We’ve talked some about what happened during our playtime, and He revealed on Monday night that there was supposed to be a guest.
A guest who did not show.
I’m not sure if that added to the “feral” that came out to play, or if the feral was just there all along. There was a sense of barely contained violence at times…sexual violence…that I found to be…quite arousing. Sorry, I’m a girl, who grew up on fairy tales of sexy, strong men to carry me away.
There was just so much.
So much beating. It hurt, gods above and below did it hurt. But when he touched my cunt, and discovered how wet I was? It was like a scene from one of my stories.
“You’re so fucking wet! You’re drenched! You whore! You little fucking slut!”
And he’d nail me with something else.
He’d laid out all his implements along the foot of the bed. Not necessarily in a neat row, but they were there. Well, I amend that. The most important ones were in a neat row. The fucking pink hairbrush. Silver fucky cake thingy. The cake spreader. The fucking spoon.
At one point, when his back was turned, quick as a wink I hid the brush. I know he sensed that I moved. He looked at me, smiling all innocent-like.
“What did you do, nilla?”
“nill-a” He says, his voice carrying a tone of warning.
His eyes scan the bed, and quicker than spit he says
“Where’s the pink brush, nilla?”
I giggle. I’m both amused…and nervous. He takes a step. He growls.
“nilla…where is the brush?”
I swallow, getting intimidated as He approaches me. I am laying on the bed, hands tied to my waist.
“If you don’t tell me in 3 seconds where that fucking brush is…”
I point, unable by now, to utter a word. He takes two more steps to the bed, feels under the folded duvet cover, the only place I could reach, bound as I was.
His brows go up (really, that’s why that happens a lot in my stories!) and he says “aaaah. Smart slut.”
And then he whomps whatever he can find with the fucking thing. Upper thigh… *fastindrawnbreath of shocked pain* other thigh, calf, belly, tit, upper thigh, until…I flop to my belly, trying to protect myself.
Yes. I know. (in retrospect, I can’t believe I did that, either.)
I roll over trying to protect my vulnerable thighs only to realize I’ve given him the perfect target…my voluminous ass. Oh dear. Oh my.
Oh fuckity fuck!
**** 8888 **** 8888 ****
Later, He beats on my tits for a while. It’s been a kind of off-again, on-again thing. Sometimes He’ll beat my pussy, then do a drumbeat thing on my tits. Thing is, blindfolded, I can’t see it coming, can’t “brace” for it. It makes me gasp.
And then I feel it.
omfg! And then I realize that he’s stuck something on my nipple.
Moments later, my other nipple gets the same thing. He flicks it a bit, smacks it a bit, licks around it a bit. They stay on a lo-oooo-ng time. It’s painful. And delicious. In the past, I’ve cum several times just from tit/nipple pain. I didn’t this time, but it was a factor. After He clamped, he resumed beating my pussy with something…silver cake fucky thing, alternated by his hand.
I felt the heat.
The tug on my nipples, the pain in my crotch. And then he laughs, this deep, wicked laugh. And says my pussy looks like spam. I know, I told you that part before. It amuses me no end that he compared my pussy to spam. Don’t ask me why. I’m weird that way. And I laughed…right up until His mouth landed on my pussy.
He hit my clit, and it was swollen and tenderized…so when he sucked on it?
Mount nilla-suvious. (you know, like Mt. Vesuvius?)
In other words?
I erupted. Which made him laugh against my clit, which made me cum again.
When he finally left my poor abused pussy alone for a bit (*grinning*) He went back to hitting my tits.
Until they looked like this:
They still look like that, btw, just with more purple and blue now. And I still haven’t attempted to put a bra on them.
So there you have it, an HNT with a story to it. A bit more of our playtime. And I still haven’t told you my favorite part. 🙂