Free Pain and Pleasure by Harlem Dae Page A

my world. My black, sordid fantasy world where pain ruled, exhibitionism scored points and Gabriel—my fantasy man had a name and a face now—doled out delicious torture.
    I could picture it—me in the cage, scantily clad in my black lacy best, my crotchless knickers rudely showing off my plump cunt lips. I’d grip the sides, curling my fingers around the metal, pressing my face up against the hard wire mesh. I’d be a prisoner, and he’d be able to do what he wanted with me, tie me up, whip me, beat me, fuck me—oh yeah, fuck me hard as he delivered delicious sensations that had me high on endorphins, flying with the painful stimuli that always went straight to my clit.
    It was my preferred way to come, in pain. Oh, not stubbed toe pain or the misery of a headache—I liked sensual pain. And Gabriel, it seemed, loved to dish it out.
    We were a match made in heaven and I couldn’t wait for him to take me there, even though to many it would look like he’d sent me to hell.
    A shiver of longing went through me. My clit tingled and I squeezed my legs together. For a brief moment I considered masturbating, shoving my fingers up through the gap in my underwear and filling myself, perhaps rubbing against the kitchen counter at the same time, applying pressure to my mound. But I soon scrubbed away the idea. The trouble with enjoying painful rides to orgasm was that it was very hard to administer them to yourself. I’d tried, of course I had, but I’d always ended up feeling like a failure and completely unsatisfied. No, I would wait, wait until Gabriel could see to my needs and hope to fuck we could find a quiet corner at the supermarket with one of those cages to play in.
    Three a.m. couldn’t come soon enough.
    * * * *
    Fifteen minutes before our meeting, I drove the short distance to the supermarket. I reckoned I would be okay after just one merlot, and besides, it was creepy walking out when the streets were so deserted, the night so black and still. I really hadn’t fancied it.
    After clicking my VW locked, I glanced around the car park. There were six vehicles there, not including mine. I had no idea what Gabriel drove, but I hoped his was one of them so we only had five staff to contend with. Sounded about right—one on tills, a security man at the front door and a few stacking shelves or cleaning.
    I tugged my leather jacket shut, dragged up the zip then shoved my keys into my pocket. It was pretty damn cold, especially when not wearing much.
    Luckily, as I stepped into Bestco a blast of hot air hit me and the automatic doors slid shut, trapping the warmth inside.
    An overweight security bloke sat at a small station that held a gray monitor. He glanced up at me.
    “Hi,” I said, smiling.
    His gaze dropped down my body. He nodded, once, then went back to reading a paperback. I didn’t think he’d give me any cause for concern. I’d hazard a guess he only moved from where he sat to go and grab pies from the canteen.
    The lights were dazzling after being outside, full-on fluorescent. Gabriel had instructed me to leave my mascara streaked after our morning fuck, said he wanted me looking like a ‘little slut’. I wasn’t into taking orders, but when he’d said I’d tapped into him pretty well that had given me a good measure of him—oh yeah, I was efficient at that. He liked the slut thing as much as he enjoyed being called Sir.
    Well, I could do slut. I could be his slutty butterfly all night and all fucking day if that was what he wanted.
    There were two ladies on the tills, sitting next to each other, chatting. I couldn’t hear what they were saying and they took no notice of me. I wondered if maybe there were more customers in the shop and I wasn’t such an oddity. Two cashiers seemed excessive when no one was paying for anything. Maybe they were just getting away with it, being paid for gossiping.
    Good for them if they were.
    The magazine aisle called me first, and knowing I had a few minutes to