The Last Time

The Last Time

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica



Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica



Haunting recollection of her last time with him.


Haunting recollection of her last time with him.


Submitted: August 30, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: August 30, 2016



Last night I dreamt of Waverly again. Of the last time. His unopened letter still sits on my bedside table.

But I can't think about him right now, about our last night together. I'll go crazy. Tomorrow, I'll open it tomorrow. But that is what I've been telling myself for days. I sip my tea in my small kitchen, still and silent, trying to think of anything else.

"Do you trust me?" I had told him yes, but I was so scared. Something was different that night. Perhaps the rumors about his wife were getting to him.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the images - his dark eyes swirling with more than mischievousness. A desperate, angry-looking lust. I felt caged in with a wild animal but my legs were shaking with excitement and the place where they come together...

I drop my teacup into the sink a little too hard and the clang echoes through my apartment. Tabitha will be expecting me soon so I grab my coat and scurry down the stairs, out into the crisp morning air. It was at a meeting with her that I met him.

They sat at the long wooden table while I scribbled notes from the corner of the room. He smiled at me that day, but we never spoke aside from when he said "nice to meet you" after Tabitha introduced me simply as her assistant. I'm not sure when he learnt my name but it sounds beautiful when it rolls off his tongue... Especially in a low growl from behind my head while he's buried deep inside me.

The rhythmic click clicking of my keyboard as I do mindless work puts me in a trance. I'm spared thinking about him for a few hours at least, thinking about the last time. A young voice addressing me as ma'am brings me back. The boy holds a letter out to me but I don't reach for it. I already know who it is from.

"Just lay it on my desk, thank you."

But the boy doesn't move. "I'm to watch you open it, ma'am. And I'll need a reply. Take your time." I ball my fists angrily and glance around. A couple people quickly look back down at their keyboards. Angry, but not wanting to make a scene, I grab the letter and tear into it. In the middle of the page is today's date and a location, 5pm. I scrawl "Regretfully Decline" before noticing the P.S.

Open my letter, please.

The fact that he knows me so well sends an excited, but nervous, tickle up my spine. I'll read it tonight. I'll curl up in my bed alone and read it, probably over and over in order to decipher my enigmatic pen-pal. But that must wait. I stuff the letter back in the envelope and hand it to him as if holding it any longer might burn my fingers.

Thinking about his letter makes my pulse pound violently. Even mindless work seems impossible. What could he possibly say after The Last Time? I've yet to comprehend it - the way he made me feel, what it all meant. I still can't sort out my own emotions, let alone speculate on his. He seemed so mad, but I don't think I did anything wrong.

I ask Tabitha for the afternoon off after being unable to stomach my lunch. His letter beckons, and I rush home. My hands tremble as I hold it in my lap.

His usual eloquence and verbosity is absent this time and my heart sinks. "Tell me how the last time made you feel" is the only thing written. It's not even signed. I check the back just in case and then read the line again. I don't know the answer, and I'm not sure I want to think back to come up with one. The memory opens up like a black abyss before me.

Tell me how the last time made you feel.

His words nudge me closer, my toes on the edge, unsteady and terrified.

Tell me how the last time made you feel.

Being with him feels like falling. Thinking about The Last Time feels like falling while tied to an anvil.

"Do you trust me?" he asks and I nod wordlessly. "I need you to say it."

"Yes, I trust you," I tell him, but the way he's acting scares me. I rake my brain for something I've done wrong, anything to explain his unsmiling eyes and the gruffness in his voice. Perhaps the rumors about his wife...

"Good girl. Strip."

I gnaw on my lip as I slide off my dress. His intense stare makes me feel uneasy. In each of our encounters, he's pushed me. I've never felt more alive and overwhelmed with pure pleasure than I have with him. He's always been patient though, calming and praising me when the balance between pain and pleasure feels like it's tipping. He's never given me more than I can handle and I do trust him, but the look in his eyes is not patient. It's needy and raw.

"Tonight is about my pleasure, not yours. You can handle it though. Do you trust me?" Again I nod, but he cocks his head, expecting a verbal response.


"Yes what?"

"Yes I trust you." Having every moment together focused on my pleasure would be selfish. It's fair. And terrifying. And it's making me wet.

He pulls red rope from his bag and says nothing while we stand face to face as if waiting for me to object. I just look from his eyes to the rope and back, breathing a little heavier. He loops it around my neck, letting each end drape over my shoulders and pool on the floor. It's soft rubbing against the sides of my breasts. He brings the ends together, knotting it a little below my collarbone, completing a loop around my neck that's still large enough slip over my head, so I remain mostly calm. The knot feels heavy on my chest and he adds a second just below my breasts. The third knot rests on my belly. When he threads the rope between my legs, I still because the slightest movement rubs it against tender flesh. I whimper when he pulls it up behind me and it nestles between my nether lips.

He brings it up through the loop, kissing the back of my neck as he does so. His other hand wraps around me, pulling me against him as he rubs my pussy, soaking the rope and spreading my already-swollen labia around it. When I writhe against him, he pulls tighter and the rope grinds against my puckered hole too.

When he spins me around, he deftly wraps the rope around my breasts, making me moan as he squeezes them tight. Every movement slides the rope against my most sensitive bits. When he tells me to put my arms by my side, I begin to protest. "Shhh..." His voice calms me but I don't like being restrained. Pinned down, yes. I melt when he ensnares both my wrists above my head with one hand or when his first tangles in my hair, controlling my movement. This is too restrictive and I feel panicked. He ignores my mumbling and struggling, not stopping until the rope reaches mid-thigh.

"On the bed. On your stomach." I awkwardly crawl up on the bed, with some assistance. He props up my hips with a pillow and I realize how terribly vulnerable I am.

"Please don't," I plea when he pulls a blindfold out of his pocket. "Not with all this," I argue, but he doesn't respond. My world is plunged into darkness. The dark abyss. Always falling farther.

I strain my ears, desperately trying to hear what's next. I tense when gently rubs by bum, kneading one cheek a little more roughly until... SLAP!

"Ow!" I complain even though it didn't hurt much. He slides his hand beneath my hips to reach my dripping sex. I press against his fingers, needing his touch, but he retreats. I groan into the bed, kicking my feet like the start of a temper tantrum over not getting my way.

I hear his footsteps move away. "Please come back," I whine, but he says nothing. My other senses are heightened by being robbed of my sight. He pours a drink. The couch squeaks as he settles in. I hear the rustle of a newspaper and I muffle my complaints in the mattress.

Page after page turns and frustrated tears prick my eyes. I hadn't done anything to deserve this and I hate being ignored. I perk up when I hear the couch squeak again. Footsteps. Fingers on my pussy. I need him so badly. He trails the wetness up and probes my other hole, making me cry out in surprise.

"Shhh... tonight is about my pleasure, not yours remember? You'll get what you need when I decide you can have it."

I attempt to pull away from the invaders in my less-welcoming opening but he tugs sharply on the rope. I whimper and kick, attempting to vent my frustrations. "Impatient? Does that mean you're ready for me?" I still. We've talked about him fucking my ass and I've taken his fingers and toys but he's so much bigger than any of those.

"I think you are," he decides, unbuckling his pants. He pulls the rope aside, spreading my pussy roughly and allowing something wet to trickle down my crack. His fingers stretch me but I'm unable to escape. I can't tell if it's lube or my own juices dripping down my legs.

The bed depresses behind me and I feel him at my entrance. He caresses my back, telling me to relax as he pushes inside. His hands reach around to tease my clit and I buck against him. He eases inside, pulling me back with his hands on my hips. I moan as he bottoms out and he rubs my clit roughly.

"Cum for me," he demands, rocking inside me but not pulling out. It feels as if he might split me in two but his fingers are bringing me close. He pulls on the rope like reins, forcing me to arch my back, the rope biting into my skin. I cum hard for him though, despite the uncomfortable feeling of him buried in my ass.

His hands grip my hips roughly while I'm still throbbing from my orgasm. He pounds into me relentlessly. Soon primal, animalistic noises fill the room. He pulls the rope, which tightens against my neck. I try to wrestle back some control but I'm completely helpless. I try to ask him to slow down, to stop but I can't manage words. I feel weak and terrified so why is my pussy aching?

I'm lightheaded. My ass hurts. My hips are bruising.

He's cumming.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. The scream that comes out of my mouth when he spanks me doesn't sound human. I struggle against the restraints, needing to be free.

He pins me, rubbing my back, keeping me still so I don't hurt myself. "Seems we've woken up something wild." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Think we can tame it again?" he asks, getting off the bed. Something rattles on the table when he sets it down. SWOOSH.

A cane sweeps through the air and I've had enough. I roll onto my side, trying to slide the blindfold off by rubbing my head against the bed. He brings the cane down hard on the mattress as a warning, but I don't stop.

"Settle down. You're going to hurt yourself... Say the safe word and I'll cut you lose." But I didn't want to use the safe word. I've never used it before, mostly out of pure stubbornness and partly because he never pushed me too hard.

"Stop it now. Just say the word." I can't even remember the safe word. I'm not even sure I can speak. I wouldn't say it anyway. I'm getting free on my own terms.

The rope burns my skin, rubbing my pussy raw but it just keeps dripping. My ass is sore, further irritated by my binds. I scream in frustration and try to shake him off when he presses down on my back. I can't get any leverage with my arms tied at my sides.

The cane smacks my vulnerable bum and something breaks inside me. All instinct, thrashing like a wild animal in a snare. He attempts to stifle the animalistic vocalizations by putting a hand over my mouth and I bite down hard, consumed by a primal anger.

He pins me hard, crushing me under his weight, immobilizing me. "Do you know the safe word?"

I don't respond but his closeness calms me. We're both breathing hard. He slowly lifts off of me, reaching for something on the table and the beast inside me wakes up again. I don't want to play anymore. I don't want to be here anymore.

"Stay still. I'm going to cut you free." He keeps his weight on me, stroking my hair, my back, trying to calm me but I'm more frustrated than ever.

He caresses my sore nether lips. "So wet..." he sighs.

I don't feel aroused. I don't feel sexy. I feel broken. And yet I feel insatiable.

I don't want to be wet for him right now but I crave his fingers, his cock inside me. I spread my legs more, inviting his hesitant touches. I lay still as he takes some of his weight off me, breathing hard but staying on my back, not even lifting my head when he nestles between my legs. Words are still lost to me but I sigh as his mouth consumes my pussy. His tongue is much more gentle than his fingers. I ache from the rope but the needy ache is worse.

His tongue probes and his mouth suckles my clit. My skin is so raw, so tender. Every touch is intensified. I cum with a scream and a whimper. My vision is spotty and I'm utterly confused about everything that just happened.

I don't ever want to be that beast again, but I know that's what he wanted. He wanted the wild, primal side hidden deep within me.

"I knew you had it in you. I just had to lure it out." He seems happy but it all feels surreal to me. Remembering that night is like observing someone else. I didn't feel like myself. That wasn't me. That was something else entirely.

"Tell me how the last time made you feel."

I stare at the paper, still unsure of the response.




© Copyright 2019 Scarlett Rae. All rights reserved.

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