I thought about sharing a bit more from when Master and I had playtime. Then I got thinking that I haven’t written a story in a while. A shortie on my dark dreaming blog, but nothing much here. And I thought…hmmm…what kind of story should I write.
And I decided, hell, I think a lovely little tale featuring all the things that *I* enjoy about playtime.
Yeah, I thought so. 🙂
The slap came unexpectedly. His smile never wavered, her eyes lost in his gaze. Wincing, she gasped. It hurt.
It made her pussy leap into a sudden throbbing beat.
Another hard slap to the same cheek brought a burn to face and cunt. Tears gathered, threatened to fall.
“You like this, when I slap your slut face.”
Was she blushing now, or merely feeling the effect of his calm brutality. She blinked, swallowing the need to cry. It hurt. It felt grand.
He grasped her nipples pulling her to her knees on the bed. Standing beside the bed, his height making her feel small, vulnerable, she waited. Her head spun a bit, from the blows, from the sudden burst of erotic needs. He didn’t let go as she moved closer, pinching harder. Her face crumbled as the pain became intense. Fingers slipped from her left breast as his hand moved swiftly from tit to cheek again.
The slap was the hardest yet, and she teetered, almost falling over. His hand still held her other nipple and she fretted he wouldn’t let it go if she fell. The moan slipped from her lips as her face throbbed.
His hand slipped between her thighs as she sought equilibrium.
“Fucking whore. Your cunt is soaked.”
The blow fell, at last, on her other cheek. The pulsing beat in her sore cheek and aching pussy mesmerized her. His eyes held hers as tightly as if bound by rope. She knew better than to move her hands from the small of her back where they lay as he had bid her.
His fingers pinched her nose tight, something she didn’t like all that much but he enjoyed. Her breath gasped out her mouth, her nose hurt. Her nipple was, certainly, crushed beyond recognition.
When he let her go, she felt the loss of his touch keenly. She craved the connections of flesh to flesh. His eyes stabbed a steely gaze into hers, as if he could see inside of her, reading her desires.
His next slap hit the top of her breast, stealing her breath. He pulled no punches and she swore at him.
He hit her again, harder, catching the swollen nipple in the blow.
“OUCH YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”
“That’s better. Obviously I didn’t hit you hard enough the first time.”
She glared at him, tit throbbing, body throbbing. His hands were large, strong as fuck, brutal.
“hmmm…there’s what I was looking for. Sweet pissy slut.”
Both hands slapped her, one on her tit, the other on her abused cheek. The sting, the heat, were instantaneous.
She came, juices sluicing down her inner thighs.
He laughed, pushing her over, and filling her roughly until she came again. His thrusting strokes hurt, left her moaning and whimpering under the rough punching blows of his cock into her pussy, until she came, came again, came apart from the pain of his brutal usage of her.
Sometime later, as she floated back into her body, the slow and steady drum of his handprints on her cheeks, the beat of her used cunt, her aching tits, she opened her eyes to find him looking down into hers.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He rubbed his beard over her hot face, her throat, making her whine and whimper from the tickling pain. His fingers slid into the swollen cleavage between her thighs, making her moan for a very different reason. Until reason fled and all that was left was Him and the sensations He stirred in her body.