Angels love BDSM, too
by Jennifer Denys
(copyright Jennifer Denys December 2012)
“Why can’t an angel from the top of the tree have Christmas wishes too?”
The mournful whisper came from the decoration at the top of an artificial tree standing on a windowsill at the back of the club, a very different club.
The angel sighed deeply as she stared at the object of her lust.
“If I did have a wish I would wish for him.”
‘Him’ was the six foot four, dark haired hunk who owned the BDSM club in whose front room she was precariously perched. Every year for the past five years since she had been purchased she had stood on the top of that prickly beast and observed the action that took place within, while the man she desperately wanted chatted to other women. Beautiful women, but more importantly, live women.
She groaned as she watched him wrap an arm, a strong muscly arm, around the waist of his latest chosen woman and take her off to one of the private rooms, the dungeons.
They returned later with a satisfied look on both their faces and the angel on top of the tree cried, “Damn him. Damn them. Why can’t it be me?”
Suddenly a voice said, “And what would you do if you had a wish?”
“Who’s that?” she tried to wrench her head around forgetting she could not move, her limbs were rigid, legs splayed with the tree shoved under her dress itching her backside in the process, her arms raised, a wand in one hand.
“Answer me. If I give you a Christmas wish what would you do with it?”
She wanted to frown so badly. The voice seemed to come from inside her head, not from behind her. “Are you offering me a wish?”
A deep sigh followed her question. “Well, if you don’t want your wish….”
“No.” She gasped. “I—I do want it. I want to be mortal.”
Another sigh came, deeper and more irritated than before. “Why do all you toys and fantasy creatures wish for mortality? Okay, okay, so I’ll give you what you want.”
If she could jump and up and for joy she would be doing it, instead she just shouted, at least, within her head since she was unable to speak. “Yippee!”
“But….” The interruption was abrupt and loud.
Shit, what now?
“You can only be mortal for eight hours.”
“That is my condition. Make the most of it, little Angel.”
And in a flash she was lying on the floor. “Ouch.” She lifted a hand to rub her hip where she had landed, and then she waved it. It moved! She smiled and touched her hand to her face, astounded by the feelings of touch she was experiencing.
“Wow, my skin feels so soft,” she whispered softly, and then gasped at the sound of her own voice. She always envisaged her voice as loud and strident when, in fact, it was soft and husky.
“Are you all right?”
She jumped to her feet and twirled and gulped back another gasp. In front of her stood him, Morgan Garrett, the owner of Club Surrender. How I would like to surrender to this man.
* * * *
The man in question walked quickly toward her and she stifled a desire to step back. “Is everything all right, little one? And how did you get in here? Actually, who the hell are you?”
What does a human person do when faced with such a barrage of questions, she wondered?
“Um, Angel—la. My name is Angela.” Well, sort of. It will do.
Morgan smiled and Angela’s knees nearly buckled. God, he is so gorgeous.
“Well you certainly look like an angel in that dress. It’s not the usual gear people wear to my club, but I guess you are here for the fancy dress party later?”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.” Phew, close shave. She wished she could get out of the dress. Her body might now be soft and pliable, but the white dress she was wearing was covered in a horrid, rough, lace that was so stiff it could be used to fence a house. She surreptitiously ran her fingers under the neckline of the dress which was cut in a V to her breasts and then saw his eyes dart to her cleavage so she quickly removed them.
Morgan smiled. “Shame. I haven’t seen anyone in here for a long time that is so alluring and adorable as you.”
He laughed. “Yes you, little angel.” He stepped closer and enclosed her in his arms. She shivered. Not because she was cold, but because his warm arms around her waist set off a chain reaction through her body. “So how about it? Will you miss the party and join me in my private room instead? I promise you I can show you as good a time, or even better.”
Holy shit. The man of her dreams had propositioned her.
She nodded. Very rapidly.
His head went back as he laughed harder. “I take it that means you are willing.” He sobered. “But first I have to ask if this is your first time in this club, or any similar club.”
Angela grinned. “Oh I can say wholeheartedly this isn’t my first visit to this club.”
Morgan frowned. “Really. I haven’t seen you in here before.”
Panic went through her. “You probably have but just never noticed me before.”
He raised a hand to run his knuckles over her cheek. “Oh I would have noticed someone like you.”
“It’s the dress. It makes me stand out,” she gabbled quickly, hoping the excuse would suffice.
“Hmm, well, I certainly won’t miss you again after this.”
As she breathed a sigh of relief that he believed her, but felt cold when he dropped his arms from her body. However, she bit her lip in trepidation, and excitement when he took hold of one of her arms propelling her swiftly through the room to a door on the other side. She had spent every day throughout advent to twelfth night these last few years facing that door and knew full well that it was the room through which Morgan took his women. Only, she didn’t know exactly what went on in there. She could only guess. And her thoughts were running amok now with images of what might happen. Things she had only dreamed of and never thought would happen to her.
Morgan opened the door and she stepped forward, eyes wide open with curiosity. In one corner was a piece of equipment she knew was called a spanking bench. And in another was a four poster bed. The third corner held a huge soft easy chair. She looked around the edge of the door. In the last corner there was a cabinet, the doors of which were closed.
She felt arms wrap around her waist and a chin against her ear as he whispered, “This is my private room, Angela. In here you will obey my every whim. If you don’t like what I am doing then your safe word is ‘Christmas’. But if you say it then we stop everything and you leave. Do you understand?”
“Oh yes.” She certainly did, and she had no intention of stopping anything. She only had him for eight hours, well, seven hours and however many minutes had passed. She was going to make the most of this time.
“Good girl. Now how do I get you out of this predicament?”
“I beg your pardon?” What? Was he on to her already?
“This dress. There isn’t any zip.”
She giggled. “Oh. You can pull it up over my head.”
Gathering the many folds of the three quarter length dress he managed to get it off in one movement. “My, my. Who’d have thought the beautiful angel would be naked underneath.”
Angela laughed nervously. “Who indeed?”
She stood still in her white four inch heels while Morgan deposited the dress to one side and walked around her, his eyes running up and down her body. She hoped he would find her attractive and resisted the urge to cover her body.
His voice, when he spoke, was husky. “Now that is one stunning body.”
Morgan shook his head. “I can’t believe you don’t know how lovely you are.”
It was Angela’s turn to shake her head. Was this really happening to her?
“And I don’t want to mar your perfect skin. Are you sure you’ve done this before?”
“Oh please do.” She bit her lip hard not wanting it to end before it had started and bit so hard she drew blood.
He smiled and lifted a thumb to wipe the blood away. “I’m supposed to be the one doing the hurting.”
Angela trembled at the gentle touch of his thumb. If humans felt these sensations she was going to die when she had to go back to being an angel again and not feel anything when people handled her.
She put those disturbing thoughts to one side as he led her over to the bed.
“Oh, I thought you would spank me.”
Morgan threw his head back and laughed. “You are certainly not very submissive. A spanking is supposed to be a punishment for misdemeanors and not to be taken lightly, young miss.”
Angela sighed and hung her head. Morgan raised her chin and looked her in the eye. He had very blue eyes. Lighter than she thought they would be, almost grey.
“I will decide when, and if, you need punishment. Now, get on the bed, please.”
A thrill went through her. Oh, she could happily forego the BDSM for sex. She had a momentary pang wondering if her human body would be virginal, but who better to give it to.
Hopping onto the bed she lay back in the center wondering what position he wanted her in and nearly yelped when a splash of candle wax dripped onto her stomach.
“Uh uh. Stay exactly as you are. In fact reach up and grab hold of the spindles in the headboard.”
Angela did as he asked biting her lip again as she waited anxiously for him to drip more was on her. She had seen it done before and wondered how people could take it. Didn’t it hurt?
She soon knew the answer to that as Morgan slowly dripped the wax up her body from her stomach getting closer and closer to a nipple. Each drop she jumped and resisted saying, “Ouch,” as it didn’t really hurt. Well, not much. And only for a second. But how would it feel on somewhere like a person’s nipples?
“Almighty Father,” she cried. It was a pinprick of hot pain and then it was gone. Morgan smiled, put the candle down and then leaned over her rubbing the wax into her breasts.
Now she really was in Heaven.
* * * *
As Morgan Garrett, the owner of Club Surrender, fondled her aching breasts she forgot that he had, just a moment ago, dropped hot wax onto her nipples causing piercing, but momentary pain. And yet, that same pain had snaked through her body pooling at her vagina, which was throbbing.
Holy Cow! Do all humans feel like this? Strike that. Do all human women have this sensation?
Before her thoughts turned bitter with regrets that she only had eight hours of mortality and would never feel this way again, she was brought back to the present when another type of pain assaulted her already agonized nipples. Glancing down she saw her had attached some kind of clamps to them.
“Oh God. That’s what it feels like!”
Morgan laughed. “I thought you said you had been to clubs like this before? Methinks my little angel was telling some fibs.”
She looked up into his eyes, startled. “Oh I wasn’t. Really. I have been here before. It’s just that I’ve only seen your women—that is to say, the women in this club—wearing them. I’ve never worn any myself.” Angela bit her lip hoping that her explanation would suffice.
He narrowed his eyes and she swallowed nervously, not sure he believed her.
“I remain unconvinced. I am certain I would have seen you in here.”
Angela opened her mouth to try to dig herself deeper into her web of lies, well, not really lies, just stories, but she didn’t get a chance to speak as Morgan continued.
“Maybe I can flog the truth out of you?”
She gasped. Oh my word. She had so wanted to try flogging all the time she had been here. Another exclamation left her mouth when she suddenly felt his hand on her mound, his middle finger easing its way through her labia finding her way into her pussy.
“You are so wet, my love. The thought of a flogging clearly arouses you, doesn’t it? Hmm. Since this is Christmas and I am of a mind to give a beautiful woman a gift I am of a mind to be generous.”
Her heart was pounding through her chest as she quickly sat up.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Angela paused and glanced over to the spanking bench. “I, um, thought…”
Morgan shook his head. “Whoever your Dom is he hasn’t trained you very well. Submissives are supposed to wait to be told where to go, what to do. I may have wanted you to turn over, then tie you spread-eagled to the bed and flog you that way.”
“Oh, will you?” She knew she was looking at him with undisguised longing but it sounded so fabulous.
Instead of acceding to her innermost desire Morgan burst out laughing and Angela wondered what she had done wrong. She nearly jumped when he reached out a hand and cupped her cheek.
“You are absolutely adorable and I hope to see you around my club more often after tonight. In fact, I have a mind to make you my permanent sub.”
Angela dropped her head. Hell. How could she get out of that one? Come seven hours she needed to be back on the top of the tree. Dammit. What did I do to deserve being a toy?
Morgan lifted her chin. He was frowning. “The idea displeases you?”
“Oh no. I would love to. But I have other… commitments.” She winced. It sounded so lame but it was all she would come up with.
He was still glaring at her.
Realising she needed to distract him she licked her lips and lowered her eyelashes. “So where did you want me, Sir? On the bed or elsewhere?”
Morgan stood suddenly pulling away from her.
Shit! She had been too forward. She knew from experience that he didn’t like bratty submissives. “I’m sorry, I—“
“Over the spanking bench.”
Angela sat bemused. She had expected him to order her out of the room.
That got her going and she scrambled to her feet and scurried over to the said equipment, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of this furniture up close having only eyes them from afar. It was bigger than she anticipated. She was also aware that there were different types of bench, some of which resembled a padded sawhorse like this one, and some were more elaborate with knee and arm pads. She quite liked this one and forgot for a moment that Morgan was somehow displeased with her.
She felt his breath in her ear and shivered. Oh God. The feel of another’s breath on her skin was delightful. His hands gripped her hips as he spoke, “I said over the bench. Do you never obey your instructions?”
Angela started to turn her head to apologise when she saw his eyes crinkling with humour. “I can see I am going to have to punish you—a lot!”
“I—I agree, Master.” With that submission she did as he asked and leaned over the bench, her hands touching the floor.
“Spread your legs.”
She trembled. How could three little words make her so aroused? She knew how much she had enjoyed hearing them when she stood atop the tree but she had never been aware of how they stimulated her body. As she opened her legs as required she could feel a trickle of moisture from her wet pussy work its way down her leg.
Glad to have done something right she nearly yelped as he clamped a cuff around her right ankle attaching it to one of the benches legs. She tested it, eagerly hoping she was well and truly fastened and felt a slap against her backside. It was very hard and unexpected and she couldn’t resist an, “Ow.”
“Serve you right for not trusting me to have harnessed you correctly. Now for the other leg.”
When he had similarly attached her left leg he moved behind her and shifted her hips onto the padded length more firmly before going around to the front where he knelt down on one knee.
Raising her chin with one hand he looked at her. She couldn’t discern his thoughts. He seemed serious and yet amused by her.
“I am going to restrain your arms now. You will feel the weight of your body pressing into the bench and if you haven’t experienced this before… no, stop looking at me like that, I suspect you haven’t… it will feel strange and you may panic. Not everyone can take bondage.”
She had glanced away when he accused her of lying but he shook her chin slightly to make her look at him again. He was deadly serious and she shivered. She was finally going to be properly restrained. Being tied to the top of the tree didn’t count.
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”
He just harrumphed and took one of her arms to attach it to another leg of the bench. When he had completed his work he quietly asked, “Angela. How do you feel? Do you want to say your safe word?”
My safe word! No way in hell. “Oh no, Sir. I am perfectly okay.” In fact, she was more than okay. She had dreamed about this for years and it was everything she had dreamed of. That is the act of being controlled by another. She amended that. She was constantly man-handled by others and had to go exactly where they put her. But this was totally different. This time she was in the hands of someone she wanted to take charge. Someone she trusted implicitly.
She felt his hands on her back, caressing her as he made his way to her buttocks where he seemed to spend some time inspecting her or getting to know her.
“So you shave your pussy, little Angel.”
Angela nearly burst out laughing considering the fact that she had never been aware of any toy doll that had a bush. “I like to be naked, Sir.”
He fingered her cleft. “You certainly do. Okay, my love. I shall begin.”
* * * *
Oh shit. That is really, really good. As Morgan caressed, fondled and touched her nether parts she wondered how she was ever going to go back to being a mere angel on top of the tree again.
Those thoughts were pushed from her mind when he left her and she felt bereft. From her position upside down she could see he had stepped back to get an implement from the cupboard on the other side of the room.
Angela took an inward gasp when he took out a black and red flogger, but didn’t need to look more closely as she had seen him wield this instrument before on the main floor of the club. The black strips were made of leather but the red ones were soft and furry. She had often wondered how it could be a tool of punishment as it looked entirely too gentle.
“I can see from your lack of tension that you think I can’t hurt you with this. Is that so, little one?”
“Er. I am sure you are a master with the equipment, Sir.” Angela hoped that would appease him.
It seemed not. He suddenly lashed it against the bed and the sound reverberated around the room. It was louder than she had thought that particular implement could possibly make and she trembled and felt wet. She had never realised before how arousing the sound of impact could be, even if it was against the bed. I’m going to like this.
Morgan came around to the side, one hand on her backside as if to steady himself. He patted it, then got harder. It started to hurt. “Don’t tense. Ride through the pain.”
Easier said than done!
As she tried to do as he asked she felt the whoosh of the air as he pulled back the flogger and moments later it hit her.
Oh my God. I’ve been flogged. That’s what it feels like. And she felt good! It hurt but the pain was spread across a wide area.
He chuckled. It was an evil laugh. “Are you topping from down there, madam?”
“I wouldn’t dare, Master. Just letting you know I like it.”
“Hmm. You do, do you? Well, try this for seconds.”
A current of air raced across her hot buttocks as the flogger descended again, and again. Each time she jerked, and then relaxed, and her pussy got wetter and wetter.
Angela marveled at Morgan’s skill, varying the depth of his strokes and the placement of his strokes. Closing her eyes she gave in to the sensation. Her legs and arms trembled, but she didn’t cry her safe word. She wanted—no, she needed—this to continue with every breath of her immortal soul.
And then he stopped and Angela held her breath wondering what was going to happen next.
Gently, so gently she wasn’t sure she felt it at first, something tickled the inside of her leg. Opening her eyes she smiled when she saw he was stroking her skin with the furry tails.
“Ow.” She giggled.
“Ow! You can’t possibly tell me that hurts. I didn’t strike you on the inside of your legs.” His voice sounded incredulous and then he laughed. “At least, not this time.”
Not this time, and not ever again. This was a one-time wish. She sighed deeply. “No. It tickles. But it’s lovely to feel it.”
Morgan moved in between her legs, up close to her hot butt which he softly caressed with his hand. “Why do I get the impression there hadn’t been anyone who played games or teased before?”
Angela choked. “Oh, I’ve been played with.”
She could hear a frown in his next words. “But not had fun with, eh?”
Unable to answer that, Angela kept quiet.
“Well, my lovely angel, you took your punishment beautifully and now you deserve a reward.”
“I do?” It was hard to concentrate on his words when his hands fondled her so adeptly, caressing her thighs, her butt, her sensitive lower back. Who knew how erogenous a zone that area of one’s body could be? She sighed again. Most mortal women she guessed. She was just going to die when she had to go back to how she was before.
Angela frowned trying to remember what they had been talking about.
“You certainly deserve a prize. What can I give you I wonder?”
She could give him several suggestions but kept quiet wondering what he had in mind.
His next actions showed the direction of his thoughts. She heard the sound of a zipper, then the crinkle of a packet being torn, then the slurpy sound of a condom being rolled onto a long hard cock. At least she sincerely hoped it was long and hard. That, indeed would be a delicious reward, and not for just taking a flogging well, but for all those years of having the Christmas Tree stuck up her backside.
When he started to push inside her very slowly, she knew for sure she had got her real wish. And it was even longer and thicker and harder than she had anticipated. A moan left her mouth.
Morgan chuckled. “You like that, eh? Hmm. Do you want more?”
“Oh God, yes!”
He laughed and thrust in two, three times, then stopped. “More?”
“Yessssssssssss.” Her plea for continuation was long and heartfelt.
His hands ripped her hips on both sides as he acceded to her wish and started pushing into her harder, and harder until he was pounding into her like a steam train.
Ker-ist! It was sheer heaven and Angela felt such pleasure her cry of ecstasy was one long groan. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.
* * * *
Morgan didn’t stop until he had wrested every drop of orgasm from Angela’s body. After releasing her from the spanking bench he had lifted her onto his lap whilst he sat in the very large sumptuous easy chair, turning her so that she faced him and eased her throbbing pussy down onto his once-again erect cock.
It was her turn to move on him and she relished the opportunity to watch his face this time as she played cow girl and took him for a ride. She had always thought the cow girl dolls got the better deal.
And then he took her back to the bed cuffing her wrists and ankles to the bed and continued his exploration of her now hot, sweaty and tired body. And still he didn’t stop. Releasing the restraints he turned her onto her side and enfolded her in his arms from behind, a leg covering hers.
This was everything she had ever dreamed of. Being held closely to the man she wanted more than anything, protected, cared for, loved.
The last thing she remembered before she fell into an exhausted slumber was his cock sliding into her again. She desperately tried to stay awake, not wanting to miss any second of the little time she had, but he had worn her out.
* * * *
It’s time to get up.
Angela blinked her weary eyes and wondered who had spoken. The snore coming from behind her told her that Morgan was still asleep. Her magnificent Morgan. She smiled, recalling the amazing time he had given her last night.
Come on. Your eight hours is up.
The wonderful feelings she’d been experiencing started to dissipate as reality began to set in and she gradually pulled away from her lover with heart wrenching regret.
As she reached the door she turned her head to look at him once more and had to choke back a cry. Running swiftly back to the bed she gently knelt on it with one knee and leaned in to kiss his lips, just one last time.
He started to move so she quickly scurried off the bed and out of the room. There was no-one there as she suspected. But she knew the spirit was in attendance.
Did you have a good time?
She was so choked up she couldn’t answer, just nodded her head. Tears were streaming down her face and she let them, knowing she would never feel them again.
Cry no more little angel. Your tears tell me everything I need to know. Once every hundred years I am allowed to give a being mortality.
“Yes, thank you. It was wonderful.”
The spirit laughed. No, you misunderstand. I have the ability once a century to give mortality for ever. But only to someone who deserves to be mortal, who desires to be mortal, who will appreciate being mortal and all the pain that can come with it. I think you are the right person. Happy Christmas.
She pivoted. Morgan was standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing out here? It’s early yet. And I want to talk to you about staying with me permanently.”
“You do?” Oh God. How many wishes can a person have come true? But was it real? Was she really real? Could she feel pain? Wonderful, exciting, delicious pain!
As Morgan held out a hand beckoning her back inside his room, a clock chimed at the far end of the room and Angela grinned. The eight hours were up and then some. She had actually been mortal for eight hours and thirty minutes and she was still there.
Do you know how hard you are to wake up? That man must have kept you up all hours. The voice of the spirit was lessening as it retreated.
Oh yes, he certainly did and hopefully he’ll do it again. And again. And again…….