Rewards

You rolled my joints for me as a rule. It was an unspoken ritual, the way I would fall into the couch next to you, tray in hand, and watch quietly as you worked. You'd brush my hair away from my shoulder and we'd settle into a warm silence as you ground our weed into a fine grain, your fingers sticky and smelling of wet earth. Often, I'd lean back into plush cushions, my body curled towards yours as my hand found its way to your lower back. I ran my finger over the edge of your leather belt, pressing just firmly enough for you to feel it. You would always lean into it, into my touch, and turn to smile at me. It left me hungry, brimming with desire when you turned back and began expertly rolling the thin paper up into a tight spliff.

You joked that you should always get the first puff, as a tax. Not a tax, I'd whisper, a reward. And you'd look away, almost bashful, lighting the tip of our joint and taking in the first thick clouds of smoke. In those moments, you were everything I'd ever pictured my butch to be. You closed your eyes, rolled your broad shoulders back as the smoke brought your lungs to life, tingling with energy. As you held your breath, you'd bring your palms to your legs, splayed out wide, as you were unafraid of taking up such space. You'd hold it longer than you really needed to, something I'd tease at you for, but you didn't mind, smiling softly as your barrel chest expanded.

And the exhale... The exhale you saved for me, bringing your hands to my chin and guiding my lips towards you. My breath on your lips, your eyes bearing down into mine, you'd breathe out and I'd take you into me, fully. The smoke brought a hot scratching to the back of my throat, my mouth watering as I ached for more. Your fingers were still, the firm grip on my jaw leaving me feeling hot and small, my mind already fuzzy. The way you looked into me left me feeling disarmed, a wave of desperate desire bringing a deep blush to my cheeks. I'd breathe out reluctantly, missing the sensation that your breath inside me provided. A white-gray ghost, birthed from you to fill me in anticipation of something more.

We'd go back and forth for a while, until the joint dissipated to a smoldering roach. Every time you hit, you'd carry out your sacred practice: eyes closed at first, head tilted to the sky on the inhale, hand on my throat to give me your exhale. I would take it in between my own hits, the feeling of weed and your breath coating my insides in a dizzying mixture. The high emanated from deep in my belly, every nerve ending awakened to whatever you had to offer.

We seemed to float together, the heat in the air bringing our bodies colliding into one another in a tangled mess. Your hand would find its way to my throat again, and would stay there for a while as your kisses gave way to biting, just slightly too hard. I'd moan and whimper against you, the aching between my legs pulsing with every heartbeat. I needed you just like this, in this transcendent place somewhere halfway to heaven.

"I want you," you'd whisper eventually, a deep growl of desire vibrating from deep in your chest.

I didn't have to say a word before you'd guided me up. My head swam, dizzy from such sudden motion as I felt myself stretch and sway beyond the natural bounds of my body. Your hands never left me, the feeling of you holding my hips grounding me as we kissed our way to the bedroom. Our desire ran as a steady undercurrent between us as my clothes fell away under your touch, your tongue and teeth pressing into my lips until they turned as bright as fresh cherries. It left me gasping, desperate for more, and you knew it. You wanted the same, after all.

When you pushed me onto the mattress, I expected you to follow, but you stood over me, a looming shadow.

"Sir?" I asked hesitantly, and was met with silence.

I watched as you made your way to our storage trunk at the foot of the bed, pulling forth from it a large box of clothespins.Our eyes met for a brief moment, a silent communication of our needs. I licked my lips and lowered my gaze to focus on the strength in your hands as you opened it and made your way back to me.

"You've been such a good girl," you said, looking at me with a devious glint in your eye. "I think you deserve a reward, don't you?"

I smiled at you and nodded. Every inch of skin seemed to spark with electricity as you gripped my chin in one hand, your expression suddenly serious.

"Answer me, you filthy girl," you said.

"Yes, Sir," I said, still smiling.

You kept your hold on my jaw, watching as I licked my lips again. You set the box on my nightstand and plucked one of the small clothespins from it, bringing it to my lips. Slowly, you stroked my lower lip with the wooden clip, watching as my whole body twitched in response. My breath hitched in my throat, a small whimper escaping as you finally pinched my lip with it. We stayed there in silence for a moment, my eyes fluttering shut as my mind swam with the sort of pleasure that can only come from pain.

"What do you say?" you asked, blue eyes shining down at me with a small smile.

I sighed, feeling myself slip further and further into this role, this moment in which I could give myself up to you - a sacrificial lamb.

"Thank you, Sir," I mumbled, every movement of my lip bringing a fresh sting.

"Good girl," you cooed, your fingers trailing along my jawline and up my cheek, lingering for a moment before landing a gentle slap against my face.

Painless, a slow clap. And then another, when I smiled up at you in a silent plea. You whispered filth to me, our eyes locked together as you landed a third slap, harder then, to send my cunt aching like echoing thunder. I moaned, wincing for a moment as the sting warmed and spilled out from my cheek, down into my body. Your hand followed the thrum of desire down my neck, the tips of your fingers sending shivers down my spine.

"Can I have more, Sir?" I asked quietly (my words still slurred by my high and the clamp pulling on my lip), a lump forming in my throat that I beat down with reckless abandon. "Please?"

Your smile was like fresh spring rain over me. Please falling from my lips was as reverent as prayer, something akin to amen and hallelujah and you moved me onto my back. You pulled your belt free from your jeans with a cruel slowness, wrapping the leather tight around my wrists and our headrest - not that I would dare move then, when I'd been given so much. Slowly, painstakingly, more clothespins sprung tight against my flesh, already pink with goosebumps. You started gently, in places less sensitive than my mouth. My fingertips each found their place between the maple, the pale pink almonds of my fresh manicure glistening in warm lamplight. In a steady line, you trailed the clothespins up and down my arms. As you placed each one, you would watch for my response, chuckling at my wanton grinding into our mattress. It was useless, my wetness dripping into our sheets as you finally began to clamp the pins down on the flesh of my breasts.

With every new addition, I gave myself up to you. There was something spiritual about the ways you marked me, knowing the small red lines dotting my skin would stay with me for hours or days to come. You placed each one with a divine mixture of cruel sadism and tender reverence, and it left my head spinning with pure adoration. You wrapped your lips around one of my pert nipples as a clothespin pinched just an inch above it, the stinging pain dissipating like fireworks as your tongue lapped at the hard, flushed bud. I was incoherent, lost in the throes of this seemingly-endless torture as I was crucified. You covered my body in your marks, pinning me down as I thrashed in pleasure. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, my mind blank save for a deep, unrelenting hunger for more.

"You need to stay still, Abigail," you chided, a small smile betraying your harsh tone, "you little slut."

"Y-Yes, Sir," I cried, trying to suppress the shivering as it overtook me.

I felt as though I were inches from a vast cliff, my body thrumming with pleasure as though you were already inside me. I longed for you more than anything, as clothespins made their way to my inner thigh. I felt myself coming undone, falling away to pure liquid form as you spread my legs and found my juices glistening on my thighs, shining like dew drops on thin dark curls.

"Please, please, please," I wept, thrusting upwards helplessly.

"Please what?" you asked, tracing up and down my folds with yet another clamp.

The slightest touch brought me closer to the edge as you ripped a scream from my throat. I thrashed against your belt, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that it was useless. You would keep me here for however long you pleased, relishing in the way my cheeks shone wet the same as my pussy. You knew that my flair for the dramatic was impenetrable, undeniable even when my mind was so far away, and only laughed lightly as I begged and whined, the syllables collapsing together into nonsense.

"I need to hear you say it, whore," you said finally, clamping one clothespin down on each of my folds.

I groaned and choked back a sob, the piercing pain leaving my cunt throbbing with a ceaseless need. I was broken for you, my whole body given up to you for whatever you wanted. I tried to breathe, tried to bring myself back from the precipice of divine abyss, but all I could do was weep. You watched me carefully, studying the rise and fall of my chest, noting the few clothespins that had snapped off and fallen uselessly to our mattress. You moved to my side, keeping one hand dangerously close to my clit as the other found purchase in my hair. Patience was something you were well-versed in, an expertise you'd practiced on me over the years. In silence, you stroked along my hair, your fingers tracing my hairline gently.

"Abigail," you whispered in my ear, listening as my breath slowly steadied itself. "My good girl, my sweet girl..."

Slowly, I opened my eyes to meet yours, basking in the warmth of your smile. We stayed there, our breath mingling together as your hand at my hip moved to gently rub the top of my mound, guiding me back down to Earth.

"Like I said," you said slowly as you reached down and flicked one of the clothespins with a wicked look in your eye, "I need you to say it. Beg for it, like a good little girl."

I winced at the sudden pull on such sensitive flesh, my back arching. With a whimper, I tried to keep myself calm, tried to steady the rapid beat of my heart.

"Please fuck me, Sir," I finally whimpered. "Please, I need you inside me. Please fuck me."

I went on and on, grasping at the leather around my wrists in a desperate attempt to maneuver closer to you. In a flash, you brought your hand down from my hair and plucked the original clothespin off of my lip. Blood rushed back to my lip in a dizzying, painful flurry, the aching sting muffled by your hard, wet kiss. Your tongue found its way into my mouth, taking me the way your smoke-filled breath had just an hour before. I gasped and moaned as your hands roamed over me, reaching down to pull my thighs up and around your waist. Clothespins fell by the dozen, pinching tight as they were knocked off and forgotten, tangled in our wrinkled sheets. Whenever your lips left mine, I whimpered and whined, begging for more. Please melded together with Sir melded together with Fuck until I was back in that nonsensical, empty-headed place of sheer euphoria.

When you ripped the clothespins from the folds of my soaking cunt, I knew I was lost to you, shattered into a million pieces. I needed to take everything you could give, overwhelmed with an animalistic hunger that could never be fully satisfied.

"Sir, please!" I screamed, the searing pain shooting up into my clit like a violent earthquake.

You reached up, pulling at my hair until I arched back and revealed my neck to you. Your teeth found purchase in tender flesh, biting and sucking as you felt my heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. I wept for you again, begging and pleading for your butch cock inside of me. The few remaining clamps on my arms and legs mirrored the sharp twinge of pain from your teeth as you marked me, claimed me as your own.

"Say it again," you demanded, your own breath fast and shallow as you released my hair and landed a fresh smack on my cheek.

"Fuck me, please! Please, Sir, please, I can't... I can't take it anymore," I cried, the words spilling out of me in garbled, quick nonsense. "I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, Sir!"

You buried your face in the crook of my neck, groaning with your own undeniable need. You reached down as you pulled your head up to meet my gaze, unzipping your jeans and pulling your butch cock out in a clumsy flurry. You couldn't hide your own desire, your whole body hard and throbbing as you felt the girth of your cock in your hand.

Slowly, far too slowly, you guided it to me, rubbing the tip against my clit until my eyes rolled back in ecstacy. You ran your hand along my hip, moving back to grip my ass tightly as I was brought ever closer to orgasm. Finally, with a deep moan emanating from your throat, you thrust into me. You filled me deeply, my whole body arching towards yours as I screamed. You were panting, your breath shaky and uneven as you fucked me, moving with a fluidity and speed that left our bed frame creaking. I couldn't open my eyes, could barely breathe with the force of this pleasure. I cried out my thanks, screaming your name and begging for more. I was hungry for it, desperate for it, and you were just as desperate to give.

You pulled my legs up, draping them over your shoulders to push into me more deeply. In a flash, you pulled away the clothespins from my chest, pushing onto me and wrapping your lips around whatever inch of flesh you could find. You sucked on my nipples and the skin around them, groaning against my skin as you fucked me. My fingernails dug into your belt, holding onto it as though it were an anchor at sea. I could feel my orgasm building, the force of it heavy in my stomach. It built up, higher and higher, a bonfire pushing past its bounds to eat away at an entire forest.

"Can I come, Sir?" I begged, stuttering over every word. "Please, Sir!"

"No," you growled, looking up at me and gripping at my throat.

The sudden pressure on my neck made my eyes shoot open, meeting your gaze with a crazed look in my eye.

"You come when I tell you to, you whore," you said, slowing your pace to fuck into me harder, deeper.

I cried, thrusting up against you in a frantic attempt to get closer. I had lost all sense of time, seconds and hours collapsing together so that I couldn't tell how long we'd been at this. All I knew was you: your hands, your tongue, your butch cock stretching the walls of my cunt as it twinged and throbbed around you. I felt droplets of sweat drip down from your chin, mixing with my own between my breasts as your thrusts became erratic, your own orgasm building higher and higher. You gasped out obscenities, the grip on my throat tightening as you told me what a good little slut I was.

I begged to come again and again, my voice growing hoarse as stars burst behind my eyelids.

"Sir, please," I groaned. "Please come inside me. Please, fuck..."

The words tumbling out from between my lips finally unraveled you. You leaned into me hard, my legs folded up around your shoulders as you cried out. Your desire spilled out into me, your thrusts chaotic and deep as you came.

"Come, Abby, fuck," you groaned out before you could no longer speak.

It was all I needed: permission, finally, to come undone. Every muscle felt at once loose and tight, my body seeming to float against yours as my orgasm released. I felt your grip on my throat, on my ass, the dampness of your panting against my breast as my pussy shuddered around your butch cock. The fullness I felt overwhelmed me, our orgasms colliding together until we could do nothing more than collapse in a heap of tangled flesh.

Silence held us, broken only by our shaky breathing as you laid on top of me. I kept my eyes closed, my mind blank as my legs slowly fell back to the mattress. We lingered for minutes in this peaceful quiet, our bodies limp, fully spent. Eventually, you lifted your head just enough to press soft kisses into my chest, listening as my breath slowed. You moved to unfurl the leather from around my wrists, rubbing them tenderly as they fell to my pillows.

"My good girl," you whispered dotingly, "my good, good girl."

Your words sent a deep warmth out from my chest, spreading along my body as you slowly pulled off the remaining clothespins. Your thumbs rubbed each mark, your body shifting over mine as you inspected every inch of my body. Your thumbs gave way to your lips, tender kisses easing the sharp stings each clamp had brought. As always, you took your time, reveling in our shared tranquility. You were in no rush, wrapping yourself around me and pulling me into your chest. I tugged at your t-shirt, silently begging to be skin-to-skin, and you gave in with a quiet laugh.

You leaned up, pulling your shirt off and tossing it haphazardly towards our closet. When you turned back to me, I couldn't help but smile, my hand trailing slowly up your stomach and towards your chest. You kept your eyes trained on my face, watching me as I gazed at you. My eyes followed my hands, my manicured fingers finding their way to your top surgery scars. I traced them slowly, the texture of sunken scar tissue against my fingertips bringing me back to Earth, grounding me in this moment of unadulterated bliss. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment as I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss at the edge of your scars, my tongue trailing up to flick your nipple teasingly.

"Abby...," you said tenderly, in mock warning as your fingers combed through my hair. "What are you doing, my love?"

I smiled against your chest, pulling away only to plant another kiss against your lips, dry from your panting.

"Worshiping you," I said simply, smiling up at you.

You licked your lips, a slight blush warming your cheeks as you looked down at me.

"Worshiping me?" you asked, an incredulous laugh bringing a soft lilt to the words.

I nodded and buried my head into your chest once more, my arms wrapped around your thick torso. You kissed the top of my head and we laid there for minutes more, wrapped up in comfortable silence. Sleep would overtake us eventually, our highs dissipating as we cleaned ourselves and fell, exhausted, into bed. But for now, I wanted nothing more than to bask in this bliss, reveling in the rewards my good behavior had brought me.