The first powerful stroke makes her cry out. The second splits her cervix. She cums on the third. A deep, thrumming that begins in her toes and runs in a rope through her head before shooting off into space.
She begs and pleads. She babbles. She closes her eyes and she cums over and over. Harder and harder.
Sometimes they walk. Hand in hand, strolling like young couples in love will. They talk. He is interested in her. He listens.
Usually, though, he kisses her. He steps in the door, takes her in his arms and kisses her until she melts. Face, shoulders, neck, top of her breasts, his kisses rain down upon her. Tonight was one of those nights.
He shoves his body up against her, pressing her back until she hits the wall. Her breath oomphs from her and he sucks it in with her soul. Hours they stand there kissing until her knees are weak and any resistance she might have had disappears in a puff cloud of smoke.
His hands roam her curves. Intimate with every detail. The heavy underside of her breast, the rounding of her hip. He fingers the outer portion of her thigh and palms the small of her back. His hands knead her shoulders and grasp her neck. Fingers press into her scalp.
She can't breathe for the kisses and can't stand for the way his hands strip her muscle from her bones. If his body wasn't sandwiching her against the wall so right, she thinks she would collapse.
He holds her up. Just holds her until it passes. She wonders how he stays so calm while her heart races. It bangs on her chest and fills her ears with the pounding need she associates with him.
Longing invades her every sense. She feels her fluids leaking down her legs, her scent ravages her nostrils. Her nipples are stiff where he touched them, tugged at them, pinched them. Her mouth is awash with his taste.
"Mmmmmm." He murmurs in her ear. "You're going to get it. I hope you have everything I sent you."
He lingers, his body close upon hers. Finally, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her tightly to his side and walks her down the hall.
Some days are light between them. Some days they have coffee or lunch in open patios throughout the city. Some nights they have earnest suppers, sharing dreams and food with equal aplomb.
Some days they walk in the sun and envision the other in a whirl of sweat and strain. Some nights they prowl in the moonlight like wolves and she wonders what would happen if he let her loose.
Other days his mood turns and he takes her. Long into those nights she runs, looking over her shoulder. The dark surrounds her and the air itself closes on her. Her heart bursts with the tirade unleashed upon her and she struggles for every breath.
When dawn comes, it is like a rainbow spread upon the grass of her soul. The light filters through blue and gold and the scent of spring pushes flowers into bloom. She wonders, sometimes, how he keeps her so afraid even as she knows him so well.
Maybe it's the way his excitement rises as her fears do. He turns completely wild with her need. Her anguish makes him fierce. Maybe it's that uncertainty is her companion and hope is barely acknowledged.
Sometimes she lives in a fantasy of silk and sweetness. Sometimes a heart pounding thriller. Some nights have full moons lighting lush open lawns sloping toward babbling brooks and cradled dreams. Sometimes the nights are dark forests of oppressive branches and lurking creatures behind every shadow.
When he takes her by the waist and leads her gently down the hall, she wonders only briefly what she will find at the end of their walk. It doesn't matter to her. She will go whatever awaits her.
When the phone rings. His ring. Text or call, her heart races. She leaps into his fast away arms. She feels him touch her as though he were next to her. Over her shoulder, looking on, his hand resting on the delicate curve where her neck glides into her collar bone, his thumbs claiming her.
The ring makes her sit up and go limp at the same time. Her breath puffs out until she is unable to catch it and bring it back in. If she has to answer, she finds herself panting as though she had run to the phone.
"What time do you get off?" The message asks.
Her fingers fumble a reply. "I can be home by 530. Showered by six. Is that okay?"
Normally she would take an hour or more to get ready. She won't keep him waiting. Never again. She learned that lesson a long time ago and she learned it well.
She has tested his limits. There was a summer night she lingered in the shower. Piddled in front the bathroom mirror. Fiddled with her hair. Tarried over her clothes. She couldn't seem to find the right outfit. She wanted everything perfect for him.
He was so patient. She would throw on a bathrobe to go check on him. He sat at the kitchen table, quietly working. He had his email up on the tablet. She would offer him wine or water, snacks or anything else. He quietly turned everything down.
She was more than forty minutes late. She thought she looked worth it when she was finally ready.
"Poor baby," she said when she finally came out. A bounce in her step. She wanted his approval. "I didn't mean to be so long." She wasn't really sorry.
He barely glances at her. A disappointing reaction. Doubt creeps into her ideal for the night. He finishes what he is working on, shuts down the tablet and rises.
"You look nice." He says.
She fumes inside as they walk to the car. She thinks she deserves a lot more than a "you look nice".
At the car, he straps her in and lingers a kiss on her lips. The effects leave her tingling for long minutes. Well after he starts the car and puts it into gear.
Before she knows where they are headed, he pulls into a parking lot and stops. It's the park near the house. He calmly walks around the car, opens her door and leans in. He holds her hand from opening the seat belt.
He reaches his hand down and brushes his thumb against her clit. Runs his fingers along her delicate lips. His mouth moves upon hers and nibbles. He strokes her. Kisses her firmly so she has nowhere to go.
His fingers slip up onto her clit and are insistent. The pressure of his mouth increases and she feels herself being forced upward. Gasping for air, burning for touch. She flares and melts when he presses against her.
She tries to moan or cry out, but his mouth overpowers her. Waves begin lapping at the junction of her thighs, in the rhythm of his fingers. His mouth moves corner to corner over hers and his fingers toy with the hood of her stiff nub. Her breath lolls in the heightening tensions. She squirms and with a nudge from his fingers, her wriggling bursts suddenly into struggles.
She loves to cum with his hard cock deep inside. When he forces her to orgasm without fucking her, though, she knows she is going to suffer. She wants to beg. She wants to try to change his mind. But the waves are becoming jolts of electricity searing her wire nerves and her thoughts are sparks in a night sky.
Her frantic squeals are sucked into his mouth. His kisses growing in intensity as she climbs the silver thread of her orgasm. When it snaps, flares of color, bolts of sound, waves of electricity spasm through her mind and body. The tremors fuse get nerves together into a ball of fire that explodes from deep in the pit of her.
His fingers burn where they touch her now. The sensation too strong for words. Her hips buck. Her legs won't stop shaking. Her lungs sear. She wants to run and cannot move. She becomes desperate with the effort.
His arms turn into solid bars holding her in place. Her struggles turn violent. For all that, easily turned aside by his power. She arches into the seat belt, pushes at his tongue as it invades her mouth. She writhes and tries to scream. Panic flames within her stomach and quickly spreads in a wild conflagration of her senses.
She is crying. Tears flowing in a rendering of relief. The moment he released her is impossible for her to pinpoint. She was out of control and out of her mind. She has no idea if she came again. She doesn't think so, but her body is weary with a deep ache that throbs through her sex. She moans with every thump of her heartbeat.
Her tears continue. He's never hurt her, really, but she has times when she is so afraid that she wonders if the terror isn't leaving a deeper cut than the whip he sometimes wields on her flesh.
When her shaking calms, he is in her ear. "That's one."
Her breath is a snubbing pant. "Wha?" She manages.
"You kept me waiting 48 minutes." His tone is interested. Not stern, but hard with a touch of amusement and raw unabashed excitement covering everything. Underlining all his words. She shivers at the pure animal lust bared to the bone of his voice.
"Poor baby. You're in for a very difficult night." His voice is husky. It slices through her mind and peels back the bleached skull of her world.
He kisses her again. Lingering and sweet before he leaves her limp form strapped in the seat, climbs in the other side and starts the engine.
She feels the spasms wracking her bones as the full impact of his words tear into her. She can't cum forty- eight times. Not keeping her sanity. She opens her mouth to tell him this, but realizes that he will not accept such a refusal from her. She considers telling him no. Would he take her anyway? Against her will?
She wonders. He is at the edge of his control. Her panic does that to him. She might push him too far. She can sense the heat coming off his body like a coiled jungle animal about to pounce. She feels her fluids running down her thighs.
The drive ends quickly. Too quickly for her to pull herself together. Her groin is humid and she feels the light hairs between her legs plastered to her mound. A throbbing courses through her sex.
She is subdued as he parks the car, turns off the engine and moves briskly around to her door. When he leans in, liquid gushes from her.
"I". She stammers. "I don't think I can eat."
"Poor thing." He husks without conviction. "We can have coffee and dessert. I want to show you off."
She has a frisson of delight at his words. He kisses her again. A slow, gentle mingling of breath and tip of tongue. His hands roam over her shoulders, her upper arms, her scalp and down onto her breasts. His palms run circles over her aureoles. She tries to tell him she can't.
She is panting as he leaves apart from her. Slipping gradually off of her offered flesh. A last peck at her lips. A last suckle and tug. He reaches past her and unbuckles the belt holding her in her seat. He pinches her nipple as he begins to help her from the car. Hard. She squeals.
He kisses her and stops her stammering. "I should make you cum again right now." Fluid gushes out her swollen sex. "The next time you're going to be sucking my cock." She can feel the mounting tension. Her body strung like a wire. "I love to feel you cum while I'm fucking your throat."
She moans. Loudly. He kisses her again and leads her from the car.
Dessert is plain. She picks the tiramisu, then picks at it. She takes just sips of coffee. He eats the key lime pie. Enjoys a full cup. He is lustful. She can feel the steam of his need wavering in the bare atmosphere.
There is a panic just under her surface. The sinking in her abdomen is a constant reminder of the long ordeal ahead of her. She wants to falter. To say no and run from him. If she does it now, here, he will allow it. He always says he isn't mean. He does nothing to her she doesn't want.
He reads her mind. "I don't do anything to you, you do not ache for with all your heart."
Her heart melts and pours from her open sex. She does want it. Desperately. As much as he frightens her with the tasks he places before her and lessons he delivers, she wants more. She needs it. Cannot live without it.
"Yes." She whispers.
"Forty - eight." He says firmly. "I want you to remember. To always choose your punishments."
"I don't want to be punished." She answers meekly.
"Oh?" His eyebrow arches. He is taunting her. "You seem to enjoy it very much." She shivers at his tone. "In fact, I think you like to see how far you can push me before you do get punished."
"No." She mouths. Before he has Finished his statement. "No. No. I don't want..." Her whispered pleas fall into the thinning night air. Despite her protests, her body tingles with an energy all its own.
There is a blur of time. Between kisses. Between touches. Between stoplights where he reaches over and smooths her face, her arm, her hand, her breast or thigh. Between parking lots where he stops just to give her the thrill of knowing that she will cum where and when he chooses. She tries to hold back, but he presses forward until she knows he will bring her to orgasm. When he stops suddenly, she explodes with frantic need.
She is desperate by the time they reach the house. With a deep ache that begins in her groin and spreads in ripples through her toes, that becomes waves of consciousness, she feels tremors running through her back when he places his palm over the lower part, just where the curve of her ass starts.
Gasps and moans shake loose from her throat as they near the bedroom. Her knees weaken and when he turns her to face him, the mattress pushed against the backs of her thighs, she wants to collapse.
He kisses her. Her lips, her neck, her ears. She arches for more. The curve of her back becomes a graceful arc stretching to take him inside. His hands squeeze and move firmly up from her hips to her shoulders.
She melts. Turns into warm wax and flows out down her legs. He pulls her closer his hands grabbing, feeling, knowing her body.
Her mouth moves over his chest, her hands push the cloth of his shirt aside, the buttons dissolving under her fingers. Soon his hands are in her hair as it moves to his belt, then his button, his zipper, his crotch. His fingers grip her shoulders as he helps her sink slowly to her knees.
Suddenly his pulsating shaft is deep in her mouth. The smooth mushroom head lodges in her throat. He shoves her back at the bed, fucking her mouth hard. His hands fisting her hair, his hips pushing at her. She can't swallow. The oversize cock stuffing her throat overpowering her.
She wants to gag and wants more of his smooth hardness both at once. The desperate power infusing her. She thinks maybe he will cum. Maybe he will give her the chance to take him whole. She wants it. Wants the hot jets of his inner self to set loose over her tonsils. She wants her very core sprayed with his need. She feels his balls, heavy and drawing up. She thinks how they must ache and as though in answer, he groans. A long loud, devastating groan.
An answer throbs in her stomach and flutters through her throat. Her lips are stretched wide over his hard member and her need is moaned in muffled excitement and throaty whimpers. She wriggles and arches to take more. She is set back on her heels by the force of his thrusts and it is barely enough for her to somehow keep up with the rhythm he imposes, she cannot steady herself.
Her scalp tingles from the pull on her hair, her legs are rubbery and now beginning to feel strain. Her arms ache, her mouth is tiring, but the excitement she feels in his body; through his incredibly hard organ makes her rock and squirm, need and flow a constant liquid stream fromout her open sex.
He shoves her further, harder, until she is sitting with her buttocks flat on the carpet and her legs open, spread outward before her. He is pumping into her mouth with driving insistence that makes her alternately frightened and completely wild with excitement. Abandonment of feeling and sensation mixed.
He reaches down as he shoves deeper into her throat and pinches her nipple. She tries to scream around the penetrating flesh, but she is overridden by his pistoning rod. When his fingers stretch downward to touch her aching clit, she jerks and jolts. She tries to pull away and to take more. She screams and cries through and around the smooth hard pole stuffed in her mouth. She tries to hold back.
She can take it no longer. She cums hard. Bucking and spasming. Her mouth feasting on his dick, pulling at it, sucking, tearing at it. His fingers keep at her until she cums again. And again. She begs for him to stop. The noises little more than squeals and keenings. She cums in waves and they rip her body into deep fissures.
Six times, he makes her orgasm. His cock pinioning the back of her throat to the mattress behind her. Six raging tempests of electrical current charging through her torso. She can't tell if it is pain ravaging her or pleasure assailing every bastion of her being. She knows she doesn't care. She needs more.
She is limp when he pulls his cock from her grasping lips. She could stop her and sleep in his arms. He yanks her hair up, leans down and whispers in her ear. "That's only seven. You have a long way to go."
A flood of moisture releases from her groin. As though he had pumped gallons of sperm into her and her stomach finally unclenched to let it out. At the same time an uncontrolled shiver runs rampant through her. Fear tracing her spine.
"I can't." She moans weakly.
He chuckles sardonically. "You always say that."
His thumb flicks her stiff nub of clit and shoots fire through her. Jolts and shocks through her stomach and out her nipples. He leans his head and sucks on one as his finger shoves up inside her. She screams.
He keeps shoving in. Yanking out, ramming back in. His hand splays and the palm presses against her clit every time in until she knows the familiar sensation of impending climax. She tries to hold back, an act of defiance that tries to show she is still in control, but it is futile. She cums in a hard shattering of her will.
He keeps at it, now nibbling her heavy globe in a gentle sort of chuffling. The contrast between his jabbing fingers and the soft traipsing of his lips on her breast is outrageous and throws her into deep spasms. Her limbs thrash and her moans and yelps echo wildly through the halls and rooms of the house.
Another and another orgasm and now she is begging. "I can't. Oh. Please." Her breath is held away from her and her thoughts are flitters of shadow in dark winds.
"I can't take it. Please stop."
"Poor baby." He croons. He slides his hands over the sides of her face and presses her to his cock.
"That was twelve." His voice is husky and chills her in the night air. "You have a very long way still to go."
"mmmmfmffffmmm." She tries to tell him she can't do it. She can't do anymore. To please stop. "Plmmmmff." His hard member keeps her from forming words.
This time, he sticks a vibrator into her dripping hole in one fluid motion. When he turns it on, she cums immediately. It tears her insides into scraps of tissue. The feelings so intense that tears form and dangle from the corners of her eyes.
Six more devastate her before he lets her breathe. Lets her rest. Her head droops to her chest and she knows that if she were not so worn out, she would be in a full blown panic. He is stroking her body.
Slipping his hands over her breasts, her ribs, her thighs, her stomach. His fingers explore her muscles and she finds herself respond. She can't help it. Her body is his. It will do anything he wants from it whether she will or not.
He lifts her onto the bed and uses the vibrator on her some more. This time, his tongue flicks across her stiff clit. The barest of touches, but it sears her nerves and send shooting stars through her spine. She cums again. And again.
Somewhere, she hears him say "Twenty four." She knows this is half way.
His voice becomes harder and she tries to cry out "NO!"
As he says "You still have such a long way to go. Poor baby."
She wants to yell "No! It's halfway! It's almost over." She is too limp. She has already lost so much to orgasm. They have shaken her until she is nearly too weak to protest. Or to move. Or to defend herself.