Cumming

He stood looking down at her, an older, silver-haired man. He looked distinguised. His hair was combed tidily, his beard and mustache neatly groomed. His eyes, the color of deep honey, crinkled at the corners from many smiles. He looked classy.  Cultured. And yet she knew better. That face was a mask, for under the mask lay a monster. A tremor shook her violently, her body arching and her mind torn from thoughts of her tormentor.

“You wanted to cum. Remember, slut?”

His voice cut through the lingering shudders. Her wrists and ankles were already pinkened from straining at the bonds that held her spread upon the bed. She refused to answer, or couldn’t, it was hard to say at this point. Dispassionately he looked at her heaving chest, her tits still quivering from the force of the orgasm. Her nipples, once they’d been pinched hard by his fingers, were clamped now, weighted and tugged to the side of her body with her convulsive movements. Likewise, her cuntlips were spread, grabbed by clamps, and taped to her inner thighs to allow the fat-headed super vibe to press up against her innermost flesh, torturing her clit and pussy.

She shook her head at long last.

“Ah, but you did. When I came home last night, after sending you messages to edge yourself, what did I find but my slut, sprawled in the bed asleep, her cunt soaked. Why my dear, the very bed you’re laying upon betrayed you, soaked from your sated pussy.  I was very disappointed that your desires came before mine. Yet, for some reason, I feel the deep need for compassion here, and let you have what you wanted so desperately.”

He paused, leaning forward and flicking the buzzing vibe to high. She jerked in response to the sudden intensity, her head shaking back and forth, her mouth trying to say what sounded like ‘no’.

“The ball gag distorts your words so badly, my sweet horny slut. I’m sure you said ‘more’ right?”

Moving across the room to his toy chest, he removed a fat anal plug. She tried to see what he was doing, but another orgasm snatched thought from her mind as her body shimmied and jerked.

“Here you go, slut.”

He squirted lube over her pussy. It leaked downward, around the pressing head, making her contact with the device even more intense. When she felt the press of the plug against her ass, she knew that all that had transpired previously was just the warm up. She yelped as her butthole was filled, as he clicked the vibe on. The screeeeeetch of the duct tape roll he was fond of made her shake her head harder, but he ignored her again, and taped the ass vibe into her.

Two fingers slipped in and out of her cunt, making her moan. Felt so good to have him inside, but they moved out and away. He rubbed the juice of her fuck hole on her belly, slapping the soft, round skin there.

Again she arched, her body rocked by waves of pleasure, then waves of over-stimulation. So sensitive, she longed to scream out, but the gag held the pleading words inside her head.

“Aah. You must be so happy that you came again. Horny slut. What is that now? 10? 12? I’m afraid I’ve lost count. Oh.”

He tugged his phone from his pocket.

“I’m afraid I have to take this.  I’ll go into the kitchen so I won’t disturb your orgasms. The camera will record them for me so that I can watch them later. While I’m fucking your ass. I’ll be back in a while. No more than an hour, I think. Happy cumming, slut.”

With a wicked smile, he left the room, as she kicked and wriggled through another orgasm. From the hall she heard his ‘business voice’ as he took the call.

“Hello? Sure, hi. Oh, no not to worry. I wasn’t doing anything that I couldn’t interrupt.”

She came again, crying with the pleasure, and sobbing with the pain.

8 thoughts on “Cumming

  1. “Pinkened” I like that. Other parts of her body deserve pinkening.

    And then:

    What could she say? Ballgagged and helpless. Of course, preoccupied by his phone call, he didn’t see the many-tentacled creature, like a great black inkspot suspended in the air, rearing behind him. Should she scream? Oh no, it would just sound like another orgasm. Should she beg for his attention? Warn him? No, it would sound like whining, bargaining, pleasing. He would pay no attention. His discussion had already moved on to inventories.

    The giant, muscular black tentacles were almost touching. Eight of them ready to close around him from behind.

    More than just her would be fucked in the ass tonight. Oh, there would be orgasms aplenty.

    And then what?

    Why must she always keep these things secret? How many doms had her beloved pet already scared away — orgasmed into submission.

    Maybe this Sir would be different. Maybe this Sir would understand and forgive her. She closed her eyes when she heard him cry out. Scream? No. No that. There was always something so sweet about a man’s cry of fright. She thanked God the ballgag hid her smile. He would surely see it as he was carried in to suffer, if that’s what it can be called, beside her. Surely the mustache was a sign that this time “things” would be different.

    The phone, his phone, clattered to the floor.

    “Hello? Hello?”

    She heard it every time.

    1. Why doesn’t wordpress have a “love” button (oh, see what I did there? LOL!)
      I love your sordid, amazing, fantastic brain, Mr. Crimson. And your addendum to my tale.
      (I’m sorry I haven’t commented before now…life has been a bit…intense, and I’m finally getting caught up!)

      nilla

    1. I love the intensity of many orgasms…even when I want them to stop…there’s just something so wickedly intensely amazing about it.

      Thanks for your…fervor! 😀 you always make me smile, dear friend!

      nilla

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