The Beast…

Though muffled by the large black ball gag buried between her scarlet lips, her shriek percolated from the area where her head lay, half hidden by pillows and rumpled bed covers.

It had been a wild afternoon.

Fucking and sucking and cumming, to be sure.

But then, after a bit of food, abed and served from her delectable body, of course,  a nap to recover, He was ready for more.

Some days it was just like that. The Beast within was not sated, only tantalized by the feast from earlier. The taste of her sopping cunt on His tongue. The feel of her tight-puckered nipples between his teeth. The heat from her ass as his cock ripped through her reservations, plunging fervently through her nervous rectum.

She’d lain there, saucy wench, one knee bent, waving it about. He’d get glimpses, flashes really, of her swollen pussy. But that didn’t stir the Beast.

It was the very scent of her.

Every pass of her knee through the still and warm room stirred wisps of cunt perfume. It wafted, teasingly to his nose.

He had no idea what she was saying, though her lips were moving.

It was all about that smell. And the Beast wanted more.

She’d gasped when He grabbed her hair, no warning, just pulling her across the bed so that he could reach into his drawer and pull out the gag. She hated it. Yet, it never failed to bring a rush of juice to her succulent pussy lips.

Shoving the gag ungently into her facehole reminded her of her status, owned cunt.  The smile that crossed his face stilled her. It was full of desire, dark, deep. Her eyes met his before he rolled her over, buckling the straps hard.

He pushed her back to the middle of the bed, grabbing the special bolster she had created, to rise her ass in welcome for Him. Slipping his hand roughly between her legs, his hand cupped, then squeezed her cunt, and lifted.

He slid the bolster under her belly. The Beast began to salivate, his cock began to stiffen.

So fucking there.

Available for his use. Round, smooth globes of flesh, begging for his brutal hand. The first slap was testing, firm but not all that stingy. He barely felt it on his palm, though the imprint of his hand brightened quickly on that blank and open canvas.

His hand was not enough.

He looked around the room, the Beasts’ darkness shoving aside anything but the need to possess, to take, to use. To hurt. To feel her submit, to take it- take it all- from her. And to give it all back to her, redoubled.

His gaze fell upon his belt. He rarely used it, preferring the thin welting lines of the cane, or the all-over thuddy sound of the paddle.

But today, today, it had to be the slap of stiff leather on soft flesh.

Saliva pooled in his mouth. On silent feet he crossed the room, pulling the belt from the untidy pile of  his quickly doffed jeans. It slithered free with a delightful rasp, as the prong and buckle performed a soft  metallic  counterpoint, chinking softly as he wound it ’round his hand.

Crossing back to where her ass lay in wait, his arm drew back and round-housed through the air. The dangling tail sang as it slapped sharply across her round, vulnerable bottom. The bloom of the stripe was perfect. Nearly immediately following, the sound of her muffled shriek. He saw the tightening of the muscles play across her buttocks as she tried to adjust to the unexpected assault on her ass.

Again, his arm sailed through the air, again the belt cut through, singing with the force of its passage, until it released all its kinetic energy against her flesh. Another welt, another shriek from the pillows.

He began to rain the blows upon her, one following another, pausing momentarily to survey his work, to glide his hand across the red heat forming there. To savor.

So fucking good. So fucking His.

Then she shifted, after one particularly well-placed slap struck the same spot, and he watched as a bruise began to form under her claret-colored skin.

There.

The Beast sniffed the air as she shifted again. The sounds of her muffled weeping moved him not a bit. But the smell of her. That pure, unadulterated fragrance of aroused cunt … moved him deeply.

His cock, already more than half-hard as he had plied his belt upon her, tightened further. Suddenly, that which was half-formed was rigid and throbbing.

His vision wavered, he swallowed. He could picture it, his cock buried deeply in that weeping cleft. He could see it, his cock pulled out, glimmering with the sheen of her juices. Bathed in her scent.

He threw the belt in the vicinity of the crumpled jeans.

Mounting the bed, mounting her, he matched actions to his vision.