AN: Tony BDSM SmutShot as promised. Thanks for the reviews on The One You Call God. I really appreciate them J Sometimes I wonder if I am totally going overboard on the smut, and then I realize that it's fun and I love writing it, especially exploring the sexualities of the different characters. So that makes it okay lol
I've had several people mention this, so I thought I would address it. I have not read 50 Shades of Gray. Not that I have not wanted to, I actually do, but every time I think about getting it I read the reviews. I have not read a good review yet. I have been told that "it changed my sex life" (by someone who did not have much of a sex life to begin with) and "it's not terrible…" (which does not bode well). But when I read the reviews they are terrible.
As someone who has been into the BDSM lifestyle for many years, I am curious about other people's views of it, which is where my curiosity comes from about the book. I love erotica, and especially amateur erotica by people in the lifestyle on sites such as FetLife. Maybe someday I will read the book, and cry at the overuse of clichés. But then someone out there is probably reading my work…and doing the same thing LOL!
Happy SmutShot reading, everyone!
Tony Stark was starting to feel like nobody ever took him seriously. The rest of the team often looked at him like he was the spoiled little rich boy who just had the best toys…but no real heart to use them. Often at night he would lie awake in his room brooding over the days events and wondering if Steve was right, if perhaps he wasn't really a hero.
Steve Rogers didn't like him much. He'd told Tony this, and questioned the Iron Man persona. "A man behind a mask," he'd said. "Hiding from the world. Take that away and what are you, Stark?"
Tony's answer had been quick witted and sarcastic, like his answers usually were. "Genius. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Playboy. Is that enough for you, Rogers?"
Steve had grunted. "Those things don't make a hero. You're just a little boy in man's clothing."
The truth was, Tony hated that Steve didn't like him. He had gone through his life not giving a fuck what others thought, doing his own thing no matter the cost to anyone else. And then the desert happened. Torture and death happened. Iron Man happened. Suddenly, with all that responsibility, he found that yes, he was still a narcissistic bastard most of the time, but he also wanted to be the hero that the world needed. And he wanted his team to like him. Respect him.
He wanted them to be his family.
Tony laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Why was it in this world of chaos, that the only thing that ever made him feel right and needed…was sex? He could feel at home in the arms of a whore, but not in his own home with people who he risked his life with?. He had stopped taking lovers after Pepper left him. There had been no woman in his bed for months. Even when she and Steve started dating…he'd gone on a major drinking bender. But without party girls at his sides as usual.
Tony had thought that perhaps sustaining from sex would make the world see him as more that just a womanizing billionaire who hid behind a loudly colored suit of armor to fight the evils of the world. Maybe he could focus more on other things without sex. More of making the world think better of him.
Tony had never masturbated so much in his entire fucking life. Not even as a teenager, and he was pretty sure his dick hardly ever left his hand during those years.
Now, staring at the ceiling, mulling over the things that he always seemed to mull over until he thought he might go mad, he realized that the world was not going to change their mind. Sure, they loved Iron Man. They all seemed to forget it was Tony Stark in there. They may love their metal hero, but the world didn't think much for the boozing playboy.
"Fuck it," he murmured to the dark. Once again, as it had so many times before, his hand slipped into his boxers and began to massage the length hardening there. His hips bucked involuntarily upward as his thumb flicked the head of his cock, and then the membrane underneath it. A small moan escaped his throat. He squeezed himself harder, stroking slowly up and down at the thick shaft.
No matter how good he was at pleasing himself, (and he was pretty goddamn good, if he did say so himself), his palms were no replacement for a woman wrapped around him. A woman's touch, delicate fingers exploring him…her mouth upon his cock, as he pulled it spittle slicked from her throat…her tongue swirling around him. A woman's cunt, his length gleaming as it pulled from her taunt lips and slid back into her heat, her wetness….
"JARVIS!" Tony cried, his voice cracking. "Call the Agency."
"Of course, Sir," the A.I responded, for once not rattling off something sarcastic. "And who shall I tell them to send? Candy, perhaps. She was your favorite…"
"No," Tony interrupted, still stroking at himself. " Tell them to send someone new. I want a red head. She needs to be young, and submissive. I want someone that I can control this time."
"As you wish, Sir."
He remembered Candy. Candace was actually her name, but he preferred the stripper name she used, even though it was an odd choice for a Dominatrix. She would tie him to the bed and tease him for hours on end. And when she was fucking him or letting him fuck her, he felt complete.
While that was exciting considering his position in the world was one of power…lately he felt that his power was no longer his own. Tony needed to control someone. The thought of doing to someone else what the Domme had done to him was enough to push him over the edge of a powerful orgasm.
As his cum spilled over his hand, and splattered across his taunt stomach, he called to JARVIS. "I want her brought right to this room. Blindfolded. And don't let her know where she is going or who I am."
"Yes, Sir."
Rayne sat in the backseat of the limo, a silk scarf over her eyes. She tingled with excitement and trepidation. This was her first job. She had joined the Agency weeks ago, and they had been grooming her for a special client. The client's untimely sudden death came as a shock to her…and to the Agency. He had been a very successful man, who wanted to own someone. She had been extremely excited to be his. Her living arrangements had been decided while she was being trained in how to be his slave, and as soon as her training was over, she was to move in with him, and serve his every whim. But a plane crash had stopped that from ever happening. For a couple of weeks her training intensified, as if the Agency was trying to make up for her new home being ripped from her hands. She wondered if perhaps they were trying to occupy her mind and make her forget. The truth was, they were just grooming her for a different kind of job. Her youth and inexperience made her very profitable.
Then the call came from Stark Enterprises. They knew she was perfect.
Rayne had no idea where she was going. She sat perfectly still in the seat, as per her training, even though she wanted badly to squirm nervously. She wondered if this new Master would accept her, like her, and if he had hand picked her like her last Master had. The Dom she had never known, but had still yet mourned. She thought perhaps she was mourning the life she could have had, one of luxury as long as she did as she was asked. That made her feel wicked and selfish, so she tucked the thoughts away. Selfish was not in her programming.
The limousine rolled to a stop. Rayne took a deep shaky breath as a strong hand helped her from the car. "Step up here, miss," a friendly voice instructed. She followed his directions as he led her into the building and too an elevator. After all, that was her specialty.
When the elevator stopped and she heard the door slide open, she let the man lead her through a room. "Stop here," he said softly. Into her ear he whispered, "Don't worry, miss, you'll do find. He's going to love you."
Rayne smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered back.
"Goodbye, miss," he said in a hushed voice. She heard him knock at the door, and then walk away.
"Bye," she whispered, missing his comforting presence already. There was a click as the door opened, and another strong hand replaced his.
"Come in," a man's voice said, guiding her into the room. The door clicked shut behind her. The hands led her further into the room, and eased her into a chair. She could hear him walking around her, feel his eyes on her body. No doubt inspecting her, making sure she was too his liking. Rayne tried hard not to jump when his hand brushed her hair from her face, but he noticed her only slightly visible reaction.
"You're well trained," he said. "That's good. I expect I won't be as demanding as some of your other Masters have been."
"Sir," she said softly. "If I may speak?"
"Seems to me you already are." His voice was not scolding, only amused. She sensed the smile in it, and felt more at ease.
"I have only had trainers, Sir. You are my first Master."
Silence. Her heartbeat in her ears, and she held her breath for a moment until he spoke again. "The Agency sent a first timer to me? Wow. That's trust, considering how many years I have used them."
Rayne was more curious then concerned by his remark, and cocked her head a bit. "Sir?" she ventured.
He laughed. "Don't worry, honey. I won't break you."
There was something incredibly familiar about his voice, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps she had run into him at the Agency before. The hands were in her hair again, doing something at the back of her head. The scarf suddenly fell away.
He was behind her, apparently not yet ready to show himself. Rayne surveyed the room. It was dimly lit, but still it was easy to tell how plush, and large it was. Wall sized windows overlooked the cityscape. She marveled at the twinkling neon view for a moment, before letting her eyes run over his bed. It was tall and king sized, with overstuffed deep maroon comforters and satin pillows. Posh. Rayne instantly liked it. She longed to sink into its comfort.
The man's breath was on her neck. "Do you like what you see?" he asked.
She startled. "Yes, Sir. It's beautiful."
He stood and walked around in front of her. She kept her big eyes downcast, just as she had been taught, her hands clasped primly in her lap. Feet flat on the floor, back straight.
A small murmur of approval escaped her Master's lips. She bit back a smile. "You're beautiful," he said. His hand clasped her chin, and he tipped her face upwards. His dark lashed coffee colored eyes met with her wide blue doe eyes. She noted that his bottom lid was so thickly lashed that he almost looked as if he had liner on. It made his eyes pop…and they were exquisite. She would have been jealous, if the Agency had left room for that emotion.
His stare was intense. She tried to keep her eyes locked with his, but they wandered, down his rounded nose, to the full lips surrounded by a neatly groomed goatee. A bit of salt and pepper stubbled the chestnut beard. He was much older than her, and the lines around his eyes and mouth made him look distinguished. And familiar. Very familiar…
Rayne's lips partly slightly, her eyes widening just the slightest bit in recognition. Her training kept her from simply gaping at him like a moron.
"You recognize me," his pleasant voice said. He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me my name."
"Anthony Stark," she said softly. "You're the owner of Stark Industries, and….you're Iron Man. I saw the press conferences."
He nodded, the smile slipping away. "Yes, I am. What do you think about that? And speak candidly. We will get back to the Dom/sub stuff in a moment."
Rayne felt a bit put off by this question and request. More or less because she wasn't sure what he wanted her to say, and that was her programming. To tell men what they wanted to hear. This one wanted her to speak her mind.
"Sir, I…" she blinked and took a deep shaky breath. "Too be perfectly honest," she paused.
"Right now you call me Tony," he said, sitting down across from her.
"Tony," she said slowly.
He almost swooned. The way she said it, the way she seemed to be tasting the word as it came out of her mouth. Wrapping her tongue around it. His cock twitched in response. "Say it again."
"Tony," she complied, her eyes averted once again.
He moaned inwardly. "Oh, honey, the things we will do. For now, you were being perfectly honest. Please continue."
Another deep breath. "I don't really understand why you would want me, S-Tony." Rayne said softly.
It was his turn to cock his head. "Why is that? And look me in the eyes would you? That staring at the floor shit is unnerving. I know they teach you that at the Agency, but I don't like it. So don't do it, okay?"
Rayne looked up. "Yes, Sir." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "Sorry. Yes, Tony." Her pale blue eyes met his dark ones once again. "I don't really know why a man like you would want a girl like me…the kind of person I am trained to be."
His gaze was intense. She felt her skin prickling under it. All trace of a smile was gone from his face. "And what kind of person are you?"
This felt like a game of cat and mouse. She supposed that is exactly what it should feel like, but she hadn't exactly been trained in extended conversation.
"We both know what I am," she whispered. "I'm a whore, bought and paid for."
Tony shook his head slowly. "No. Tonight you are mine. I bought your time, that much is true. But isn't that what happens whenever you go out and buy a service? Every time you go to a restaurant and buy a meal you are buying that chef's time, that server's time, the waitress' time. In essence we would all be whore's then. In the past, every time someone bought a weapon that I had invented, they were buying my time, my blood, sweat, and tears. I prostituted myself often back then.
"So, no, tonight you are not a whore, honey. You're mine. And that's all that matters."
Rayne smiled at him, a small uncertain smile. "But you're a hero."
Tony's eyes widened for a moment, and then narrowed. "What did you say?"
Something in his voice, and the way his eyes looked haunted made her shiver. "You're a hero," she whispered. "Heroes don't normally want my kind of…services."
"Did they tell you to call me that?!" He seemed highly agitated. "You weren't supposed to know where you were going!"
Rayne winced. "No one told me where I was going. I have never been instructed to call a Dom anything other than Sir or Master or Daddy, or whatever he wants to be called." She studied the raw hurt that lay just under this surface of the man in front of her. "You asked me to be candid, and that is what I am doing. I look at you and I see a hero, who is very far out of my league. And that is just odd too me that Iron Man would want me. That's all."
Tony closed his eyes for a moment. He had let her see way to much of himself…his words had told her more than she needed to know. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly, looking at her again.
"Rayne," she replied.
"Then that's what I am going to call you tonight," he said. "And you can call me whatever makes you comfortable."
"I'm comfortable with Sir," she replied.
"Wonderful." Tony clapped his hands, but still did not smile. His eyes pierced through her. "Let's get started shall we?" He seemed rather non plussed.
This went South fast, she thought.
"Stand up, Rayne," Tony said.
She complied immediately, feeling much better back in her servant role. To be doing the job that she was there for. She could feel his eyes looking her over again. The short black dress that was the uniform the Agency had their girls wear, left little to the imagination. It was cut low in the front, to her navel, revealing her cleavage and exposing the curves of her breasts. The nipples were barely covered.
"Come here," he commanded.
She came to him, standing so that her legs were nearly touching his knees. "Spread your legs." As her legs spread, the dress worked its way up on her hips exposing her sex to him. Tony nodded in approval and smoothed his palms up her thighs, stopping just short of the silky panties.
"I can smell you," he murmured, looking her in the eyes. "Hot," his fingers pushed aside the satin. "Wet," he dipped his middle finger into her, and she bit her lip. "Sweet," he said, pulling his gleaming finger from her and licking it. The way he was slowly sucking her sex off of his finger made her moan.
Tony lapped the last of her taste from his fingers, and then took her hand in his, and led her to the overstuffed bed. "Lay back," he said softly. Rayne did as ordered. The dress slipped up even more. Tony still had her hand, and as he pressed two of her own fingers inside her, he locked his dark eyes with hers. The intensity of his stare, the hungry look in his eyes, and the feeling of her own fingers made her wetter than she already was. Suddenly he reached out and ripped the panties from her body. He threw the useless torn satin onto the floor.
"Pull them out," he ordered. "Now rub your clit for me." She swirled her fingers around the bud of nerves and moaned at the sensation. It felt strangely sexy to be masturbating for him.
Tony growled deep in his chest at the sight. Her clit was glistening from her own juices. The entire area was saturated. "Finger yourself some more," he said huskily. His voice was raspy with lust.
Rayne pressed her fingers back inside, and Tony clamped his hand over hers, picking the rhythm for her. "Like that," he said, letting go. "That's perfect. But don't make yourself come, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she breathed. Just the fact that he was demanding that she not come, made her need it so much worse.
Tony grinned. It was primal, but real. This was the first time she had seen his eyes crinkle with the dimples at the corners of his mouth. It was beautiful, and made her moan again, and tense up. "I-Sir, I…"
He could hear the urgency in her voice, and see the pulsing of her sex. "Don't you dare," he growled, pulling her fingers away, and suckling them into his own mouth. She was so sweet. His tongue darted between them, cleaning away every drop of her. Rayne longed to have that beautiful mouth on her clit, have his tongue dip inside of her, pounding away like his cock.
That particular member was straining so hard at the jeans that he was wearing that she thought it might break the zipper any second. Since Tony would not let her stare at the floor like her training demanded, she could not help staring at his crotch wantonly. When her eyes trailed back to his face, he was grinning at her in a very devilish manner that made him look much younger than his years.
"See something you like, honey?" he asked.
Rayne licked her lips. "Yes, Sir," she replied softly.
Suddenly he cocked his head, as if lost in thought. "You said I was your first Master?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How many men have you been with?"
She was taken aback by the question. "Sir, I can assure you that I am completely clean and disease free. The Agency has tests-"
Tony waved her answer away. "Yes, Yes, I know that of course. That's not what I want to know. I want to know how many dicks have been inside of you before now. Answer me."
Rayne's mouth fell open, but she complied with his request. "One, Sir."
Tony looked flustered for a moment. "ONE?!" he practically shouted.
"It…it's supposed to make me very desirable to those who want an inexperienced submissive," she stammered. "I-I thought you knew and that was one of the reasons I was here, Sir."
"If my cock wasn't about to fucking explode from these damn jeans, I would question you further," he growled. "But we will have to leave questions for later…because I can't stand it anymore." Tony leaned over and opened a drawer on the bedside table. He pulled out the rope that he kept for Candy…and winked at his charge. "I don't have much experience with tying women up, but I'm pretty sure I can manage. I've watched it enough…in a mirror." He laughed softly.
Rayne offered up her arms willingly to him. Tony wrapped her wrists and tied them to the headboard. Then he tied her ankles and pulled the rope behind her back. She couldn't move one ankle without tightening the rope on the other. Her knees were bent and stuck…and her pussy was exposed to him. Tony stared at her, admiring his work, before kneeling between her legs, and unzipping his pants.
His cock spilled out into his hand, practically leaping out of his jeans. He massaged it for a moment while looking into her eyes, and then took the head of his engorged member and slipped it into her just enough to slick the velvety skin. Tony began to work over her clit with the tip of his cock. With his other hand he peeled back the dress, and forcefully pinched one of her throbbing nipples.
Rayne threw her head back at the onslaught of sensations, as the head of his cock slid back and forth across her slippery clit. She'd never experienced anything like this man before, and she genuinely wanted him. At the Agency she had talked to other girls. They assured her that rarely did they want to fuck the men that they were sent too, but quickly learned to become good actresses. The better they did, the better the pay.
Rayne found herself not faking in the least. Tony could tell by the flush of her chest, the pulse of her sex around him, the dilation of her eyes, that she was real…rough around the edges, not quite completely groomed. The emptiness was not in her beautiful young eyes. Not yet. Rayne simply didn't have enough miles on her yet. It drove him mad with lust, and he slammed into her in one deft movement. As she cried out, he mentally cursed himself to take his time, make this one last.
Her pussy felt so good around his cock, and it had been so long, that he knew this first fuck would be quick. Tony groaned and grabbed at her round hips, fucking her with abandon. Rayne pulled at her bindings, hurting her own wrists, but not caring. Tony slowed his fucking for a moment, to reach over into the same drawer from which he had produced the rope. This time he pulled out two weighted nipple clamps. Rayne bit her lip as Tony leaned forward, and winking at her, he licked at the peak of a breast. She cried gasped, and ground into him as well as she could manage in such a state. Tony bathed her skin for a moment, and then clamped the first clip onto her nipple. The tightness hurt but quickly began to tingle. The other clamp was attached….and Tony smiled wickedly. He pushed something on each of the weights, and the tingling intensified to a painful vibrating. She yelped, throwing her head back.
Electricity. There were zaps of electricity pulsing through her protruding nipples. Tony was leering at her obvious discomfort. Slowly he began to fuck her again. Rayne whimpered, and his thrusts grew deeper.
"Call me your Master, honey," he said in a strained voice.
"M…Master," she panted.
"Does it hurt?" Tony whispered.
"Yes, Master" she replied.
"Do you like it?"
The electrocution of her nipples intensified, and Rayne cried out. "Yes, Master, oh, yes!" Her training kicking in, she added, "Any pain you give to me is my pleasure."
That was all Tony could take. His orgasm ripped through his loins, issuing a snarl from his lips, followed by a strangled cry. "Honey," he gasped. "Fuck your pussy is so sweet!"
He pulled his dripping cock from her, and stared down at her prone body. Rayne's face and neck were flushed now, her breath coming in pants.
"The things I'm going to do to you, honey," he murmured. "It's going to be a long night."
She shivered, seeing the dark lustful look in his once friendly eyes. This was the look that she had been prepared for, trained to understand. This was the look of a man who had just discovered his power, and was about to use it with abandon. She was to be his play toy, his fuck doll, his whore…and enjoy it. Or at least pretend too.
Tony ran his fingers over her warm flesh. "Your neck and chest are so red, let's add a splash of color to the rest of you, shall we?"
He untied her and removed the ropes from the bed. Rayne rubbed at her raw skin, burned from pulling at her bindings. Tony glanced at her making a mental note to give her tender flesh plenty of aftercare. Right now…he wasn't done with it yet.
There was a steel hook protruding from high up on the wall. She hadn't noticed it till now, as it was the same color as the steely walls. Tony threw the rope over it, and then went to his dresser and produced a pair of strong leather cuffs. He looked her in the eyes as he fastened them around her wrists.
"This should feel much better," he said softly. Then he winked. "For a moment."
He looped the rope through the rings on the cuffs, and pulled Rayne's arms over her head. Giving a good solid tug, he pulled her up until just her toes touched the plush carpet. There she dangled, feeling like a piñata about the be flogged with a bat, in hopes that the sweetness inside would be revealed.
She wasn't that far off base.
Tony turned her so she faced the wall. It made her nervous to not be able to see what was going on behind her. No matter what place she had been taught to dive into inside her own head, the minute she was put in the dark and kept from seeing what her Dom was doing, her happy place went far far away. Hearing him rustling around behind made it even worse.
The feeling of softness on her back made her jump. Tony laughed and ran the leather flogger's soft straps down her one leg and back up the other, playfully swatting at her ass. Without warning the playfulness was gone, and the leather stung her ass and thighs. Rayne took a deep calming breath and centered herself. She knew what was coming.
Again the leather slapped her skin….another slap…and another. Tony paused for a moment to inspect his handiwork. Her ass and thighs were red, much redder than the flushing of her neck and chest. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't satisfied with this turn of events. Pulling his arm back, and letting loose as hard as he could, he swung the flogger at her back. The smack of the leather caused her back to arch…but just a bit. Again he swung, and her skin flinched, her toes clawing at the carpet for purchase. And that's when he figured out what was missing.
Screams.
He wanted to hear her, and to make this one scream, he would have to really hurt her. She had already proved to have a good pain tolerance. He could respect that, hell he was Tony Fucking Stark…he could dig it. But that didn't change the fact that he wanted her to scream her ass off. First in agony, then later in pleasure, when he finally decided to let her cum.
Reaching up, Tony loosened her binds until her feet were flat on the floor. Rayne dug her toes into the carpet and sighed. Was that all? she wondered. Was he taking it easy on her because he was her first…
The crack of the whip nearly drove a surprised scream from her lips. So, he had traded out his flogger for a bullwhip it seemed. Rayne pressed her lips firmly together in a thin line. This would take some definite deep breathing. As the lash cracked down on her back, she closed her eyes tight and took another deep breath. Slowly let it out, breathe in…and out…and in…and out…and-
CRACK!
The whip landed across her back again, the pain immediate and spreading. And again…before she had even had a chance to recover from the last stroke. He was covering her back in angry red lashes, from the rear end up.
WHACK!
Still the girl was not giving in to him. Tony wondered if this was part of her resolve or part of her training. Did she understand how desperately he needed this? How badly he needed to break her and make her scream? He had a feeling that she did, but was doing as she was trained to do…hold out until she could no longer take it. Build it up, make him need it even more, until she finally consented and gave into him. Ah, she was good, this coy little one. When she cracked, it would be the sweetest symphony he had ever heard. When she cracked, he was pretty sure he would cum in his fucking pants.
The lashes across her ass and back had created a pattern of red whelps against her creamy white skin. Like blood in so much milk…beautiful…sensual. God, how he wanted to fuck her pretty little ass right then. That would make her scream…but he kept himself in line. Perhaps this was as much discipline for him as it was for her.
Tony lined the whip up, and let it fly, his brute strength behind it. The lash landed on top of a prior whelp. Rayne's back arched more this time. Her hands found the ropes binding her to the wall, and she held on. Tony saw all of this…and was inspired. He once again aimed for a tender spot. This earned him what could only be called an animal grunt. Not a moan, or a groan, but a grunt. Damn she was strong, and had a pain tolerance that bordered on absurd. Tony grinned. That could be even more fun later. As for right now, the girl was weakening, and he loved it.
Rayne couldn't stop the sounds from coming. Her hands were gripping the ropes so hard that her knuckles were white. Sweat had begun to bead up on her forehead, and her toes were curled into the plush carpet. Again the whip lashed her. FUCK, that hurts, she moaned inside her own head. She wanted to prolong this, take it as long as she could and please him, but her deep breathing was failing her miserably. Another lash, and this one wrapped around her body, slapping the tender flesh of her stomach. The yelp escaped her before she realized what was happening. Her back arched so hard it popped, and her head flew back. She heard Tony gasp behind her, just as another crack of the whip landed, also wrapping around her and hitting a taunt nipple.
Tony shivered as she let loose a scream that echoed off the walls and positively dripped with pain. He groaned, sending the whip against her again. This time her skin split, and she screamed in agony, her head again tossed back, arms straining against the bonds. She took a deep shaky breath and slumped, the only thing holding her up were the ropes. Enough, he decided, seeing the blood. His cock was throbbing with need. He slipped his pants off and tapped her on the ass with the end of the whip.
"Spread your legs," he said with in a husky voice.
Rayne complied, putting her weight back on her shaking legs, and spreading them for him. She could feel the thin stream of blood running down her back, across her ass. The sudden slap of the flogger against her mound made her whimper. Tony laughed softly, and slapped her again. One leather flail smacked her clit, and she moaned at the feeling. Pain and pleasure. The next slap was from an open palm, and she cried out again as he sunk his fingers into her wet heat, exploring her, spreading her. A large cock replaced the fingers and sank easily into her.
"You're so fucking wet, honey," he snarled into her hair. His chest against her wounded back caused her to grunt in pain. "I hurt you, but here you are still dripping for me. The agency teach you how to do that nifty fucking trick?"
Rayne shook her head. "N-No, Master," she breathed. "That is all you."
Tony rewarded her by reaching around and flicking at her protruding clit with his experienced fingers. She bucked her hips back into his cock, and spread her legs as far as she could, willing him deeper. Spreading her ass with the flats of his hand, he fucked her as deep and hard as he could, so much so that she began to scream again.
"Come for me, honey," Tony growled. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral snarl. He would fucking break her in right. He would be the Dom she compared others too…others who failed to match up to his prowess. He was certain of that. "Come for me, my little bitch. You are fucking MINE now!"
He grabbed a handful of her fiery hair and pulled harshly, causing her back to bend in a perfect U and forcing her cunt against him even more. Wild thoughts filled his head, one being that with all his wealth and power, he could just buy her from the fucking Agency, and do this every goddamn day. She would take him seriously. He could rub that in Steve's face all damn day long. Someone to take him seriously, to devote herself fully to him because that was what she had been taught to do. Tony Stark gets what he fucking wants, right?!
Rayne's inner walls tightened around him. Tony knew she was agonizingly close to cumming all over him, and he screamed at the walls. "FUCK! Take it, honey, TAKE IT!" His cock was slamming into her so hard that all coherent thought had left her brain. She saw only colors now, her arms limp against the ropes, his hands holding her up. The man was vicious and feral, huge and painful, and she loved every delicious sinful minute of it.
"Master!" she cried. Her insides had clenched up, she began to shiver in his arms. The noises coming from her drove him insane.
"Mmmm, honey, goddamn," he growled back. Tony let go of her hair, and reached around to pinch at her pulsing clit. "My name," he panted. "I want to hear my name. Scream it!"
Rayne did as she was told, crying his name out over and over, as he bit into the back of her delicious neck and exploded inside of her. The jerking of his cock, the way she felt him fill her, and his devious fingers on her sex sent her over the edge only seconds later. His name continued to issue from her lips, an explosion of fireworks behind her eyelids leaving her feeling dazed. Tony pumped his hips into her, as their mingled fluids washed over them both.
He rested his head on her shoulder. Rayne's own head flopped forward, hanging limply. Her legs had become utterly useless, two things made of nothing substantial. The ropes and Tony were all that held her up. They stayed that way for a moment, panting in unison. Finally, he reached up and unbuckled the straps that held her wrists, catching her as she fell into his arms, and carrying her to the bed. The subspace she was floating in was heavy, he could see it in the drugged look of her eyes. Tony laid her easily on the bed and left her to enjoy the endorphins for a moment longer.
His visage had changed. No longer the demanding Dom, now the caretaker, tending to his slave's needs, Tony went to the bathroom and rummaged around in the cabinets. He would do for her, what the Domme had done for him so many times back in their days of insanity. He would care for his sub, the way he had been taught. That had been instilled in him, Candy had seen to that. To be a good Master, one must take care of their slave. A sub had to be able to serve, and to serve, they must be in pampered after the pain.
As he washed the blood away from her wound, and cleaned her with a warm wash cloth, she whimpered slightly, and then sighed. Tony spread the ointment onto her whelps with the most gentle touch his callused hands could manage. Rayne turned and looked at him with her large azure eyes, and he stopped his ministrations, so caught by what he saw there. Adoration, the devotion of a slave. She would always be his, no matter how many other cocks she took, no matter how many other Dom's asked for her services. The thought of others made his skin prickle and his heart speed up a bit. He took her wrists, and soothed the raw skin there as well, gently applying the cool salve to the rope burns, trying to avert the thoughts from his always over stimulated brain.
Tomorrow he would call the Agency and put in a bid for her time for a much longer period. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was for pure reckless enjoyment, not thinking ahead. Tony lay on the bed and pulled her gently against his chest. Rayne marveled at the odd blue glow, the cold metal reactor that was a part of him. He saw her look at it inquisitively.
"It keeps me alive," he quietly explained. "There is shrapnel heading for my heart…" he tapped the reactor, "this stops it."
Gently, Rayne stroked the cold metal. "I'm glad it does. Your heart is a good one, and the world needs it. Right now, I need it."
Tony opened his mouth to retort…something sexual, no doubt. Quickly his jaws snapped shut and he lay there contemplating this situation, sliding his hand softly up and down her arm. She took him seriously. She believed in him. She had given him what he desired, what he needed. This girl, this stranger, had done for him what family would have…she had given him her respect. The last thing he needed to do was open his mouth and fuck up a decent moment. Life didn't throw many of those his way. Memorable, sure. Decent, no.
Tony smiled into her copper hair, and then did something he rarely did. He sighed contentedly. Fuck it, he thought. Bring on the storms, goddamit. I already have the Rayne.