Still Riding the High

A week ago I was an aching, tired, cum-drained slut. Most of the bruises have faded, though the bite on my ass shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. The memories have shuffled, rising like bits of flotsam as I go through my busy days. I stop, smile, have a small internal shiver.

I know he had a good time too–his texts are often teasing, meant to heat me up.

I was remembering about when he finally untied my arms from their tight criss-cross. We were shifting and moving all over the bed. It is a fuzzy,  orgasm-fused memory, as to the how of it, but I was on the floor, on my knees. I think  He’d been smacking my ass, but I’m just not sure.

Anyway, the how isn’t the important bit of the memory.

Things had been getting progressively fiercer. I was ramped up, he was ramped up, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he grabbed me and threw me up and onto the bed.

By my hair.

His fist grabbed a huge hunk of my hair and simply hauled up, up and onto the bed without regard. Just a giant heave and I was there. It hurt like hell, and I remember being so turned on. He fell onto my back, his hand pressing my face into the mattress so hard I could scarcely draw breath, and then he was biting my shoulder, biting it hard.

I screamed and writhed under him, and he flipped me over, and clamped his teeth onto my nipple while his hand dove down to my pussy.

He finger-fucked me furiously, giving no quarter.

This wasn’t a gentle kind thing. This was a violent, fierce taking, and I loved every aching moment of it.

When he takes me, uses me for whatever he wants, it makes me feel…cherished. Owned. Needed.

Special.

There’s no better feeling for a pain-loving, needy slut like me.

“Give Me…”

His finger circles my clit. I’ve come, and it’s sensitive and I’m hot and slippery and needy. Again. He laughs at my obvious need, his fingers pinching, squeezing the bulbous sex button before slipping back down my sodden slit.

A solitary finger enters me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls softly into my ear.

The single finger is joined by another, then a third. Slowly he pushes into me, rubbing against my spot until I’m arching.

He pulls out, and I’m left gasping, right on the edge.

I may have called him a fucking bastard then. His hand rises to my mouth.

“Taste,” he says, “taste yourself on my fingers.”

A finger slides across my bottom lip.

“Salty,” he says, “Sweet.”

“you, girl. That’s you.”

Slowly he presses the other digits into my mouth, across my tongue, down towards my throat, almost-but-not-quite gagging me.

Just as those salty-sweet slicked fingers had caressed my cunt, so now did they fuck my mouth as my tongue swirled and flicked over them, cleaning him. He laughs, a soft chuckle of sound, then pulls them free.

“Here,” he says, turning my head with his free hand. His mouth takes mine, lips barely touching before he pulls back a fraction of space.

“Give me. Give me…” His word is a fierce yet quietly growled order.

“More,” he demands, lips against my mouth. I press my lips harder against his. Our mouths suck and take greedily from one another. I moan as he sucks my aching tongue hard, then bite his lip when he frees it.

As our mouths mate, his fingers press into my pussy and begin the dance of lust again.

 

Spanking

“What on Earth were you thinking?”

He frowned down at her, as she stared up at him, a pleading look in her eyes. OH, she was well and truly fucked now, and he was glad that she knew it. Saucy slut. Presumptuous slut.

“Well, Sir, i waited so long for you to come home, and I was thinking about how I would feel when you came in the door and I’d get to suck your cock coz I’ve been thinking of it all day, and then I started touching myself and closed my eyes and could almost taste it, you know?”

He interjected her quick-spoken defense.

“It?”

She blinked.

“It, Sir?”

“You said you could almost taste ‘it’…to what are you referring, slut?”

She flushed. That would be two strikes against her now. He hated when she called his penis an “it”.

“I-I-” she paused, swallowing the nervous spit gathered in her mouth.  “Sorry Sir. Your penis, cock, dick, rod, staff, dong, cum gun, fuck-rod, joystick, pecker. Not an “it”.”

He almost had to bite his lip to prevent the smile that threatened to emerge. She was required to speak ten alternate names for his cock if she slipped and called his manhood an “it”. The inclusion of joystick always cracked him up. Which of course she knew, the smartass.

“Very good. Carry on with your explanation for that.”

He pointed to the puddle on the floor near the front door. She threw a quick glance at it, then hastily back at him. She wanted to look away from him, he knew, but he compelled her to meet his eyes as she spoke of her misdeed.

“I-I was thinking about sucking your cock, Sir. The way your skin feels against my lips, the weight of your shaft against my tongue. The slick way your swollen head slips deeply into my mouth, my throat. The feeling of the gag until I get it under control, the taste of your cum as you spurt. By then I was rubbing my clit harder, and before I realized, I was cumming, Sir, and your car–I could hear you turn into the driveway and…”

“And it was too late to hide your dirty deed?”

“Oh Sir! I wouldn’t have hidden it. I would have told you.”

“The smell of you when I walked in the door told me, slut. And my cock remains unsucked.”

She looked hopeful for a moment. The dragon inside of him was happy to dash that hope, watch the nerves dance across her face.

“Unfortunately, that can not happen until you receive your punishment. You do need to be punished, don’t you, greedy little slut?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Yes Sir.”

“Good. Rise, and assume the position.” He pointed to the arm of the couch.

Slowly she rose, the hem of her skirt fluttering around her thighs. Shirtless, as he preferred, and pantiless as well, he enjoyed the teasing view of her bottom as she moved towards the couch. He knew the fabric would scratch at her nipples, she complained of that often enough.

“Wait.”

She stopped, throwing a questioning look over her shoulder.

“Wait right there, I’ll be right back.”

She watched him walk into their bedroom. Now what? She felt a tremor of nerves. In moments he was back.

Moving to the front of her, he pinched one nipple, making it draw tight. Grasping it between thumb and forefinger, he wound an elastic band around and around it, holding the engorged nubbin in its full, hard state. He treated the other bud the same way.

For a moment she didn’t feel much. Pressure, to be sure. A tingle between her thighs, but his touch always did that.

“Now, over, in position.”

She bent over, her increasingly sensitive nipples rubbing against the chenille fabric. Oh. It felt even rougher as blood pooled behind the constricting elastics.

He moved around the room, gods only knew what the fuck he was doing. He came close, folding her skirt up and baring her bottom.

“At last,” she thought, but to her disappointment, he moved away. She heard the squeak of the chair as he sat in it, and the corresponding flush of embarrassment as she felt his eyes moving over her bottom.

“Those pussy lips of yours are glistening with sex juice.”

The comment was almost offhand, a description rather than a tease. The flush grew deeper, and her “glistening pussy” pulsed with the sudden upsurge of desire. It embarrassed her no end that he was sitting there just looking at her, yet the humiliation, while excruciating,  was also exciting. Sometimes she was such a sick, perverted fuck.

The familiar strains of Beethoven’s Für Elise came from behind her, his cell phone. He spoke to Emily, his secretary at work.

And spoke to her. He rose from the chair and paced the room.

And spoke to her.

And added several paragraphs of text to a document she was obviously updating as he spoke. He spelled names, waited for read-backs, and generally ignored his slut, skirt folded up over the small of her back, ass raised, nipples hurting.

She fumed. She huffed. She waggled her butt.

Nothing.

The call ended and the first swat on her ass came almost simultaneously. He struck all around her ass, never in the same place twice, until she felt like she could glow in the dark. Her body pushed and wiggled as she tried to maintain position, her nipple scrubbed against the roughness of the couch cushion below her. Her breasts hurt, aching and throbbing from the tightness of the elastics around her nipples.

The pain in her tits was nothing compared to what was happening on her ass. And when she thought she would scream for mercy, his phone rang. His hand rubbed her abused bottom as he talked once more to his secretary, stroking teasingly over her swollen pussy, then back to rub her ass.

She knew better than to make noise when he was on the phone, but she felt the moan growing with every sweeping touch. And then his fingers were reaching, seeking her swollen clit, tugging and rubbing it. She was close, so close.

He stopped touching, wiping his hand across her bum, and paced around the room still working on that fucking document! She needed to cum, dammit! The squeak on the floor presaged his coming near her again, yet he didn’t touch her. Around and around the room he moved, making her crazy with the need to shout at him. The cad! The brute! The bloody bastard!

His fingers slid into her slick, hot hole, and she almost yelped as he stroked deep into her, and out, swishing across her clit. Without a word, he pulled out, walked away, resuming the circuit around the room.

He was driving her fucking nuts!

Again the call ended, and she waited, her nipples sending hot licks of fiery pain up her tits. Every movement now was extremely painful, and she did whimper.

The thwack of the cane against her tender bottom was shocking. She yelped again as he caned her between her thighs, short hard raps against her tender, greedy pussy flesh, down the length of her leg, then back up over her ass. She didn’t know where the next blow would land, and she wanted nothing more than to roll away and attempt to crawl under the couch to hide.

And then he was done.

The cane hit the table in front of the couch with a clatter. The quick zzzzp of his fly was the only warning she had before his cock slid into her pussy.

He fucked hard and deep into her, his fist tangled in her hair, arching her back. He spoke not a word, and ignored the phone when it rang again. He pumped at the rhythm of the classical love song, and when she was that close to cumming, her nipples feeling like they would explode, he pulled out of her greedy pussy, leaving her gasping and yearning.

“Now, slut. Now you may suck my cock.”

Hump

i wrote this way back in June, and for whatever reason, never published it. It’s a wee snippet from a playdate with Master, way back when the summer breezes were blowing, and things were hot and full and ….(yeah, I’m not talking about the summer anymore, am i? *grin*)…

It was late in the day, but I wasn’t ready to stop. We’d had a bit of a breather, a bit of some refreshing sports drink to try to re-hydrate a little bit. We were laying twined together, likely He was poking or pinching some part of me.

I remember a wave of horny just flowing over and through me.

It was intense and incredible. I pressed the junction of my thighs against his lower leg. His hairy, thick, strong leg.

“What? What? Are you humping my leg?”

I giggle. Totally busted, I laugh and nod.

“Well, get on then, and do something with it.”

I think He likes to see me that totally desperate. Humping and writhing against his flesh, grinding my throbbing clit where the bone passes close to the surface; the hardness makes me yearn all the more.

I’m almost there…panting, head drooping, sliding up and down his lower leg.

“You’re not going to cum on me, are you?”

I nod frantically, and make mewling noises.

“Ewwww,” He says, “Pussy slime on my leg!” And I giggle and start to lose the almost-ready-to-cum. Whining a bit, I’m slowing down, tiring fast.

Then out of the blue He says, in this curious, musing tone…. “All of the chairs in your house must have very skinny legs!”

And I fall over to my side, and give into the hysterical laughter.  I lay there, tangled in my own hair, feeling the weight of his large hand on my head as I absolutely convulse in amusement. I’m not just giggling, not mere laughter, but gut-wrenching deep guffaws that drain me completely, accompanied by laughter tears.

Killed my orgasm with laughter…wiley Man. (He was laughing almost as hard as I was, I should add.)

A bit later, after we’d recovered some semblance of decorum, I tried to get up. He would not let me.  Silly slut…I thought pussy was done, she was tender, swollen. Definitely done.

He was not done.

And that’s all that really matters, right? He pinned me so that I couldn’t move an inch…hair pegged under His shoulder, His strong leg over mine, holding me open and pussy accessible. He pinched my nipple, then the other, then His fingers slipped lower. I tossed my head no, no…moaning. His mouth over mine, kissing me, shushing me, taking my struggle into Him.

He parted my lower lips, squeezing my clit, drawing more moans from my mouth, into His. Writhing, trying to get away, there was no place to go. His fingers pressed on, moving deeper into my cleft, hurting, and turning me on. So sore from an intense day of fucking and beatings. So swollen from so many orgasms.

“You’re wet. Soaked. You slut.” He whispers into my ear as His fingers find my opening and begin to glide inside of me. Soft, gentle but insistent, He is suddenly inside me, his big fingers filling me. It hurts so, my flesh is so tender inside, outside…and yet, with the pain is a growing need. My hips roll, seemingly of their own accord, urging Him to come deeper inside me.

“Whore,” He whispers, then takes my mouth in a savage kiss, swallowing my groans as He suddenly fucks me mercilessly hard, curling His fingers inside me, hitting all those tender trigger spots. The orgasm roars through me ~ a tsunami of sensation ~ and still he fucks me brutally.

“There’s more there, I know it,” He growls against my ear. “you’re not done yet, slut,” and He pummels my pussy.

I cum again, harder than the first time, squirting effusively on His hand, the bed, my legs. And still He fucks, His voice whispering “more” and driving me wild.

The last orgasm, harder and wetter than all the others, clamps down on His hand, muscles locked in a paroxysm of overwhelmed sensation as I go rigid in the throes of wild release.

I wake slowly, disoriented. I’m speaking in tongues, He tells me later, one of His favorite parts. Driving me to the point where I am insensate, can no longer think/protest/fight/speak is, I think, His ultimate goal.

He won, again.

Then again…so did I.

🙂

Fucking Asshole

some dragon for today…..tastes good with…your favorite topping…~nilla~, laughing evilly…..

The ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. She could always count on Andy to secure her well, but this was fucking ridiculous. As she’d stepped from the kitchen to the bedroom, He’d grabbed her from behind, scaring the shit out of her, blindfolded her with that fucking hood, and thrown her on the bed. Things got a bit hazy then, as she struggled with Him, but also for breath.

It was hard to feel excited and turned on over the annoyance factor. She had a shit day, her boss was a fucking asshole. She’d said that about him in the break room, ranting about what a jerk-off he was. Nitpicking her work to death, it was like working for a cranky 2-year-old sometimes. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like that. All she wanted now was a glass of wine, to kick off her heels and peel down her hose and unwind a bit. Yet, here she was, tied down and unable to vent to her lover about her crapper of a day.  She couldn’t complain because he’d used the ball gag over the fucking hood. Mostly, she had to concentrate on breathing. She tugged her wrist.

Not going to budge.

She took another breath, slowly through the cloth over her face. Something tickled the bottom of her foot. He’d taken off her shoes? She hadn’t realized that. She tried to kick it away. Fruitless. She hated being tickled.

She’d told him that innumerable times. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered. She wasn’t feeling submissive, she was feeling pissed.

She tried to say “leave me the fuck alone, you prick” but all that came out was a muffled “woh woh a-woh”. There was no verbal answer but she felt his presence. She really hated when he did that. Totally ignored her until she wanted to shriek.

Oh, she was in no mood for this today. She tossed her head, and tugged her arms and legs furiously for thirty seconds, a minute. Nothing. He’d tied her securely. She growled, screeched, scrubbed her head around.

Nothing.

She lay, unable to pant, out of breath. She trembled. She shook with a rage that rose in her belly. There was a press between her splayed thighs. She shook her head, no. She was angry, annoyed, frustrated. How dared he do this to her. The fucking bastard!

*********************

He watched her struggle on the bed, arms crossed. Oh, she was truly pissed.

This was going to be some fun.

*************************

She had no idea how long she fought before exhaustion, and futility made her relax.  She felt the hood sticking to her cheeks where tears had dampened them.

There was the sound of snipping from across the room. He wouldn’t. But now she wasn’t at all sure that he wouldn’t. The floorboard creaked under his weight as he crossed the room towards her. She felt the faint vibration of the scissors as he snipped the front of her blouse. It cut through the thin fabric like a hot knife passed through butter.  There was the cold touch of the back of the blade against her belly, then it was gone, and her shirt was peeled away. A warm finger slid under her bra, between her tits, and in seconds, the snick of the scissors and the sudden release as her bra was severed, and the weight of her tits popped sideways.  The cooler air of the room teased her nipples hard, as he tugged her skirt up around her waist.

He had yet to speak a single word, and she was surprised that arousal was fluttering its way through her annoyance. He’d never treated her this way before.

It was strangely erotic. A bit of fear, a lot of anger, and total helplessness was mixing her up. She was mad. She was turned on. She was annoyed. She was wet.

The fucking scissors were employed to cut away her hose and panties at the crotch.  There was the touch of fingers as he grabbed the sides of the slit he’d cut, and then the tug and sound of ripping as he opened a larger portal.

In moments, she felt the press of a cock against her folds, and the sudden jolt as he slid inside her.

This was not her boyfriend’s cock.

She inhaled sharply as the long fat shaft filled her. It was…uncomfortably large. She felt stretched, and very full. She tossed her head, and tried to jolt him off of her, but he only chuckled and pressed his torso harder against the opening of her hole, thrusting another inch or two into her. She grunted at the size of him filling her. Over-filling her. She winced under the hood, trying to will her body to relax. She wondered who the fuck this was.

Was this one of Andy’s games?

They’d “double-teamed” her before, he and his best friend. But this wasn’t Seth’s cock either. Thought fled as he pulled out, then battered deeply inside her warm belly. She grunted around the gag. Fingers found her tits, kneading them like bread dough.  There was a pinch on her left nipple, then the hot wetness of a mouth. The sucking of his mouth and the pistoning of his hips sent waves of sensation through her.

She felt the orgasm building, building. Fingers slid down her body, squeezing between their joined bodies, to rub at her clit. She came apart, body arching, fingers curling into fists as the climax roared through her. The mouth on her tit sucked hard, as his teeth worked around her flesh, nipping and biting. The finger continued to rub her clit furiously, painfully. She tried to breathe, to gasp, to say noooooo, it was ohtoo sensitive…but another orgasm ripped through her.

And then his hands were on her hips as he pounded into her, withdrew and pounded again. The third orgasm drained her, made her see stars.

He pulled out with a wet sucking sound.

Fingers spread her wetness down, and around her asshole. One finger, then another circled and played around that tight hole. She squeezed her eyes shut, and whimpered.

Noooo…the thought of that giant cock filling her ass had her struggling again, but the fingers continued to move in and out of her rectum, stretching her, loosening her. Three fingers, then four and her body began pressing down, urging them deeper. His free hand circled her clit, never quite rubbing that spot, until he jabbed those four fingers deeply into her asshole, making her groan around the gag.

Her clit was attacked, rubbed roughly.

The orgasm made her faint, but she roused quickly as the head of his swollen rod pressed inside the tightest of her holes.  He pressed into her, relentless. She growled, but the gag muffled it. He shoved his dick into her helpless ass, and slid home. Whimpers and tears came, but her clit throbbed. His fingers played with her clit, her nipples. He slapped her pussy, then withdrew, and thrust inside. She felt her body stretch and relax, and felt another orgasm building inside her.

Impossible!

But the hard cock in her ass pressed on, building speed, becoming rougher, greedier as it dug deeply into her tight hole. Her head jolted as her body was taken, used.

He was rough at the end, brutally fucking into her bum. He was close, almost there. His fingers bit into her tits, leaving bruises, pinching moans from her as he grabbed her nipples, tugging her tits together, pressing his face into them and biting the tender flesh. His rough crotch hairs rubbed along her pussy, and she came, a flooding orgasm like she’d never experienced before.

*************************************

He lay on top of her, and reached around to unfasten her gag, and tug the hood off her face. She was a mess, snot and tears and drool over her face. Her mascara had run, black rubs along her cheeks. Her eyes, red and puffy, stared up at her boss.

“Now you know the truth; I am  a fucking asshole. Or rather, I was fucking your asshole. And…you certainly enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

She, for once, had nothing to say.

*******************************

His cell phone rang as he pulled into the garage at his condo.  He smiled when he saw who was calling.

“Hey Andy. Yes. Oh, hell yes. She was a fucking animal. Yes. We’ll have to do it again sometime. Soon.”

 

Forced Orgasm Blog

🙂

That’s how someone searches for me, if not daily, then pretty often. Is it you? I don’t mind at all, you know. So don’t feel you need to out yourself here. I think it’s cute. And hot. Hawt.

You all are reading and wondering where is the story I need to write for Master, aren’t you? I have a one day reprieve. I accomplished a MAJOR milestone today in my renovation project, and I was tired. Psyched, but tired. Sometimes, in my head, I forget I’m not in my 20’s anymore. Doing big projects tires me out. Not that I’m complaining about my age…I am loving my 50’s. Just don’t have the stamina I had back in the day. So, major accomplishments come with a bucketful of tired.

And the Patriot’s are playing …or attempting to…I came to bed at half-time because I’m tired and I was stressing too much. But I know Master is glued to the screen. He may not yell much, but He gets pretty invested in the game. *I* yell a ton, and that’s not good with the kids in bed. Best for me to be up here, and talking to you guys.

So what’s up?

I got to be with Master for a bit tonight. It was something we’d planned on, not a play day, just a wee bit of face time. I was going to meet Him at the gym, but as I was driving, I had a feeling. At a stop light, I checked my phone. Yes, there was a text from Him. A “Change In Plans” text, that makes me feel all fretful, worried.

There, I didn’t even know what it was about and I was already feeling crestfallen.  Jump the gun much, nilla? uh huh.

I called Him. And immediately am relieved. He still wants to meet.

But.

I needed to go to Starbucks now, and He’d be there waiting for me. And He was. As soon as I got there, He ordered me into His car. “Change in plans” He says, and that is all. We chat about this and that as He drives.

He’s taking back roads, beautiful area where He lives. And we pull up in front of a farmstand.

An Ice Cream stand.

He’s taken me on an outing to get an ice cream cone!! He’d told me that one day He would…and this was the day. It was a chilly evening, and we stood and licked our ice creams, and looked at the cows. He has such a dirty mind. I do love that about Him. And we were talking about cows fucking (which made me laugh aisha, and Donna, regarding our prior emails about animal fucking….) (won’t people get to wondering about that, eh? LOL!), and I was just giggling. It was fun. We didn’t stay terribly long, just long enough to munch them down to nubbins, and then got in the car because we were both chilled to the marrow.

And He drove me back to my car, and we kissed, and He tickled me, the fucking brute. 🙂 I do hate being tickled. Kinda. Sorta. Okay, not by Him. But kinda. It’s confusing, and I don’t feel like pondering on that tonight.

We’re sitting in His car and I’m about to go.

“Oh, Master! You know what I really, really  want to do?”

I lean against Him and bat my eyelashes at Him. He sighs, rolls His eyes.

“What, nilla?” He says at last.

“I want to write You an orgasm report tomorrow,” I say, my voice chipper and hopeful.

He laughs.

“Clever slut. To write that report, you’d have to have an O tonight…” to which I nod and smile encouragingly.

“I know,” He says, His eyes dancing. Rut roe. “How about you write the report as IF you had the O…and don’t?”

Oh, He doesn’t like being manipulated. And I so was trying to (yes, I can admit to it!). And I laughed, and pleaded.

And then He had me tell Him my O report from last night, since He hadn’t had time to read the one I sent Him this morning. I’ve not missed sending even ONE!. Talking the report is something I have a hard time doing. I had to explain that my masturbation was short and frenetic, for two reasons. I didn’t even have time to build a proper fantasy! First, I was racing the clock. It was getting ever closer to midnight and that is the end of my opportunity to cum for that day. AND….it was lightning outside. And who whats to die with a vibe (a plug-in vibe) in their pussy? That’s the kind of stuff they put on Fox news, yanno?

So I told Him straight up. No fantasy Master, just this fucking-fucking-fucking, get that vibe going, and hanging. I had to hang and hang and hang…and I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it and there was this wicked flash of lighting and I thought, I’m gonna die doing this, and then I pictured YOU there saying “for fucks sake nilla, cum NOW” and I did.

He nods sagely.

And yes, I said it just like I typed it, one giantly long run-on sentence. And it was hard enough to get it out. Talking my masturbation is painfully hard for me.

Writing them is way easier.

“Well, tonight you’ll have plenty of time for your orgasm, slut.”

I jump in and thank Him immediately. And then wonder about the long time part.

“Because, you’ll have the small plug up your ass. Clamps on your nipples. No vibe. NO vibe, got it?”  I nod, yes. “And finger fucking. It will take you a good, long time to get there tonight nilla. Fingerfuck.”

I sigh.

Truly, fingerfucking is not fun for me. I have short arms. It’s difficult. And frustrating.  Forced orgasm? Forced fingerfucking. Forced to do it HIS way.  And it takes for-fucking-ever to cum.

He knows.

He just likes it that way.

 

 

Email (2)

She stood frozen as He advanced upon her. Before she could move, could holler, He forced a gag between her lips. It was black and round, and almost too large for her mouth, yet a solid push of his palm slid it deep, snugly behind her teeth.

Spinning her quickly, he pressed her against the doorjamb, his weight holding her there, as he quickly buckled the gag, pulling it tight. The leather bit into the sides of her mouth, tugged and tangled in her hair.

She moaned.

The wood of the jamb pressed between her tits, and she struggled for breath. Held this way there was nothing to push off of, to get away. Every wiggle made him press harder, pressing wood against her breastbone, her pubic bone, making her moan again with the pain.

Though she struggled, it took him only seconds to grab her hands and secure them behind her.

Taking hold of her hair in his one hand, and her wrists in the other, he began propelling her through the house. He stopped at the guest room door, peering in.

“Perfect.”

She balked. His hand released her wrists; with one sharp tug he pulled her skirt so it fell around her ankles. She tried to scream behind the gag, but only a whimper of noise escaped the gag.

She wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt…she never did. His hand smoothed over her ass a second before he smacked it painfully hard.

“Move.”

He pushed her forward.

She balked again. No fucking way was she gonna make this easy for the bastard!

He slapped her ass harder, then, releasing her hair, he hooked his arm around her waist.

“Fine, we’ll do it the hard way, then, slut.”

His other hand began probing between her asscheeks, and found her puckered hole. She squealed, attempting to lurch forward, but he held her tightly as his finger penetrated that tightly clenched opening.

“Bad girls don’t get lube.”

A second finger joined the first and she shrieked at this added intrusion. She had never allowed this to happen, ever. Her only experience with ass fucking was in her head.

It hurt so fucking much. His thick fingers sawed in and out as he laughed, the sound low and wicked against her neck.

“Used, just like the whore you are. Wait. Wait until I get it loose enough to ram my cock up there.”

She whimpered. He felt the fight go out of her, and with his fingers still buried in her asshole, propelled her forward towards the bed. She moved forward fast, hoping that the forward motion would pull his fingers out of her throbbing butt.

They didn’t.

He pushed her facedown on the bed, and proceeded to fingerfuck her ass. She wriggled, writhed, but could not budge him. He lay half across her, kissing and nibbling her back through her shirt as his fingers probed her stinky back door.

With a sudden pop, he pulled them out. She grunted as he slapped her ass.

“Got a small deposit here, slut. I wonder where I should wipe this shit? His fingers smoothed over her butt. “There,” said, “now it’s off my fingers….and all over your ass!”

She shook her head . Even through her fear, she was mortified. Of course there was shit on his fingers…that was an assholes primary duty after all.

He pulled her upright by her hair. Her eyes widened when she saw the flash of silver. His mouth moved against her ear.

“Stay very still now, slut.”

His breath warmed her cheek even as the cold touch of steel teased her flesh. He cut slowly, deliberately, in time with his breath. Breath in…snip…breathe out…snip.

She shivered.

She tried to speak, but he shusshed her with a soft hiss. His hand came up and caressed her bared tits, pinching one nipple then the other.

She heard the jingle and tensed. Of course they were clamps…fucking bastard ! If he had been reading her blog, he would have known that they were a component of so many of her fantasies.

She was unprepared for the intensity of the bite as they clamped onto her tender nipples. Her moan this time was accompanied by a headshake, and a struggle to release her wrists.

She was helpless.

The ties around her wrists held; she could only stand there, and take it.

“mmmmmm, delightful, isn’t it slut? Hurts, hurts so lovely. Pinches your nipples, squishes them tight. I love to see you hurting…just like in your stories slut.”

His words, nearly crooned at her, made her shiver.

And holy fuck.

She was getting turned on.

Just like in her stories.