Tormented

“I’m gonna play with you until you cum.”

The voice filled her with dread. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move. She felt the cool air against her tits, her open legs, felt the tug and tension in her groin muscles that protested being opened so widely.

“Gonna play with your pussy until you fucking beg me for more.”

She shivered, trying to shift away, to close her legs, but however he’d tied her, there was no way…the moan escaped as the pressure of a vibrator pressed against her clit.

There was a shock of pain as something closed upon her left nipple.  The sound of moans filled the small space. The vibrations on her pussy were stirring something deep inside of her, making her twist her hips.

“You fucking love this, you cunt, your pussy is so fucking wet…”

The sound of glee in his voice unnerved her.

“I’ll never beg,” she thought to herself, even as her hips rolled, trying to snatch up the vibe and get it deep, deep into the place that longed to be filled.

“Beg for it, whore.”

She whimpered as there was another tug of pain on her other nipple. Her clit throbbed with it, the connection between nipples and pussy undeniable. The vibe was too intense to handle, the pressure making her squeak and moan and writhe.

Shaking her head ‘no’ her hips undulated with a will of their own. The darkness swirled with dazzling lights behind her tightly closed eyes, under the blindfold. The  needs of her body began to overtake her mind, even as his hand slapped hard on her throbbing cunt.

“Beg!”

Slap.

“Tell me you want my cock in your hole!”

Slap.

Her hips arched upwards, seeking more, needing to be filled there. She didn’t talk dirty. She didn’t…

“Fuck me…please Sir, fuck my pussy. Please Sir, put your cock in my hole!”

With a triumphant laugh, he filled her.

Desire (5)

A whirlwind of sensations swirled through her. The gentleness he’d used before had been replaced by its opposite. Her nipples ached from the pinches, her pussy throbbed from smacks of his heavy hand.

She lusted.

Uncertain as to why her body had awakened so intensely to lust as he had hit her, she could only lay there and burn. He’d left her side after smiling at her with a wicked grin. Across the room, his back to her, she watched him disrobe. The shadows danced with candle light across his back, a perfect metaphor for what was unfolding here. Light and dark, inexorably intertwined.

He’d brought her to the height of sexual need with the pain, and now let it ebb. Except…it wasn’t.  If anything, her desire grew in intensity. She wanted…needed…to be fucked. She doubted she’d ever wanted  more intensely in her life, ever. She watched as he slipped out of his jeans,  nearly drooling at the tight curves of his ass as he bent to remove his socks. The view did  nothing to tamp down the waves of lust building between her thighs. Her nipples were fully erect, painfully erect. She discovered she was almost panting, tugging at her wrists as if she could pull herself free, get herself off.

Her bonds held tight. Her lust was restrained, held at his whim. The words he’d spoken earlier came back to her. “Part of submission is learning to wait. Waiting for my desires, will heighten yours.” She didn’t think she could get any higher.

He turned then, moving towards her. He held a short cane in his teeth, and a golden foil packet in his hands. As he moved, he tore open the condom, slipping it over his rigid shaft easily. Her eyes moved over him, hungry for every detail.

He mounted the bed, and for a moment, his entire body was illuminated for her. Hair arrowed down his lower body, drawing her attention to that which she craved most. Her eyes rose to meet his. He rose up, straddling her, sitting on her lower body. His cock rested on her mons, definitely not where she wanted it. His legs pressed against her and the heat of his ass resting on her upper thighs only added to the heat she felt inside.

If he didn’t fuck her soon, she might just go up in flames!

“You want.”

She nodded. His eyes held hers. There was a magnetism there that was hard to ignore. He slapped the small cane across her tits. Arching, she cried out. Though the thing was slender, it stung! Again he zinged it across her tit, then slapped the other.

She moaned, deep in her throat, a gutteral, animal sound of pain and lust. Her hips bucked under his ass, even as he landed blows across her nipples. The sting there only served to intensify the throb of her aching clit.

“Slut.”

Staring down at her, his eyes bore into hers. Her gaze held steady, but she felt the flush of embarrassment rushing through her. It only served to make the wet flesh between her thighs burn hotter.

Quick as a flash, he slapped her tit with his hand. She gasped. It hurt! It was sudden, unexpected, shocking. The blows kept coming. Left tit, right tit. He was unrelenting, slapping sides, top, undersides. Her tits bounced around her chest, beginning to pink, then redden. It hurt, the blows coming on top of the criss-crossed lines from the cane. She moaned. A tear slipped from her eyes, but in the commingled feeling of need and pain, she barely noticed it. Another deep moan, louder this time, filled the room. He smiled down at her as he beat her tits. She felt them swelling, felt like they would simply explode from the blows. The ache was intense, her nipples throbbing sharply with each blow.

Why was she moaning?

As if separate from herself, she felt the pain, but there was a responding tingle in her clitoris.  Slap-tingle. Slap-tingle. Reaching forward, he grasped both nipples and squeezed. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, until he started to pull his hands up. Still holding her nipples tightly, he pulled upwards, as if trying to tug her tits off of her chest by them. When it seemed that there was no more flesh, no more resilience, he twisted the nipples he held.

The pain was incredible. She cried out, shocked at the intensity of this new pain. And when he dropped her tits, it was almost as painful, as blood rushed into her abused nipples. He watched as she whimpered, moaned, tossing her head side to side as she tried to cope with the assault.

Shifting his hips, he let the tip of his cock tease at her slit. The shock of pleasure was as intense as the pain had been.

“I’m going to hurt you when I fuck you.”

The dark words sent a spear of lust straight to her core, even as his shaft pierced her folds. Without preamble, he jabbed his cock into her. It hurt, as her sex-starved pussy was suddenly filled with him. He fucked her viciously, using her hole to satisfy his own need. His body covered hers, and his mouth savaged her tits. Reaching between them, his fingers found her swollen clit and pinched.

She came in an explosion of light, color, motion. Her pussy clamped down on his thrusting cock as if it would never let go. He pushed through her grasping pussy, further exciting her, and making her orgasm roll on and on. She’d never been fucked while having her orgasm-the feeling was intense. Incredible. And still he fucked. He pounded her roughly, shoving every millimeter of cock into her cunt. His balls slapped at her ass, as he withdrew an inch, then grunting, pressed hard into her, short little fucks as if to pierce her belly. Her cervix screamed as he hit it hard several times, and her orgasm continued to roll through her.

It was one long, undulating wave of pleasure, wrapped in a cocoon of pain.

He pulled out of her pussy, and rose from her, gasping. Sweat rolled down his face, gleamed on his chest. His fingers slid into her pussy, then lower, pressing into her ass. One finger, making her whimper at that unfamiliar sensation. She knew. She knew what was coming next. For a moment, she wondered about that safeword. Two, two fingers in her asshole, then quickly, three. Twisting, turning, fucking as they widened her, and before she could think, his thumb pressed on her clit, mashing it hard, as his cock pierced through her back door.

Her mouth opened in a howl, but it came out as a deep, guttural grunt. He pressed hard, worked his way deeply into her bowels, filling her ass with his rigidity. For a moment, he lay upon her, buried deep, and let her breathe.

“Good whore. Going to fuck your ass hard, fill you with my jizz.” His words were dark, whispered into her cheek. And then he moved. Hips sliding down, then back, sawing his way in and out of her pooper. Her anus felt stretched beyond measure; every withdrawal was like taking the most incredibly sensual shit. Every filling of her hole was like being fucked by a baseball bat. It felt like he was bigger with every thrust.

Yet his thumb continued to play with her clit, her pussy began to tingle. As unbelievable as it was, she felt another orgasm building, building fast. As his pace increased, as he began to slam into her ass with the same force he’d fucked her cunt with, she felt the run of moisture between her thighs.

“Whore…you came. I felt that!” He was chuckling into her ear, biting her earlobe. His thumb rubbed her clit harder, faster, as his thrusting grew deeper. Soon he was grunting, and she knew he would cum. His hand rose to her tits, both closing into fists over her breasts, making her squirm to get away from the pain. His pelvis ground down on her pussy, the hair of his groin rubbing her lower lips, and pulling another climax from her, even as he shouted his own cumming.

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

The steady throb of her ass woke her. She lay cradled in his arms, sated. They were sticky, sweaty, and entwined deeply with one another.

“You were a good slut.” His voice, the honey of his voice, made her smile.

“Thank you Sir.”

“We’re not done slut. Just on temporary hiatus.”

The words filled her with a curiously light sensation. One she recognized for what it truly was.

Happiness.

A Guest Redux?

Remember back in the “some time in the past” when Master had a guest Dom visit with us?  There’s a post somewhen about it, with pics of me giving him a blowjob, and later, being fucked silly by him. Sir P, I think I referenced him as.

Saturday night Master mentioned him. Sir P, I mean. We were talking a bit about the submissive that is coming to our playtime. I asked a few questions, He dodged them. Well, he did tell me that I can’t talk to her. 🙂 He did mention that He’s known her for a long time, anyway. . . and then there was that little comment.

“Oh nilla, by the way….”

Master let drop that Sir P has been invited to our playday.

I’ll let that thought hang with you a moment…I wonder if your mouth is hanging open like mine was on Saturday night when Master informed me that Sir P might put in an appearance. It’s contingent upon his schedule, but as I understand it, he is eager to see me again.

That’s  a thrill that also creates more of those silly nerves that dance up and down my submissive spine. It was so intense. And good. Now, I don’t spend tons of time going back over it in my head…some of it was lost to subspace, but really I don’t dwell on these other encounters.   I spend time thinking of my Master,  hoping that I have served Him, and His purpose in loaning me out, to the best of my ability as His submissive slut.

I guess I kind of think of it like …a job.

That’s unsexy sounding…but it is a job, isn’t it? He asks me to perform a service, and I provide that service. My “payment” is my Master’s pleasure in having me complete the task well.

Heh. Job well done, as it were.

And hell, it’s exciting as hell to be a sex object. To be objectified, and used. To be fucked and to suck another, to be a good little cock whore? It’s all wicked. And exciting. And a turn-on. He is there, Master, watching all. A voyeuristic pleasure for Him, and the pleasure of His control of the dynamics that are unfolding.

But I don’t think about it all the time. Don’t think about it in any way shape or form the way I do about Master. I hope I did good. It was a wild experience. I know it could (and likely will) occur again some day, but I don’t focus on that. Maybe because I was objectified. I was blindfolded, and focused on the actions of service. There is no “connection” between the Guest Dom and I other than the fact that I was there to be used.

Am I weird for not thinking about it a lot? I haven’t fretted about it, haven’t lusted for it, haven’t not wanted it again. It just is something that happened. *shrugs* I’m very blaise about the memories of it. Like I say…it was a fantasy to live out, but it doesn’t change, diminish, or increase my affections for my Master.

Then again, perhaps I’m just wired verrrry differently.

I know there are some of you who say ‘I could never do that, be whored out for another”…and if that works for you, that’s fine. This is a judgement free zone here in nilla land…it is a kink of mine to be treated like a sex toy…and Master brought that to fruition for me…and for His pleasure too.

The only repercussion from that event was *my* worry that Master would feel upset about another using me after He thought about it. I guess that He wouldn’t want me, or would have bad, jealous feelings about it. That was my fret, and as it turned out, a pointless one. He got what He wanted from the event, and is willing to make it happen again.

It is, so it’s said, what it is.

I’m here to serve. And, apparently, to suck cock.

And let’s not forget about that mystery pussy…but then, that’s a tale for another day.

😉

Dark Storms

Fuck!

Madeline tugged her hood back over her head, even as the wind fought to toss it away again. She tried holding the front partially closed with one hand, but the wind-maddened rain ran down inside her sleeve, soaking her to the elbow. Fucking grand.

Her coworkers had warned her, each stopping by her office on their way out into the dark and stormy night. Like some novel of old, she’d thought to herself wryly, as each one uttered words of dread.

“It’s realllly coming down out there, Maddie.”

“You shouldn’t stay here alone, you know the power could go out at any moment.”

“Maddie, come with us…there’s strength in numbers you know!” This from Cat, her best friend at work. She’d looked up from the computer at that one.

“Strength in numbers…from rain? Cat…really?”  and she’d laughed.

“Well, you know, it’s pouring out. And it’s windy as hell. And you have a long ride home. You could come home with me…”

“Right, and watch you and Evan coo and cuddle each other.”

Cat had smiled unrepentantly at her. “I could have his brother come over…?”

To which Maddie had shook her head vehemently. Michael was a piece of work. Too danged bossy. She’d only met him once, but that was enough. She’d shooed Cat out.

“Look, I’m almost done. If you all will stop bugging me, I’ll be out of here in 20 minutes. Tops.”

Two hours and 20 minutes later, with the storm howling up a gale outside, and rattling her windows, the lights had blinked, then gone out. She’d gotten two worried texts from Cat, the last one just before she left. She’d texted back “going, worry wort, sheesh”, and closed down her computer. Deciding that the better part of valor was traveling light, she left everything except her purse in her desk, and headed down the stairs.

In the lobby, she stopped for a minute, catching her breath. Phew! She’d gotten way too spoiled using the elevator. The rain pelted the front windows, sounding like beebee pellets.

“Not a good night out there, Miss.”

“No, Charlie, not at all. Have a good night.” With a backward wave, she’d stepped out into the fray.

No one else braved the streets, and she wished she’d had the forethought to call for a taxi. The odds of catching one now were slim.  To maybe, none. Turning, she headed uptown. Within two steps, she had puddles in her shoes, and began muttering “fuck” every other step. Her toes curled, her heels rubbed, her elbow was dripping, and a wild gust of wind threw itself at her like an enraged harpie. Her hood whipped off her head, her neat bun was torn to shreds, her long hair blowing and blinding her. It was all she could do to stand upright. Grabbing for the nearest light pole she held on for dear life.

“You fucking idiot!” Arms came around her and supported her. She knew that voice…it was unforgettable. “What the fuck posessed you to go out walking in this?”

She looked up, rain streaming down onto her face, nearly blinding her.

“I don’t need your help, you know,” she shouted up at Michael Cox. He looked down at her, scowling as dark as the weather. He tugged her off the pole and all but stuffed her into his burly SUV. It was parked just behind the pole she had been anchored to; she’d never even heard him drive up behind her.

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

His door slammed shut. She cast a sidelong look at him, through dripping tendrils of hair. The shiver caught her by surprise, shaking drops of water onto her hands, which were clenched in her lap. Quickly she unclenched them. No point in letting him know he was getting to her already.

He sat and looked at her a moment, before he started the engine, and moved the purring beast out into the storm. Wind still threw buckets of water at them, but was unable to break into the dry and warm interior. Vainly she tried to finger comb her tangled hair into some semblance of order.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

She gritted her teeth, then decided to fight fire with simpering simpleton, which she knew would grate on his nerves.

“You always say the sweetest things,” she purred. Fuck him! Rather than glaring at him, she gave him a saccharine-sweet smile, one that slid away as she turned and looked out her side window. Better to look at the storm than him, the handsome devil. She tried to not recall the rain-slicked dark hair, the full lips that were curved into a faint sneer. Nor would she remember the feel of the strong hands that had muscled her in here, the same ones that were gripping the wheel expertly, guiding them safely through the storm. She remembered that he was special forces or something like that. Cock-sure bastard.

His brief laugh made her glance at him. Immediately she looked back at her hands. Damn, they were clenched in her lap again. He was too fucking handsome for his own good. And damned if he didn’t know it. Compressing her lips together tightly, she was determined to not say another word until he dropped her off at her apartment. Yet, peering out the window, she realized they were not going the right way. At least, she didn’t think so. It was hard to see much beyond the arc of the headlamps. The sheeting rain was silvered by the light. All else was lost in the gloomy darkness.

Seconds later, her guess was confirmed. A sharp right, and the sudden cessation of rain and wind made her blink in surprise. The silence was deafening after the cacophony of the raging weather. There were in a parking garage, lit only by his headlights. He pulled into an open space. A sign saying “Occupant only” was her first clue.

“Wait. Wait just a minute, bucco…”

His voice walked over the protest.

“I rescued you, but there is no way I’m putting us at risk by driving all the way to where Cat said you live. Deal with it. Or sleep in here. On second thought, you’re wet enough that you’d damage my seats. Grab your stuff and come with me.”

It sounded like an order. She wanted to balk, but that submissive streak she kept locked down in her deepest depths  responded to it. Responded to him. Unfortunately. She wanted to roll her eyes, to protest, to argue, even as she opened her door, and slid out of the SUV. Her feet hit the garage floor with an audible squish. Oh fuck. Her favorite pumps were ruined. She took a deep breath, and turned. He was right fucking there. In her face, in her space. ‘Challenge, much?,’ she thought to herself. Oh, he pushed her buttons. Made her mad as hell. That was it. Mad. She kept her eyes on the middle of his shirt. One that was soaked through and clung to his taut frame like a second skin.

“If you move I can…” Her words were cut off as his hand gripped her chin, as his lips came down and savaged hers. His tongue pierced her lips, slamming into her mouth, and tasting her. He stole her breath, her brains, even. She shivered again, as a gust of wind cut through the concrete garage, and drove up and under her skirt. He tugged her closer, the heat of him branding her as her chest pressed against his. He was hard, and hot and strong; she was soft, and wet, and lost.

As quickly as he had begun, it ended.

She stood there, almost panting, as he stepped away. He spoke, not of the kiss, that searing, branding of his mouth on hers, but instead, called for her to follow him. Like a dog. Like a servant. Like…a slave. Swallowing down the burst of savage lust that nearly boiled her blood, she took a step. And another.

He took her arm and led her up the steps to his apartment. The emergency lighting cast a green and eerie glow over his features. Yet she continued to move with him, caught in a spell woven so fast, so intensely, that she could do nothing else.

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

There was a rattle of keys, the creak of a door, and his terse “wait here” as he let them into his dark apartment. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but she heard him move away.  Yet in moments, a soft glow became a strong beam as he returned carrying a safety lantern. He took her by the arm and led her down a hallway. She caught ghostly outlines of artworks without any idea of what she was seeing. They could be Picasso’s, or cartoons, she couldn’t tell. Still affected by his kiss, she mutely trailed him, her fingers locked in his hand. He tugged her into a bathroom, setting the lamp on the back of the toilet. His hands went to work, pulling her skirt down over her hips until it plopped with a wet splooshy sound onto the floor. Those clever fingers unfastened her coat, then her blouse. The pile at her feet grew, until she was standing in bra and panties before him. Gooseflesh erupted along her wet skin, then suddenly a thick towel was draped around her. He rubbed her body vigorously, arms, legs, belly, back. Her bra fell to the pile, then her ruined hose and panties joined it. Tugging the towel around her tightly, moving her hand up to hold it closed,  he began to remove his own wet clothing.

Her lips tingled. Was it the remembered kiss, or the baring of his skin that was waking the need in her? This was a new feeling for her, the animal craving that made her blood boil. She felt like that storm outside, something raging and wild just under her skin.

Without thought, her hands rose to his buckle, as he tugged the sodden shirt out of his pants. Trembling a bit, whether at her temerity, or the chill, she released his belt, then the fasteners of his slacks. Her thumbs slid inside the waistband, and tugged off his pants and his boxers simultaneously. Lower they slid, over his slim hips. The towel fell away, leaving her as naked as he, and kneeling at his feet.  His hand moved to her head as he stepped one leg, then the other, free of the clinging fabric. His cock bounced, just at face height, and already thick and half-hardened. In the strange illumination from the camp lamp, his prick cast a massive shadow on the far wall. She tilted her head back, then rose up just a bit to lick the tip of it. His hand curled around her head, pulling her forward onto his shaft, as he sank into her mouth. She choked a bit, gagging for breath as his hand forced her onto him relentlessly.

He wasn’t going to ease up on her, she realized. She swallowed, taking him deeper into her mouth, relaxing into the moment, accepting that she had given the control to him. Her nipples tightened, the skin of her breasts growing taut as they hardened into little beads of lust. She moaned, deep in her throat, vibing along the head of his cock. He pulled out, then slid back in, fucking her mouth quickly.

He pulled away, his cock slick with saliva. One thread of precum attached them for a moment, a silver strand of sex juice that stretched from the head of his raging dick, to her swollen lower lip. And then he moved back, pulling her by her hair.

“Come.”

‘As if she had a choice,’ his fingers tangled tightly against her scalp, she thought.  Her pussy throbbed. How many fantasies had she had about this kind of dominance? She had known he’d be trouble. Deep in her pussy she had known that he could be just this way.

Pulling his hand free, he reached for her nipples. Despite the darkness, he found them immediately, pinching them between his fingers and rolling them this way and that. She gasped, would have fallen to her knees, if he hadn’t pushed her up against the bed.

“Ow!”

“Mmmmm”

“OH! Ow! Ow!”

“I notice you don’t say ‘stop’…” his voice was amused, dry. Popping one hand free of the torment on her tits, it coursed down her body, to cup her pussy. Those long fingers found the slit and followed it to the hot wet place between her legs. The other arm released her, then tugged her close, holding her with his arm around her neck. Her nose pressed into his chest, the mat of hair there tickling her nose.

Gods, he smelled divine. Hot, masculine sweat. A faint tendril of cologne applied hours ago. And rain. The temptation was too great; her tongue slipped out and began to lick. He was stirring a dark storm inside of her- the tempest outside was nothing in comparison to what was happening in here. His fingers probed deeper into her slit, her tongue slid hotly on his skin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” His voice was a low dark murmur against her head as the probing fingers found her weeping hole and began to tease. Groaning, she felt her hips sway to ancient rhythms, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and the pulsing of need. His cock pressed between them; the hard length of him was a promise in the dark. She swore she could feel him throb against her belly.

His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her backwards, and she fell onto his bed, feet still on the floor. His hands cascaded down her body like a waterfall, until they caught behind her knees and lifted. Her legs slid over his shoulders as the head of his cock bumped against her slickness, and without a second of hesitation, he banged into her.  Arching, she took him deep, her ankles crossing and pulling him closer. Hands on her hips biting deep as he tugged her down the bed, down onto his cock, her ass hanging in space. Withdrawing a bit, it took only a heartbeat for him to screw his cock into her cunt again. It was a rough brutal fucking, banging hard into her, his balls a slap on her ass with every beating stroke, her hands fisted in the comforter, her ass rising in invitation for him to come deeper, deeply into her belly. She welcomed the brutality, welcomed the animal mating, his hands bruising her hips, then rising to tug himself deeper into her fuckhole, by holding her tits like guide ropes. There in the darkness, storms raging inside and out, they came together, a fusion of need and power.

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

Sunlight sluiced across the floor, casting questing beams across the bottom of the bed. She stirred, feeling like she’d been run over by a bus. She tried to ignore the sun, burying herself under the heavy dark blanket. It wouldn’t budge. She came awake trying to figure out why her blanket was stuck, until she turned and remembered every fucking moment of last night.

He was looking at her with that smile on his face. The smug one. The annoying one.  Frowning, she pushed up on her elbows. She was not a morning person, not by a longshot.

“What’s so funny?” She tried hard not to glare. She settled for squinting. It was pretty damned sunny in here.

“You look like you just went through a hurricane.” He laughed, then ran a hand over the tangle of her hair.

“Hurricane Michael, so, yeah. I guess I did.” She gasped as the hand against her hair tugged. She moved up his body, fast, until she was plastered against him, and still he tugged on her hair. His lips slid over her throat, biting softly, making her gasp at the discomfort and the fast stab of lust.

“Lookout, it’s going to blow!” He murmured against her collarbone, before rolling her over and letting the storm carry them away.

 

**storms, even impending ones, do something primal to me…I wrote this in one (two-hour!) sitting, including edits…I guess the storm swirled through me and released this one! I don’t think I’ve ever written a story this long so quickly…it virtually wrote itself! ~n~**

sex dump

another view of submission…not my usual sweetness and sunshine…i’m feeling a bit dark and moody. Man, do I need to be fucked and beaten! ~n~

He held her down by her neck, face canted roughly to the side where she had fallen.

He wanted to fuck. She heard his zipper come down, the sibilant hiss the only warning that he was ready to use her holes.

She’d been cooking dinner. She’d looked up at him, exasperated, when he’d come in, saying he was hungry.

“I’m making your dinner now. You’re early you know.”

That was as far as she’d gotten before he’d pulled her up by her throat, slammed her against the counter, and slapped her face. It wasn’t a violent blow, but a quick, sharp reminder of her place. She slid down his body to her knees, landing between his spread thighs, between his dirty work boots. Freshly shelled peas had flown all over the kitchen floor. She felt the pop as she knelt on one.

His hunger lay in another direction.

His jeans smelled of man-piss and dirt. He ground his denim-covered groin against her face. The fabric was old and worn, but still rough enough to scratch her nose. The back of her head banged against the lower cabinet door as he pressed against her. Whimpering, she grabbed around his calves and fought for breath.

Fingers coiled in her tresses, pulling her along with sharp tugs, across the floor on her knees. The kitchen linoleum yielded to the hall rug, and still he tugged her. Up the stairs on her knees, trying to keep pace with him and keep  hair in her scalp, she cried, yelping a bit if he moved faster than she. The pain in her head was enormous.

He’d thrown her on the bed, peeling her yoga pants down her legs, and opening her access just enough to press his thick dick into the cleft of her ass.

For a moment she thought he’d use her asshole, lubeless, and she cringed in the expectation of more pain. Instead, he pressed lower, against her pussylips, which opened easily for him. With a hard shove, he was in her,  fucking her wildly. He slapped her ass, her back, her legs as he plunged into her, rough and deep. She felt every inch of him filling her, heard the smack of his balls against her pussy.

She was wet. The trickle of her response had started in the kitchen, as He’d reminded her wordlessly of her purpose to Him.

His sex dump.

“Fuuuuuccccckkkkk,” he growled, and pressed hard into her, his fingers grabbing at her hips and pulling her down as he shoved deep, rolling his hips to wedge his thickness far into her hot, tight tunnel.

She didn’t feel the gouts of hot semen surging into her, but the reflexive grasping of his fingers timed the spurts.  He pulled out, wiping his cock on her ass, the back of her thigh.

“Feed me,” he said, as sated, he turned and thumped downstairs.

Seconds later, she heard the tv click on.

Gas n Guzzle

i’ve had Vanilla-life-interruptus…and Master and I had a long and lovely phone sex session Friday night. I have the very last chapter of Tanked about half done, and simply no time left tonight to finish it. Saturday is a very, very long day, and I’m “offline” from my computer all day.  So, rather than leave you bereft of masturbation material, I offer you this sexy tale. I’ve been working on this one for a few weeks (and whenever I needed a break from tentacles!). It’s different, and very long. A novelty from nilla…a full story in one shot! Hope you enjoy my “spaghetti western”…~n~

Dust kicking up under her wheels, she pulled into the gas station. She was more than half-way to nowhere.  Off in the distance, mountains formed a frame for the  landscape of sagebrush and tumbleweeds. She was headed there, soon as her tank was filled.

Her tummy rumbled, reminding her that it had been a while since she had eaten.  She peeled her sweaty thighs from the seat of her sedan, and wished for the hundredth time that she had air conditioning. Likely her car had been built way before the idea of a/c in a vehicle had even been dreamt of! Taking out the nozzle, she pumped $40 into her tank, then sauntered into the weathered building. Hopefully they’d have a cold soda and something to munch on…it was a long while until she arrived at her destination.

It was hot inside, almost as hot as out. A fan as ancient as her car beat the air to no avail, serving only to push dustmotes through the slashing sunbeam that lit the chip and dip aisle. She opened the cooler along the back wall, and tugged a large cola from the back, feeling the cool chill of the neck of the bottle against her fingers.  She ran it around her face, down her throat, feeling the sudden change in her temperature. She gasped, enjoying the sensation of cold glass against heated flesh.

“Ya look ta be injoyin’ that soda. Kinda wishin’  I wuz that bottle.”

She jumped, squealing. Turning on her heel, she saw the man, old, wizened, as dry as the desert. He was smiling a gap-toothed grin at her, watching as an errant drip from the now-sweating bottle plopped onto her chest, and trailed slowly down into her cleavage. He licked his lips.

It was like a scene from a bad Western. What had her dad called them? Spaghetti westerns! That was it. This guy looked like a bit-player. Except…he was the real McCoy.

“Them real?”

She blinked. He was pointing to her tits. The way he looked at her, so hungry-like was kind of turning her on.  Although he wasn’t much to look at, he was a guy and she hadn’t had a good fuck in weeks. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Might be.” She gave him a slow wink, a smile, and wiped the bottom of the green glass across the top of her breasts. His eyes followed every move of the bottle as it traced along her peaks and pressed down into that shadowed valley. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down sharply as he swallowed.

“Wanna find out?” she said, leaning forward and breathing in his ear. Her tits were inches from his lips. He licked across his bottom lip, which quivered, just a bit.

He pulled back. Glared at her.

“Doan you go makin’ fun of me, you city girl.” He threw it at her like an epitaph. She shook her head.

“You misunderstand. I…” Throwing caution to the wind, she decided to be blunt. He was short, and dried up looking,  but a pecker was a pecker.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He stared up at her, still not certain if she was playing some citified joke on him. She peeled her tee-shirt off and dropped it onto the dusty floor. Her bra may have cost more than the entire inventory in the store, but that too followed the tee-shirt to the floor. Her tits, unenhanced by the knife, sprang free and bounced.

“That ‘un’s bigger than the other one.” He pointed at her left tit.

“Happens that way, sometimes. That’s how you know they’re mine and not something I got in a doctor’s office in LA.” She thrust them out, hands on her hips.

“So…you gonna touch them or something?”

“Be right back, darlin’…I fer sure have a “something” on my mind.” He took two fast steps away. Then darted back.

“Nah, you come with me.” He grabbed her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and tugged her down the aisle to the front of the store.

“now, youall stay here, got it? Keep yor hands on the counter, and I’ll be right back.”

He darted off, surprisingly spry for a man of his age. She shivered as the old fan whirled some dusty air over her skin. Her nipples pearled, and her pussy gave that familiar tug of longing. She hoped no one else came in the store; then again, it kinda looked like she was the only one who had been in here in a decade.

There was the sound of  a door opening, closing. Some odd scrabbling sounds, then the squeak of the door again. Footsteps came first, then the man. He was holding something in his hand.

“Now girl, turn ’round here and lemme see those purty titties.”

She turned, curious as to what the hell he was up to.

“I’m not into that tying up stuff,” she warned, seeing rope in his fingers. It was a thin strand but still.

“Nah, for your titties. See this here? Goes right here.” He affixed a silver roach clip onto her left nipple, making her gasp. It pinched but wasn’t unbearable. There was a sudden upsurge in the pulse between her thighs.

“An’ this one gonna go right on here.” The mate to the first clip went onto her right nipple. He took the twine and wrapped it in a figure eight around each end of the clip, securing the clip a bit tighter on her nipple. It was kind of a kinky thrill to look down and see the gleam of metal, and the harsh fibrous twine holding onto her soft skin. There was a thin string between the two, making a small rope bridge between her nipples, and a long tail that hung down from the center of the bridge. The end of the twine hung to the top of her pussy.

“Oh, so purty. Really purty. But! Not done yet! I’m guessin’ yor feeling that in yor pussy, huh?” He peered into her face. She nodded. He smiled his crooked-toothed smile at her.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out another loop of rope.

“Yor not gonna fight, you want to be fucked. This just makes it funner for us. Not gonna tie you up, just put yor hands behind yor back. It makes yor tits thrust out, and yor back arch, and there ain’t nothin’ that makes me harder than seeing a purty gal with her tits poking out like that, and her ass begging for some action.  Turn ’round now so I can show yew.”

Taking a deep breath, and with a bit of reluctance, she did. She had come in for soda and chips. Suddenly she had pinchies on her nipples, and a growing wet spot on her shorts. He tugged her hands to the small of her back, and made quick work lashing her wrists together. Then pressed her down to the counter.

“Bend over now, tha’s it.”

He came around the counter, and wiped the soda bottle over her nipples. There was a faint chink as the bottle hit the clamps and she moaned. Pleasure, cold, and pain. She shivered.

He tugged on the string between her tits, and she bent down.  As quickly as he had tied her hands, he tied that dangling piece of rope to a nail on the far side of the counter. She couldn’t fully straighten. Squatting, he rummaged under the counter, mumbling to himself.

“Here it is!”

He rose, brandishing  a metal box. It looked like an old tackle box or something. It was battered and bent and rusty in places. He placed it on the counter. If she laid down across the counter, the sharp bits of twisted metal would poke her belly, and rub against the underside of her breasts.  It kept her leaning, but not quite touching.

“We called that ‘perdictament bondage’ back in the day,” he said, his voice cheerful as he came out from behind the counter. “Yew can’t lay down ’cause it hurts to lay on the box. Yew can’t stand up ’cause it pulls yor purty nipples.”

She heard the rasp of a zipper, then the sound of jeans hitting the floor. In a moment his hands were reaching around her,  working her zipper, tugging her shorts down.

“No panties? Well ain’t that convenient?” He laughed, rubbing his hand over her ass. “In between the two places, the nipple pain and the getting poked with the old metal box pain? That there’s where the pleasure point is. We’ll find it. Oh, and sure enough yor lil pussy is …why it’s plumb soaked!”

She expected to feel the piercing of her hole with his shaft. Instead there was a sudden sharp crack. She yelped, jolting. Forgotten was the clamps on her tits, which bit down hard. Pain in her nipples, pain on her ass.

“You hit me!”

“Yup. Gorna do it again. Been a long time, girl…but it shore feels good to have such a willing and ready slut. Yew know yew are one, doncha? Shirt n brazeer down the aisle there, shorts round your ankles? Pussy drooling down yor thigh?”

There was another crack of his belt against her exposed ass. She remembered the nipple clamps this time, and pressed down onto the box. Rough metal pressed against tender skin. She lifted up again. Her thighs trembled with the strain.

She didn’t know how many times, nor for how long he hit her. Her ass was a throbbing, welted parcel of pain.  She felt the heat of it, imagined it was glowing. She was crying, snot and tears dripping onto the counter, when she felt his cock pressing into her. He sighed loudly.

“I fuckin’ love pressing mah belly up against that burnin’ ass ‘o yors. Feels so good, that heat. Makes mah cock fair to sizzzzzzzle as I slid into yew. Yor so fuckin’ wet, so tight…” He stopped talking, moaning instead as he pressed deeply into her tight, wet hole.

Her eyes opened wide as he speared into her pussy. Omygawd! He was fucking huge! He kept pressing and pressing, delving deeply into her belly. He hit her cervix, and kept pressing. Withdrawing, she swore she could feel every vein, every gnarled inch of flesh. Long, thick, impossible. That an old troll like this would have a cock like a porn star…she almost blacked out as he drove his dick deep into her, piledriving her pussy.

Bang! against her cervix, Bang! her belly hit the metal box. Pain, pleasure. Her nipples throbbed, her belly throbbed, her pussy throbbed.

Lights danced before her eyes as he folded her tied wrists up over her back. She arched, offering more of her opening to his ravaging tool.

She came with an explosion of colors. When she roused, he was still fucking her, grunting with pleasure. It didn’t seem possible, but he grew thicker, each driving thrust taking more and more effort to jam inside of her.

He stiffened, his fingers grabbing her lower arms, and squeezing. With a wheezing cry, she felt his cock pulse in her gut, heaving and throwing great quantities of cum into her.

When she roused again, her arms were free, her nipples were free. She lay draped over the counter as limp as a rag doll.

The strange little man was nowhere to be seen. Shaking her head to clear it, she walked down the aisle, leaking cum, to retrieve her tee-shirt and bra. She found her shorts over by the silver rack of nuts, which she found rather amusing. Her shirt was still on the floor, but the bra had gone missing. That funny old coot had stolen her bra! She thought about banging on the back room door, but decided against it. Let the old guy keep it. He’d certainly given her something delightful in trade! She dressed quickly, leaving fifty bucks on the counter for the gas and treats. She stood a moment, rubbing her aching nipples through her tee-shirt, now smeared with dust and grime, and chugged the cola down. She was fucking parched! Snagging a bag of chips, she headed out to her car, started it, and drove off in a cloud of dust.

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

Nightfall, another small town

She sat at the bar, nursing a beer.  The hotel was closing up for the night, nine-thirty on a Thursday. She shook her head. Small towns. Still, she was only crashing here for a night before she moved on.

Rising, she turned to go back to her room, almost bumping into a myth. Yeah, he was tall, dark and handsome. What was it about the desert southwest that grew them out here? This was so spaghetti western!

“Miss,” he tipped his hat at her. She smiled, then attempted to move past.

“whoa, lil lady. You were at the Gas n Guzzle earlier today.” It was said as a statement of fact. For a moment she was bewildered. Huh? She had many miles under her wheels today…oh. The fuck station. That’s how she’d thought of it all day.

She nodded.

“You left these behind.” He handed her the alligator clamps with the string. She blushed.

“uh…” she stammered, “those…aren’t mine.”

“nope, weren’t. But. They are now. I kinda figured that, since you gave ole Ernie a helluva sendoff, you’d earned ’em.” He smiled at her, his teeth white as snow against his tanned face. Her pussy woke with a soft “rawr” as she looked up into eyes as dark blue as the desert sky. He took her hand, folding the clamps into it, and curling her fingers around them, hard.

“Send-off? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

He took her elbow, steering her out of the bar. The bartender threw him a look of gratitude.

“You gotta room?” He was tugging her towards the stairs as he asked.  She nodded, confused. The second floor stair door closed behind them as she fumbled the key out of her shorts pocket. He took it from her fingers, and inserted it, slowly, while holding her eyes.

“Hmmm…a perfect fit…”

There was an underlying sensuality to that statement. Again, her pussy twitched. Dumb. Dumb dumb cunt. Her mama had always said she had no brains when it came to men.

“I…uh…” He pushed her to the bed in the center of the room, and sat her down upon it. He stood in front of her, long, long legs encased in tight denim. Why, she could almost see the outline of his…no. She wasn’t going to look.

But it was a really big cock.

“Went by the station not long after you left, I guess. Found Ernie on the floor in the backroom.  He was laying there, with a big ole smile on his face and his cock hanging out of his pants and dangling to the side. Uncle Ernie had the biggest cock in the county.  I could smell cum…and not just his. Lots of sticky stuff on his hairs, if you know what I mean. Then I moved him a bit. Found this in his hand.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he tugged out her bra. She blushed.

“I wanted to say thanks to the woman who gave Ernie one last good fuck.”

“Wait. A last fuck? You mean…he’s……” her voice dropped to a whisper. “…dead?”

“As a doornail. Don’t worry ’bout it…we all knew it was a matter of time. I’d say you gave ole Ernie plenty to smile about. He was a big porno star in the 80’s. Guess you could figer that out with the clamps and rope and all.”

“Rope? I didn’t say anything about rope…”

“Nope. You shore didn’t ma’am.” He broadened his accent to sound like Ernie.

“But you know, ole Ernie, he loved his porn…” He fished a disc out of his back pocket, handing it to her.

She stared at the disc, at the cowboy holding it with that grin. He hadn’t. Had he? That fucking old coot! He’d gone into the back to turn on a video recorder? That wiley old fox.

She laughed. She wanted to be mad. But she laughed until she flopped back onto the bed, holding her belly. She laughed right until Cowboy laid on top of her, silencing her with his mouth on hers.

“I think scene one needs some ….editing…” he drawled against her lips.

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

Epilogue

The pick-up truck might have been white, once upon a time. It jolted across the dirt road, and pulled up behind the Gas n Guzzle. He stepped out of the truck, tall and lanky, pushing his hat back on his head. Using his key, he opened the back door, and entered the storage unit. Where once there had been dingy lights and moth-eaten curtains, there was now a gleaming window and tidy racks waiting to restock the shelves out front.

He stepped out the side door, and into the store proper. Going to the back of the store, he opened the cooler and snagged a cold bottle of pop. He sauntered up to the front counter, and put the cold bottle of cola down, and winked.

She looked up at him, and slid the bottle closer. Lifting it, she traced a path along the top of her low-cut tee-shirt, leaving a dewy path.

And smiled up into eyes as blue as the desert sky..

Tanked (6)

(this is a micro chapter…sorry, all I have time for today! ~n~)

“Wider.” His words were a soft, rude grunt. There was the sounds of squirming, of wire coat hangers squeeing across the closet pole, the crunch of plastic-covered clothing. Hooking his arm under her leg, he boosted her up enough to make contact.

She moaned at the feel of the fat cock poised at her entrance. Pressing down with her pelvis, it ground and slid along her sopping cleft, slipping up and twanging her clit, before pressing past and up to her belly. They moaned in unison as he missed the mark.

“Up” he grunted, “fucking hurry…. up…”

She lifted her torso, and using the hand that wasn’t gripping his shoulder for support, grabbed at his thick shaft, and pressed the swollen, weeping head against her opening. Fingertips kept him aimed correctly as she leaned down, dropping her pelvis to encase his cock with her swollen, dripping pussy.

He hefted her knee up, urgent in his rabid need. He slid home, thick rod meeting wanton flesh. She growled, and shimmied down on him, screwing him deeper into her hot body. Her fingers turned to claws, she reached up under his t-shirt, and tore at his chest. His nipples rose as she raked them, and giving into the beast raging inside of him, he slammed her back against the wall and pounded into her, savagely plundering.

Her growls turned to whimpers, eyes closed, but rolling  up in her head at the pleasure of being so well used. Her pussy made sucking noises in the darkness with every thrust, unwilling to have her invader leave for even a moment.

Fully buried in her snatch, he ground his hips, rubbing his belly against hers, the thick swatch of his hair tickling her and kindling the first orgasm. It rolled through her like a wave, a tsunami of sensation as she succumbed to the pleasure.

Hot and thick, his cum boiled up from his toes, pumped by his balls and pressed through the thick tube of his shaft. His seed sprayed, geyser-like, from the engorged head of his cock. Her belly was filled, quivering as she milked him with her own convulsions.

Wordlessly, he pushed her off his spent cock, ignoring the sound of her hitting the back wall, sprawling there. Opening the closet door a bit, finding no one around, Wyeth slipped out of the closet, leaving the catering wench to find her own way back to the kitchen.

 

Tanked (1)

“I’m not going in there..!” With a gasp, she stood upright. Below her was the largest fishtank she’d ever seen. She’d been to aquariums before, but never had she seen anything like this one.  With a flick of his wrist, the old fart who had hired her gestured to the two burly men who flanked the door.

They moved forward, and lifting her easily, threw her in the tank. Her last clear thought as she felt the water closing over her head was that she was being seriously underpaid.

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

She’d been looking for a job for 22 weeks. The stint at the local burger joint hadn’t ended well. Newbies were not looked upon happily when they criticized their new bosses for not preparing food properly. She knew she’d never eat at one of those places ever again.

A long string of weeks followed, where her only good news was that the unemployment check was coming. She wasn’t quite ready to start eating cat food, but she wasn’t far from it, either. She needed a fucking job!  There was a series of prospects, a flurry of resumes sent, received, and  then, interviews. Followed by two more weeks of absolutely nothing. Geezuz. Why wouldn’t someone give her a fucking chance?

Two weeks left of her unemployment. She tried to breathe through the panic. She opened her computer and went to her local help wanted page. It fairly leapt out at her:

Wanted: Someone dedicated, loyal, trustworthy. Needs to be able to follow through, be caring, and committed to excellence.

There was an email address listed below. Hell, she was all those things and more! She sent her resume, and tried not to get her hopes up. Every fruitless interview had beat her down just enough to shake her confidence. When the  phone call came an hour later, she was, frankly, shocked. She was even more stunned when the raspy male voice insisted that she interview today, and as soon as possible, please.

She dressed quickly, but carefully, somewhere between comfort and professional. She had absolutely no idea what the job entailed.  Hopefully her simple dress, linen jacket, and colorful scarf would portray a confident, capable woman.

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

He’d stared at her. Not a word spoken after the initial “come in” when she met him at the door. She had been surprised to be given the address for her interview~ it was at the most exclusive neighborhood in town.  The house, mansion really, was enormous. She tried not to imagine herself as a maid here; she was hoping for a personal assistant. The pay promised had been pretty darned generous; certainly well over what she had made at her last job. Yet, here she sat, in this beautifully appointed office, surrounded by bookshelves, antiques, and expensive what-nots, while being stared at by the man who would, hopefully, become her employer.

After 5 long, embarrassing minutes, his rusty voice almost startled her.

“When can you start?”

She blinked, caught off guard. He was hiring her? Or was this an inquiry?

“As soon as you need me to, Sir,” she had responded. The watery blue eyes had blinked, then he nodded.

“Sir? You’ve not told me what you need me to do…” the caustic look almost alarmed her. She swallowed.

“You’ll be caring for my pets. I have a very large, private aquarium. You’ll be responsible for keeping the viewing area clean and tidy. I often have private viewings for friends and associates. You’d be responsible for setting up chairs etcetera. Making sure the lights work, that sort of thing. Please come back tomorrow. Dress casual. That,” and he waved his bony hand at her, “is far too much. Shorts, tee-shirt, that sort of thing. You’ll need to go into the tank occasionally, just to clean around the top.”

“Oh. You don’t have sharks, I hope!” she giggled nervously.

He blinked owlishly at her. “No. Horrid creatures. No sharks.”

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

She’d arrived when he told her. A sheaf of papers needed to be signed. Social security number. Address, bank for direct deposit, identification forms, yada, yada, yada. So many papers. She stopped looking at them, fanned them out, signed them all.

He took them, checked each page for signatures, dated them, and arranged them precisely in order. Attaching a clip to them, he put them into a manila folder, and slid it into his bottom drawer.

“This way.”

He indicated that she lead the way out the door. They went to the back of the house, and then up a flight of stairs. And more stairs. Three full flights up and she was breathless. There was a heavy door at the top of the landing.

“Go on, then,” he gestured to her. She tugged it open. Saw the guards -they had to be guards,-on either side of the door. And then she saw the tank. She heard the door thunk shut behind her.

“You need to be naked.”

“I’m not going to be naked.” She whirled around and stared at her boss. “Mr. Withers, this is not what I agreed to at all.”

“Ms. Butler? This is exactly what you signed up for. I have 18 pages, all with your signature on them, downstairs to prove it. William can help you if you feel the need. He’s very good at undressing women.”

She glanced over at the guard who must be William. The leer was unmistakeable. No way was she letting him touch her.

“I am paying you a great deal of money to do this task. I believe I mentioned that I needed someone who could follow through, and be dependable in my ad. You assured me that you were. I can assure you that if you don’t work, you won’t be paid a penny.”

“I need this job….”

“Then do it. Naked. Now. If I understand correctly, your unemployment runs out in 10 days, yes?”

He twisted the knife of fear so well. With a little huff of breath, she all but tore off her tee-shirt. She didn’t want to take off her shorts. But somehow they were pooled around her ankles. She stepped free of them. She stood there in bra and panties. He stared at her. With a roll of her eyes, she unhooked her bra, shimmied out of her panties.

He walked her over to the side of the tank. It was bigger than anything she had ever seen in her life. There was ….something huge swimming in the tank.

“Oh my gawd. Is that…is that….”

“A giant squid. Rare, extremely rare. He is one of only a few dozen left in all the world. He needs special care. And you, my dear, are here to provide it for him. You need to go into the tank and let him get used to you.”

“I’m not going in there!” she gasped.

“Indeed, you will.”

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

She fell with a splash, her ass hitting the water first. She’d expected it to be shocking and cold, but it was, instead, warm, comfortable. Not hot, not unpleasant in the least. She rose to the surface, grabbed a lungful of air.

“You BASTARD!” she yelled at William, who stood at the edge of the tank with a shit-eating grin on his face. Her tirade was ended before it began when something curled around her ankle and tugged her under the water.

Bound and Gagged

The slip loop for the first knot slid over the shiny heel of her stiletto.  He’d cuffed her to the heavy steel hook in the centerbeam of the dungeon. Her arms were feeling a bit thick, her fingers tingled.

“You keep that fucking heel on the floor, you grok?”

She grokked.

He tugged the rope taut as He wove it up and around her calf twice, then just under her knee. As He pulled the rope to the front of her leg, He kicked out that foot, bending her knee up and quickly looping the loose end around her bent leg. The heel of the stiletto almost poked her ass. She felt Him fiddling, then the sudden tightening as He drew the rope tight.

The coil behind her knee pressed against the tender flesh just behind there, and she moaned a little.

“Hmm, that’s going to be a huge pain the ass in a while, isn’t it?”

She heard the amusement in His voice. Like He cared if it was uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes, and flinched as He flicked one bare nipple.

“OW!” Balanced on one thin six-inch heel, she daren’t move too much, lest she wind up dangling by her cuffed wrists. He flicked like a whip with those talented fingers; it stung when He did it.

It felt like hours, but was no more than a quarter-hour before her second leg was tied up and out, exposing her pussy, and leaving her swinging from the harness He’d built around her with the rope. She felt the comforting bite of it, cocooning her as she swung gently.

Reaching into His tool bag, He pulled out a pair of clamps.

With bells.

Oh how fucking embarrassing.

“Sir…must You?”

His eyebrow raised.

“Now that you mention it, slut, yes. And since you’re such a smart-mouthed bitch today, let me add another. He dug back into the bag; sure enough there was a third. Crossing to her, He affixed a clamp on her nipple, sliding the lock-ring higher, and higher until she grunted with the stress of the bite. They were small, but intense fuckers.

He made the second one even a bit tighter. She whimpered.  He took her leg, pushed her around so He stood facing her ass, and squatted. His fingers pinched her pussy lips, her clit.  His thumb traced the wetness oozing from her hole.

“What a fucking slut you are. All tied up and ready for cock, aren’t you?!”

As He chuckled, He fixed the last jingling clamp on her clit. It wasn’t as tight as her nipples, but she felt it.  He slid the blindfold over her eyes, and slapped her ass., then gave a hard shove.  Jingling as she swayed back and forth, she grew disoriented fast. Grabbing her extended leg, He shoved her hard in the opposite direction. She squealed, losing her equilibrium, and getting dizzy, as the bells jingled happily.

She lost sense of where He was, where she was, and she cried out when He grabbed her legs, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She felt her head spinning, her heart racing, her clit and nipples throbbing.

And then His cock was at her lips. “You complain too much, slut. Time for your Master to shut you up. Now you’re just as I like you…bound…and gagged.”

The sound of the jangling bells rang as merrily as his laughter as he silenced her with his cock.

Dominus Litus – V

Dominus litus; Master of Proceedings….

Despite the awkwardness of the space, she shimmied out of her jeans, and slid her foot into waistband of the skirt.

“Wait.”

Ohgawd! She was trying to ignore his presence, watching her strip and change in the confines of the limo they shared. The loose tee-shirt slid down her arm, nearly baring her breast.  She would have tugged it back up, but his gesture stopped her.

“Come here.”

He sat on the other end of the long row of seating.  She moved towards him.

“On your knees, slut. Crawl to me.”

Momentarily she shut her eyes. A wave of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Yet she dropped to her knees, palms on the lush carpeting, and began moving towards him.

“Look at me. I want to see that you understand your place here, as you come to me in penitence.”

Her eyes opened, locking on his face. There was that half-smile again. Her tits swung with the movement of the limousine, all but falling out of the shirt she had donned at his behest. She stopped in front of him, and recalling some long-ago snippet at a munch, sat back on her haunches, palms up, and resting on her thighs.

He gave a brief nod of approval.

“Very pretty. You have lovely tits. And an enticing bottom. Now, up here.”  He patted his lap. She didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t want to.

Her pussy said otherwise.

He tugged her up and over his legs, the underside of her tits pressing against his lower leg. His hand traced lightly up her thigh, and onto her ass. It tickled. She wriggled.

He shifted under her, his  leg coming over hers to hold her. The sharp crack of his hand on her bottom sounded loudly within the confines of the car. She swore she would not make a single sound! It was just one little transgression, after all.

Blows came at a steady pace, one after another across her ass. She could feel the heat, imagined the redness. Every third or fourth blow he would hit the exact same spot for a time, then go back to swatting her entire bottom.

Would he never stop?

“Stubbornness will never help your cause, slut.”

He hit, harder, faster now. She wriggled, but could not move away. She tried to cover her ass with her free hand, but he captured it, pulling it up between her shoulder blades and holding it there easily.

He hit; she grunted.

He hit; she moaned.

He hit; she snuffled.

It felt like fire. Like hell. She was not going to cry. Not going to cry…no..

The first tears fell almost unnoticed. A handful more of blows landed on her aching butt, before he released her pinned arm, and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Pushing her off his lap, and tugging her face up to his, he looked deeply at her tear-streaked face.

“Pride goeth before a fall.” He scowled at her. “Unzip my fly and release my cock,” he demanded. And she understood this was an order, not a request. She obeyed, instantly.

His cock, heavy and thick, rose from his zipper. The hand holding her head pushed her toward it, rubbing the wet crown of it around her lips, before his fist wrapped around the turgid shaft. He fed his cock into her mouth, far deeper than she would have, given the opportunity. In seconds, both of his hands were on her head, fucking her mouth up and down his cock. Gagging, she found a rhythm to snatch a breath, then gag again as he hit the back of her throat. She had little deep-throat experience, and none recently.  The last Dom she had played with regularly was more into smacking her, and fucking her ass, than blow jobs.

He held her up by her hair, both of them breathing hard.

“Sit on my cock. Slowly. I want to feel every inch of your pussy taking it deep into your tunnel.”

When she would have straddled him, he grabbed her hips and spun her about. Her back to him, she felt him helping to ease her down, down, down, until he was buried inside her.

He sat.

She sat.

She tried to rise, to fuck him. He held her still.

“Some things are meant to savor slowly, slut. For now I will simply enjoy the feeling of your cunt hugging my cock.” He pulled her back to lean against his chest, his fingers toying with her tits. She felt the steady pressure of his thickness inside of her, the rumbling of the tires and movement of the vehicle creating a strange sensation inside of her.  His fingers were long and strong, pinching and molding her breast, then pinching her nipple, then back to kneading.

Her ass throbbed, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against the tender flesh.

His voice tickled her ear. “Cum for me. Cum for me if you can.”

The pinching fingers grew firmer, rougher. The pain in her tits began to grow, and the need to fuck was incredible.

“Don’t you fucking dare to move, slut. Just cum.” She felt the rush in her head, in her clit, the twinkling sensations in her clit and pussy that presaged an orgasm. And just like that she was up, up and over, her cunt clenching and convulsing on his cock.

His hands cupped her tits, so painfully tight as she spasmed, wracked with an intense flood of sensation.

As the bliss faded, he once again pushed her to the floor.

“Clean up on aisle 12,” he said, his grin firmly in place as he gestured to his rigid penis.

Turning, she began lapping him clean of her juice.