God-Damn

"No," Istam's voice was hard. He knelt down, his hand moving back from her head slightly and then tightening to a fist. He held her hair, forcing her face toward the ceiling overhead. It was not quite painful, but it did stretch the front of Ettea's neck taut and and forced her to breathe through her nose. With his free hand, he reached down her body. She felt his palm against her stomach, his fingers pressing against her pelvis. Her own have gave way as they slipped underneath the waistband of her skirt, moving down against the front of her underwear. His fingers pulled back the thin fabric, and Ettea's breathing became hard and fast as the tips of his fingers stroked down against the top of her vulva.

"Like this," he spoke.

His fingers pressed down slightly, moving over the surface of her vulva and then curling as they came back up. She shuddered softly as his middle and index fingers felt over the wet folds of her labia; she could feel the dampness against the bottom of her underwear and the ends of the man's fingers. She closed her eyes as his fingers moved further between her lips, stroking up and down in slowly, steady movements. A sudden jerk of pressure against the back of her head told her to open her eyes--she did. Istam stared down at her, his eyes unsettlingly dark.

"I'll have you begging," his voice made the words a promise, "one way or another. By the time we're done, you'll be begging."

He did not specify, she noticed, what she would be begging for. She opened her mouth, but whether it was to ask that question or to begin begging right then, even she could not say. As soon as he saw her lips open, he pulled back roughly on her hair once more. Then, as he eased the tension of his raised hand while his fingers pushed inside of her to the first knuckle. Ettea gasped, leaning back and pushing her hips forward to give the man's hand more room--both between her legs and between her stomach and the waistband of her skirt. She could feel his outer fingers, pointer and pinky, against the crease between her thighs and vulva; his two center fingers plunged into her. He did not move them in and out. Instead, he flicked them up and down as he pressed the heel of his palm against the top of her labia, rotating it slightly at the wrist so that it created a stirring, rising pressure between her legs. Ettea let out a long breath, her tongue pressing against the back of her top teeth for a moment.

"Istam," her voice was a winded gasp, little more than a whisper, "Keep doing... Oh God, keep doing that. Keep..."

Her already faint voice faltered, her legs trembling slightly as the man's fingers curled upward as if he were trying to touch them to his palm through her body, without stopping their flicking motion. Against the ground, Ettea tightened her thighs against her calves. She could feel a steady flood of warmth spreading outward from her back into her stomach, a slow-rising wave of pleasure brought forth by the steady movements of the man's fingers--another moment, and she knew the dam that held it back would break. Below her, her legs trembled, sending small vibrations up through her body and into the man's hand.

"Oh, Istam... Oh, oh.... Oh!" Her voice pitched slightly higher each time.

And then, just as the pressure began to swell to an uncontainable level, the man's hand pulled back. She cried out, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist where it entered her skirt as he went to remove it. He ignored her hands, pulling himself free of her skirt and standing. She clutched at his wrist, but he rolled it to remove her hands. Her breathing was a desperate gasp.

"Beg." His voice ordered.

"Please, Istam--" she begged, reaching her hand down between her legs. He kicked it way with the toe of his boot, "Please, keep--"

"No," the man stepped forward slightly, placing one of his booted feet firmly between her legs, "Beg." As he stepped forward, the outline of his penis became obvious through his pants.

Reaching up, Ettea grabbed impulsively at the waistband of his pants. She felt her fingers against a button and unclipped it, pressing down against the top of the zipper without bothering to find the slider. Before she drew down his pants, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the bulge of his penis through the rough material. There was a small, damp spot where the head pressed out, and she put her lips to it. She moved her head slightly as she licked her tongue over the fabric of the young man's pants, following the length of his shaft up to where it met his hips. As she leaned forward, she felt the toe of the man's boot slide between her legs. She ground herself against it through her skirt as she continued to kiss his pelvis, pulling his pants down around his hips and the cheeks of his bum.

His penis sprang up as soon as his pants came down far enough, stiff and erect. She kissed around the base, feeling the hard shaft against her cheek as she opened her lips around the base and licked down, between the shaft and testicles. Reaching up, she took the man's penis in her hand and began to stroke, turning her wrist back and forth slightly with each movement. She raised it off to one side, continuing to move her hand as she lowered her head to take the man's testicles in her mouth. She ran her tongue along the underside of the bag, licking up until she reached the base of the man's penis and then slightly further, feeling her tongue touch her fingers.

Taking the man's testicles in her mouth, careful to avoid her teeth, she began to suck them gently as she stroked him with her hand. Her cheeks pulled in deeply as she drew the man's testicles further into her mouth. Above her, Istam groaned deeply. The sound seemed to come from his chest, rather than his mouth. Ettea felt the sound reaffirmed in the man's penis, which pulled upward against her hand.

Letting the man's testicles free of her lips, she raised herself up slightly. Her hips still moved beneath her in a steady, thrusting rhythm against the top of the man's boot, pressing his ankle against her pelvis. She let her fingers trail down the man's shaft, until they found the base. She saw the man's penis for the first time, clearly. Two veins ran over the top and right side of the slightly ascending curve; the head was round, and raised slightly around the bottom from the length of his shaft. The flat, faintly haired skin of his pelvis indented slightly at the top of his base. Resting her fingers against the flat area between his hips and hooking her thumb beneath his shaft, she proceeded to take him gently into her mouth. It was just the tip, at first. She rolled her tongue around the head of his penis, drawing another deep groan from the man. Above her, she could see the slight rise of his stomach pressing in and out beneath his shirt as he breathed deeply.

The man had a distinct, subtly salty taste--not entirely unpleasant. Then, letting her tongue lay flat against the bottom of her mouth with the tip pressed gently against the top of her bottom teeth, she proceeded to lower her mouth around the man's penis. Her lips closed against the shaft, and she moved her head forward and backward, slowly building momentum. She was rewarded as the man's legs tightened. In a moment of impetuous courage, she raised herself up slightly and forced herself forward. She felt the head of the man's penis touch the back of her mouth, and then press further as he entered her throat. She gagged, but forced herself to continue.

Beg, he had said. She begged.

Forced her throat to relax, she began moving back and forth along the base of the man's shaft. Her tongue rose against the bottom, pressing upward as she withdrew slightly and took a deep breath through her nose before moving forward once again. This time, she felt the man's groan of pleasure through her entire body; through the shaft in her mouth, through the leg pressed against the front of her body, and through the foot between her legs. As she drew back, she began to work her tongue over the head of his penis once more. She rolled it around her tongue, sucking in her cheeks as she made a nodding action with her neck and shoulders. Below her, the thrusting of her hips took on a more frantic tempo as she felt her pleasure building once more. It came more quickly this time--rising through her and causing her to move her mouth along the man's penis with impulsive determination.

Just as she reached the breaking point, she felt the man's hand descend on her head. His fingers wrapped in her hair, and his penis pulled free of her mouth as he hauled her upward. A few stands of saliva connected his penis to her bottom lip, and fell like wet threads against her chin as he drew her up. He was not actually lifting her by her hair, but making the threat very clear if she did not stand on her own. Suppressing a groan, Ettea climbed to her feet. Inside of her, the pressure ached. He did not give her a chance to stand. Instead, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her over his shoulder. His other hand hiked up the waist of his pants. She bit back a surprised yelp as the young man carried her with his still- surprising strength, casually tossing her down on the bed. He bent down, and his boots thudded against the floor as he unlaced them.

She was on her knees immediately. Her fingers found the man's pant lip as he straightened, working them down over his penis. Without missing a beat, the man caught the side of her head in the palm of his hand and threw her down against the mattress. Her head landed on the pillows, but the action still knocked the breath out of her. She caught it again as she watched Istam turn away from the side of the bed. Below it, she heard the sound of a drawer sliding open as he rummaged through it.

Shutting the drawer, he tossed something onto the sheets between her legs. Ettea looked down, her eyes slightly confused. It was a cross; made of polished metal--steel, she thought. It was unadorned, but at the end of each crossed arm three round bumps stood out from the metal, looking almost like the leaves of a clover. She looked up at Istam, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what he meant for her to do.

"Remove your skirt," his voice held a tone that brooked no argument.

"Istam--"

Before she could utter another word, the man bent over the bed. Ettea felt herself pulled toward the man as his fingers found the top of her skirt and curled beneath it. In a single, aggressive movement, he pulled the fabric down her legs, over her hips and knees. He took the underwear with it, leaving her laying naked on the thin sheets. He tossed her clothes away, straightening. His face stared down at her as she lay on the mattress, not moving.

"Please, Istam--" her voice was pleading, "Come fuck me. Please--"

"Do it yourself, or I will." His voice was steady, his mouth a fixed, inflexible line between the flat planes of his cheeks.

She would do it, she knew--her body ached with desire. Despite her protests, she would have done it with pleasure. But then she looked up into the young man's eyes, and she knew what he really wanted; exactly what she herself really wanted. Drawing her legs up, she pressed herself against the pillows at her back. She almost laughed at how immediate his reaction was--the sudden violence of his hands as they reached for her ankles and caught them. She twisted, wrapping the blanket around her body as she fought to free herself from the man's grip. She kicked hard, but she did not cry out. She felt the weight of Istam's body descend on the mattress, pulling her toward him.

His hands disappeared from her ankles, but before she could do much more than place her palms on the sheets below her, they found her body once more. His left hand went around her throat, pinning her upper body to the mattress with nothing more than the force of his grip and the weight of his arm. His second hand had, somehow, found the cross. He threw it on her stomach as she stopped twisting. She tried to breath, but the man's fingers tightened further around her neck, constricting until Ettea felt her vision begin to blur. Only then, as her eyes unfocused from the man's face, did his fingers ease their pressure. She gasped for air, blinking rapidly to focus her vision. With his free hand, the man reached down and tore the thin sheet away from her body. He threw it away over the foot of the bed.

"Do it," he ordered.

With trembling fingers, Ettea reached across her stomach and picked up the cross. The smooth metal was cool against her palm. Lowering her hand between her legs, she positioned the base of the longest arm between the lips of her labia, pressing it against the opening of her vagina.

"Please," her voice was weak. She felt the man's fingers tighten again, ever so slightly, and she rushed on breathlessly, "Please, Istam. Fuck me," she gasped a breath as the fingers tightened slightly further, "Anywhere! Fuck me anywhere. Just, please--" her breath hitched as the man's hand closed over hers. He wrapped his fingers over her knuckles, his wrist pressed against her own. Then, slowly and unstoppably, he pushed the arm of the cross inside of her.

She was wet enough to make it work. She felt the metal bumps as they pushed passed the lips of her vagina, followed by the rounded rectangle of the bar. He continued the pressure until the arms of the cross touched the top and bottom of her labia, the feeling of the cool metal sending a small shiver through Ettea's body. She let her own hand go loose underneath the young man's, arching her back slightly and pressing her heels into the thin mattress.

Her eyes fluttered, and then came back to focus on Istam's face. His dark eyes watched her, appearing almost outraged at her pleasure. He drew his hand back between her thighs, almost bringing the arm of the cross fully outside of her. Then he pushed it back. He repeated this action a few times, slowly, moving her arm with his own as he pushed the cross in and out within her. Her fingers clawed in the sheets, tightening them between her fingers. She knew that he saw the action; his dark eyes seemed to miss nothing.

The speed increased, his arm no longer moving but only his wrist thrusting backward and forward to propel the length of metal inside of her. Releasing her neck, he placed his hand on the mattress beside her head as the rhythm of his hand increased further. Ettea turned her head, biting down on the man's wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to give the effect of it. She arched her back further, and felt something change with the angle of her body; the top of the cross struck the top of her labia, sending electric shivers through her hips with every thrust. She released the man's wrist from her teeth as she gasped, her breathing close to a whimper against his skin.

"Beg to cum," his voice spoke from above her.

How did he--

"God, Istam--faster," she felt the motion of the man's wrist increase slightly in both speed and force, and she let out a low whine; half distress, half pleasure. Her hand pulled hard against the sheets, "Faster! Oh, please--thank you! Another..." her breath fixed in her throat, and she worked to force out her voice, "Another... Oh, God! Oh... Oh! Please! There! There--Oh, fuck! Right... there!" Her voice caught on the last word, rising into a whine.

It hit her like a wave. She kicked her feet in the sheets, fingers clawing into the mattress beneath them. She felt the damn break as the wave struck it; her body tightening into what felt like a single knot and then, as if somebody had pulled an anchor- thread, going completely loose. Only the bottom of her feet and the muscles of her hips remained tight as she buckled, bucking her hips against the cross in the their clasped hands. She released a sound like a sigh, easing the grip of her fingers on the sheet. Still the man continued to thrust, keeping a fast pace despite the muscles of her vagina that clenched and slackened against the arm of the cross as the after- effect of the orgasm took her.

The rhythm slowed slightly, and the Ettea felt the pressure ease from between her legs as the man pulled the cross out of her. He released her hand, plucking the cross from between her weak fingers and dropping it onto the ground beside the bed. It made a soft thud as it struck the wooden floorboards. Her body trembling slightly, Ettea pushed herself back in the sheets and looked at the young man.

The first thing she noticed was that the anger had gone out of his eyes; he stared down at his hands, his fingers slightly spread. His eyes were fixed on them, unmoving. She knew, somehow, that he was seeing something completely different than she was--he looked like his hands were covered in blood. Picking herself up from the sheets, ignoring the weakness in her body, she put her arms around the young man. She held him tightly, the fingers of one hand stroking gently through his messy brown hair. He was not trembling, but the muscles of his arms and stomach were clenched so tightly she thought that it was a miracle he was not; the points of bone in his jaw stood out near the tops of his cheeks.

"I'm sorry... I'm so... sorry."

At first, she thought that he was talking to God. His voice carried the drifting intonation of a prayer. She stroked her fingers through his hair, tucking a few strands behind the curve of his ear. It wasn't until he turned to her, moving her hand around the back of his head, that she realized he was not speaking to God--he was speaking to her. All of a sudden, Ettea was laughing; she knew that it was not appropriate for the moment, but right then she knew that if she did not laugh then her body would break. Her chest and stomach shook against the man's arm, and she shook her head gently. Sitting up slightly further, she pressed her lips, feather-soft, to the man's cheek just below his left eye. She saw it widen slightly in surprise.

"Stupid boy," she ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck, laying them gently against the flat of his back just above the neckline of his shirt. His hands clenched lightly and then loosened again, "There's nothing to forgive. Not between you and I, or between us and... anybody else." She did not say God, "Come here."

She pulled the man down with her arms, guiding him so that he lay on his back. She tucked a pillow underneath his head, her arm lain beneath his neck. Stretching one bare leg over his thighs, she tucked herself as close as she could beside the young man. Turning her face up, she pressed her lips against the underside of his jaw; she felt it clench, and then he exhaled heavily as it relaxed. Reaching her hand underneath the man's shirt, she shifted her fingers against his stomach. She felt the firm muscles beneath his skin, tracing each one with her fingers and thumb.

"You think you're bad?" She whispered, pressing her lips once more to the bottom of his jawline, "I'm worse," she laughed lightly, "Whatever your sins, mine are worse. Wherever we end up, I'll see you there."

Istam's face turned down, and their eyes met briefly. Ettea's lips turned up in a small, soft smile. Then she butted her forehead gently against the man's chin, pushing his head back against the pillow.

She brushed a kiss across his skin, and felt his arms go around her in answer. He pulled her closer, and she nuzzled between his neck and his shoulder, her cheek resting just above his collarbone. She kissed him repeatedly, giggling when he tried to turn his face to hers once again and ended up squishing her cheek with chin. Raising her hand from his stomach, she began to slowly trace the outline of his face with her index finger; beginning at the center of his chin and drawing the edge of his cheek and eyebrow, then trailing down the bridge of his nose.

When she reached his mouth, she felt a slight tightness in the muscles at its corner. Pushing herself up roughly, she look at the man with wide brown eyes--he looked startled. She smacked a hand flat against his chest, and he winced slightly.