The Anniversary Present

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Alice rapped her blunt, chewed down fingernails impatiently on her bare knees. Her pale thighs were sticking together with sweat beneath her short denim skirt, which was patched and frayed with the wearing influence of time. She did not like to wait. She had never been a patient woman. Waiting for Max to come home to her was always the worst part of every day. She loved him, so she loathed his absence—which, of course, was commonplace in his line of work. He was always rehearsing, or otherwise hunting for another place to perform. He had the voice of a god, in Alice’s opinion. She closed her eyes, hearing his music echoing lovingly in her head. The songs he wrote for her always drove her senses into overload with desire. The eroticism in his music made her all that much crazier for him. He loved to make her crazy. His songs were rich with tension that seemed to be deliberately intended for her frustration and excitement.

She glanced over at his stereo, but quickly looked away again for fear that it might mysteriously start blasting his rousing music and send her over the edge, when she was already trying hard not to explode where she sat on the couch. She bit her dry, cracked lip, and her knee began to bounce up and down anxiously as she waited. It was their anniversary tonight, and he’d said they could share a nice night together alone, but the waiting was driving her mad. Her blue eyes flitted eagerly to the door every few moments, but she knew she was hoping too much. She knew he wasn’t due for another hour, but she just couldn’t help herself.

Giving up, she let out a resigned breath of annoyance, and flopped backwards. She slid her legs onto the armrest as her back hit the cushions and her dark red hair pooled around her head. She closed her eyes gently, breathing deeply and imagining that he was there with her. She imagined the piercing brown of his eyes; the soul-wrenching rumble of his low, unconcerned voice; the texture of his soft, dark hair under her fingers; the burning feeling of his warm, wide hands running up her body. She shuddered, and a pleased smile swept across her childish features. Ah, she might have seemed a child to him when they first met, but she proved him so wonderfully wrong. Her innocence was tempting to him, and his music drew her in. The more they’d grown to know each other, the more she was hooked, and now she could barely stand to be without his touch. He was truly a drug: she was so physically addicted to him, it seemed unreal.

Their relationship, as it was, felt unreal to her, as well. How she could have wound up dating someone so beautiful and considerate and so damn delicious, she had no idea. She often woke up feeling certain that the past two years had been a marvelous dream. When she did, she would sometimes start to cry with relief to find him lying next to her, solid, breathing, really there. And he would hold her—just hold her, and not question her or interrogate her insecurities. He let them be, and that continued respect diminished her fears more and more every day. God, how she loved him! And, ah, she was fortunate to have that love punctuated with the happy fact that every time he was near her, she could not stem her lust, and that they shared a similar insatiability to their crazed fantasies, so their sex life was never an issue in their relationship. Their only issue remained that Max spent so much time away from her, with his band. And for much of the time they were together, he would keep busy working on his music in progress.

The lock clicked, and Alice’s eyes snapped open again immediately. “Max?” she whispered, bolting upright. The clunk of his boots on the floorboards sent chills up her spine, and she started to grin uncontrollably before he even moved from behind the open door. He was early. Her sweaty thighs began to ache with need for him already, as though she could read his mind, and knew what he was thinking about. It was obvious, once the door squeaked shut, that they were, indeed, thinking the same thing. Max turned slowly to face her. His dark eyes were narrowed at her, thundering with silent desire. He threw his long, heavy coat onto the floor, out of his way, before taking slow, torturous steps towards her, like an animal stalking its frozen prey. His black hair was a wild mess, and his pink lips looked fuller and more pleasing than she remembered them being this morning. Perhaps her own lust was distorting her vision of him, but at the moment, she did not care.

“Were you waiting for me, baby?” The low croak of his growling tone resonated delightfully in Alice’s chest, and she shifted uncomfortably as she grew suddenly extremely damp between her legs—and she wasn’t wearing any undergarments beneath her old, worn skirt. The fact of this made her heart skip a beat, and she suddenly felt the hidden part of her that was daring bubble to her surface.

She smirked, and slowly brushed back her long red mane, allowing her fingers to hover for an extra moment at her revealing neckline. “I always am, Max. You know that.”

“I do,” he agreed quietly, moving steadily closer to her. “And you know I wish I didn’t always keep you waiting like this—on our anniversary, of all nights. That’s why I took off early.”

Alice shrugged, and her lips tightened in a suggestive smile. “It’s alright, honey. You can make it up to me.” She swung her legs back over the edge of the couch so she was sitting fully upright again.

Max sneered. “Damn right I can,” he said quietly. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets as he stepped closer, his shining eyes sliding down her body, absorbing her image. Raw sex was burning in that expression, boring into Alice painfully, wonderfully, and she felt a gush of anticipating heat between her legs. She crossed her knees, and slid her hand up her thigh, hoisting her skirt slightly farther up on her lap as she sat back. “I got you something,” he told her.

Her fingers dug into the skin of her thigh as she looked up at Max, who was finally standing above her. Eager for his love, she let her eyes graze his body, and linger at the apex of his strong legs. Her mouth watered, and she grew wetter and more flushed with every passing moment. “Did you?” she asked him excitedly, flexing her sweaty hands in a pitiful attempt to assuage her aroused thoughts. “What’d you get me?”

He gave her a teasing glare, staring down at her warningly. “You’ll find out, eventually,” he said with a lascivious grin.

“Oh?” She grinned as he knelt slowly before her and placed his warm hands on her knees to pry them apart. She tried not to allow her heart to leap through her chest and drench them all in her overflowing desire, but it was difficult. Her thighs trembled as he parted them until her skirt obstructed their continued progress. But this barrier did not at all hinder Max’s attempts. He let his palms slide up her legs and push her skirt all the way up her waist so it was no longer in the way, then yanked her knees so far apart that her hips cracked.

“Good,” he muttered vaguely. “No underwear. Just the way I like it.”

“Max,” she gasped in shock as he began to kiss her inner thighs. “Aren’t you… going to… kiss me?”

“Why would I do that, whore?” he grunted against her soft skin. She shuddered. She knew he was often sexually sadistic, and that never bothered her. It pleased him, and that was all she cared about. She never minded submitting to his incredible control. When he wanted to dominate her, she allowed him to, because she loved him. His deft, nimble fingers—so muscular from all the instruments he plays—toyed slyly up her hips until he was able to wrap his hands entirely around her backside and lift her from the couch very slightly as he pulled her towards his face. She shut her eyes, knowing what was coming, bracing herself for it.

His lips collided with her soaked pussy, and already the intensity of his touch made her fling her arms out in pleasure. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the couch, and her entire body shook as his tongue darted out to taste her, to claim her.

“Oh God,” she moaned without thinking, forgetting the rules he always set when he took to dominating her. She realized her mistake a moment too late.

Max removed his mouth from her core, and straightened up. His face was stern but lustful. “Have you forgotten, darling?” he cooed, and she felt comforted by his unexpected gentleness. He moved away from her and back towards the doorway, where his coat remained in a heap on the floor. He bent to shuffle through his numerous deep pockets, and when he had found what he was hunting for, he hid it behind his back as he inched towards her again with a sadistic and excited smirk on his face. “At times like this, if ever you are to speak, you are to address me as Master. Are we clear?”

She gave him a single, subservient nod, her heartbeat racing as she anticipated what he was going to do to her. She eyed his arm nervously, fearing what he was holding there behind him, just out of sight. “Yes, Master,” she said agreeably.

“Look at me, bitch,” he said harshly. He used his free hand to grip her hair at the base of her scalp and force her head upward so their eyes locked. Her breathing quickened, and she smiled submissively under his stiff grasp, gazing directly into his hypnotizing eyes.

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

A glint of pride shone in his cloudy, lust filled expression. “Good girl,” he told her. It was then that he revealed the gift from behind his back. “Happy anniversary, Alice, my love.” He was clutching two objects—one black leather collar that might have belonged to a dog, and a leather flogger. As she laid eyes on these gifts, she felt herself grow steadily wetter. She loved it when he dominated her, and she could not entirely explain why, but it was an intensely intimate interaction that made them both so happy, and she could not ask for more than that. This was sure to be a fantastic anniversary.

“Thank you, Master,” she said breathlessly, her eyes shining with adoration. She blinked up at him, feeling her love for him swelling inside her tight chest. She wanted so to express her deep appreciation more wholly, but she knew better. She bit her lip instead, breathing heavily, begging him silently to satisfy her. He reached out for her hands, which she placed into his palm delicately. Her fingers were vibrating with the thought of what he was surely about to do to her. He clutched her hands tightly, and pulled her gruffly to her feet. She nearly stumbled, but he steadied her with a hand at her neck. His grip was tight, and it hurt, but it was nothing compared to what she imagined he had in mind for her.

His grasp suddenly lightened, and his fingers trailed to brush her hair away from her neck. “Hold up your hair,” he ordered. Silently, she did as she was told, sweeping up her long sheet of hair into a messy clump at the back of her head. He smiled, and held up the collar. “You are mine, Alice. When you are wearing this collar, you belong to me, is that understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“We have gone through this before, haven’t we?” he asked her gently as he reached around her slender neck to fasten the buckle.

“Yes, Master.”

“Today, Alice, I cannot promise I’ll go as soft on you as I have in the past.”

A hint of nervous anxiety pulsed through her. “M—Master?” she asked meekly as Max let his hands fall away from her neck and she allowed her hair to cascade down her back again. His grip on the flogger still in his hand suddenly tightened noticeably, and she flinched as he drew it back, and forced her to turn around.

“No questions, slut,” he told her coldly, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her where she stood. She whimpered, and a second later, the flogger descended sharply upon her buttocks. The biting sting seemed to be felt throughout her entire nervous system. He had never hit her like that. Her yelp sounded foreign to her, but as his hand slid down her back to bend her over, the pain melded curiously with the powerful heat of their lust, and her thighs ached with desire. “Hands on the couch, ass in the air.” She complied. “What do you say, bitch?” he snapped.

“Y—Yes, Master! I’m sorry, Master!”

“And what do you say when I hit you, you filthy fucking whore?”

She shivered with delightful arousal at the way he was speaking to her, so cruelly. It was delicious. “I—I don’t know, Master,” she admitted nervously.

“You are to thank me when I hit you, you nasty slut. You deserve this pain, dirty bitch, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master, I deserve it all, Master. Thank you, Master.”

There was a rushing sound as the flogger flew through the air again, and the resounding slap upon her flesh sent burning pain through her. It brought tears to her eyes, and she whimpered again. “Th—Thank you, Master,” she cried out with difficulty. Again and again the hard leather beat her sore ass, and with every stroke, she cried a little less and thanked him a little more vigorously. After eight intense slaps, the blows ceased. Her pussy was fantastically damp, now, and her ass was burning painfully. She was so turned on from his beating. She loved this treatment, shamefully so, and more than she would ever admit to anyone. She never would have discovered this side of herself if it had not been for Max. He was so good to her, and showed her such a beautiful new world of love that she’d never even imagined.

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