cream cone, the way my teenage friends once joked about learning to give blow jobs and then we would laugh. But I did it. Like the sweetest dessert in the world.
A light knock came at the front door and David’s body tensed. “Just trick-or-treaters,” I sighed around his erection. “I left the front porch light off. They’ll leave.” Having a Halloween birthday had been great as a kid but as an adult, it could be disruptive.
I was going faster, finding my rhythm, very intent on feeling him come in my mouth. It was an obsessive thought. The salty taste of semen. The arch of his body. The noise he made that seemed to come from the back of his throat. It was the only thought in my mind when he clamped his hands to my head and made me go still.
“What?” I tried to move my head, tried to continue what I was doing. I wanted him back in my mouth and it was the only thing I could think of.
“Up here. Now. Come.” His words were clipped and so unlike him—dark and sinister in the blackness of the living room. I tried to read his expression in the dim light, but I couldn’t see anything but the shadowed planes and angles of his face.
I moved within his reach. I stood there, unsure of what to do. From his tone, he sounded angry. His hands pawed at my dress, shoved it up as if it were a housedress. He seemed oblivious of manners or mores and my blood rushed under my skin, singing to me from inside my body. A heated surge of moisture soaked my panties. I clenched my thighs, mildly embarrassed.
David leaned forward, shoving the dress further up my waist. “Take it off.”
I did. Without hesitation, I yanked it over my head in one swift motion. It joined his slacks in the pile. He grabbed the side of my panties, sexy ones bought just for this special evening—two black triangles of fabric held together at the sides by thin yellow ribbons. He yanked so hard I staggered, and they fell away from my body, nothing but fancy scrap material at that point.
“David, are you—”
“Rowan!” My name came out primitive—a hiss of air and guttural sounds. There was nothing but need and want in that voice. Warm fluids seeped down my inner thighs. “Here!” He yanked me down, cradling me for just a moment as if gaining control. Then he flipped me.
I let out a startled cry as my head banged the armrest. His hands pulled at me roughly and my body responded. A steady throb pulsed in my cunt, my heart railed in my chest and my ears hissed with the sound of thumping blood. I whimpered as he hiked my hips higher, parted my thighs roughly, positioned me the way he wanted me. Needed me. I could feel it now—the need. His need. It radiated like radio waves at high frequency.
The blunt head of his cock nudged my opening. No time to adjust. No niceties. One thrust and he was in. My head snapped back as he burrowed deeply on one single heartbeat. I couldn’t breathe but it was miraculous. My cunt milked at him, already flirting with an intense orgasm. Then he leaned forward, lightly closing his teeth over the back of my neck, near my shoulder where a bundle of nerves sprang to life, stoking a fire under my skin. His tongue snaked out, wetting the spot. I shivered, loving the feel of his spit on my skin. His tongue warmed that place few people pay attention to.
“I wish you hadn’t been so stubborn,” he mumbled. I heard him, but it didn’t register because he was fucking me. It had always been good but this—this was fucking. It was what you heard about—starbursts behind the eyelids, screaming orgasms, feeling faint. All of the above. I had it. I felt it.
The harder he thrust, the wetter I became. My body eased the way for his breadth and length but greedily wrapped around him in the process. His hand found my breasts and he twisted my nipples to the point of pain, but I didn’t cry out. I was too enchanted by the steady rhythm of him slamming into me, mesmerized by each brutal thrust of his cock against my G-spot. His teeth sank into my neck a little further. I moaned and I sounded like a mad woman. Desperate. Insane.
“I would give you anything,” he panted. “Up until now, I have controlled myself. For you.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust that pushed my face into the cushions. I nearly lost my balance but gave up the battle and rested my forehead on the chocolate brown fabric to steady myself. He draped his body over mine, his mouth never leaving me. “You have no idea how hard it was, Rowan. To be that close. To smell you. Not to act. It goes against my very nature.” Thrust. Pound. Brutal. Blissful.
Again his teeth sank deeper, and my body tightened, forcing the friction between us to feel even better. My pleasure heightened, and my body felt light and heavy. I was close. If he would just break me, I’d be done. Done. I would be lost. And found... I was so intent on my desire, my wish, that I barely heard his words.
“And you come to me with this request. What can I say? I would give you anything. I’ve fallen in love with you. So, I’m torn. Give the woman I love what she really wants or deny her and save my soul. Not that I have one.”
His teeth plunged through my skin and orgasm broke deep within me. There was pain, great waves of it, but it made the pleasure miraculous in its intensity. His mouth drew on me, sucking my neck. The orgasm continued. It was more intense and lengthy than anything I had ever felt—a hot searing delight that washed over me inside and out. I rode wave after wave as colors danced behind my eyelids and still he drew on me. Sucking. Louder now. Greedy sounds.
“I’m giving you my mark. Just like you wanted. I don’t know if I’ll turn you,” he mumbled against my neck, his cock still pushing at me, sliding in and out of my willing body. I moaned again but it was fainter. The pleasure could be heard, even by me, but it was a weaker smaller sound. “That is my hope. That you’ll turn, and I won’t lose you.”
My mind was catching up. Scrambling, terrified, absorbing his words. I was still coming. Contractions and releases that made me feel dizzy and weak. It felt so good but I was slipping. I could feel it.
“I love you, Rowan. I hope I gave you what you wanted. I hope you make it through. You taste so good...”
My body still twitched and grabbed at him. The warmth of arousal and orgasm still flowed. I sank down further on the sofa, his teeth still on me, the sounds of his hunger in my ears.
I rode the wave and couldn’t tell whether I was dying or coming to life.