On Exacting Pain

“Where do you want to start?” she asks, pulling his shirt over his head. She leans down and kisses his belly, unbuttoning the waistband of his shorts.

Before the last of his friends had left, she had been making crude gestures at him through the patio window, promising a good time. She slides his shorts down, pulling him close and stroking him through his boxers. He is already hard; she smiles.

He always started good-naturedly, letting her stroke him and press herself against his large frame. She backs away from the door, into the center of the room, bringing him with her, dropping to her knees. He looks down at her and strokes himself, grinning. He knows how much she loves to suck him.

She pulls his boxers down, red with skinny white stripes, chewing her lip happily at the sight of his firm cock. She licks her lips, licks the tip. He groans, slipping his dick into her wet mouth. She swallows him without a sound, digging her fingers into his thighs and clinging tightly to him. It is a million priceless sensations; lapping him, licking him, on her knees in the dark room with his eyes on her every move. She sucks him diligently, opening her throat wide so that he can fuck her face, sliding into her slippery smile.

He wants fast, faster; he yanks her hair into his fists and grinds past her tongue furiously. She squeaks, throat fighting his vicious plunging. Her mouth is soaked, drenched and saliva is dripping from her swollen lips. His fists tighten in her hair and she rises on her knees, moaning with pain.

She can only feel raw, exploited; her pussy is sizzling, sopping.

His thrusts slow and she rips her mouth from his cock, sucking air past the strands of wet on her lips. She is gasping hard, but before she can right herself, he is back in her mouth again, choking her, gagging her. Tears spill from her lids, flooding black paint down her cheeks. Her groans and squeals punctuate the desperate slurping.

He grabs her hair, clenching it forcefully. Her eyes water and he yanks her from his dick again, pulling hard on her locks and leaning down to her face.

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, slapping her hard across the face. She whimpers, nodding. She’s not ashamed of her wantonness, not yet. He slaps her again, then grabs his dick and forces it back into her mouth, her jaw still aching from his heavy palm. She sucks him hungrily, but she is no longer careful.

He growls.

Tugging her hair again, he pulls her off, snapping her neck back so that her eyes meet his, “I want to fuck your ass.”

She nods, flinching. She knows how much this will hurt her, but she is delirious with desire to please him. Anything for more—anything.

“I want to fuck your ass,” he repeats, twisting hard on her hair and slapping her face again. She nods, trembling, cowering.

“Y-yess,” she says, peeking up at him. His eyes flash and he shakes her head roughly, slapping her cheek again. She cries out, remembering, “Yess, yes S-sir.”

He lets go of her head, furiously, “That wasn’t a request. Take your jeans off. Now.”

She stands quickly, rubbing her face, aware of how ridiculously wet she is. She strips quickly, yanking her jeans and panties down together, afraid to make him ask again. He shoves her toward the couch and she lays over it, pressing her cheek against the arm and whimpering.

“You like pain?” he asks, slapping her ass angrily. She shrieks, darting up and rubbing her backside.

“Shut up,” he commands, pushing her back down and slapping her harder. She screams, whining pathetically and trying to stay bent.

“I said,” he snarls, pulling her head to his lips and hissing, “Shut...up.”

He pushes her back down and slaps her in the same spot two more, three more times, making her howl and choke back cries. She tries very hard to be good, be still; it’s difficult when she knows that what is coming will be much worse.

He rubs his cock against her ass and she flinches, hugging the couch tightly, soft mewling escaping her wet lips. He shoves it hard into her snug asshole; she gasps, scratching at the couch. She can’t help it, she moans miserably as he stretches into her cruelly, holding her down.

“Shut up,” he reminds her, pushing slowly but determinedly. He groans; her asshole is so tight. It’s been awhile since he has used her this way and she feels good, real good. He closes his eyes, irritated by her faint cries.

“Ohhhh,” she whimpers, feeling him slide all the way in, neatly. She grinds against the couch, taut and aching. After a few moments of letting her acclimate to his thick meat, he pulls out mercifully and smacks her again. She squeals, pain dancing exquisitely across her naked flesh. Her legs are shaking and she is gasping, moaning.

He slides himself into her again; her eyes squeeze shut and she squeals.

He’ll break her soon; the pain is unbearable and she knows that she will feel it for the next few days. He scrapes into her ass slowly, shuddering with her tightness. She has sucked him too long, she is too tight, and he knows this won’t last. He doesn’t care; this isn’t for her anyway.

He pounds her furiously; her pained squeals become ecstatic groans. The feeling is absurd, is unexplainable; she knows that tingling seesaw in her pussy. She’s going to cum, and it feels like a plummeting rollercoaster.

He fucks her fast, crushing himself against her. He makes sure she knows he is about to cum in her ass; he needs no permission, he simply wants to remind her that it is him in her most private of parts, leaving her soiled.

Panting hard, she welcomes it, battered and trembling. She can feel; pain...beautiful, blissful, cleansing pain.