My softly spoken delivery was less timid than it may have sounded. I loved testing the boundaries. Velvet laughter caressed me, raising the hair on my arms.
“True. I throw you out and you keep crawling back. I can’t decide sometimes if I should screw you or call the dog warden, you little bitch,” he retorted. “Maybe I should put you out of your misery.”
Cuffs clicking open freed my left hand and then my right. He slowly pulled my arms out and down to my sides as if we were a pair of ballet dancers. Gently soothing over the muscles, he gripped the straps again and yanked hard. Having ripped it down the length of my body, he let go. It lay tangled around my feet and he freed it from them, dropping the scrap of cloth.
‘How did the fabric hold? Is it entwined around my restraint where it disappears over the edge of the box spring?’ After this ridiculous hypothesizing another voice in my head said with much more force, ‘WHO CARES? Touch him while you can!’’
I blindly found the bunched muscles of his upper arm. He’d leaned in, licking my navel, and my groping hand prompted him to bite the soft skin of my stomach. Moaning and twisting, I sunk my nails in. I clutched nothing, not even knowing where he had gone. He moved so swiftly that the displaced air swirled over me. Changing quality of the light through my blindfold made me realize that he held a candle. I shivered with dread and delight.
“You scratched me, you worthless slit,” he thundered. “Now I’ll show you pain.”
I all ready squirmed in anticipation when the first drops hit my skin. I heard the first juicy plop. He moved his arm, slowly dripping a trail of hot wax along my hip and over my belly. Absorbed by the line of sweet agony, I didn’t realize he had extinguished the candle and held it the opposite way, poised to penetrate me.
He jerked his hand in and I screamed as the long taper infiltrated me. The shock passed and my cries softened, pussy virtually swallowing the smooth cylinder.
“That’s better; I don’t want you to lose your voice now. There’ll be plenty of reason to scream later, I assure you. The night is so young,” he mocked inches above my mouth.
He bit my lip, a tiny pain. My mouth filled with the sharp taste of copper as his tongue licked at the cut and pushed beyond my lips. His strength became apparent by the way that deep kiss never wavered even as he continued brutalizing me with the candle. One arm steadily supported the body. I aspired to be eyewitness, my perfect acquiescence contending for this prize.
I was at last able to catch my breath, though only slightly. He let his body rest against me, breaking away from my lips. His pulverizing rhythm never faltered. It was another minute (or an hour?) longer before he tossed the object away from us. I made a sound of complaint, so close to orgasm. The penalty/reward instantaneous, he yanked my blindfold off.
A few individual hairs pulled out. This fresh, sharp pain and sight of blood discoloring his chin unhinged my mind somehow. I squeezed my eyes shut but the promise of relief vanished, vertigo spinning me into the darkness. I opened my eyes and they betrayed me. The world spun now, alabaster skin around a crimson stain.
It induced a series of deep flutters, my cervix a giant moth flapping frenetically toward some moonlit blossom. He sensed it, my gasping writhe the clue. The groan escaping his lips showed his excitement at my response to his abuse. That cool exterior was cracking.
I observed the real measure of his arousal when he pushed himself onto his knees – that single fat drop of emission leaking from the tip, nearly ready to fall. He moved close to my face. His organ loomed large, encompassing my world. I thought he might actually let me lick it off. Choosing the alternate, more degrading route, he smeared it on my face. It left a trail across my cheekbone. The head felt so soft and pliant, deceiving silk pressed to my skin. I knew how it could batter more tender parts of the female anatomy and the anticipation drove me even closer to the brink.
My face ablaze with the very humiliation I craved, I was ordered to stand up and face the wall. Ravening, dimly registering his edict, I failed to respond. He appeared truly angry and I felt fear – a sudden, faint terror. His long fingers closed over my wrists and began dragging me toward the edge of the bed.
A scared woman inside asked, ‘What am I playing at? He could kill me and not a soul would know.’
He let go before I would tumble to the floor and I struggled to find my legs in an effort to stand. His hands came to my aid, oddly gentle, untying my ankle and steadying me.
Guided to the wall and pushed into it, my tits were crushed against the surface with a force I found both uncomfortable and alarmingly delicious. He put a palm on each firm curve of my ass and pulled me open so that I thought I might tear in two. His breath came out in animal grunts. My cunt tightened around him, nipples swelling perversely, and my own cries began to drown him out. Heartbeat thundering in my head, I felt him come in a hot burst. As if given permission, my climax detonated a galaxy of stars. I vibrated in intoxicating afterglow.
He collapsed against me, his weight pinning me to the unforgiving wall before he suddenly stepped backward. I crumpled to the floor, blood still trickling from my lip as I turned to lick his ankle. Leaving a scarlet smudge I thought he would make me lick it off. And I would do it without pause. Instead he commanded that I stand.
“Get off the floor. You look like a fucking dog,” he griped.
Collecting my bearings, I took an upright stance. His next move shocked me, nearly unbalancing once more. He grabbed my hair without pulling, placing his hand on my cheek. Wavering on my feet, I expected this diversion to culminate in a violent tug upon my locks. My eyes followed fine tresses trailing between unfurled fingers to drape over his forearm in a translucent wave.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The proclamation spoken now and in this moment surprised me. All the same, I found my thoughts traveling back.
To be continued...
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