“You’d be surprised what can be used for BDSM.”
He pushes himself deeper, then reaches for the vibrator, which he turns on and holds to my clit.
Oh. My. God.
The combination of the stimulation to my clit and the sensation of being stretched by his cock is other worldly. My arousal is doing the happy dance. Actually, it’s not just happy. It’s ecstatic.
I gasp. I moan. I whine.
I can’t believe I whined, but my control over my body is tenuous. I no longer feel how my shoulders and neck are sore, how my lower body is cramped. All that I feel is his hardness buried inside me and the vibrations jammed up against my clit.
His body cages me, and I bump against his chest. I want to drown in him, drown in the amazing sensations he’s wrecking me with, the climax he’s building for me.
But it’s not easy with Tony. He turns off the vibrator. After a few languid thrusts, he asks again for my safety word.
“Tar Heel,” I repeat.
He slams into me so hard I think I feel the concrete beneath the mattress. Over and over his pelvis slaps my sore bottom, reminding me of every strike of the crop, every smack of the textbook. I feel the drilling in my entire body, not just my pussy. After thrusting fast and furious, he gives me a reprieve and brushes aside the hair that has fallen over my face. I gulp, still semi-stunned at the throttling I just received.
> He changes up the motion, opting for a deep hard shove, followed by a slow withdrawal, then another deep hard shove. I whimper in between the pounding, but I refrain from using the safety word. I think it will please him if I don’t. I opened the door to all this, and I am not going to retreat.
He accelerates his thrusting, holding my hips so that he can go as deep as possible. After getting banged like this—I wonder if this is how it feels to get sacked in football, only football players have the benefit of padding—I start to crumble. The safety word is on the tip of my tongue.
Tony’s grunts turn into a roar. He bucks his hips ferociously before slowing down considerably. I can’t remember feeling so relieved. He came. Which means he’s done.
Hopefully. I think I can never be sure what to expected with Tony.
After a few more pumps, he pulls out and unties my wrists. Even though I desperately want out of my position, it hurts to stretch myself out. I collapse onto the mattress, my body feeling bruised on the inside. Tony wasn’t just trying to fuck me hard. It felt like he was trying to fucking kill me.
I hear the vibrator turn on. Part of me doesn’t want to feel anything. My body just needs to recover. But after a minute or two of the vibrations, I become receptive, then more than receptive. The vibrator still takes a little getting used to, but the stimulation has my arousal back to where it left off before he started pounding me into oblivion. I cry out as the orgasm bursts within me. As before, my clit quickly becomes overly sensitive, and I grab his hand with both of mine to push the vibrator away, but he keeps me in that head-rattling space for several seconds longer before easing the vibrator away.
Laying there, I feel like I might never be able to get up. I can’t believe what my body has just been through. Something more painful than running several miles when I’m one of the worst runners in my class, yet more thrilling than a roller coaster and waking up on Christmas morning.
“Was I too hard?” Tony asks as he lays beside me.
“Yes,” I say meekly.
“Why didn’t you use your safety word?”
“I didn’t want to.”
He eyes me with what looks like wonder. I turn my head and meet his gaze. The words are out of my mouth before I can deliberate their wisdom.
“I’d do it again.”
Laying back, he stares at the ceiling. “Don’t tempt me, ma petite.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Does this mean I get to finish out the week?” I ask when we’re in the car driving back to Marin County.
“I haven’t decided,” Tony responds. “You’ll get your money either way.”
I’ve made it known that I’m okay with sticking to the terms of the contract, so I don’t belabor the point. I’m just glad that he’s going to keep me a while longer. I wiggle a little in my car seat, stoking the rawness of my ass to remind myself of what I’ve been through. Tony had applied a balm to my bottom to cool the skin and help it heal. Even though I cleaned myself at The Lair, the wetness is still dripping, and I don’t like having to sit in moist undies. I’m also a lot more sore between the legs.
But it was all worth it. God Almighty was it worth it.
“I don’t have to call you ‘Sir’ in front of Eric and Sierra, do I?” I suddenly wonder.