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'M' is For: Cut Scene (Bonus)
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 15:00:05 +0000 UTCThis scene didn't end up making it into the final version of the story, but I'm still very fond of it. After the events of the main story, Mallory and Thomas catch up over dinner, and then the evening takes them in a very particular direction...
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Checking my watch, it wasn’t even 9 pm yet.
“So...did you want to come back to my place?” I asked, feeling oddly shy and nervous.
Thomas smiled. To my relief, he didn’t make me wait too long for an answer. In fact, he didn’t make me wait at all. He bent down and kissed me on the lips, gentle but assured. He pulled back just far enough to look into my eyes.
“I’d love to,” he said.
Luckily it was still early enough that my roommates were still out, although, checking my messages, they left me a couple cryptic texts that had me wondering whether or not they were avoiding the apartment on purpose. Either way, I appreciated them for it, and it was without any reserve that I pulled Thomas into my apartment.
“It’s nice,” he paused to comment in the common area, but I was impatient to undress him. The tour of the apartment could wait. He laughed as I threw off my purse and immediately turned to help him out of his shirt. Fumbling at each other’s clothes, we stumbled into my room and I kicked the door shut with the heel of my foot.
“Oh,” I said, staring at the space above his heart where the little black ‘M’ had been tattooed. “You got rid of your tattoo.”
“Ah, yes,” Thomas said a little self-consciously. “I figured, fresh start and all.”
“Maybe you got rid of it a little too soon,” I teased him, pushing him down onto my mattress and climbing atop his lap to nibble the lobes of his ears. “Could have stood for ‘Mallory’.”
“Didn’t think of that, funnily enough,” Thomas replied, his voice a little uneven.
I could hear it in Thomas’s voice as his control began to fray. The instinctive way he fought his pleasure, and yet was so totally unable to hide it, delighted me. I had forgotten that about him. I forced myself to slow down, to give ourselves the space to rediscover each other.
I gave a little gasp of surprise as Thomas flipped me onto my back, sliding onto the wooden floor to remove my shoes. He slid his warm hands up the length of my legs and I gave a soft sigh of pleasure. As he reached my hips, he undid the opening to my jeans and slid them off. I obliged him by raising my legs, but was nevertheless unprepared for the jolt of heat that shot through me as he put his mouth down on my pussy through my lace panties and exhaled softly.
His eyes met mine, and I had a flash of recollection to all the times he’d gone down on me before. Yet, despite the fact that the motions were familiar to us, never had I so keenly been aware of his presence here and now. For the first time, there was no audience watching, no barriers to keep us apart. We were free to give ourselves freely, and it was a wonderful thing to realize.
Slowly, his fingers pulled back the band of my panties and uncovered me. I could feel my wetness, an instinctual response to his proximity and attention. I held my breath as he lowered his face to between my legs, but to my surprise, he pulled back at the last minute.
“Do you have a vibrator?” he asked me, and I felt my cheeks warm at the intimacy of the question.
“Yes, it’s in the drawer next to the bed,” I murmured, and he shifted his weight, leaning over to grasp the knob of the nightstand with his fingers and tug the drawer open. He fished out the wand and, with the flick of his thumb, turned it out. The low, easy hum of the wand reached my ears, and I felt my face flushing with hot anticipation as he lowered the toy gently onto my already throbbing clit.
The way he held and positioned it against me was slightly unfamiliar and different, but not unpleasant. And then he shifted the angle, and I had to bite my lip as waves of pleasure pulsed out across my lower body, each wave building upon the previous one in an agonizing crescendo.
Thomas traced my curves with first his hand and then his lips. He found the curves of my breast and worshiped them, kneading the flesh and kissing my hardening nipples. A lock of hair fell across his eyes, and my hand was there, brushing it out of his face before my mind could catch up with the instinctual motion.
He slowly but steadily worked his way down, circling from my collarbones to my breasts, down to the curve of my hips. As he pushed the vibrator one notch higher, he slid a finger up against my moistened entrance, and I gave a gasp at the new source of completing pleasure.
The waves crested higher and higher as he fingered me in sync with the strengthened buzz of the vibrator. I arched my back and grabbed the sheets. Distantly, I wondered whether I should slow him down, but my need was too sharp a demand. It had been too long and I wanted this too badly. And so I succumbed to the mounting pleasure. He slid a second finger into me, moving them against my nerves until finally the waves broke and I shattered.
I gave a cry of satisfaction, and Thomas, his eyes never leaving my face, removed the vibrator. I had barely an instant to miss the warmth of his touch before he replaced his fingers with his mouth. He was careful of my heightened sensitivity in the immediate moments following the orgasm. He steered clear of my clit, outlining instead the lips of my pussy with the tip of his tongue, lapping up the fluid that yielded from my innermost center of being. When he raised his face, his chin was shiny with saliva and cum, and I gently wiped it away with a thumb.
“Come here,” I told him, and he obeyed, climbing up onto the bed.
I removed the belt of his jeans and undid the zipper, releasing his erection into my hand. I palmed his balls, enjoying the twitch in the corners of his mouth. Sliding down beneath him, I took his cock in my mouth and sucked. I let the saliva slide out and around his cock until the his velvety skin was slippery and wet. I alternated blowing him with some work with my hands, and his already-lengthened cock turned harder and redder, the ball sack swelling up with his own mounting need.
I moved to drag the rest of his jeans and boxer-briefs down, and immediately he was there helping me, shunting them off until he was naked as sin.
“I don’t mind, you know,” Thomas said in a low voice. “If it’s you.”
“You don’t mind...what?” I asked, momentarily confused.
“If you wanted to blindfold me or put headphones over my ears. You can have me any way you want me.” His eyes, gazing down at me, were wide and trusting. I felt my heart squeeze with sudden tender affection at the implication in his words. Despite everything that had happened, everything that had been done to him, he was willing to throw himself completely into my arms.
“Only if you want to,” I said softly, rising up to kiss him on the cheek. “We don’t have to. Not tonight.”
“I...I want to,” Thomas said, blushing lightly.
“Then we will.” I smiled. “But don’t blame me if I have a little too much fun with it.”
We flipped positions, Thomas and I, so that he was on his back and I was the one straddling his hips, the aggressor. Over the last year, I’d accumulated quite a humble little collection of my own, but I passed over some of the sturdier leather blindfolds in favor of a black silk scarf. For old times’ sake.
Thomas obliged me, lifting his head as I tied it snugly over his eyes. As he settled back down into the pillows, I saw that he was smiling ever so slightly.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“It smells like your perfume,” he said. He touched a light finger to the fabric. “I like it.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling some color rise to my cheeks. “I hadn’t realized you’d notice.”
“I notice everything about you, Mallory,” he said, so sweetly that it took every ounce of my self-restraint to resist pulling off the blindfold so we could immediately have hot, passionate sex. I could tell he wanted tonight to be special, to mean something. And because I loved him, I’d do that for him. But damn if my body wasn’t complaining.
“Don’t,” I whispered, lowering my mouth to whisper in his ear, “turn me on quite so much. I’m already hot enough for you as it is, even after that little bit of fancy work you did with the vibrator.”
I moved my hands across his chests, enjoying the resistance of his nipples against my palms.
“What say you to a little bit of crop action, love? I’ll go easy on you tonight, I promise.”
His breath hitched beneath me. “Whatever you want, Mal.” Mal. No My Lady or Ma’am for me just yet, but somehow when he said my name, it sounded like the address of highest worship.
I couldn’t help myself; I dropped my lips down to his to kiss him. He returned it readily, his lips warm against mine.
Retrieving the crop wasn’t quite as convenient as dipping into a bedside drawer. But it was easy enough to pull the chest out of the closet, to flip the lid and retrieve the toy. I experimentally slid my hand down the length of the stem, cupping the soft, buttery end of the leather in my hand. Thomas waited patiently on the bed. If it was at all weird for him to be blindfolded, it was nearly equally weird for me to not be able to see his eyes and gauge his expressions through them. Instead, I had to be particularly observant to other things: the slant of his mouth, the tension in his hands. He held himself still on the bed, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths.
I returned to the bed with the crop in hand.
If this had been a first date, there would have been conversations. Negotiations. Soft and hard limits drawn, perhaps safe words defined. But this was Thomas; we knew each other better than that. I was as familiar with him and his body as the shape of my bed. And surely in time the conversations would have to happen; that re-exploration as we fit our new images of each other into our memories of the past. But tonight I had no desire to push his limits, only to tease him a little and lightly sketch across his flesh the possibilities of what a future might hold for us.
I got up beside Thomas on the mattress. Slowly, I traced the contours of his body with the end of the crop, ducking it into the shadows and crevices, slipping it along the ridges of his ribs. Lightly, with the barest flick, I brought it down on his abdomen. It made a soft thwack. Pulling back, I traced his thighs. Thwap, thwap… Twice I struck the flesh on his thighs, this time with a little more sting. His breath hitched slightly, but in a moment it had resumed its steady rhythm.
I laid the crop aside momentarily to kiss his body, to worship him and that beautiful body of his. I’d missed that flawless control from him, a kind of control that could only come from one who had spent his time in the company of too many dommes. He was familiar with being released into someone else’s control and had mastered his own way of meeting me in the moment.
As I scattered kisses across his chest, working my way down to his sensitive side, he caught me with his hand and pulled me up into another kiss.
“How are you doing?” I whispered. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely,” he whispered back.
“Turn over.” I pulled away to give him the space and obligingly, he turned onto his stomach. Now I had the whole of his back stretched before me, a blank canvas. It also rendered the blindfold a little redundant, but I decided to tease him nonetheless.
“How does it feel to be completely in my hands? Unable to see or anticipate what I’ll do next?”
“I anticipate you’ll use that crop some more.”
I grinned despite myself. “Cheeky bastard.”
I ran my hands over his skin. Cupped my hands over his smooth, tight buttocks. Lightly, almost tenderly, I gave them a couple slaps. Just to get the blood going. I cupped them again, and squeezed.
My desire sharpened into a fiercer sort of hunger, and I reached for my crop. I straightened to increase the my range of motion. Drawing back my arm, I dealt him a couple sharp whaps across the shoulders and back. He tensed, his hands digging into the pillow he had buried his head into.
I drew the end of the crop down along the spine. Fanned it out around that beautiful ass. Traced the hardening bulge of his ball sac. Without warning, I gave his balls a little whack. He gave a soft, muffled groan into the pillow. His hips shifted against the sheets, the muscles that spanned his upper torso contracting and then relaxing.
Down the crop slipped, slow and unerring in its path. I drew it along the backs of his thighs, along the shape of his calves.
Thwap, thwap… I struck his buttocks once again, watched his skin briefly flare white, then dull pink.
I reached for Thomas’s hips and eased him up until he was braced on hands and knees. I slipped off the bed, gaining the advantage of my full height. Thomas waited obediently on the bed. His new position gave me the advantage of seeing his face, how the color had risen to his cheeks and the first sheen of sweat had begun to break on his forehead and across his shoulders. His cock had gone a little soft, but that was of no concern to me at the moment. Almost absentmindedly I touched it, rubbed it and his aching balls.
With him thus presented to me, I had full access to his body. I circled him, touched him, teased him. I broke out a little bottle of body oil, spreading it across his skin where the kiss of crop had elicited a heated flush of color. I alternated the conciliatory, circular rubs with additional tastes of the crop, delighting when I caught him off guard and made him give an involuntary gasp.
And then it was time to shift course, to bring this little dance to its erotic conclusion.
“Are you ready to end this?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? You think you can take it?”
“Yes.”
Thomas trembled a little on the bed.
I struck him again and again with the crop. Not with full force, but swiftly, with practiced snaps that covered his bared skin with stinging blows. I measured with an expert’s keen eye the distance from my motion to the resulting snap of the leather on skin, and I was generous in my attention, ensuring that no flesh was left neglected in my remonstration. He groaned and shuddered, and it was a noise of pleasured satisfaction as much as it was of rueful pain.
As I finished, I set aside the crop and turned him over, drawing him out to the edge of the bed. I knelt before him and this time took his cock fully into my mouth. Bracing my hands against his upper thighs for leverage, I deep-throated him in slow, purposeful pumps. Between every two motions, I paused to give attention to the head of his cock, and his hands wound tight circles in my hair as he moaned.
“Mal...I’m getting close,” he said hoarsely, but I could feel for myself the tension winding up inside him as his cock strained against his thighs.
My mouth watery with pre-cum and saliva, I disengaged from his cock. Rising up to my feet, I placed my hands on either side of his face and let the thickened drool fall into his mouth. Obligingly, he swallowed.
“Good boy,” I purred, stroking his cheek.
I grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer and slipped it onto him. And then, with one hand around his cock to keep it steady, I sheathed myself on his erection.
Between the orgasm and the subsequent flagellation, I was wetter than I had ever been that night. His cock slipped easily into me, and I gave a noise of pleasure as it filled me. In moments, as I shifted my weight forward onto his lap, Thomas’s arms came up around me, embracing me. He began to rock his hips, and I took my rhythm from him. Our separate bodies fused into one, and in those final moments before his orgasm, we were one being, his arms around my lower back, his hands digging into my ass, my arms locked behind his neck. We moved, each cycle bringing us apart and together, pumping us closer and closer to fulfillment. Quicker and quicker Thomas moved, the lines of the crop still red on his shoulders, my painted nails digging new marks into his hot skin.
When he came, he buried his face into my shoulder, his breath got against my skin. His grasp tightened on me as he pulled me in close, and I instinctively responded by wrapping myself even tighter around his body. Affection and fierce protectiveness rose up inside me as I held him tightly, my fingers tangled in the dark mass of his hair. I took his shuddering spasms into myself, mooring him to me as he gave himself up.
Once his body had become still, I drew back and untied the silk scarf from his face. His eyes with their dilated pupils blinked back at me, rapidly adjusting back to the light of the room. I could barely make out the edges of the contacts he’d worn in the slanting incandescent light. Lightly, I kissed him on the nose. He reacted swiftly, taking my chin in his hand and guiding my lips down to his. He held me there, locking me into a probing, hungry kiss.
We disentangled our limbs and he disposed of the condom. He rejoined me in bed, laying down next to me. His eyes fixed on my face, his hand drifted up to stroke my hair. I felt my eyes drift closed in response to the pleasurable sensation, and so it was with some surprise that I opened them a little later and saw that his own eyes had grown suspiciously bright.
“Are...are you crying?” I asked. For a terrible moment, I wondered if I had misstepped somewhere along the line. Had I pushed him too hard after all?
But Thomas shook his head slightly in a no, his hand stilling against my head.
“I’m just happy,” Thomas whispered. “I never thought I’d be here like this again. With you.” He gave a self-conscious laugh and pulled back, covering his eyes with his hands. “I’m embarrassing myself, aren’t I?”
“Hush,” I said, pulling his hands away from his face. I held onto them lest he cover his face back up again. “Let me look at that beautiful face.” I smiled at him as he lay beside me, his eyelashes flecked with tears. “You may be a crybaby, but you’re my crybaby, and anyone who has a problem with that had better take it up with me.” I released his hands. “Got that?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied softly. He put an arm around my shoulders and drew me in tightly. We stayed like that for a long time, soaked in each other’s warmth.
The night would turn out to be far from over. Even after my roommates crept back, Thomas would worship me with his mouth and with my vibrator and bring me to orgasm again and again. And as the late night hours crept forward into morning, I would find that I wanted to return the favor. Sweetly this time, with only the barest of teasing.
We were no longer the same people that we had been during that summer weekend so many months ago. We had been loved, and we had been hurt. That night, every kiss and every caress was a promise that whatever the future might hold, we’d do things the right way with each other this time.
