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snoggedTitle: Complete and Utter Surrender (Part 4 of the Three Days Verse)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. I don't. Please don't sue.
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Word Count: 1211
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; explicit sex, BDSM, Domination/submission, whips, language,
Spoilers: Season 4 “Mosbius Designs”
Summary: The part where Barney ties Robin to the bed and has his way with her…
Beta: None. Any spelling/grammar errors are mine. Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idioticonion for all the read-throughs and for the continual encouragement that I keep working on this 'verse.
Previous Chapters: Three Days , Three Days Later , On The Third Day
She’s in his bed. Or perhaps the better phrase would be; she’s attached to his bed. Her wrists pulled above her, held together by thick, black cord that had laced through the bars of his headboard. Her legs spread wide open, ankles attached to the bottom corners of the mattress with thin straps. There was no doubt in his mind that springing for the fucking station was the best investment of his entire life.
Submission is a good look for Robin. It made her whole body pulsate with need and instantly lubricates her pussy. She easily pulls off a 10 every day of the week but seeing her like this, god, she becomes a 21. A combination of cards that makes any high-stakes Blackjack player go mad with excitement and adrenaline.
“Barney…” The way she whimpers his name makes his cock tremble but he’s gotta stand his ground. He can’t let her take control. It’s not what he wants. It’s not what she wants.
His eyes darken, glittering as he sucks in a breath. “The time for talking is over, Robin. You know why you’re here. You know what place you asked for. You know what will happen to you.” He bends forward, lips mere inches from hers, fingers brushing over her forehead and the top of her hair. “From now on, all I expect to hear from you are screams, pants, and moans. I want you to think about nothing else but me. I am your focus, your concentration. I am the only thing in the world that exists to you. Got it?”
Robin nods, gulping back a verbal response. But she knows he can see her carnal desire, can smell it drifting off her in waves. Fuck, she wants him so bad right now.
As if by magic, a riding crop appears in his hand, the heart-shaped tip tapping against the still air, hovering inches above her pussy. She expects him to bring it down, to hear the resounding slap of leather against flesh.
But he doesn’t.
He wants to drive her mad with her need…with her fear of what the crop can do. And God damn if it isn’t working perfectly.
“Oh god…oh god…oh god,” Robin pants, arching her back from the bed, pulling against her restraints. “Please…”
Barney smirks, pressing his free hand against her pubic mound, dipping a finger into her wetness. He brushes over her clit, sending a shiver through her before the finger pushes inside. In less than a second, a second finger joins the first. And then another…. Three fingers stretching her wide and she clenches her muscles, trying to keep them there permanently.
“Now, now… we’ve got plenty of time. Can’t have you coming in the first five minutes, can we? ” Barney says coolly, pulling his fingers from her cunt and watching as she desperately humps the air to find further contact.
He brings the crop down and her hips fall backwards towards the mattress in surprise. A faint red heart-shaped mark appears on her soft, bare flesh and her soft, brown eyes lock with his as if trying to discover his method of madness, his devious strategy for the evening. But what she sees in those baby blues leaves her feeling disappointed. Stupid, unreadable poker face.
He chuckles, feeling an appreciation for all the times he’s spent in Vegas and Atlantic City. There’s a reason he’s good at gambling. And what he wants to do- what he has done- what he is doing to Robin is one of the biggest gambles he’s ever made and so far, lady luck is most definitely his bitch.
“You like this, don’t you, Robin? Like what I do to you? How it makes you feel inside?”
The crop comes down again, this time, on her thigh. “Yes,” she hisses, feeling the sharp jolt of pain bolt through her. But it’s not the bad kind of pain. It’s a good pain. It’s a pain that hits her pleasure button with fierce glee.
The crop falls again and soon the distance between each smack becomes so short and so varied that she has no clue where he’ll go next.
Calves…thighs…pussy…stomach…breasts. Fuck! The leather stings her nipples and her breath hitches. Barney…Barney’s doing this to her. Barney. Barney. Barney. His name explodes in her brain like a flock of doves being released in a brilliant white cloud. He was right…he is all she can think about.
“Uugghhhh,” Robin groans, body naturally twisting in an attempt to escape the barrage of lashes.
“Don’t fight this, Robin,” Barney commands, tone soft and still laced with a threat of condemnation. “You fight this and you make it harder for yourself.”
Robin nods, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she forces her body to still, to surrender even more fully than she thought she was.
Barney smiles at her quick response and he lets the crop fall to the floor, barely hearing it clatter against the hard wood (what up!) as he climbs into the bed and settles between her legs.
He produces the condom and brings the aluminum package to her lips. “Rip it open, baby.”
She obeys, latching onto the perforation and tearing it easily. He catches it before it falls to her chest and takes out the condom, rolling it over his engorged cock. His finger brushes against the large vein on the underside of his dick and his eyes flutter from the little jolt of bliss.
He looks down at her pussy, gaping and exposed from the way her legs are stretched. She’s a ripe peach, just waiting to be plucked, waiting to be tasted, waiting to be fucked.
His fingers grip her hips, nails leaving small, crescent-shaped marks on her flesh as he pulls her forward onto his lap and lines his dick up with her quivering hole. One thrust sends him deep inside her and he watches her face contort in pleasure as he rocks his hips, tortuously dragging his cock over every nerve, every pleasure center. Robin moans and writhes beneath him, shifting her own hips to try and increase his speed.
He takes a nipple between his index finger and thumb, pinching and pulling until its hard and distended. She whimpers and stills herself again. The point of this exercise is that he wants her to be…wants her to be whatever he wants her to be in any given moment. A convenient hole. A sultry, flexible doll. A submissive slut. A filthy bad girl. But, in all cases, still a chance to be herself. He knows her that well.
As he fucks her, moment by moment building speed and power. He wants her raw, wants her screaming. For an instant, he loathes the constriction of the condom. He wants to mark her, to coat her in his spunk. He wants her to feel him soaking into her skin, persistent, never going away. It’s the second best option to confessing that he loves her. At the very least, it would be something she could accept with a lot more grace.
He can feel the warm burn building in his gut, spreading through his arms and legs, making his balls tighten, and his cock leap. His head is fogged, drugged by the fuel of his lust and when he bursts, thick strands of come coat the latex, coat his dick. It doesn’t take long for her to follow and her whole body trembles as her orgasm runs through her, sapping her of whatever energy she possibly had left.
As he looks into her eyes, he can’t help but wonder why anyone would settle for monogamy when they can have complete and utter surrender right at the fingertips?
Seriously.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. I don't. Please don't sue.
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Word Count: 1211
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; explicit sex, BDSM, Domination/submission, whips, language,
Spoilers: Season 4 “Mosbius Designs”
Summary: The part where Barney ties Robin to the bed and has his way with her…
Beta: None. Any spelling/grammar errors are mine. Many thanks to
idioticonion for all the read-throughs and for the continual encouragement that I keep working on this 'verse.Previous Chapters: Three Days , Three Days Later , On The Third Day
She’s in his bed. Or perhaps the better phrase would be; she’s attached to his bed. Her wrists pulled above her, held together by thick, black cord that had laced through the bars of his headboard. Her legs spread wide open, ankles attached to the bottom corners of the mattress with thin straps. There was no doubt in his mind that springing for the fucking station was the best investment of his entire life.
Submission is a good look for Robin. It made her whole body pulsate with need and instantly lubricates her pussy. She easily pulls off a 10 every day of the week but seeing her like this, god, she becomes a 21. A combination of cards that makes any high-stakes Blackjack player go mad with excitement and adrenaline.
“Barney…” The way she whimpers his name makes his cock tremble but he’s gotta stand his ground. He can’t let her take control. It’s not what he wants. It’s not what she wants.
His eyes darken, glittering as he sucks in a breath. “The time for talking is over, Robin. You know why you’re here. You know what place you asked for. You know what will happen to you.” He bends forward, lips mere inches from hers, fingers brushing over her forehead and the top of her hair. “From now on, all I expect to hear from you are screams, pants, and moans. I want you to think about nothing else but me. I am your focus, your concentration. I am the only thing in the world that exists to you. Got it?”
Robin nods, gulping back a verbal response. But she knows he can see her carnal desire, can smell it drifting off her in waves. Fuck, she wants him so bad right now.
As if by magic, a riding crop appears in his hand, the heart-shaped tip tapping against the still air, hovering inches above her pussy. She expects him to bring it down, to hear the resounding slap of leather against flesh.
But he doesn’t.
He wants to drive her mad with her need…with her fear of what the crop can do. And God damn if it isn’t working perfectly.
“Oh god…oh god…oh god,” Robin pants, arching her back from the bed, pulling against her restraints. “Please…”
Barney smirks, pressing his free hand against her pubic mound, dipping a finger into her wetness. He brushes over her clit, sending a shiver through her before the finger pushes inside. In less than a second, a second finger joins the first. And then another…. Three fingers stretching her wide and she clenches her muscles, trying to keep them there permanently.
“Now, now… we’ve got plenty of time. Can’t have you coming in the first five minutes, can we? ” Barney says coolly, pulling his fingers from her cunt and watching as she desperately humps the air to find further contact.
He brings the crop down and her hips fall backwards towards the mattress in surprise. A faint red heart-shaped mark appears on her soft, bare flesh and her soft, brown eyes lock with his as if trying to discover his method of madness, his devious strategy for the evening. But what she sees in those baby blues leaves her feeling disappointed. Stupid, unreadable poker face.
He chuckles, feeling an appreciation for all the times he’s spent in Vegas and Atlantic City. There’s a reason he’s good at gambling. And what he wants to do- what he has done- what he is doing to Robin is one of the biggest gambles he’s ever made and so far, lady luck is most definitely his bitch.
“You like this, don’t you, Robin? Like what I do to you? How it makes you feel inside?”
The crop comes down again, this time, on her thigh. “Yes,” she hisses, feeling the sharp jolt of pain bolt through her. But it’s not the bad kind of pain. It’s a good pain. It’s a pain that hits her pleasure button with fierce glee.
The crop falls again and soon the distance between each smack becomes so short and so varied that she has no clue where he’ll go next.
Calves…thighs…pussy…stomach…breasts. Fuck! The leather stings her nipples and her breath hitches. Barney…Barney’s doing this to her. Barney. Barney. Barney. His name explodes in her brain like a flock of doves being released in a brilliant white cloud. He was right…he is all she can think about.
“Uugghhhh,” Robin groans, body naturally twisting in an attempt to escape the barrage of lashes.
“Don’t fight this, Robin,” Barney commands, tone soft and still laced with a threat of condemnation. “You fight this and you make it harder for yourself.”
Robin nods, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she forces her body to still, to surrender even more fully than she thought she was.
Barney smiles at her quick response and he lets the crop fall to the floor, barely hearing it clatter against the hard wood (what up!) as he climbs into the bed and settles between her legs.
He produces the condom and brings the aluminum package to her lips. “Rip it open, baby.”
She obeys, latching onto the perforation and tearing it easily. He catches it before it falls to her chest and takes out the condom, rolling it over his engorged cock. His finger brushes against the large vein on the underside of his dick and his eyes flutter from the little jolt of bliss.
He looks down at her pussy, gaping and exposed from the way her legs are stretched. She’s a ripe peach, just waiting to be plucked, waiting to be tasted, waiting to be fucked.
His fingers grip her hips, nails leaving small, crescent-shaped marks on her flesh as he pulls her forward onto his lap and lines his dick up with her quivering hole. One thrust sends him deep inside her and he watches her face contort in pleasure as he rocks his hips, tortuously dragging his cock over every nerve, every pleasure center. Robin moans and writhes beneath him, shifting her own hips to try and increase his speed.
He takes a nipple between his index finger and thumb, pinching and pulling until its hard and distended. She whimpers and stills herself again. The point of this exercise is that he wants her to be…wants her to be whatever he wants her to be in any given moment. A convenient hole. A sultry, flexible doll. A submissive slut. A filthy bad girl. But, in all cases, still a chance to be herself. He knows her that well.
As he fucks her, moment by moment building speed and power. He wants her raw, wants her screaming. For an instant, he loathes the constriction of the condom. He wants to mark her, to coat her in his spunk. He wants her to feel him soaking into her skin, persistent, never going away. It’s the second best option to confessing that he loves her. At the very least, it would be something she could accept with a lot more grace.
He can feel the warm burn building in his gut, spreading through his arms and legs, making his balls tighten, and his cock leap. His head is fogged, drugged by the fuel of his lust and when he bursts, thick strands of come coat the latex, coat his dick. It doesn’t take long for her to follow and her whole body trembles as her orgasm runs through her, sapping her of whatever energy she possibly had left.
As he looks into her eyes, he can’t help but wonder why anyone would settle for monogamy when they can have complete and utter surrender right at the fingertips?
Seriously.