Descend to Heaven Ch. 03

I'd been standing erect on my knees behind her, leaning back slightly so I had room to draw my hands up and down her body and caress her curves. But now I fell forward on my hands so my body covered hers, trapping her below me. My strokes became shorter and blunter, propelled now not by the swaying of my body but by the clenching of my belly and ass, driving into her with animal vitality. She must be sore, I knew, and I knew I must be hurting her. But that was all right. Arianna was consumed by her carnal sensations and the pleasure of being fucked, and a little pain would only make the pleasure all the sweeter.

"You love it, don't you, darling?" I reached below her and took one of her pendant, hanging breasts. "You love being fucked like this and made to play my whore. No one else has ever done this to you, have they? But now we know. Now we know what Arianna likes and how she likes it, how she likes to be treated. Just like this, isn't it? Just like a little fuck toy, a hot little cock slut."

"No," she whined. "No! I'm not! Why do you say those things? Why are you so mean to me?"

And that was my cue to start fucking her for real, for getting up on my toes and bucking my hips at her, plunging my cock into that tight, stingy hole as her hands tightened on the headboard till her knuckles grew white. I felt her gripping me inside like she would never let me go, clonic vaginal spasms, her body trying to protect itself from every instroke, yet clinging to me when I withdrew. Her face grew flushed and red and she hid it by pressing it into the pillow, but still I heard her whining and moaning, unable to contain her sounds of rapture.

No! I didn't want her hiding from me. I let go of her breast and grabbed her hair and pulled her face up, causing her to arch her back and make her look even more abased. She hissed with pleasure, a strangled, gurgling sound, and I saw her grimace of pain, but that was nothing compared to what I felt now: holding her hair, punishing her, possessing her, controlling her.

"Come on," I hissed. "Let it go! I know you're close. I know it's burning you up inside. I want it, Arianna. I want that hot dirty cum."

"Oh God!" she gasped. Her face clenched tight and she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on the sensations within her. She was close. I could tell. She was almost on the edge...

"Tell me!" she burst out. "Tell me what I am again! Say those words!"

I glowed with triumph but I didn't let her see. Instead I just grit my teeth against the maddening pleasure and started pumping into her hard now, my loins smacking against the upturned cheeks of her ass.

"You're my whore, my slut, Arianna," I spat down at her. "You're my dirty little pussy who loves being fucked like this and used as my sex toy and my fuck hole. You like to walk around with your legs pressed together and your nose in the air but we know what you are now, don't we, angel? We know! And now you're going to show us that we're right, aren't you Arianna? Now you're going to cum all over me and show us just how right we are!"

Arianna shrieked, an animal sound of frustration and exultation that tore from her throat like a confession, an admission that I was right, and at the same time her body shuddered violently on me and her pussy spasmed in a series of powerful peristaltic contractions, greedy for my load, milking me like a satin fist.

"Yes!" I shouted. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Give it to me, baby! All of it! All over me!"

She shrieked again and this time I smacked her ass to encourage her and smacked it again, to be rewarded by another orgasm, this one accompanied by an internal gush of hot clear fluid that bathed my shaft and seeped out of her stuffed cunt and ran obscenely down her thighs.

And that was it for me. I was already in a red haze of orgasm, and seeing her cum, I just lost it. I let go of her hair and grabbed the back of her neck with both hands as if I wanted to choke her from behind, pushed her face down hard into the pillow and held her there as my hips hammered her. totally out of control. Her face was turned to the side and she cried out as each stroke battered into her, totally used, totally debased, no longer my lover and friend but a formless sex doll with her ass up and her pussy stuffed with violently pistoning cock.

I yelled. I growled. I tightened by hands on her neck even more and pushed her down, making her yield to me, making her my helpless victim. And then my cock gave in to the blistering pleasure of her fuck hole and I punched into her one more time—deep, deep, impossibly deep—and held it there trembling as it jumped and jerked and I ejaculated into her in a fit of blinding ecstasy.

I was spent, almost empty. I'd just come not an hour before with no time to recover, and what came out was mostly the clear nutrient plasm that bathes the sperm, strings of it, gloopy, stringy and viscid. My prostate spasmed, pumping it out, and my balls retracted and it hurt like hell as all my muscles and valves contracted and tried to pump out a well run dry. But even the pain was satisfying, showing me my own body's mad insistence on impregnating her, fertilizing and owning her no matter what.

"Jesus Christ!" I murmured. My body was wracked by residual spasms that made my ass clench and my balls scream in protest. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

I reeled above her on my knees like I was dazed, like I was the staggering survivor of a horrible car crash, and then I just let myself topple over on my side exhausted, my head barely making the pillow.

For a long while I just breathed, gasping for air as my heart pounded and my deflating cock squeezed out the dregs of my climax. Arianna fell over on her side too and was in no better shape than I was. Together we panted like two marathon runners, but slowly our breathing slowed. The world came back into focus. Our hearts calmed down.

Finally I turned my head and looked at her.

She was staring at me. She had a finger nail in her mouth like a worried child, and her eyes held a look that was a mixture of awe and satisfaction and just a touch of fear and caution. I was overcome with a need to hold and shelter her, not just for her sake, but so I could cling to her myself and hold onto her solidarity.

I turned on my side and opened my arms and Arianna quickly launched herself into my embrace, burrowing into me with her hands against her chest, pulling her knees up and making herself as small as she could. She was trembling.

"Baby," I said, folding my arms around her. "Oh, baby. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She raised her eyes to mine and searched my face in wonder. Astonishment. She lifted a hand and touched my lips.

"Oh, David! You're amazing! That was so incredible! I... I just don't have any words!"

"Then don't talk, baby." I drew her close, as if I were trying to pull her into my heart. "Just this is enough."

I took one arm off her long enough to retrieve the sheet and pull it up over her shoulders, and we lay unspeaking for a long while, flirting with the very edge of satisfied sleep. Arianna was nestled against me like a bird in the snow, a little girl again. I thought maybe she had dozed off but when I moved my head to look down at her she lifted her eyes to me.

"You make me do the most shameful things," she said.

"Do I? I'm sorry."

"No. Don't apologize. I mean, you make me want to do them. That's what's so amazing."

"That's good then?"

She touched my face again. "Yes. I think so. I think so. I'm not sure. It's a little scary. You kind of scare me."

I frowned. "Scare you? Scare you how? What kind of things?"

She began to delicately remove herself from my embrace, shifting about, lifting my arm.

"I'm a mess," she said. "I really need to clean up. May I use your wash room?"

"Of course, of course. You know where it is."

She smiled and slid out of bed. It's always fascinating to observe how a woman shows you her naked body. Arianna was shy and kept her back to me as she retrieved her bra and panties. She apparently was unaware of the entrancing power of her tight, round ass, which was given to the most charming little jiggle as she walked. Her legs were widespread enough that she had a vaginal gap, through which I could see the lingering sheen of her orgasmic discharge on the upper insides of her thighs. I felt a tightness in my throat.

While she puttered in the bath room, I did some cleaning up of my own, and gave myself a quick scrub with some tissue, then roughly made up the disheveled bed and got back in. Arianna came back into the bedroom wearing her underwear and patting her face dry with a towel.

"I hope you don't mind?" she asked, showing me the towel.

I shook my head. "Not in the slightest."

She finished drying then sat down primly on the edge of the bed, the towel spread in her lap. She turned to me.

"That was incredible, David. I'm honestly speechless. I guess I needed that more than I knew. Thank you."

I smiled.

"But can I ask you to promise me something? That you'll never tell a soul about what we did here? No one. If even a rumor got back to the bank..."

"Arianna, of course I won't! What do you think I am?"

"No. I knew I could trust you. I just had to make sure."

She smiled reassuringly and turned away and started searching through her bag for her hair brush. She found it, and started pulling it through her tangled hair, making herself presentable.

"David?" she asked, turned half way towards me. "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're good friends, which is pretty amazing when you think about how long we've known each other. And I can't tell you how much it means that you've been there for me. But what are we doing now? Are we having an affair? Doing a friends with benefits thing?"

"No, Arianna. No." I sat up. "I would hope you'd think it was more than that."

"Then what?" She tilted her head sympathetically. "Are we dating? Are we going to be steadies? David, I really care for you. I hope you know that. But I worry about us. You're old enough to be my father. You're older than my real father, in fact. Doesn't that bother you? The kind of future we'd have? Where this could possibly go?"

"I honestly don't know, Arianna. But why can't we just wait and find out? Does everything have to be defined and planned out ahead of time?"

She pulled the brush through her hair thoughtfully. "No. Not always. Of course not. But this—you and me—is kind of exceptional, you have to admit. We're like the odd couple. We're exceptional, so I think we'd need an exceptional reason to stay together, don't you?"

I frowned, knowing where this was going. Arianna gave me a soulful and sympathetic look, turning towards me and leaning one arm on the bed. Her breasts hung disconcertingly heavy and crowded in her bra, as if trying to escape. I had the weird feeling that they were longing for my hands again but were prisoners of their mistress. I had the stupid notion that at any moment they might leap from her bra and come bounding onto the bed like disobedient puppies.

"I know I was hurting," she said. "I still am hurting, and I needed someone—"

"Oh no!" I jumped out of bed and stood there naked, foolish. "No, Arianna. You're not going to pretend that I took advantage of you, that I snatched you up on the rebound or somehow took advantage of you!"

"No, David, please. I'm not saying that. I'm just trying to explain."

I went to my dresser and found my crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one. I'd just about quit and had never smoked in front of Arianna, but now I was pissed off. I lit it and took a big drag and blew a plume of smoke down and away from her but my aggressive intent was clear. Arianna looked gratifyingly disapproving and annoyed.

"David, look. Please try and understand. We're two very different people. I have my career to think of and my professional image. What if I were to show up at some function with all these buttoned-down bankers and their families, with you? It would be a scandal! The divorce alone already has me in hot water, and upper management doesn't even know about it yet, just some of my co-workers. They don't like that kind of thing, any sort of irregularity. And if they found out about you and me? Believe me, David, I'd be through. I know them. I know these people. I know their world and I know how they are and how they operate."

I glared at her. She was going to say something more but suddenly changed her mind. She threw her brush back into her bag and started quickly getting dressed, buttoning up her blouse and stepping into her skirt without a word.

"I'm sorry, David. It's just the way things are. Out in the real world."

I stubbed out the cigarette. "And I know some things too, Arianna. I know you. And I know how you are. I know you maybe even better than you do, and I'm going to tell you something: you like the things I do to you. You love them. You like giving up control to me and feeling the force of my love. You like it so much it scares you, just like you said. It frightens you and makes you feel like some sort of deviant, and that's why you're worried. It doesn't fit into your little career plans or your neat and tidy self-image. And that's what's going on here."

She was trying to ignore me, sitting down and pulling on her boots and zipping them up as if I wasn't even there. It infuriated me and I kept on talking, stepping closer to her.

"And I'll tell you something else. No, I'll prove it to you. You're going to start thinking about what we did here together, you and I, as soon as you leave. You're going to think about it all weekend till it comes to consume you. By Monday you're going to be practically obsessed.

"By Tuesday you won't be able to stand it. On Tuesday night you're going to take a shower, back at your parents' house, the same shower you always use. You're going to arrange things so that by exactly eight eighteen PM, you're standing there naked under the water, thinking of everything I did to you and how it made you feel. Every touch, every word, every kiss and penetration, every stroke and every emotion. Every orgasm, every slap of your ass and pull of your hair. Every flush of shame you felt and every thrill when you felt so free and alive you thought you'd explode.

"You're going to remember all of that and you're going to need to masturbate. At exactly eight eighteen PM you're going to need to masturbate but you know what? You won't be able to. You won't be able to because I won't let you, and you know, whether you admit it or not, that I own you now. I hold your reins. I know what makes you work. And you'll find out that you can no longer do anything like that without me. That's the way things are."

I was pulling words out of my ass, bluffing and making things up and playing Rasputin or Cagliostro or some mad, controlling lover. But at the same time my words carried a strange and almost thrilling weight that surprised even me, as if some part of me knew there was some truth to it all. It was a feeling of power, and amazingly, a feeling of concern and protection, as if I really were looking out for her. It stunned me.

Arianna had sat through my whole speech with a look of impatient irritation on her faces. As I finished, she stood up and strode into the living room and retrieved her bag, and put on her coat without a word or acknowledgement. I followed her to the door, but she kept her back to me and stubbornly avoided all contact.

She had trouble with the double locks on my front door, though, and in her frustration she half turned so I could catch a glimpse of her face in the hall light.

It was clenched tight and bright red. The color of anger and humiliation. Her jaw was set and her chin was trembling, and despite her efforts, there were tears in her eyes.

She finally wrenched the door open and stormed out, showing me nothing but the back of her collar. I stared down the stairs at the empty street-level doorway she'd just exited through, but there was nothing there. Not even the misty fog.

I shut the door and locked it, then went to the kitchen and poured myself a drink. The liquor tasted like her. The air in my apartment smelled like her: her hair and scent and her sweat on my sheets. I took my drink into the living room and sat down in the dark, settling in to start second guessing myself and missing her for what I knew would be days, maybe weeks. Maybe forever.

I settled in and prepared to be forever haunted.