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I wanted to see how little of the drugs I could get away with at a time. Not because I wanted her in pain, or because I couldn't get more if I looked, but because the last dose had made her slow and sloppy, and I was a little worried about her staying conscious and on the bike if I gave her the same amount.
"Here," I said, shoving a pill between her lips, watching as she struggled to choke it back without water. "That will take a little longer," I added as she continued to rock. "I'm trying to see how little I can give you," I admitted. "So you stay awake and can still hold on. I'm not trying to make you suffer," I added, feeling a little dazed as my hand lifted, went to the back of her neck, and started to massage there.
I was not, outside of sex itself, a touchy-feely sort of individual. I never felt the need to actually reach out and comfort someone. And after being on the human plane as long as I had, let's just say I'd come across a hell of a lot of human suffering. If I were so inclined to do so, you'd think the urge would have shown up before right that moment.
"It hurts," she whimpered, hands grabbing my pant legs.
"One more pill," I said, pushing it in her mouth. "But you have to give it twenty or so to see if it works."
"I can't."
"You have to," I said, looking down at the backpack where I knew there were more needles full of shit that would instantly take the pain away, but I wanted to see if we could get away with less. I'd give her more if the pain got to the level like the night before. But we had to wait it out.
"Please." It was the pleading sound that did me in. It pierced something inside me that I didn't know existed. A place that held shit like empathy and compassion. Human shit. Things I'd never really experienced before.
"Want to try something else?" I asked. "Until the pills kick in? Think you said it was better than the drugs," I added, waiting for her to understand.
When she did, she was on her feet, reaching to push the waistband of her pants down.
Was I probably a complete shit for using orgasms as pain relief when I had other means? Possibly. Could it truly be called consent when she felt like there was no other option? It was dubious at best.
But before I could finish weighing the ways it was fucked up, her hand was grabbing mine, pressing it between her thighs.
My fingers moved instinctively, without me really deciding to make them do so.
Within a minute, I could feel her pussy drenching the thin material of her panties, and the whimpers that escaped her sounded a fuck of a lot like pleasure rather than pain.
I figured so long as the pleasure was for her and her alone, it still skirted that line of consent.
And, well, I was going back to hell anyway.
Might as well enjoy the moment.
My fingers slipped inside her panties, sliding up her wet pussy, finding the bud of her clit, and working it with my thumb as my fingers slid down, sliding two inside her tight cunt, stroking lazily for a moment before her whimpers became definite moans that spurred me on. My fingers thrust harder and faster as my thumb worked her clit. It wasn't long before her walls started to tighten as her orgasm got close.
"Come around my fingers," I demanded, turning them, stroking against the top wall of her pussy until she spasmed around me, her muscles clenching over and over. "There you go," I murmured as she clung to me after, as she tried to slow down her breathing.
It wasn't long, though, before the post-orgasm haze lifted, and she was whimpering in pain again.
"Come here," I demanded, wrapping an arm around her waist, half-dragging her with me toward a grassy patch of ground, lowering her onto it, then removing her pants completely as I kneeled at her feet.
Reaching up, I grabbed her knees, pulling them apart, pressing them down toward her sides, spreading her wide for me.
My greedy gaze went to her slick pussy for a long moment, just drinking her in, before her hips started to writhe, begging for more.
My gaze went to hers, a cocky smirk pulling at my lips. Because I knew she had no idea what she was in for.
They never did.
Oral was oral and it was great with any partner who knew how to use their tongue.
But go ahead and add in a fork to that tongue?
Oh, yeah.
She'd scream.
They always screamed.
On a primal growl, I lowered myself down, burying my face in her, working her clit with a ruthless determination, driving her up and over. Then up and over again.
