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“Play with your pussy,” he ordered.
“But I’ll come.”
“Don’t come, not until I tell you,” he warned.
She leaned back, opened her thighs, and with a hand between her legs, she slid her fingers to the side of her hard bud, in just the right place.
“Put a finger in your ass,” he said.
Another finger fo
und her asshole and pushed at the entrance.
“Deeper,” he demanded. The candle lit his face so he looked like the devil. “Deeper in your ass, two fingers.”
She let the fingers penetrate further inside and her ass was wanting more. He was there with lube when it was too dry so she could slip further inside with as much of her hand as she could fit in her awkward self-rape. She fell to her side and used both hands to accomplish the task.
He stood over her watching. Having thrown off his pants, he was stroking his stiff erection, moving closer still, the candle leaning out over her. She looked up to see a bubble of hot melted wax at the cradle beneath the flame, ready to spill over the edge.
Another mind game, more torture. The anticipation ripped through her as if the wax had already struck the mark. She was panting from the fire in her pussy and the awaited burn.
When the hot wax spilled, it splashed on to her hip and dripped down her belly to her shaved mound. She rolled on her back.
“Yeeeach!” Her body sizzled. “Please no…” Her eyes flickered in the candle’s light, as if she were a demon whore rising from a darkened cavern.
Hot wax spilled again. Her well-attended cleft ground into the bed sheets in reply. She drew breath through her teeth, hissing.
Placing the candle on a table behind him, Miles drew a small whip from a drawer. “Open your legs and remove your hand.” He meant the hand that played with her cunt. She was getting too close. This cum would take forever, if he could manage it.
He cut her between her legs where the bruises and healing cuts were still visible. She didn’t like it, but it was in her loins too deep for her to resist too avidly. She mostly moaned protests which she expected him to ignore, and he did.
Her inner thighs were red again, and there were red marks rising on her belly and along the tender, shaved skin. The lashes made her howl. And though her agony was great, the pain transformed itself, so that she was begging for more, not for him to stop.
Seeing her excitement, Miles descended to the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders and penetrating her cunt. Leaning against her, her legs ached. Yet her pussy, so deeply penetrated, wanted him inside her deeper still, as far as he could go. She was orgasmic, pelvis thrusting into his; but when she was too close to climax, he changed positions. Rolling her over on top of him, she screwed his cock with a squeezing pussy.
“Fuck me, bitch.” He remained still, while she did dances on the shaft. Pulling in and out, gently, wildly, while her muscles pulsed and pulled. She wanted to intoxicate him with her seductive massage, so that he’d be overcome and ram the blessed rod straight through the ceiling of her interior.
Yet, he was determined to make her play, to stall the finish as long as he could. It was another torture for loins that wanted only fast, hard driving, reckless fucking.
With his erection still inside her, he pulled himself up, Tessa sitting on his cock, moving gently for a sweet moment of softer screwing. They hugged naked torsos, her breasts, her nipples, her jewelry pressed against his hairy chest—the cushion of her pierced and yielding flesh an affirmation that she was his.
Falling down on their sides, they almost spilled into laughter, but there was another round of going subterranean yet to traverse.
He turned her on her side, with her bottom pressed into his groin behind her, where she lay in the cradle of his arms, held tight by his unyielding strength. She sucked his finger in her mouth, like she would his cock, if it were offered. But now instead, his cock was poised at her anus, planning to push inside.
She felt his hand first, fingering her anus, where her own fingers had played; then the driving organ pressed against her sphincter and shoved. She raised one leg to make his journey easier.
He was in.
He moved slowly at first, as she gasped feeling ripples of pain—sharp, shooting, violating pain coursing through her. It seemed no matter how many times she’d been taken in the ass, it was a testy process getting used to the assault. The ripples eased. And then, as always, the crudest sensations became electrifying to her, in ways that made no sense, except that she knew she craved his cock in her ass. It was her pleasure to satisfy him, to have him as deep inside her as he could go, cumming with her taut muscles milking him dry.
Thoughts swam through her brain. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t look in his eyes. She could hardly play with herself, or him with her. In this position of captive surrender there was nothing but the feel of cock in ass to focus on. There was no hardened penis pressing at her face, or pussy there for her to suck, diverting her attention, or whips or paddles or lusty master/slave talk; just his arms, Miles dark, hairy, muscled arms, holding her tightly to him, as he moved at will inside her body’s deep recesses.
She was yielding, opening wider, letting more than just his cock inside her. There was a steady stream of power nestling in. She felt as if she were melting into his body heat, into his flesh, so that there were no spaces between them, just Tessa, a open vessel: submissive, acquiescent, reduced.
He picked up speed up and rammed her with barbarous jolts, while she gasped, feeling as if there were supernovas bursting inside her, flares igniting fires from cunt to head and toes and back again. All in the space of seconds, minutes, maybe hours.
He pressed against her with cock spewing, as if it could really pump her full. Then he withdrew dripping sperm. She groveled between his legs, lapping the remainders with her tongue, until he pulled her up and gently, firmly slapped her face.
