Rough Justice (a closed thread)
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shereads
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Karen
"It's not too be taken lightly," he had written. "If you wear it, you wear it of your own free will. But while you wear it, you give your will over to me."
Separated from Rob by a continent, connected to him by nothing more substantial than words on an LCD screen, the promise to wear Rob's collar had been part of a fairy tale.
She would try the glass slipper, and it would be a perfect fit. A kiss would awaken the princess from her hundred-year sleep. She would allow a leather collar to be fastened about her neck, and it would make her free. The collar was one of her dreams. One of his stories.
And here it was, and it was real. Rob was real.
“I’ll ask you just once,” he said, his voice low, “are you willing to wear this for me? You know what it means. Tell me yes or no.”
Karen thought of how she had hurt him today with the betrayal of her promise, and her heart ached for him.
For a year, Rob had been her spirit guide, the mentor who awakened her from a dull sleep that had numbed her to anything beyond the achievement of her ambitions. He had seduced her to the idea of giving up control to gain... something. Something lost. Something essential.
Karen had put him through hell today - and Rob had repaid her in kind. It occurred to her now that she had tested them both in preparation for this moment. If he had walked away, Rob's promise to her would have been meaningless. As hers must have seemed to him.
He had kept his promise. The essential gentleness of his nature outside the bedroom could not have made it easy for him to force the issue, but she had begged him to long ago. And he had reluctantly agreed.
How remarkable that she should have the power to prove her gratitude and her renewed devotion, by giving her power to Rob.
She had known this would be difficult. She hadn't known how intensely her body would rebel, as if she were addicted to power and refusing a fix. She was quaking inside. And suddenly cold, despite the heat of the fire and the heat that remained from her explosive orgasm.
Karen stared for a moment at the collar in Rob's hands. Not a delicate silver choker or a velvet ribbon, but a band of black leather ornamented with a metal D-ring. For a leash. There was no way to interpret the collar's appearance as anything but a symbol of bondage.
She looked in Rob's eyes and saw the vulnerable man whose gift of trust she had thrown in his face by running away.
The most difficult of decisions was suddenly easy. It was so clear - how could she have doubted it?
Karen stood up from the couch, his semen still seeping from between her legs, kissed his cheek, and kneeled.
Looking up at her master with a tremulous smile, she whispered, "I know what it means. I know what I need. Let me wear it..." Shivering now, she added, "Make me honor it."
"It's not too be taken lightly," he had written. "If you wear it, you wear it of your own free will. But while you wear it, you give your will over to me."
Separated from Rob by a continent, connected to him by nothing more substantial than words on an LCD screen, the promise to wear Rob's collar had been part of a fairy tale.
She would try the glass slipper, and it would be a perfect fit. A kiss would awaken the princess from her hundred-year sleep. She would allow a leather collar to be fastened about her neck, and it would make her free. The collar was one of her dreams. One of his stories.
And here it was, and it was real. Rob was real.
“I’ll ask you just once,” he said, his voice low, “are you willing to wear this for me? You know what it means. Tell me yes or no.”
Karen thought of how she had hurt him today with the betrayal of her promise, and her heart ached for him.
For a year, Rob had been her spirit guide, the mentor who awakened her from a dull sleep that had numbed her to anything beyond the achievement of her ambitions. He had seduced her to the idea of giving up control to gain... something. Something lost. Something essential.
Karen had put him through hell today - and Rob had repaid her in kind. It occurred to her now that she had tested them both in preparation for this moment. If he had walked away, Rob's promise to her would have been meaningless. As hers must have seemed to him.
He had kept his promise. The essential gentleness of his nature outside the bedroom could not have made it easy for him to force the issue, but she had begged him to long ago. And he had reluctantly agreed.
How remarkable that she should have the power to prove her gratitude and her renewed devotion, by giving her power to Rob.
She had known this would be difficult. She hadn't known how intensely her body would rebel, as if she were addicted to power and refusing a fix. She was quaking inside. And suddenly cold, despite the heat of the fire and the heat that remained from her explosive orgasm.
Karen stared for a moment at the collar in Rob's hands. Not a delicate silver choker or a velvet ribbon, but a band of black leather ornamented with a metal D-ring. For a leash. There was no way to interpret the collar's appearance as anything but a symbol of bondage.
She looked in Rob's eyes and saw the vulnerable man whose gift of trust she had thrown in his face by running away.
The most difficult of decisions was suddenly easy. It was so clear - how could she have doubted it?
Karen stood up from the couch, his semen still seeping from between her legs, kissed his cheek, and kneeled.
Looking up at her master with a tremulous smile, she whispered, "I know what it means. I know what I need. Let me wear it..." Shivering now, she added, "Make me honor it."
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dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
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It took only a moment to buckle the collar around her neck, but as he finished he was surprised to see that she was trembling. Did it really mean that much to her?
He lifted her chin and made her look at him. Her eyes were closed, her lashes wet with tears.
“What’s wrong, Karen? If it bothers you so much…”
“No, no,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her lips. “I want this, I want you to show me what to do. I want you to show me what it means.”
To him it didn’t mean that much; it certainly didn’t warrant tears. It was a sign of their relationship, but it was such an unusual and contrived relationship, entirely sexual. It had no existence outside this house, outside the time when the two of them were together like this. Or so he’d thought. She was a successful and accomplished woman who was interested in fantasies of sexual submission. There was nothing unusual in that. But now, seeing her on her knees trembling before him, he realized this meant more to her, much more.
“Stand up, Karen,” he said, and he helped her to her feet.
She seemed so vulnerable now, naked, wearing the slave collar. He put his arms around her and felt her shaking.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked her. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, her voice almost cracking. “I want this. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
He seized her hair and pulled her head back so that he could look at her and she gasped and closed her eyes. On her face he read nothing but her fear, but that was enough to tell him how much power he held over her. She was his. She had agreed to give herself to him. Whatever he wanted, she would do, and that knowledge together with the sudden emotional impact of her surrender filled him with desire for her.
He pressed her naked body against him and kissed her deeply and she let herself be kissed. She held her hands in the air, afraid to embrace him in return, aware that her body was no longer hers to command, but subject to his will, his desires. If he didn’t want her to touch him, she wouldn’t touch him.
His kiss deepened. His sense of power over her made his cock begin to swell again, and he grabbed her ass and squeezed: his flesh, his woman, his whore. She felt the passion in the way he held her and kissed her, the way he took possession of her, and it only made her feel more weak and defenseless. She gave herself to him; she wanted him to take her, use her. She didn’t want to be responsible anymore.
“On your knees,” he said softly, releasing his grip on her.
Karen fell to her knees before him. His cock faced her, semi-erect, still wet with her juices and his ejaculate. It was the center of his pleasure, the hold he had on her.
“Clean me off.” he said.
He lifted her chin and made her look at him. Her eyes were closed, her lashes wet with tears.
“What’s wrong, Karen? If it bothers you so much…”
“No, no,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her lips. “I want this, I want you to show me what to do. I want you to show me what it means.”
To him it didn’t mean that much; it certainly didn’t warrant tears. It was a sign of their relationship, but it was such an unusual and contrived relationship, entirely sexual. It had no existence outside this house, outside the time when the two of them were together like this. Or so he’d thought. She was a successful and accomplished woman who was interested in fantasies of sexual submission. There was nothing unusual in that. But now, seeing her on her knees trembling before him, he realized this meant more to her, much more.
“Stand up, Karen,” he said, and he helped her to her feet.
She seemed so vulnerable now, naked, wearing the slave collar. He put his arms around her and felt her shaking.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked her. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, her voice almost cracking. “I want this. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
He seized her hair and pulled her head back so that he could look at her and she gasped and closed her eyes. On her face he read nothing but her fear, but that was enough to tell him how much power he held over her. She was his. She had agreed to give herself to him. Whatever he wanted, she would do, and that knowledge together with the sudden emotional impact of her surrender filled him with desire for her.
He pressed her naked body against him and kissed her deeply and she let herself be kissed. She held her hands in the air, afraid to embrace him in return, aware that her body was no longer hers to command, but subject to his will, his desires. If he didn’t want her to touch him, she wouldn’t touch him.
His kiss deepened. His sense of power over her made his cock begin to swell again, and he grabbed her ass and squeezed: his flesh, his woman, his whore. She felt the passion in the way he held her and kissed her, the way he took possession of her, and it only made her feel more weak and defenseless. She gave herself to him; she wanted him to take her, use her. She didn’t want to be responsible anymore.
“On your knees,” he said softly, releasing his grip on her.
Karen fell to her knees before him. His cock faced her, semi-erect, still wet with her juices and his ejaculate. It was the center of his pleasure, the hold he had on her.
“Clean me off.” he said.
shereads
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Karen
How beautiful you are, and terrifying. Your fist is twisted in my hair, hurting just enough to keep me still. Your face, only inches from mine, hides nothing. Your inner battle for control is revealed in the tense set of your jaw, the hard line of your mouth, and the sudden madness in your eyes.
You have control over me; it's my gift to you. The battle I watch you fighting now is for control of your own fierce lust. In response to my dark urges, yours have have grown more powerful and compelling than anything you or I had imagined. If you allowed it to happen, the darkness in you would strip you of gentleness. You wouldn't take more than I'm willing to give, but even that might be too much.
You win one battle in your inner war when you ask me to kneel and lick you clean. You could have asked me to give up something. Instead, you give to me.
I smile through my tears, and in response you loosen the fist that grips my hair. You let the cool, dark strands flow through your fingers as I slowly kneel, steadying myself with my fingertips at your hips.
I love your cock, baby. Even when its angry, there's nothing complicated here. It wants or it rests, and it asks nothing of me that I wouldn't eagerly beg for.
In the aftermath of your orgasm, your penis is only beginning to reawaken. In the palm of one hand, I cradle it. With the other hand, I gently lift and support your enormous sac.
I study you now. A first long, leisurely look, after a night of frantic sucking and fucking. Your cock knows I admire it - yes, lover, I cherish and admire you; we understand each other so well, you and I! - and it responds to the warmth of my gaze and the nearness of my lips by rising a bit and stretching. A lazy pasha awakening in the arms of its concubine.
I sense the increasing tension in your body by the slightest change in your stance, and I feel your quickening pulse in my hands. Closing my eyes, I press my cheek to your penis and rub, like a cat seeking affection from its master.
I feel and smell my sticky juices on your flesh, and I hear myself humming a tuneless little song of delight. I tilt my head and lift you so that my lips are positioned alongside your length, and I kiss you there. The softest of baby kisses.
Towering above me, my master growls his impatience. I feel your fist tighten in my hair once again, and another hand beneath my hair, touching the back of my collar as if to remind me that it's there.
"Lick it," you order, your voice a harsh whisper. "Lick it clean."
In one smooth motion, you guide with hands and hips and I accept with mouth and tongue and heart.
Is it good, baby? Can you feel how I love to have you in my mouth?
How beautiful you are, and terrifying. Your fist is twisted in my hair, hurting just enough to keep me still. Your face, only inches from mine, hides nothing. Your inner battle for control is revealed in the tense set of your jaw, the hard line of your mouth, and the sudden madness in your eyes.
You have control over me; it's my gift to you. The battle I watch you fighting now is for control of your own fierce lust. In response to my dark urges, yours have have grown more powerful and compelling than anything you or I had imagined. If you allowed it to happen, the darkness in you would strip you of gentleness. You wouldn't take more than I'm willing to give, but even that might be too much.
You win one battle in your inner war when you ask me to kneel and lick you clean. You could have asked me to give up something. Instead, you give to me.
I smile through my tears, and in response you loosen the fist that grips my hair. You let the cool, dark strands flow through your fingers as I slowly kneel, steadying myself with my fingertips at your hips.
I love your cock, baby. Even when its angry, there's nothing complicated here. It wants or it rests, and it asks nothing of me that I wouldn't eagerly beg for.
In the aftermath of your orgasm, your penis is only beginning to reawaken. In the palm of one hand, I cradle it. With the other hand, I gently lift and support your enormous sac.
I study you now. A first long, leisurely look, after a night of frantic sucking and fucking. Your cock knows I admire it - yes, lover, I cherish and admire you; we understand each other so well, you and I! - and it responds to the warmth of my gaze and the nearness of my lips by rising a bit and stretching. A lazy pasha awakening in the arms of its concubine.
I sense the increasing tension in your body by the slightest change in your stance, and I feel your quickening pulse in my hands. Closing my eyes, I press my cheek to your penis and rub, like a cat seeking affection from its master.
I feel and smell my sticky juices on your flesh, and I hear myself humming a tuneless little song of delight. I tilt my head and lift you so that my lips are positioned alongside your length, and I kiss you there. The softest of baby kisses.
Towering above me, my master growls his impatience. I feel your fist tighten in my hair once again, and another hand beneath my hair, touching the back of my collar as if to remind me that it's there.
"Lick it," you order, your voice a harsh whisper. "Lick it clean."
In one smooth motion, you guide with hands and hips and I accept with mouth and tongue and heart.
Is it good, baby? Can you feel how I love to have you in my mouth?
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dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
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She’s on her knees before him, naked except for the slave collar around her neck. She has his cock in her mouth, and her hands are trembling slightly as she tentatively touches his thighs, afraid of being too greedy and violating the license he’s given her. He’s growing in her mouth, his prick slowly throbbing to life on her tongue, and the thought that she’s making him hard excites her terribly.
She moans in her throat and takes him deeper, and he thrusts forward reflexively, urging her to take more now that there is more to take. He fills his hands with her hair and pulls her towards him as he pushes his loins at her, pulling her off balance so that she has to grab his thighs to keep from falling forward. The muscles in his legs are rock hard.
She’s done this before or course, but never like this, never where she gave herself so subserviently. She’d done it before because men liked it, not because she did, but now it was different. She did it now because the feel of his cock in her mouth satisfied some deep need in her, a need to be used for his own pleasure and yield to his urgent lust, to hold his pleasure like a gift in her mouth.
He was completely hard now, and he held her head still as he slowly fucked her mouth. Karen held her face tipped up to him as if she were receiving a blessing, the sounds of his ragged, uneven breathing and his moans of increasing desire were music in her ears, and she felt a sudden delicious surge of power: the power of her own surrender, the strength her submission gave her.
“Up,” he said suddenly, snapping himself out of his erotic daze. “Get up, Karen. We have things to do.”
He pulled her to her feet and, grabbing his bag, he led her upstairs to the loft.
Her bed was an old four-poster. It had been the object of numerous jokes and speculation between them during their correspondence, but now the jokes were over. He made her stand in the middle of the room while he fished in his bag for the leather cuff that went around her wrists, then he made her sit on the bed while he attached other cuffs to her ankles. He stood her up at the foot of the bed and tied her wrists to the heavy foot posts so that she stood cruciform, then he tied her ankles to the posts as well, so that her legs were spread. She knew what was coming. She tried to control her fear.
She heard rather than saw him take a whip from his bag, and then he came up behind her and held it so she could see. It was a small riding crop with a paddle of leather at the end, and at the sight of it she felt her nipples harden in fear and excitement.
“Open your mouth, Karen.” he said, and when she did, he placed the crop between her teeth. “Hold it like that.”
She bit down on the firm leather of the crop as he stood behind her and ran his hands over her body: over her breasts, her belly, down to her crotch, where he found her already shamefully wet.
“You’re excited, aren’t you?” he asked her. “You can’t wait for this.”
He pressed his body against hers, and she could feel his hard cock pushing against her ass, but now there was fever in his touch. The sight of her tied and helpless inflamed him with lust, and his hands took possession of her, claiming her body and making it his. She’d never felt a man touch her with such sexual desire.
He took the crop from between her teeth and she heard him try it, swinging it through the air.
“Rob…” she said, and then bit off her words. She couldn’t tell him to stop. She’d known he would do this. She’d asked him for it, made him promise, and she couldn’t tell him to stop now.
But more than that she wanted this. She wanted to feel how much he wanted her, how far he was willing to go. She wanted to feel his lust and desire in the sting of the whip on her skin. She wanted to hurt for him.
She felt his hand on her ass, caressing her, inspecting her, looking for the just the right spot. Karen pulled at the bonds and found that they held; she couldn’t move. She hung her head and waited, breathlessly.
She moans in her throat and takes him deeper, and he thrusts forward reflexively, urging her to take more now that there is more to take. He fills his hands with her hair and pulls her towards him as he pushes his loins at her, pulling her off balance so that she has to grab his thighs to keep from falling forward. The muscles in his legs are rock hard.
She’s done this before or course, but never like this, never where she gave herself so subserviently. She’d done it before because men liked it, not because she did, but now it was different. She did it now because the feel of his cock in her mouth satisfied some deep need in her, a need to be used for his own pleasure and yield to his urgent lust, to hold his pleasure like a gift in her mouth.
He was completely hard now, and he held her head still as he slowly fucked her mouth. Karen held her face tipped up to him as if she were receiving a blessing, the sounds of his ragged, uneven breathing and his moans of increasing desire were music in her ears, and she felt a sudden delicious surge of power: the power of her own surrender, the strength her submission gave her.
“Up,” he said suddenly, snapping himself out of his erotic daze. “Get up, Karen. We have things to do.”
He pulled her to her feet and, grabbing his bag, he led her upstairs to the loft.
Her bed was an old four-poster. It had been the object of numerous jokes and speculation between them during their correspondence, but now the jokes were over. He made her stand in the middle of the room while he fished in his bag for the leather cuff that went around her wrists, then he made her sit on the bed while he attached other cuffs to her ankles. He stood her up at the foot of the bed and tied her wrists to the heavy foot posts so that she stood cruciform, then he tied her ankles to the posts as well, so that her legs were spread. She knew what was coming. She tried to control her fear.
She heard rather than saw him take a whip from his bag, and then he came up behind her and held it so she could see. It was a small riding crop with a paddle of leather at the end, and at the sight of it she felt her nipples harden in fear and excitement.
“Open your mouth, Karen.” he said, and when she did, he placed the crop between her teeth. “Hold it like that.”
She bit down on the firm leather of the crop as he stood behind her and ran his hands over her body: over her breasts, her belly, down to her crotch, where he found her already shamefully wet.
“You’re excited, aren’t you?” he asked her. “You can’t wait for this.”
He pressed his body against hers, and she could feel his hard cock pushing against her ass, but now there was fever in his touch. The sight of her tied and helpless inflamed him with lust, and his hands took possession of her, claiming her body and making it his. She’d never felt a man touch her with such sexual desire.
He took the crop from between her teeth and she heard him try it, swinging it through the air.
“Rob…” she said, and then bit off her words. She couldn’t tell him to stop. She’d known he would do this. She’d asked him for it, made him promise, and she couldn’t tell him to stop now.
But more than that she wanted this. She wanted to feel how much he wanted her, how far he was willing to go. She wanted to feel his lust and desire in the sting of the whip on her skin. She wanted to hurt for him.
She felt his hand on her ass, caressing her, inspecting her, looking for the just the right spot. Karen pulled at the bonds and found that they held; she couldn’t move. She hung her head and waited, breathlessly.
shereads
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Karen
She's lost in him.
He's everything she had feared he would be: perfect. Her ideal. Mentor, master, demon, savior.
She knows now that she can deny him nothing. The whip in his hands doesn't frighten her; her eagerness for it is scary as hell.
She loves everything about him. The taste of salt on his skin. The rough-soft texture of his hair. The feel of him pressed to her, pulling her back against him. The ragged breathing that tells her he's at the edge of his own control. How he has any control left, Karen can't begin to understand. Neither can she remember why her own sense of control seemed so important before.
Before.
Nothing seems to matter that happened before this night.
She trembles because she doubts her own courage - if that's what it is - and when he offers the whip to her mouth she accepts it eagerly. So this is what they mean by 'biting the bullet.' It steadies her nerves, and stirs her lust even more when she tastes the leather and caresses it with teeth and tongue.
He feels so good against her. His breathing matches the urgency of her own. His lips and fingertips are astonishingly tender...So gentle, as if apologizing for the hurt he will inflict.
He removes the leather from her mouth and kisses her neck, in the place just beneath and behind her ear that makes her melt.
"Please," she whispers, leaning into him. "Baby, please."
"What?" he challenges, his mouth at her ear, his fingertips suddenly rough as they dig into the flesh of her breasts. "What?!" There's something new in his voice. Rage, and fear of his rage. Desire, so deep it may be unquenchable. No wonder he's so angry, if he's afraid this tension can't be released.
She closes her eyes and smiles, understanding now. Two halves of one need. They can be free only if they do this together.
"Love me with the whip. Show me what I need."
She's lost in him.
He's everything she had feared he would be: perfect. Her ideal. Mentor, master, demon, savior.
She knows now that she can deny him nothing. The whip in his hands doesn't frighten her; her eagerness for it is scary as hell.
She loves everything about him. The taste of salt on his skin. The rough-soft texture of his hair. The feel of him pressed to her, pulling her back against him. The ragged breathing that tells her he's at the edge of his own control. How he has any control left, Karen can't begin to understand. Neither can she remember why her own sense of control seemed so important before.
Before.
Nothing seems to matter that happened before this night.
She trembles because she doubts her own courage - if that's what it is - and when he offers the whip to her mouth she accepts it eagerly. So this is what they mean by 'biting the bullet.' It steadies her nerves, and stirs her lust even more when she tastes the leather and caresses it with teeth and tongue.
He feels so good against her. His breathing matches the urgency of her own. His lips and fingertips are astonishingly tender...So gentle, as if apologizing for the hurt he will inflict.
He removes the leather from her mouth and kisses her neck, in the place just beneath and behind her ear that makes her melt.
"Please," she whispers, leaning into him. "Baby, please."
"What?" he challenges, his mouth at her ear, his fingertips suddenly rough as they dig into the flesh of her breasts. "What?!" There's something new in his voice. Rage, and fear of his rage. Desire, so deep it may be unquenchable. No wonder he's so angry, if he's afraid this tension can't be released.
She closes her eyes and smiles, understanding now. Two halves of one need. They can be free only if they do this together.
"Love me with the whip. Show me what I need."
Last edited:
dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
- Joined
- Oct 10, 2002
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He moves away from her and looks at her standing there, waiting for the first blow. He takes the crop, and slaps it softly against the bottom of one buttock, then slides the head beneath her until it’s between her legs, pressed against her pussy. Karen inhales sharply as the cold leather touches her.
He watches her closely as he rubs the head of the crop against her soft labia, sliding between them and making her gasp. She is steeled for the sharp bite of the whip; she’s not ready for this maddening caress. She knows he’s going to hit her. She wishes he would and get it over with already. It’s the anticipation, holding her body tense and expectant for something that never comes. The feel of the leather against her cunt is making her weak.
She moans as he slides it up to caress her clit, then reaches so far that he can touch the front of her thighs. He presses the stalk of the whip up between her lips and twirls it slowly, wetting it with her secretions, seeing how ready she is. When he removes it now, she is less tense. Her body is primed for pleasure now. Her pussy aches.
Slap!!
He hits her on the lower part of her ass, then moves to the other cheek.
Whapp!!
Karen groans. She can take this. The pain isn’t that great, not as bad as she’d feared. But still, the indignity of being whipped is something else. No one has ever laid so much as a finger on her in anger before, and what he is feeling might not be anger, but it is something close.
Slapp!!
The whip lands harder now, and it stings her ass. There is a flash of pain and the sharp, wicked sound, then the slow spreading of a circle of heat through her ass, her loins. It isn’t painful, but it is shameful. She feels it as pleasure, and that’s shameful.
Whap!! Slap!! Snap!! The blows start falling more quickly now, and she can feel his anger and his desire now in the way he hits her. He puts one hand on one of her bound wrists for balance, and slaps her with sharp, sure strokes. He’s getting excited. Her ass jiggles with each blow now, and she knows that his eyes are on her, that his lust is raging.
Her ass is burning now, all over, and the heat has spread between her legs. There’s a numbness in her skin so that she no longer feels the individual blows, only the heat, the glow in her sex. He’s found a rhythm now, a rhythm such that it makes her ass shake with every blow and she feels the vibrations in her cunt; she feels his lust in her pussy with each blow.
“Oh God,” she whispers, hanging her head, surrendering to the delicious punishment.
She wants to tell him to do it harder, to force her to feel it. In a way she doesn’t understand she deserves this, she wants this: his anger, his desire. She bites her lip to keep from sobbing in joy.
And then the whip is gone. Just like that. He throws it on the bed and reaches for her wrists, unfastening them from the bed posts. She’s confused but doesn’t have time to think about it, because once her wrists are free he takes them and clips them quickly behind her back.
He pushes her chest down onto the mattress and steps up behind her. Her ankles are still tied to the foot posts of the bed, her knees apart. She feels him searching for the opening to her cunt with the head of his hard cock but he’s taller than she is and he has to bend his knees and search for her. The head of his prick is sliding along the inside of her thighs, looking for her.
“Oh,” she breaths, “Yes, Rob! Yes…”
He finds her then and she gasps as she feels his hardness ripple up inside of her, spreading her pussy and filling her with his hardness. Her ass is aflame, her cunt too. She feels as though she’s all liquid down there, and only his hardness keeps her from melting away.
And he is hard, amazingly hard and thick, and he loses no time in beginning to fuck her, sawing brutally in and out of her. He fucks her so hard that the bed shakes, and her ass hurts every time his loins slam into her, but at the same time it’s delicious. It’s perfect. It’s pleasure and it’s pain but just the right amount of pain to make her senses so fiercely acute.
And when he reaches down and grabs her hair and pulls her head up so he can see her face as he fucks her, she realizes that she’s going to come again, that this shameful whipping has made her so hot that she’s about to orgasm yet again on his hard, demanding cock.
He watches her closely as he rubs the head of the crop against her soft labia, sliding between them and making her gasp. She is steeled for the sharp bite of the whip; she’s not ready for this maddening caress. She knows he’s going to hit her. She wishes he would and get it over with already. It’s the anticipation, holding her body tense and expectant for something that never comes. The feel of the leather against her cunt is making her weak.
She moans as he slides it up to caress her clit, then reaches so far that he can touch the front of her thighs. He presses the stalk of the whip up between her lips and twirls it slowly, wetting it with her secretions, seeing how ready she is. When he removes it now, she is less tense. Her body is primed for pleasure now. Her pussy aches.
Slap!!
He hits her on the lower part of her ass, then moves to the other cheek.
Whapp!!
Karen groans. She can take this. The pain isn’t that great, not as bad as she’d feared. But still, the indignity of being whipped is something else. No one has ever laid so much as a finger on her in anger before, and what he is feeling might not be anger, but it is something close.
Slapp!!
The whip lands harder now, and it stings her ass. There is a flash of pain and the sharp, wicked sound, then the slow spreading of a circle of heat through her ass, her loins. It isn’t painful, but it is shameful. She feels it as pleasure, and that’s shameful.
Whap!! Slap!! Snap!! The blows start falling more quickly now, and she can feel his anger and his desire now in the way he hits her. He puts one hand on one of her bound wrists for balance, and slaps her with sharp, sure strokes. He’s getting excited. Her ass jiggles with each blow now, and she knows that his eyes are on her, that his lust is raging.
Her ass is burning now, all over, and the heat has spread between her legs. There’s a numbness in her skin so that she no longer feels the individual blows, only the heat, the glow in her sex. He’s found a rhythm now, a rhythm such that it makes her ass shake with every blow and she feels the vibrations in her cunt; she feels his lust in her pussy with each blow.
“Oh God,” she whispers, hanging her head, surrendering to the delicious punishment.
She wants to tell him to do it harder, to force her to feel it. In a way she doesn’t understand she deserves this, she wants this: his anger, his desire. She bites her lip to keep from sobbing in joy.
And then the whip is gone. Just like that. He throws it on the bed and reaches for her wrists, unfastening them from the bed posts. She’s confused but doesn’t have time to think about it, because once her wrists are free he takes them and clips them quickly behind her back.
He pushes her chest down onto the mattress and steps up behind her. Her ankles are still tied to the foot posts of the bed, her knees apart. She feels him searching for the opening to her cunt with the head of his hard cock but he’s taller than she is and he has to bend his knees and search for her. The head of his prick is sliding along the inside of her thighs, looking for her.
“Oh,” she breaths, “Yes, Rob! Yes…”
He finds her then and she gasps as she feels his hardness ripple up inside of her, spreading her pussy and filling her with his hardness. Her ass is aflame, her cunt too. She feels as though she’s all liquid down there, and only his hardness keeps her from melting away.
And he is hard, amazingly hard and thick, and he loses no time in beginning to fuck her, sawing brutally in and out of her. He fucks her so hard that the bed shakes, and her ass hurts every time his loins slam into her, but at the same time it’s delicious. It’s perfect. It’s pleasure and it’s pain but just the right amount of pain to make her senses so fiercely acute.
And when he reaches down and grabs her hair and pulls her head up so he can see her face as he fucks her, she realizes that she’s going to come again, that this shameful whipping has made her so hot that she’s about to orgasm yet again on his hard, demanding cock.
shereads
Sloganless
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2003
- Posts
- 19,242
Karen
He is entirely with her and in her, in a way that no other man has been.
Hers. Rob is hers.
As her body begins to reach for this next, unlikely climax - I can't be coming again this soon! - Karen struggles to fuck Rob back. But with her ankles held tightly apart and her hands bound, and with Rob pounding into her from behind, she's helpless to do anything but feel.
"Too much -- "
She feels too much!
"No Rob no Rob no no no noooo..."
"Ungh - Ungh - Ungh!" he grunts in time with his unpitying thrusts and commands her, "Come! UNGH! Come damn you!"
She is no one now, and nothing, except for the sensations that are sweeping through her body in waves. The welts on her bottom might be no worse than the pain of a sunburn, if not for the pummeling by Rob's big body. Every wiry pubic hair stabs her bare and sensitized skin like a needle.
Impaled by needles. Impaled by cock-flesh.
The burning spreads to her punished cunt, and as if fighting a fire, her sex releases a steady stream of liquid that transforms the pain into the pure essence of lust.
"F-fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Karen chants. No longer thinking, no longer resisting.
Rob is in her. With her. Filling her.
"God! You're fucking me! Fucking meeeeeee AHHHHH GOD --"
At the moment of climax, Karen can't make a sound. She'd love to scream for him, love to announce their mutual triumph, but every nerve in her body that isn't spasming like her inner walls, is paralyzed as if in the grip of a demon. Her eyes stare at nothing. The grip of Rob's hand in her hair changes, his breathing changes, the pace of his fucking becomes more urgent, and that's how she knows that he's seen and felt what's happening to her.
Come with me. Her mind doesn't form the words, but it's what she would beg for if she could. His cum inside her hurt pussy would feel so good...
"Fucking cunt!" he cries, his voice coming from someplace far off, but getting closer -- "Fuck yes, fuck YES!" -- closer to the place where Karen waits for him.
"AHHH SHIT!" He cries as if in pain, and Karen sighs with relief as the hot-cool flood of sperm bathes her spasming pussy.
For now, they belong to each other. While she wears the collar that marks her submission, and while her skin wears the mark of the whip, there are no barriers between Rob and Karen. She would cry from the joy of it, but the tears won't come.
He is entirely with her and in her, in a way that no other man has been.
Hers. Rob is hers.
As her body begins to reach for this next, unlikely climax - I can't be coming again this soon! - Karen struggles to fuck Rob back. But with her ankles held tightly apart and her hands bound, and with Rob pounding into her from behind, she's helpless to do anything but feel.
"Too much -- "
She feels too much!
"No Rob no Rob no no no noooo..."
"Ungh - Ungh - Ungh!" he grunts in time with his unpitying thrusts and commands her, "Come! UNGH! Come damn you!"
She is no one now, and nothing, except for the sensations that are sweeping through her body in waves. The welts on her bottom might be no worse than the pain of a sunburn, if not for the pummeling by Rob's big body. Every wiry pubic hair stabs her bare and sensitized skin like a needle.
Impaled by needles. Impaled by cock-flesh.
The burning spreads to her punished cunt, and as if fighting a fire, her sex releases a steady stream of liquid that transforms the pain into the pure essence of lust.
"F-fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Karen chants. No longer thinking, no longer resisting.
Rob is in her. With her. Filling her.
"God! You're fucking me! Fucking meeeeeee AHHHHH GOD --"
At the moment of climax, Karen can't make a sound. She'd love to scream for him, love to announce their mutual triumph, but every nerve in her body that isn't spasming like her inner walls, is paralyzed as if in the grip of a demon. Her eyes stare at nothing. The grip of Rob's hand in her hair changes, his breathing changes, the pace of his fucking becomes more urgent, and that's how she knows that he's seen and felt what's happening to her.
Come with me. Her mind doesn't form the words, but it's what she would beg for if she could. His cum inside her hurt pussy would feel so good...
"Fucking cunt!" he cries, his voice coming from someplace far off, but getting closer -- "Fuck yes, fuck YES!" -- closer to the place where Karen waits for him.
"AHHH SHIT!" He cries as if in pain, and Karen sighs with relief as the hot-cool flood of sperm bathes her spasming pussy.
For now, they belong to each other. While she wears the collar that marks her submission, and while her skin wears the mark of the whip, there are no barriers between Rob and Karen. She would cry from the joy of it, but the tears won't come.
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dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
- Joined
- Oct 10, 2002
- Posts
- 11,528
In the dim distance he can hear a foghorn, and outside the big glass windows overlooking the ocean is nothing but solid gray mist. It’s a little after five in the morning according to her bedside clock, and he can feel the damp in the air, but here in bed beneath the comforter it’s warm with the heat of their bodies and there’s no need to get up.
She’s molded herself perfectly to the space between his arm and his body, and he remembers how last night as they were going to sleep she pressed hard against him as if trying to burrow inside, seeking refuge,. her tears wetting his chest. Her features now are composed in sleep, her dark hair spread over his shoulder and chest. One hand rests on his chest, the black leather cuff still buckled around her wrist, the collar is still around her neck.
She looks so peaceful now, so content, and that’s good. The peace and contentment is part of it too, the calm after the storm of last night’s emotions. The whip is never easy. He knows that, especially for a woman like Karen whose armor is so thick and impervious, toughened by her years in the entertainment business. It’s hard for her to let it go; harder for her to have it taken from her, but it had to be done. The only way it could work was if he stripped her naked, not only of her clothes, but of all her usual defenses, all the armor she used to insulate herself from life. He had done that with the whip, and she had responded just as he had hoped, like an exposed nerve: sensation almost too intense to bear, pleasure that bordered on pain.
He felt rather than saw her eyes open. She started to rise but he pressed her back down into bed with his arm around his shoulder. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s early yet.”
He could almost feel the memories of last night as they came back to her body: a stiffening, a slight shudder, and then a relaxation as she recalled how afterwards he had taken her in his arms and held her close, kissing away her tears, caressing her, talking to her, kissing and soothing the welts on her ass. He could be violent, but he could be gentle too, and it was important that she know that no matter what he did, his intention was never to hurt her just for pain’s sake. Behind every stroke of the whip, every slap of his hand on her ass, there was desire; silly as it sounds, there was love.
She rolled away from him and twisted to look over her shoulder at the window, to see what sort of day it was, and as she did she stretched the cover tight over her naked body and the thrust of her breast. Instinctively he reached out and traced her form, his fingers seeking her nipple when they reached her breast. He tweaked her, and she hissed and turned her eyes on him. She might still be fuzzy with sleep, but already her violet eyes were alive and glowing. Did he want her? If he did, she was ready. She wasn’t half awake yet but she would be ready for him if that’s what he wanted. Her eyes told him that and he smiled: such a hot and responsive bitch.
He kissed her quickly to show her that no, he didn’t want her yet, and he got out of bed.
“You said it was early,” she complained.
“Can a guy use the john?” he teased her. “Is the Master allowed?”
She watched him as he stretched, looking at this man who had taken her like she’d never been taken before. She hardly knew his body and so she studied him now, determined to memorize every line, every contour. He seemed to notice because he laughed, then turned and walked to the bath room.
Karen sank back down into the warmth of the bed. Her ass hurt and her pussy was sore, and when she thought of what had happened last night she felt herself grow aroused again. She had no explanation for it, for the way she’d responded to his apparent cruelty. Maybe it was because she knew that it wasn’t cruelty, not really. It was passion. It was his refusal to let her off the hook, to let her hide, to be anywhere but right there with him, naked and exposed. The way he’d whipped her, the way he’d made her be what he wanted: bare, raw, entirely sexual. It was what she’d wanted too. She’d never felt so alive.
She felt the mattress sag as he climbed back into bed with her, and instinctively she burrowed against his hard body again, warming him with her own heat. he put his arms around her and immediately she felt secure and protected and perfectly at home.
“We’ve got to get some food,” he said.
Food? Food? What was food? Oh yes, she remembered. She’d meant to shop before he’d got there and lay in something to eat, but in her hurry to escape—had that really been her? Had that really been yesterday?—she had forgotten.
“It’s too early,” she said. “I’ll go when they open. You stay here and rest.”
He laughed. “Unh-uh. I want to see the town. I want you to show me around.”
“I don’t even know it myself. I’ve only been up here a couple times.”
“Then we’ll explore it together.” he said. “I don’t want to stay cooped up in here all the time. We’ll go stir crazy.”
She sunk down below the comforter so she could press her lips against his chest and inhale his scent, surround herself with his heat and humidity.
“Okay,” she said, “but later, okay? Later."
She’s molded herself perfectly to the space between his arm and his body, and he remembers how last night as they were going to sleep she pressed hard against him as if trying to burrow inside, seeking refuge,. her tears wetting his chest. Her features now are composed in sleep, her dark hair spread over his shoulder and chest. One hand rests on his chest, the black leather cuff still buckled around her wrist, the collar is still around her neck.
She looks so peaceful now, so content, and that’s good. The peace and contentment is part of it too, the calm after the storm of last night’s emotions. The whip is never easy. He knows that, especially for a woman like Karen whose armor is so thick and impervious, toughened by her years in the entertainment business. It’s hard for her to let it go; harder for her to have it taken from her, but it had to be done. The only way it could work was if he stripped her naked, not only of her clothes, but of all her usual defenses, all the armor she used to insulate herself from life. He had done that with the whip, and she had responded just as he had hoped, like an exposed nerve: sensation almost too intense to bear, pleasure that bordered on pain.
He felt rather than saw her eyes open. She started to rise but he pressed her back down into bed with his arm around his shoulder. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s early yet.”
He could almost feel the memories of last night as they came back to her body: a stiffening, a slight shudder, and then a relaxation as she recalled how afterwards he had taken her in his arms and held her close, kissing away her tears, caressing her, talking to her, kissing and soothing the welts on her ass. He could be violent, but he could be gentle too, and it was important that she know that no matter what he did, his intention was never to hurt her just for pain’s sake. Behind every stroke of the whip, every slap of his hand on her ass, there was desire; silly as it sounds, there was love.
She rolled away from him and twisted to look over her shoulder at the window, to see what sort of day it was, and as she did she stretched the cover tight over her naked body and the thrust of her breast. Instinctively he reached out and traced her form, his fingers seeking her nipple when they reached her breast. He tweaked her, and she hissed and turned her eyes on him. She might still be fuzzy with sleep, but already her violet eyes were alive and glowing. Did he want her? If he did, she was ready. She wasn’t half awake yet but she would be ready for him if that’s what he wanted. Her eyes told him that and he smiled: such a hot and responsive bitch.
He kissed her quickly to show her that no, he didn’t want her yet, and he got out of bed.
“You said it was early,” she complained.
“Can a guy use the john?” he teased her. “Is the Master allowed?”
She watched him as he stretched, looking at this man who had taken her like she’d never been taken before. She hardly knew his body and so she studied him now, determined to memorize every line, every contour. He seemed to notice because he laughed, then turned and walked to the bath room.
Karen sank back down into the warmth of the bed. Her ass hurt and her pussy was sore, and when she thought of what had happened last night she felt herself grow aroused again. She had no explanation for it, for the way she’d responded to his apparent cruelty. Maybe it was because she knew that it wasn’t cruelty, not really. It was passion. It was his refusal to let her off the hook, to let her hide, to be anywhere but right there with him, naked and exposed. The way he’d whipped her, the way he’d made her be what he wanted: bare, raw, entirely sexual. It was what she’d wanted too. She’d never felt so alive.
She felt the mattress sag as he climbed back into bed with her, and instinctively she burrowed against his hard body again, warming him with her own heat. he put his arms around her and immediately she felt secure and protected and perfectly at home.
“We’ve got to get some food,” he said.
Food? Food? What was food? Oh yes, she remembered. She’d meant to shop before he’d got there and lay in something to eat, but in her hurry to escape—had that really been her? Had that really been yesterday?—she had forgotten.
“It’s too early,” she said. “I’ll go when they open. You stay here and rest.”
He laughed. “Unh-uh. I want to see the town. I want you to show me around.”
“I don’t even know it myself. I’ve only been up here a couple times.”
“Then we’ll explore it together.” he said. “I don’t want to stay cooped up in here all the time. We’ll go stir crazy.”
She sunk down below the comforter so she could press her lips against his chest and inhale his scent, surround herself with his heat and humidity.
“Okay,” she said, “but later, okay? Later."
shereads
Sloganless
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2003
- Posts
- 19,242
Karen
They slept late, reluctant to leave the warm, cotton-and-down cocoon of the big antique bed. When the room began to warm, hours after sunrise, Karen awoke and noted with pleasure that the sky had cleared. There were no curtains to interfere with the view; the cottage's absolute privacy made them unnecessary. The Pacific glittered to the horizon. The day would be warm for their trip into the village, but the cottage was old and drafty and held onto last night's chill.
It was difficult to leave Rob's heat and warmth. But Karen was anxious to shower alone; her ass was sore from the whip, not painfully so but enough that she wanted to be alone when she found out what it looked like.
She felt strangely proud of having submitted to the whip, and she was relieved when the full-length mirror in the bathroom showed bruises but nothing dramatic. She'd always envisioned red slash-marks like the ones described in fiction. She should have known Rob would never strike her hard enough to open her skin or leave a scar.
He had promised her she'd feel it, though. "I want you to feel me afterwards," her cyber-lover had written. "I want you to feel it for hours, for days, so you're always aware of me. Always ready for me."
She was aware. She was ready.
She daydreamed of him as she showered. There were so many contradictions... His gentle nature, his violent sexual intensity. The anger that simmered beneath the surface and boiled over during sex, fountaining from his cock as hot bursts of semen, or reddening her flesh when he spanked or whipped her.
His astonishing tenderness in the aftermath.
The almost worshipful touch of his lips and tongue on her whipped bottom, accompanied with a stream of whispered endearments, would remain Karen's single most vivid memory of last night. She had melted with love when he'd expressed his gratitude to her for having accepted and soothed his rage.
He had made love to her gently then, and it had felt like a benediction. She had never known a lover so focused on his partner, so thirsty for the responses he aroused in her, whether he was mastering her or simply cherishing her body.
When she emerged from the shower, flushed from the steam and smelling of baby powder and lavendar-scented shampoo, Rob was awake and waiting for her. Propped up against a mountain of pillows and wearing a wicked smile that was a bit playful and a lot aroused, he reminded her of a god waiting to be serviced by his human concubine.
She felt a momentary thrill of fear; they were still essentially strangers, after all, and Karen had played a dangerous game yesterday. Remembering the tenderness, Karen smiled and her fear gave way to anticipation. She lowered her lashes and flirted like a young girl, approaching the bed with a teasing saunter and swaying hips.
"You showered without me, Karen. You'll have to be disciplined."
Karen felt her nipples harden to painful little points at the sound of his half-playful threat. Her bruised and still-tender pussy announced its readiness for its master with a naughty trickle of moisture.
She knelt on the bed at his feet and pulled the leather collar from the pocket of the robe.
"You can't discipline me. I'm not wearing my collar, and I can do anything I want." She held the collar out to him like an offering; she'd meant to tease at first, but her offer of the collar was sincere. And when he gripped her wrist and pulled her toward him, her sudden shiver was real.
Obediently - eagerly - she bent her head toward him and held her wet curtain of dark hair out of the way, asking to be made his again by the placement of the collar.
Rob's big hands fastened the buckle. Then he looped a finger through one of the metal rings and gave a gentle but entirely serious tug. She followed obediently, and was grateful when he brought her lips to his.
God, this man could kiss. He could ready her for sex with nothing more than tongue-play, and when Karen softly bit his full lower lip, he responded with harsh urgency. She felt her cunt clenching as if he were inside her already.
It ached. Her body ached with need.
"Fuck me like your bitch," she said into his mouth, "On all fours, like an animal. You always said you would."
Suddenly she was no more than a ragdoll in his powerful arms. He lifted her, stripping the bathrobe from her steam-pinkened body, and positioned her so that she faced away from him on her hands and knees. Her skin was still damp, but she didn't feel cold; the heat of Rob's arousal seemed to fill the room.
Leaning over her, his stiff meat pressing against her ass, he was pure male power.
"Put your head down on your arms...Like this." He adjusted her position with hard, calloused hands, and within seconds she was soaking wet - and as ripe for fucking as she had ever been in her life.
He caressed her bruised ass with one hand and held her hip with the other. His breathing evidenced his increasing arousal as he traced the marks with his fingertips. For a long, tense moment, as he studied the marks of their first night, Karen imagined that he was considering what she wanted - and judging what she needed and deserved.
"Did you make your master punish you last night, Karen?"
"Yes. I made him whip me." Her voice was a whimpered plea. With nothing more than the touch of his hands and the power of his voice, her master had transformed her back into his slave.
She gloried in it. Her body quivered with anticipation. Rob slapped the insides her her thighs to make her part them wide.
"Are you wet, bitch?" He tested her slit with a finger, and her body welcomed it with a rich dollop of cream.
"I am, baby. I'm so wet for you," she sobbed, wriggling her bottom to urge him on. So exposed. So ashamed. On display for him, like an animal in heat.
"God Rob I need you so much..."
She gasped and stiffened. His finger had crept up the crevice between her buttocks and lingered at the smaller entrace. She remembered his fingers in the car last night, claiming her while he raped her mouth. Her hands bound, he had forced her to suck him, forced her to admit her lust for him. He had been rough with her, but she had made it happen that way. And god help her she had loved it.
His finger teased and pressed and circled.
"What do you need, Karen."
"Anything you want, baby...Anything you want."
They slept late, reluctant to leave the warm, cotton-and-down cocoon of the big antique bed. When the room began to warm, hours after sunrise, Karen awoke and noted with pleasure that the sky had cleared. There were no curtains to interfere with the view; the cottage's absolute privacy made them unnecessary. The Pacific glittered to the horizon. The day would be warm for their trip into the village, but the cottage was old and drafty and held onto last night's chill.
It was difficult to leave Rob's heat and warmth. But Karen was anxious to shower alone; her ass was sore from the whip, not painfully so but enough that she wanted to be alone when she found out what it looked like.
She felt strangely proud of having submitted to the whip, and she was relieved when the full-length mirror in the bathroom showed bruises but nothing dramatic. She'd always envisioned red slash-marks like the ones described in fiction. She should have known Rob would never strike her hard enough to open her skin or leave a scar.
He had promised her she'd feel it, though. "I want you to feel me afterwards," her cyber-lover had written. "I want you to feel it for hours, for days, so you're always aware of me. Always ready for me."
She was aware. She was ready.
She daydreamed of him as she showered. There were so many contradictions... His gentle nature, his violent sexual intensity. The anger that simmered beneath the surface and boiled over during sex, fountaining from his cock as hot bursts of semen, or reddening her flesh when he spanked or whipped her.
His astonishing tenderness in the aftermath.
The almost worshipful touch of his lips and tongue on her whipped bottom, accompanied with a stream of whispered endearments, would remain Karen's single most vivid memory of last night. She had melted with love when he'd expressed his gratitude to her for having accepted and soothed his rage.
He had made love to her gently then, and it had felt like a benediction. She had never known a lover so focused on his partner, so thirsty for the responses he aroused in her, whether he was mastering her or simply cherishing her body.
When she emerged from the shower, flushed from the steam and smelling of baby powder and lavendar-scented shampoo, Rob was awake and waiting for her. Propped up against a mountain of pillows and wearing a wicked smile that was a bit playful and a lot aroused, he reminded her of a god waiting to be serviced by his human concubine.
She felt a momentary thrill of fear; they were still essentially strangers, after all, and Karen had played a dangerous game yesterday. Remembering the tenderness, Karen smiled and her fear gave way to anticipation. She lowered her lashes and flirted like a young girl, approaching the bed with a teasing saunter and swaying hips.
"You showered without me, Karen. You'll have to be disciplined."
Karen felt her nipples harden to painful little points at the sound of his half-playful threat. Her bruised and still-tender pussy announced its readiness for its master with a naughty trickle of moisture.
She knelt on the bed at his feet and pulled the leather collar from the pocket of the robe.
"You can't discipline me. I'm not wearing my collar, and I can do anything I want." She held the collar out to him like an offering; she'd meant to tease at first, but her offer of the collar was sincere. And when he gripped her wrist and pulled her toward him, her sudden shiver was real.
Obediently - eagerly - she bent her head toward him and held her wet curtain of dark hair out of the way, asking to be made his again by the placement of the collar.
Rob's big hands fastened the buckle. Then he looped a finger through one of the metal rings and gave a gentle but entirely serious tug. She followed obediently, and was grateful when he brought her lips to his.
God, this man could kiss. He could ready her for sex with nothing more than tongue-play, and when Karen softly bit his full lower lip, he responded with harsh urgency. She felt her cunt clenching as if he were inside her already.
It ached. Her body ached with need.
"Fuck me like your bitch," she said into his mouth, "On all fours, like an animal. You always said you would."
Suddenly she was no more than a ragdoll in his powerful arms. He lifted her, stripping the bathrobe from her steam-pinkened body, and positioned her so that she faced away from him on her hands and knees. Her skin was still damp, but she didn't feel cold; the heat of Rob's arousal seemed to fill the room.
Leaning over her, his stiff meat pressing against her ass, he was pure male power.
"Put your head down on your arms...Like this." He adjusted her position with hard, calloused hands, and within seconds she was soaking wet - and as ripe for fucking as she had ever been in her life.
He caressed her bruised ass with one hand and held her hip with the other. His breathing evidenced his increasing arousal as he traced the marks with his fingertips. For a long, tense moment, as he studied the marks of their first night, Karen imagined that he was considering what she wanted - and judging what she needed and deserved.
"Did you make your master punish you last night, Karen?"
"Yes. I made him whip me." Her voice was a whimpered plea. With nothing more than the touch of his hands and the power of his voice, her master had transformed her back into his slave.
She gloried in it. Her body quivered with anticipation. Rob slapped the insides her her thighs to make her part them wide.
"Are you wet, bitch?" He tested her slit with a finger, and her body welcomed it with a rich dollop of cream.
"I am, baby. I'm so wet for you," she sobbed, wriggling her bottom to urge him on. So exposed. So ashamed. On display for him, like an animal in heat.
"God Rob I need you so much..."
She gasped and stiffened. His finger had crept up the crevice between her buttocks and lingered at the smaller entrace. She remembered his fingers in the car last night, claiming her while he raped her mouth. Her hands bound, he had forced her to suck him, forced her to admit her lust for him. He had been rough with her, but she had made it happen that way. And god help her she had loved it.
His finger teased and pressed and circled.
"What do you need, Karen."
"Anything you want, baby...Anything you want."
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