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“We taste good together,” she said. “I can taste my own juices on your cock.”
The girls he dated never talked like that. They were cookie-cutter girls, all almost the same, like Barbies on a shelf. They let him fuck them. They let him use them. But they didn’t talk like that.
“Now, roll over like a good boy.”
“What the fuck?”
“Do it, Dean. You know you want to.”
“What do I want? What do you think I want?”
She bent down and pressed her lips to the side of his neck and kissed him. Then she bit his left earlobe and whispered, “You want me to whip you, and then you want me to fuck you.”
“You’re crazy.”
She put her hand on his cock. His dick throbbed.
“Am I?”
He swallowed and looked at her. “How do you know what I want?”
“Simple. Because you’ve been looking for years without ever finding it. Because you’re on an endless quest, a nameless search, and you think you know what you’re looking for...but you don’t.”
She climbed onto the mattress and got between his legs. She licked his balls and he rattled the headboard once more. Christ, what was she doing to him? His head was spinning.
“Turn over, Dean. Turn over and let me make it all better.”
He could tell her to release him, and he was pretty sure she would. He thought he’d check to see.
“Undo the cuffs.”
She pulled the key out immediately. It was dangling from a chain around her neck. “You want me to?” She moved to the headboard, but before she could insert the key into the lock, he stopped her.
“No.” He’d just been testing. Now he saw that he was safe. If he needed her to let him go, she would. But he didn’t want her to let him go. Not really.
He moved on the mattress, rolling over, the handcuff chain turning with him. He was stretched out on the bed on his stomach, his cock a living beast beneath him, craving release. He could feel the precome leaking out, and he wondered whether she knew how close he was.
She seemed to know everything.
Connie climbed off the bed and he turned to look at her. Stunning, that’s what she was. In that white silk robe that barely skimmed her thighs, she was a vision. Her long hair was so perfectly pin-straight. Her eyes were bright and warm for being such a dark brown. He tended to do the blondes. But he suddenly couldn’t remember why. She had small tits, and he always went for big knockers. She had slim hips, and that dark patch of curls between her thighs, and...
She doubled up the belt and then struck her first blow. He winced, but didn’t say a word. His cock twitched. He would not say that he liked it, but he knew that he did. The pain turned something on inside of him, something he’d never felt before. She struck him again, and he bit the inside of his bottom lip. He wondered how hard she’d hit him, how long she’d make this last. The third blow made him exhale between his teeth, a hissing sigh. He knew all about pain from the gym. He worked out to the nth degree, keeping his body in the type of tip-top shape required for his extracurricular activities. He liked to push himself past his previous boundaries, always striving for a new level, a new number on the machines.
This pain was different. She hit him rapidly, crisscrossing his ass with the blows, and he saw red behind closed lids, a dark purply red that colored this new experience. Where there was pain, there was also pleasure. When she’d reached ten, Connie stroked her palm over his heated skin. She touched the welts, and he groaned.
“You like that.” This wasn’t a question.
He answered anyway, “Yeah.” There was no reason to lie to her. She could tell for herself.
“You want to fuck me?” He looked at her, and he realized he did. Badly.
“Yeah.”
“It will cost you ten more to fuck my pussy.”
He nodded instantly. He could take ten more. She struck him, and she counted the blows. The leather seemed to lick at his skin, each stripe reverberating deep inside of him.
When she reached ten, he expected her to uncuff him, to let him at her, in her. He could not wait to feel her warm, wet pussy on his cock. But she paused and bent close to him once more, as she had at the start.
