His cock pressed into my asshole while I pictured dark walls and racks and bars for torture. I fisted my hands against the stretching, cresting pain of his entry. I knew it would subside in a moment, if I could relax. Relax, relax.
He wasn’t gentle. Thank God for the lube, so when he started fucking my ass in a firm, steady rhythm, I was able to bear it without too much panic. His repetitive thrusting shoved me forward against the bed, and pain mixed with pleasure as my clit rode the sheets. Yes, yes, yes. I squeezed around his cock, seeking my own pleasure in his dominance.
My thighs were killing me, not just because of the whip marks, but from being bound open. I thought of a twenty-four hour spreader bar and shuddered. My asshole hurt with a vivid, blissful kind of pain, with roughness and overstimulation. I whimpered behind the gag and arched my back, tugging at the cuffs that held my arms at my sides.
“What the fuck are you whining about?” he said, sounding more amused than concerned. “You love this, you horny slut.”
It was true. I loved it. I blinked behind my blindfold and struggled anyway, clenching my cheeks as he drilled into my asshole. He added more lube and kept going, smacking my cheeks from time to time, reminding me that I was his slave and that he could fuck my ass for as long as he wanted.
All the while, my clit throbbed with heightening arousal. I wanted so badly to come, but my legs hurt and my jaw hurt, and my ass hurt. He reached beneath me and tweaked my sore nipples, until I groaned behind the gag like an animal. It was like he was doing everything in his power to keep me hurting and crazed and unable to orgasm, but the more he did that, the more needy I became.
My arousal was like the ocean tide, the eddies on the sand, half advancing, half receding, until finally, the part that was advancing was going farther than the part that was receding, and I thought I might be able to come even through the pain. My whole body shuddered in hornified heat. My hips jerked, my shoulders tensed, and my wild pleas warbled through the gag.
“Come on,” he said. “You either come with my cock in your ass, or you don’t come at all. You belong to me. I decide how you come, and how much it hurts.”
And that was it. Those were the words that sent me over the edge, along with his demand and derision, and his beautiful, thrusting, painful length rending my ass for his pleasure. I ground against the bed and squeezed his cock so hard I’m surprised he didn’t smack me for it.
He put a hand around my neck instead, over the collar, and pressed me down, down, down. My orgasm exploded ten-fold after that, so intense it comprised every part of me, my pussy, my clit, my breasts, even my arms and legs and toes. He covered me, driving into me with the last frenetic strokes of his own climax. After one last momentous shudder, he went still.
Both of us were still for long moments. I moved my hand a little, the thigh and wrist cuffs making a chink of a sound.
“Jesus, Chere,” he said. “Fucking hell. Don’t fucking move. Just stay.”
So I stayed in my dark, bound world, waiting for his next command. It seemed like forever before he pulled away from me, but at the same time, it seemed too soon. I didn’t want him to go.
I felt his fingers working at the gag. He took it off and wiped my cheeks and kissed me, hard uncomfortable kisses along the edge of the collar and beneath my ear. I was still so blind and breathless, I hardly heard what he said. “God, that you let me do this,” he murmured. “That you let me do these things to you.”
I turned my head so he could kiss my mouth. “Let me see you,” I begged against his lips.
“No.”
His fingers twisted in my hair. I wished I knew his name. I wished I knew everything about him. I wished I could see the expression that went along with that ragged murmur.
Please, W, I want more of you. I wanted to cry and scream out everything in my heart, but I didn’t dare. My mouth still hurt from the gag. My heart hurt. My ass hurt, though not as much as when he was inside it.
He shifted away with a groan, and released my ankles, and then unbound my wrists and thighs from their connected cuffs. My body felt too free, too exposed now that I wasn’t tied down anymore. I’d become comfortable in the security of bondage, and now that security was gone. I reached to unbuckle the eye mask, but he stopped me. “Not yet,” he said.