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He had to be bruising me. The pain mounted,smack smack smack smack smack.I tried to twist away and he grabbed my neck. I felt the spoon trace down my thigh while his erection taunted me through his jeans. Torturing me—that’s what aroused him. That’s why he was so hard.
Aside from the massive cock against my bare, sore ass, I could tell he was turned on from his breathing. He used the spoon to nudge my legs apart, rubbing it over my clit. I pressed back into his chest, shocked at the hard squeeze of arousal, but he interrupted my pleasure by smacking my pussy with the stinging implement.
“No,” I moaned.
“Oh, yes.” Pure pleasure for him. His voice was low and rough. His cock felt huge enough to bust out of his jeans.
He stroked my clit again. Hit me again. I pressed my legs together, trying to stop him, but then he smacked the front of my mons and ordered, “Open.”
I sobbed and opened, wriggling as he slid the devilish tool between my pussy lips. The smooth edge made my hips jerk each time it contacted my overstimulated clit. Thenwhack, and hot pain suffused my pussy.Whack, whack, whack.I jerked, arched, and sobbed, trying to climb him by bracing on his legs.
We were tangled together, bound victim, unbound force with two capable hands to grasp and punish me. Next time he stroked my clit, I ground back against him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted sex or if I wanted mercy. His arm tightened around my shoulders. I started to cry.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
Of course it hurt, but I knew he had to hear it. He wanted to hear me sob and beg, and it was so easy to give him that.
“Don’t anymore,” I shrieked. “Please!” My voice crackled with tears. “It stings so bad. Please don’t—oww!”
He held my thigh to one side and whacked my clit, not once, but three times in succession as I bawled for him to stop.
“You want me to stop?” he asked. I couldn’t answer because his arm was around my neck again, stealing my breath. I heard the bamboo spoon hit the floor, felt his hand against my ass undoing his jeans. My pussy was as wet as my tearful eyes. I felt the head of his cock at my pussy’s entrance and then he was surging inside me, driving to the hilt. He growled like an animal, emitting a grunt for each of my sobs.
I danced on my toes once again, this time trying to process the fullness of his possession on top of everything else. He let go of my neck, pinched my sore nipples, then replaced his headlock with a hand beneath my chin. My clit throbbed every time he pushed my head up. I wanted to hide against the post but he wouldn’t let me. I wanted to cower but he was in control, his other hand clamping over my pussy and clit. He pinched and worked my clit, pressing fingers against the sensitive nub to the point of pain. I bucked my hips, trying to escape his rough caresses, but he only fucked me harder and faster.
At some point my crying became whimpering, and my hips jerked forward as I worked my clit against his rough fingers. My feet hurt from hopping around, and my spine ached from arching and bending. He fucked me so hard he lifted me off the ground with each stroke, rattling the tether above me. When he grasped my neck and opened his teeth against my ear, my body came.
I saymy bodybecause the orgasm happened on its own, out of my control and out of my intention, and that made me cry hardest of all. It was the most conflicted, most powerful climax I’d ever had, an animalistic release. It was as if sex and arousal had exploded inside me, creating an orgiastic firework display, hot, shooting sparks driving me wild.
He must have come at the same time, while I was too out of it to notice. I felt him slump over me, his muscles going slack. His hand relaxed on my neck, then tightened again. My nipples and pussy still throbbed. My ass still hurt. I had tears in my hair and in my mouth, and my nose was running. When he pulled out of me, I tried to gather my sanity but my breath was still coming in short, panting bursts.
He held me against him, stroking my waist. “Are you okay? Look at me.”
I turned my head. His eyes were narrowed, and very intense.
“Are you okay?” he repeated. “Hold my gaze, Juliet. Answer me.”
“Yes, Sir,” I managed to say. My voice sounded high and thin. “I’m just having all these feelings.”
“Breathe.” He tilted my head up, brushed away some tears, but they were replaced by others. “Deep breaths. Be still for a moment.”
“I c-came after all.”
“I know. Sometimes that happens.”
His hands moved down my body to stroke my thighs, massaging them, holding them open so I couldn’t try to squeeze out another orgasm, which I desperately wanted to do.
“Are we finished?” I asked. “Was that the end of our session?”
“Almost. I know your arms are hurting. Here.” He reached above me and released my hands from the cuffs. As soon as I was free, I had two impulses. One was to shove him aside so I could run away screaming. The other was to throw myself into his arms, and that was what I did. He held me, stroking my back. His pants were still open, his zipper cold amidst all the heat between us. He was so warm and solid, but he was still aSir. He maintained a reserve, a steeliness that I’d seen many times, but never this way. After hugging and comforting me for a moment, he turned me back to face the post.
“Put your arms around it,” he said. “You’re allowed to flatten against it for support, if you’d like.” He paused. “You probably should.”
I did as he instructed, nestling the solid post between my punished breasts, pressing my pussy to the wood so he couldn’t hurt it anymore. While I watched over my shoulder, he did up his pants, shoving his cock inside, then picked up the thin dowel. I was glad he’d saved the flimsy, light implement for last, when my strength was pretty much gone.
“Put your feet together,” he prompted me. “Ass out. No matter what, you’re not to move. You’re not to let go of that post until I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
