Obedience

I cherish my weekend naps. Sliding easily between the warm sheets, I curl around my pillow and dream. The cool breeze through the window lulls me to sleep. You never disturb me when I am resting, and the sound of your deliberately quiet footsteps in the hall is soothing, making me feel safe.

For the entire weekend you have pampered me, bringing me everything I need before I ask for it…stroking my back softly as I drift to sleep at night…drawing a steaming bubble bath for me while you prepare my breakfast. As every day, I feel spoiled by you. But this is different – this royal treatment will be repaid. The question is only when. I am unsettled by this, and as I drift into a dreamy sleep, visions of your exquisite torture fill my mind.

I am reclined on a velvet chaise, my hands bound behind my back, my legs splayed awkwardly apart. A man kneel s between them, a shiny dagger in his large hand. For a split second, I fear for my life. Then, recognition and relief, it is you. You smile at me, holding the knife up to the light so I can see the gleaming blade. You touch the tip of the knife to my breast, the cold sending shivers through my body and causing my nipples to harden painfully, blood straining. Dragging the point between my breasts and over my belly, my body is frozen in fear. I feel you part my labia gently with your free hand, feel the sharp point of the knife barely touch my wet skin. Will you cut me? I am not sure; am I dreaming? I am not sure of that either. I feel the blade push slightly against my clit, not enough to draw blood, but enough to elicit a gasping scream, a terrorizing shriek, into the huge room.

I awaken to the sound of my own scream, a breathless fear washing over me. You are there, arms around me as I sob onto your shoulder. “Babe, what were you dreaming of? I am here, I am here.” I can’t tell you. I can’t even bring the words from my lips. I shudder.

I shake my head violently. “Never mind, never mind.”

You stroke my cheek with your thumb. “You have had the life of luxury this weekend, Maili,” you say. This is what I have been anticipating; the return on investment, when I will be yours in every way possible.

I nod. “You are too good to me, Sir,” I reply. “I do not know how to repay your kindness.” Instinctively, I lower my eyes and clasp my hands submissively behind my back.

“Ahhh…but you do know how.” I cut my eyes to yours, black and shining. I do not know whether or not to respond. “Maili, you are my gift…mine. You repay me with your gentle obedience. And I require you this evening.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I have friends arriving from out of town; they are a couple I have known for a long time. I have mentioned you to them, and they are intrigued by our…experiences.” I begin to shake my head. The idea of sharing you is dreadful. “No, no, get that thought from your mind. You know that you are mine alone; and I yours. You will serve no other man, Maili, you understand?”

“Of course, Sir.” But I am filled with thoughts of the woman; will she be beautiful? Will she want you?

Seeing my questioning eyes, you say, “I will tell you as much as you need to know, as you require the knowledge, Maili. Right now, all you need to know is that you need to prepare for the evening. Sleep some more if you need to. Then, you will have a bath and cleansing…an enema. I trust you can manage that on your own, yes?”

I nod.

“Good. I want you to be sparkling and clean inside and out, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

And with that, you turn and walk out the door, leaving me alone again. Remembering my dream, I begin to fear what your plans are for the evening and what I will be forced to do for you and your guests. I manage to sleep another hour before rising to complete my bath.

When I return from the bath, wrapped in a thick cotton towel, there are a few items laid out on the bed. A shiny gold bra, matching panties with sheer lavender pantlegs, a black leather collar with several metal rings. The collar is familiar; I wear it most of the time in your service. The clothing looks fun – like a belly dancer or a harem girl. I put it on eagerly. You have not given me shoes, so I pad barefoot down the hallway to greet you.

You are standing at the foot of the staircase, holding a metal chain in your hand. You quickly fasten it to my collar and use your hand to force me to my knees. “Our guests will arrive in a moment, Maili. Would you like to drink something while we wait?”

I nod, following you by crawling toward the sitting room. You tug the chain hard, forcing me to move faster. My knees are already sore from the hard wood floor beneath them. Once in the carpeted room, you bring me a wine glass and allow me to sit back on my heels and drink. As is customary, I keep my legs spread wide apart. I hope that this moment will afford you the opportunity to tell me more about your plans, but you do not mention them. You busy yourself fussing over the room, neatening knick-knacks and even stroking my long, blond hair into place.

Soon enough, the doorbell chimes. I am frozen, nervous, terrified. You rise and bid me follow you with a sharp yank on the chain-leash. I go, frightened of the people standing on the other side of the door.

“John! Stephanie! So glad to see you!” You extend your arms to hug your friends. John and Stephanie are a young couple, perhaps in their mid-twenties. John is tall and fair-skinned, with curly brown hair. Stephanie is a petite brunette with a gorgeous tan. You sweep your arms in my direction. “This is my pet, the girl I told you about. Maili, make your greeting.”

I rise to my haunches, guided by your forceful pulling. My legs apart, I bow my head forward toward the young couple. John nods in approval, a look of shock on his face. Stephanie blushes, wanting to be polite but not accustomed to witnessing nude women at a dinner party. You snap your fingers and I move back to my hands and knees, awaiting your next order.

Dinner is served in the dining room, a meal you have prepared yourself. I kneel at your side as you and your guests dine. You have whispered in my ear that you will feed me a fine meal later, I should not go hungry. You allow me sips of wine from your cup, however; by the end of the meal my head is swimming with the alcohol.

“Maili and I are so glad you could come for a visit. We don’t get visitors often, and when we do, they tend to not understand our lifestyle,” you say. And to John, “I understand you are interested in some of the things that we do.” Stephanie giggles and blushes again.

“We have a developing curiosity, you could say,” he answers, unsure of the correct response.

“Well,” you say, fondling my hair as you talk. “There is no heaven like having an obedient pet. You will never starve for love, and her greatest reward will be your pleasure.” I gaze up at you, smiling, knowing this to be ever true.

We move into the game room, a wide expanse of room containing a pool table and a bar. You procure drinks for everyone. “With your permission, I would like to give a demonstration of my pet’s submissive nature…for your pleasure, of course,” you tell the lovely couple as they sit down in one of the wooden bar stools. “There are a few rules you must follow.”

They stare at you with open interest.

“You may not touch her unless I allow it. Likewise, she may not reciprocate unless I expressly allow it.”

John nods. Stephanie takes a step toward him, clasping his arm. “You won’t hurt her, will you?” she asks you meekly.

You laugh. “Maili and I have our own set of rules established. I know where her boundaries are. And though I try to push them all the time, she has a safe word for stopping my insistence. She will say it if she feels her safety is in danger.”

You tug my chain and guide me to the high mahogany bar. The wide bar counter is situated in the center of the room; rimmed on all sides with a wooden ledge to prevent spills from pouring onto the floor. Above the bar is a sturdy rack full of upside-down wine glasses.  Another rack holds a variety of bottles of red wine – your favorite.

You lift me onto the bar. “Stand up and reach above your head, Maili,” you order. I do as you say. You vault over the side of the bar and join me, on your knees. Before I can protest that the height scares me, you have chained my hands above me to the crystal rack. I am forced into a high squatting position. Next you smack my inner thighs, forcing my legs apart. “Push your hips out, show them your treasures.” John and Stephanie’s faces are three feet in front of me, watching every move you make. I push my hips out, baring my gold-covered sex to them. I can feel heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment. You kneel beside my feet, stroking my swollen lips with your outstretched finger. “Maili! You are wet already!” you exclaim. In my ear, you whisper: “You will focus on me alone. Pretend there is no one else here. You are my obedient whore, understand?” I nod. “Good.”

From your pocket you withdraw a folded knife, opening it so I can see the blade. I trust you; I know you will not cut me, but thoughts of my dream come back to my head as you move the blade toward me. You cut my bra off first, allowing my breasts to bounce free. Squeezing and kneading them, you pinch the nipples hard between your fingers, coaxing them to firm points.

Next the knife slides inside the fabric of my gold panties, slicing a long tear down the front. You pull them off easily, exposing the shameful wetness you had previously felt. “Such a slut for bondage you are, Maili!”

Earlier in the day you have set up your implements on the sidebar, a row of paddles, whips, canes, and other items. Some that I recognize, and others that are new. Jumping down from the bar, you reach for a thin bamboo cane, whipping it loudly against the palm of your hand. “You will keep your legs spread, Maili. Twenty lashes for good behavior, five for each infraction. Count them out loud.”

I close my eyes, preparing for the sharp sting of the cane. You first tease me with it, pushing the rigid tip against my thigh, scraping upward toward my pussy. I feel the tip enter me just slightly and spread my vagina as you wiggle it around, sending shooting pain down my legs.

“Whack!” the cane whips against my pubic bone before I can prepare. “ONE!” I shout, tears already forming in my eyes. The next strike finds the crease between my hip and thigh. I imagine the red stripes forming on my flesh, and the faces of the guests watching this abuse. “TWO!” My voice is shaky. The whizzing of the cane is the only sound in the room. As you continue, my body begins to slump, hanging desperately from my chains. I cry audibly now, begging no no no no between every thwack of the evil, thin cane. Finally, the last blow arrives, positioned to smack me upward between my legs. The tip strikes my clitoris and I feel the blood fill it, the wetness of my passion beginning to drip down my thighs. I wonder if your guests can see this, the proof that your torture brings me pleasure despite my protests?

You leave me a moment to cry, standing back to take in the view of my red-striped legs, pussy, and stomach. You finger traces the lines, causing me to cry louder. If this is the beginning of our session, what is to come? What could be more difficult to take than that? I am scared and shaking. As always your punishment softens me, brings me to a place in my mind where I can be stronger than the pain, melt like molten metal in your hands.

You lift my left leg up, bent at the knee, and secure it to the rack with another chain. Now I feel my pussy lips spread from the stretch.  From the wine rack you select a bottle and four glasses, lining them up on the edge of the bar. The cork still in the bottle, you push it between my legs, using your opposite hand to spread my pussy open. You push the wide neck of the bottle inside me, shoving upward until my lips are stretched wide around the body of the bottle. “Open for me, Maili,” you say, pushing hard against my cervix with the unforgiving glass. When you remove it, I sigh with relief. The stretching is unbearable. I gasp at the sound of the cork popping. I keep my eyes lowered as I hear you pouring glasses for everyone, handing them out and saving mine for later. Then your fingers are probing me again.

You are holding a small bottle of olive oil now, pouring the shining liquid over your fingers and hand, the excess dripping onto the bar top. You push your fingers against my asshole, spreading the slick oil inside me. Pushing deeper, you begin to spread my body open from inside. I am grateful for your earlier instructions; it is easier to relax knowing I am cleansed, especially knowing there are strangers watching everything we are doing. I feel you position the tip of the now half-empty wine bottle against my small opening, again pushing until I am forced to open and let it inside. The glass is harsh, shoving my walls aside as you push deeper and deeper. You begin to fuck my ass with the bottle, and my entire body shudders and heaves under the chains. I beg you to stop. You withdraw the bottle, and I am shocked that you have acquiesced to my request.

“Maili is new to this aspect of submission,” you explain to John and Stephanie. “She is very tight, and not used to being penetrated this way.” A laugh. “It makes it better for me, the way she fights me and squeezes to try to force me out. I don’t use her asshole often; better if it has time to heal and close tightly so that the pleasure is greater for the next time.”

I am humiliated, my eyes clamped shut trying to block out this experience. The guests are rapt; far past their own embarrassment, they are now eagerly awaiting your next move. You lean toward them to refill their glasses, emptying the bottle that has just raped my asshole and setting it aside. “Stephanie, would you care to help me?” you ask.

Stephanie giggles. “I don’t know…”

“Come, I won’t hurt you.” You reach for her hand, pulling her around to stand behind me. I hear another cork pop from a wine bottle. You take her hand in yours, pouring oil into her palm. “Open her again,” he says and I feel her thin fingers probing between my legs, the tip of one manicured finger sliding easily inside my ass. I sob uncontrollably at this inept invasion. Her opposite hand rests on my hip, long fingernails scraping against my skin as she continues to probe. I scream.

“Maili! I will gag you if you scare our guests!” you tell me, and I bite my lip. Soon the evil finger is withdrawn, replaced by the newly opened bottle of wine. Stephanie pushes it in as far as it will go, my anus forced to stretch painfully around the widest part of the bottle. “Now,” you instruct her. “I need you to hold it there while I readjust her chains.”

“Yes, Sir,” says Stephanie eagerly, and I feel a deep pang of jealousy at her calling you this…what else will you have her perform for you? Am I not your only slut? John is speechless, his hands clasped together, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

You release my chains, first hands and then my knee. I feel your wide hand on the back of my neck, forcing me to me knees. “Face down, ass up, Maili,” you say and I comply, pressing my cheek against the cold wooden bar, spreading my legs to each side, my ass high. As I raise my hips, I am surprised to feel the wine begin to fill my bowels, the room temperature liquid cold compared to my hot insides. It flows and flows, and you allow Stephanie to sit back down, taking the bottle in your own hands, shaking it to increase the flow of red wine into me. I can’t help but cry, cramps filling my guts, my stomach swelling from the volume of liquid. Shamed, I keep my face down on the bar, moaning in agony as you continue this punishment. I pull my legs forward in an attempt to relieve the pain, but there is no relief from the sheer quantity you are forcing me to accept. I hear the gurgle of the bottle emptying finally, my cries loud as you pop the glass from my asshole, sealing me closed with your finger.

I realize at this moment that John has positioned Stephanie over a barstool, her skirt pushed up to her waist and her panties pulled below her cheeks. He strokes her open pussy with his fingers, glancing up at me occasionally as she moans. As I writhe in misery before them, he frees his cock from his pants, positions himself behind her and begins to fuck her vigorously, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.

I have no idea what is to come. Here I am, high above an audience, my body filled with red wine. Will you allow me to relieve myself? Are you going to force me to do it in front of them and you? I clamp down hard on your finger, knowing that I can’t hold this inside me for long. I look at you, begging you with my eyes. Plleeeassse. Your free hand massages my buttocks, squeezing and spreading. I beg out loud now, “Pleeeasee, Sir, let me go…I can’t take it.”

I hear your belt buckle release with a click. Oh, God, are you going to beat me now? I won’t be able to take it, I will faint. But no, next I hear you slide your slacks down and kick them to the side. And then you are in front of me, pulling me up to my hands and knees. All I can focus on is keeping the red wine enema in place, clenching tightly as you force your large cock into my mouth. I can’t control my mouth, too difficult to focus, and you take the opportunity to shove all the way inside, down my throat, your balls pressed up against my chin. I gag and choke, but you continue to push against my face, lightly smacking my cheeks and pinching my nose closed, forcing my mouth and throat to relax to accommodate you. My stomach is cramping terribly now, filled from both ends, and I scream even with my throat full of your flesh. You pull out hastily and reposition yourself behind me, knocking my legs apart and pushing your cock against my asshole.

“Nooooooo!!!!!” I scream, waiting for the intrusion. As you enter me, I can not contain the liquid any longer, and red wine begins to spray from my body. The expulsion causes my asshole to open wide and you use this opportunity to shove inside deeply. I feel humiliated, the wet sloppy sounds of your dick pounding into my wet asshole increasing my shame. I cry with abandon. You do not stop, fucking me hard as I continue to empty myself, the liquid shining on our skin. You smack my ass cheeks sharply, encouraging me to relax. “Maili, you are so tight, my love. You are massaging my cock with your insides. This is amazing,” you tell me. I can’t stop screaming, the cramping in my stomach is intense and the stretching of my ass around your wide cock is painful. My shoulders slump, forcing my breasts against the hard, wet countertop. My tears stream forth, mixing with the olive oil and wine. You begin a pattern of thrusting deeply, plugging the flow of wine, and then withdrawing, leaving my body to expel the liquid, spasming muscles grasping onto your cock as you push the huge head back inside. This continues for long minutes, and my voice begins to give out from screaming.

Pulling my body upward, you reach to wrap your arms around my knees, pulling my legs back too far and holding my weight down on your stabbing cock, plunging deeper than before. My body begins to ache from the intensity of the sensations, swelling and flowing and stretching.

I can only cry silently now, knowing that you truly own me, body and soul, and that your desires go as deep as you wish, regardless of my pain and humiliation.

You withdraw suddenly, replacing your cock with your fingers, opening me wide so I can release the remaining fluid. Thank god for the earlier enema, this is clean, clear wine pouring and spraying from my ass as you massage my stomach and press down on it. I am spent and exhausted, collapsing on the bar. You flip me over onto my back, raising my legs back to my shoulders. Pushing your cock in my asshole again, you begin to pump furiously, bringing yourself to your fever pitch. I feel your cock swell inside me, and you pull out in order to cover my stomach and chest with your creamy cum. Some of it sprays into my mouth and I taste it eagerly, both relieved and disappointed that this intense exploration of my abilities is over.

Our guests are still quiet, watching with rapt attention. You address them now. “See how beautiful she is, my Maili?” Nodding. “She allows me to own her in every way. She is my essence, my only pleasure. I own her body; it is a vessel for my use. The enema was a symbol of how deep inside her body I can penetrate, how much of her I can own and abuse. And she may have screamed, she may have cried and begged, but she didn’t give up. She took everything I gave her. And she would take much more…” you glance at me. “But I believe she needs to clean up and rest a while.” You help me to my feet, my body slick and drenched. Handing me the glass of wine you poured earlier, I can’t even summon the strength to hold it, so you bring it to my lips, helping me gulp it down. Then you reach for a soft towel and wrap me up, carrying me to our bedroom. After running a bath and settling me into it, you praise me. “I am proud of you, Maili. That was beautiful. I am going to go tell John and Stephanie goodnight. Take your time, I will be up soon to check on you.”

A deep kiss, you leave me to my comforting bath. The wine has gone to my head, causing me to drift to sleep in the water. The next thing I remember, you have brought me a plate of food, helping me out of the tub and into bed to eat. You undress while I devour my dinner, and wrap your strong naked body around me as I go to sleep, your cock positioned between my legs. I feel as if I am the most treasured girl in the world feeling your sweet breath on my shoulder. “Goodnight, Aidan…my true love.”

Resistance

Maili rings the doorbell precisely at seven o’clock. “Always on time,” I muse as I cross the wide hallway to answer it. Wearing jeans and a Henley pullover, I am dressed casually as I told her I would be. She is in a yellow sundress with straps that tie behind her neck. “You look beautiful,” I tell her and lead her into the living room for a drink. “Martini?”

“Please,” she says, taking the glass from my hand. She pops the olive into her mouth, swirling it around before biting down, making a sour face in reaction to the briny flavor.

We sit on the sofa. I have plans for the evening, and I want her to know what they are. At times, keeping secrets sets her on edge, makes her eager to know what is coming next. Other times, telling her point-blank what I am planning gets her excited, puts fear into her, causes her to tremble at my words before I even touch her delicate body.

“What’s for dinner, Aidan?” she asks, innocently.

“Dinner will be later,” I tell her. “I am having it brought; don’t worry about it at all. Actually, Maili, I have other plans in mind first.”

She raises her eyebrows with interest. “Oh?” she says. She crosses her legs, causing her skirt to reveal the pale flesh beneath.

“Well, we have had many adventures together, you and I. And you have given your body and soul to me in many ways, Maili.” I pause before continuing. “But there is one part of you that you have been unable to give up.”

She gasps. She knows before I say it. She blushes and looks away. I reach and touch her thigh, running the tips of my fingers beneath the hem of her dress. “I want in your ass, Maili.”

She is thinking now. I know she is thinking of the times we have tried, that I have been gentle with her. I have tested with my fingers, attempted to stretch her enough to take my cock. Even still, when I have attempted to penetrate her there, she has thrashed and cried, begging me to take it out when I have only inserted the head. And I have obeyed her when she has asked me to stop.

But not tonight.

“Maili, I have considered the reasons this is difficult for you. I know it is painful, but I feel perhaps what is needed is for you to fully realize the extent of my dominance over you. In the past, I have allowed you to deny this to me. Tonight, you will not have that option. I will have your ass tonight, darling.”

“Aidan, I’m scared.” Indeed, the tears are beginning to stream down her cheeks.

“Come with me,” I tell her, taking her empty glass and setting it on the table. The martini has taken effect on her empty stomach, causing her to be easily led. She holds on to my arm as I guide her into the bedroom and lift her onto the bed.

I remove her dress easily, exposing her creamy skin. For now I allow her to wear her panties. “I want you to lie on your stomach and pull your knees under you,” I tell her. As she gets into position, I reach for a length of strong rope. When she sees it she cries, “No!”

“Smack!” I smack her ass with the flat of my hand. “Maili, I am taking you. You will have to be bound tightly. I can’t let you move or you could hurt yourself or me. I will do this, with your cooperation or without it.” Another smack to her soft, round ass cheek and she submits, curling onto her knees and continuing to cry.

I bind her wrists first, taking care not to injure her. Her wrists and hands are so thin and delicate. From there, I bind her wrists to her waist, circling the rope around her hips. Finally, I bind her ankles to her waist, forcing her body to open and remain still. She is helpless now, caught like a fly in a spider web. Her face is buried in the mattress. Her ass is forced high by the taut rope.

I go to my bureau and rummage, finding the items I will need for this endeavor. She asks me repeatedly, “Aidan?! What are you doing? What is that noise?” I can tell she is truly afraid.

“Do I have to gag you, Maili? You know how much I like to hear you scream. Shut up for now. There will time for your lovely voice later.”

Once I have assembled my tools, I turn to take in this bound beauty on my bed. She is trembling all over, her knees knocking from the awkward position. I kneel behind her, tossing a few items onto the bedspread beside me. A tube of lubricant, butt plugs in several sizes, an a long beaded probe. Maili clenches her cheeks when she feels my hands touch her skin.

I slap her flesh again. “Be still, Maili! Remember what I have taught you so far…you will relax your insides, it will be less painful for you that way.” I pull her panties aside, grabbing her cheeks to spread them roughly. Seeing her body open up, viewing that tiny opening which I am about to breach, makes me shiver all over. My cock is hard, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans. I quickly yank her panties off, tearing them in the process.

I take the tube of lubricant and squeeze some onto my finger tip. Using my other hand to spread her cheeks apart, I push my finger inside her ass slowly. I felt her body rejecting this invasion immediately, but I continue to push forward past the first knuckle..twisting slightly…then to the second knuckle…finally resting there with my finger buried inside her body. I rub her back gently, coaxing her to relax and remember to breathe. She pushes back against me with her hips, not bothering to struggle yet. I pull my finger out and add another, pushing hard into her, feeling the firm walls give way to my strong fingers.

“Aidan!” she whispers helplessly. I spread my fingers apart inside her, not an easy thing to do as tight as she is. She yelps. “What the fuck are you doing?!” she screams.

“Shhhh, darling. I am stretching you open.” I keep my fingers open and spin my hand, forcing her to endure the pain of being stretched all around. “You need to open to me, Maili. You will.”

“I can’t…”

“You will.”

I feel her body slump slightly. I reach for the large butt plug. I am too impatient to start small. I know that I am strong enough to force it inside her ass, as hard as she may try to fight against it. I slide my fingers out with a “pop” and rub gently just inside the opening, noticing the redness there from the brutal stretching. She sighs with relief.

Her anus is lubricated well from my slick fingers, and I do not need to add more lube yet. I position the plug and begin to push it in, watching her body stretch unnaturally around the widest part of the plug. “You’re tearing me!” she screams, but I can see that I am not. Only stretching, the skin blanching from the strain. Pushing harder and harder until her muscles wrap around it and only the flange is visible protruding from her bottom. She is crying hard now, her shoulders shaking rhythmically.

I smack her bottom several times, the resounding noise echoing in the large bedroom. Once I smack directly on her ass, jarring the plug within her, causing her to shriek. “Don’t touch it, Aidan! It hurts too bad!” I smack her again, watching her face turn red in pain and anger. I rock the plug with my fingers, pushing it in and pulling it out, allowing her body to open painfully around the wide rim before plunging it back inside her. She is melting to me now, her body providing far less resistance than it was before. I remove the plug quickly and her asshole shrinks almost immediately, only slightly more open than it was before I began.

The begging begins.

“Aidan, please…let me suck you off…fuck my pussy…please don’t hurt my ass, I can’t take it.”

I sit back on my heels, allowing her to rest a moment. She continues. “I tried, baby, I really did. I’m sorry, I just can’t take it. I can’t.”

I don’t answer. I reach for the tube of lubricant. “You will need to be lubricated deep inside to be able to accept the length of my cock,” I tell her. “Here is what I am going to do.” I push the tip of the bottle inside her anus. “This is going inside, as deep as it will go without losing it.” I begin to push hard, allowing the bottle to enter her body. “You must relax or you will fill your ass up with too much lube, it will cramp you inside. So relax your anus, let me squeeze the bottle. This will help make it easier for you if you are careful. It could make it harder if you clamp down. Understand?” She nods furiously. She knows I have no intention of letting her off the hook now. Deeper and deeper I push the bottle, finally reaching the point where my fingers only have a small end to hold on to. I squeeze then, filling her deep inside with the slick fluid. She moans at the sensation of the cold lube entering her. I begin to tug the bottle out, squeezing as I go, coating her insides. When I remove it completely, a glob of thick cream dribbles from her ass and down her thigh.

I pick up the beaded probe. It is as long as my cock but not as thick, the beads graduating in size from the smallest at the tip to the largest at the base. I insert the smallest bead into her, watching her anus expand and contract as it disappears inside. Then the next bead, another stretch and it is gone. She is breathing heavy now, a layer of sweat shining on her back. Another bead, a wider stretch. This is as deep as I can go without shoving hard, and I am afraid of tearing her, so I pull it out and push gently, going a bit further with each thrust of the flexible plastic. She is taking it well, but it is not nearly as big around as my cock. I am going to hurt her bad when I go this deep. She gasps as I pull the toy out, leaving her dripping with lube and unsure of what I am going to do to her next.

“Maili, it’s time, babe.” I smack her cheek playfully. “You’re ready, I think.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “I’m not, I’m not. I’m scared.”

“You will like it once you get over the first time, darling. You will.”

I free my erection from my jeans, tossing my clothes aside and squatting behind Maili’s tender body. Widening her legs slightly, I push the tip of my cock against the shining opening of her ass. My erection is huge, impossible to imagine that her body can stretch wide enough to let me in. But I am tenacious, and I begin to move forward, causing her anus to open around the wide head of my cock. She screams and clenches her muscles, squeezing the life out of my dick. I smack her ass hard. “Relax!” She does so, somewhat, hiding her face in the bed, struggling to breathe. I go further, feeling her tight slippery walls envelope my cock. Her body resists me mightily, but I brace my feet against the mattress and give a forceful shove, impaling her fully, feeling her muscles give way to my entry. She screams like a wounded animal, trying her best to wiggle away from her punishment. I stay buried inside her, my balls resting against her wet pussy. I reach beneath and spread those lips, stroking her clit with my fingers, feeling her wetness oozing out despite her distress.

Pulling out hurts her almost as much as penetrating her did. She bucks under me, unsuccessfully writhing in her bondage. I pull almost all the way out before thrusting hard back in, this time meeting with less resistance.

She is mine.

I begin to fuck her ass, holding her trembling thighs for leverage. Her screams change in pitch and volume until she is moaning loudly, pushing her hips back to meet my thrusts. The fullness and pain in her ass causes an orgasm to build within her – I can feel it, the muscles clenching and unclenching as I, too, begin to cum. I push deep inside her when I do, filling her deeply with semen and plugging it there with my cock. She is crying, grabbing handfuls of sheets in her hands. “Fuuuuckkkk, Aidan!” she screams as I begin to pull out of her, leaving her ass bruised and open, cum dribbling down her thigh, hot tears streaming down her face.

I untie her, gently rubbing her sore limbs and carrying her to the bathroom to clean her up with a warm wet cloth. Retying her dress behind her neck, I lead her back into the main part of the house. As she sits down to have another martini, the doorbell rings. I go answer it, bringing the packages of Chinese food back to the living room.

“Aidan,” she says, taking a delicate bite of her lo mein. “Thank you.”

I can’t help but notice that she sits awkwardly, curling her legs protectively around her and leaning her head against my chest. I bury my face in her hair, taking in the scent of her as she eats her dinner. “Just wait for dessert,” I tell her, pinching her ass through her dress.

Make Dinner & Get Laid (Even if you don’t know how to boil water)

Yeah, sorry for the lack of a photo of my hot naked boyfriend cooking. That photo would just be too juicy to share and tbh I don't love you people enough for that. So, in the spirit of juiciness, I give you...tomatoes fucking

I made a meal tonight that occurred to me, even someone with NO cooking experience could prepare and not fuck it up. And, because I am ever the exhibitionist, I thought I’d give you the full guide to making a fucking kick-ass awesome dinner…even if you are terrified of the prospect of cooking anything. So, gentlemen, invite your woman over for dinner. Seriously. You are going to cook for her, and she is going to melt in your arms at your ability to do so. (Of course, ladies you could do the same for your man if you want to!)

STEP ONE

Go to the store. You need to go to the actual grocery store. NOT the convenience store where you buy your beer. No, no, you will need more than just twinkies and booze for this one.

Buy the following items. Don’t try to be cheap and substitute; listen to Madeline. Buy EXACTLY what is listed:

• 10 oz bag of mixed greens
• 10 oz. bag of baby spinach (BABY!!!!)
• Container of fresh strawberries
• 2-3 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
• 1 bottle of McCormick’s Montreal steak seasoning (NO SUBSTITUTES!!!)
• 1 bottle olive oil (mid-priced, don’t need to go crazy)
• 1 bottle balsamic vinegar (go higher end for this, but you only need a small bottle unless you are a hopeless addict as I am)
• 1 jar seedless raspberry jam
• 1 jar honey
• Plain white long grain rice
• Blanched slivered almonds
• Coconut milk (lite is fine, but whatever)
• Coconut flakes
• Small can of mandarin oranges
• Unsalted butter (NOT margarine, no no no)
• Some kind of wine (ask your woman what she likes, I hate wine snobs, white wine goes with…blah blah, just get a wine that tastes good)

STEP TWO

Go into your kitchen.  (I hope it’s clean. If it’s not, clean it. It is NO FUN to cook in a filthy kitchen.) Now, assemble the following items on your kitchen counter:

• All of your delicious ingredients
• Large frying pan
• Small frying pan
• Medium sized sauce pan with a lid
• Measuring cups and spoons
• Can opener
• A small mixing bowl
• Whisk
• Several spoons for stirring
• Several sharp knives

Fill up your sink with hot soapy water. This will help you keep things neat as you cook, and also make it easier to wash items you may need to use twice.

STEP THREE

This is where it gets fun! Time to cook! Do these steps in order, so you can have the meal ready all at the same time – nothing will be cold or wilted or whatever.

1. Make the salad dressing: In the mixing bowl, mix together about 4 tsp. raspberry jam and 4 tsp. honey. Add ¼ cup balsamic vinegar. While whisking, add ¾ c. olive oil. Sprinkle a little bit of pepper and whisk it to death. Set aside (you will have to whisk it again later, so just leave the whisk in the bowl.
2. Prepare fruit for the salad: Take the green caps off the strawberries.  Slice them. Drain the mandarin oranges. Set these items in the refrigerator.
3. Toast almonds: Melt butter over low heat in a small sauté pan. Add almonds. Stir pretty often until you can smell the delicious aroma of almond; this tells you they are done. Do NOT walk away from these or they will burn. Set aside and allow them to cool.
4. Begin cooking the rice; melt a Tbsp. butter in the sauce pan. Add 1 cup rice. Stir until the rice is coated in melted butter. Add a dash of salt and pepper. Add 1 cup water and 1 cup coconut milk; bring to a boil. Once the liquid is boiling, turn the heat down to just a bare simmer and put the lid on. Now, you can ignore it for a while. No need to even stir.
5. While the liquid is boiling for the rice, put the large sauté pan over medium-high heat and let it get nice and hot. Add a drizzle of olive oil and a pat of butter. While the pan is heating, sprinkle both sides of the chicken breast halves with the Monterrey steak seasoning. Don’t be shy – coat them in a nice dusting. Once the oil/butter mixture is hot, add the chicken. Cook about 8 minutes on each side. Once the chicken is nice and brown on both sides, you can turn the heat down to avoid burning/drying out your chicken.
6. While the chicken and rice are cooking, prepare the salad. Toss the mixed greens and spinach together. Add strawberries, mandarin oranges, and almonds. Whisk the salad dressing and drizzle over the salad. Toss with your (ahem, clean) hands.
7. Check the rice. It’s done when the liquid is all absorbed. Remove the rice from the heat. Toss with a fork to make it fluffy. Add a handful of coconut flakes and stir.

STEP FOUR

Now it’s time to make beautiful plates of food!!! Remember that often women do not eat as much as men, so keep that in mind when plating her food. Also, I think it’s nice to make everything bite sized and easy to eat –t his helps avoid those first date nerves disasters in which a knife slips and food goes flying ala Julia Roberts and the flying lobster.

1. Scoop some rice onto each plate.
2. Slice chicken crosswise into slices and nestle into the rice. Try to keep the slices in the shape of the chicken breast. I don’t know why, it just looks neater that way.
3. Add the salad to the plate (you can use a bowl if you want, but who needs extra dishes? Not me.)
4. If you want to serve bread, serve whatever bread you like along with some butter.

OMG you did it! You made a delicious meal for your woman (or man)!

As for dessert, well if you can make a meal like that without burning the house down, then guess what? You ARE the dessert. Add chocolate syrup and canned whipped cream and you’re all done.

Smooth Criminal

You may or may not believe me, but once upon a time I, Madeline, was an innocent little girl. (I was! Shut up! It’s true!!!!) And one of the first innocent crushes I ever had on a celebrity (although certainly not the last) was, who else, Michael Jackson. Oh, yes, the music of Thriller filled my room daily. I had the poster AND the doll (complete with red faux leather jacket and sparkling glove AND EVEN SPANGLED SOCKS) which I lugged around everywhere I went. I had a copy of the Making of Thriller on beta (BETA!!!! Where were you?) which I forced my reluctant parents to view multiple times per day. I also had this beauty hanging proudly over my bed. Unfortunately, over time, the bedtime kiss began to take its toll and wear away the glossy paper over Michael’s luscious lips. I often wonder how gleeful my mother must have been when she threw away/burned/shredded that particular memento of my childhood.

As the years went by, Michael became a bit like the strange relative everyone whispers about…but in your heart, you still love them anyway despite their, ahem, eccentricities. I always felt a bit sorry for the man-child that Michael was. I won’t go into all of that here, but suffice to say I always loved him. And so I mourn his passing as the death of my childhood hero. You can say what you want about the man himself – keeping in mind that whatever you happen to know about him is what the media decided to share with you. But, really, no one can deny his musical genius or the vast scope of his influence on pop music. Someone I love said, “It must have taken a lot of courage to be so unique.” And yes, this is the thing to remember. That even though Michael may have been one seriously whacked out celebrity, consider this. As the Mozart of Motown, could he have been any different than what he was? The ones we remember are the ones who had that certain something that we ourselves don’t have.

I hope that Michael’s children are able to mourn their father as they should. I hope they know love their entire lives. And I hope most of all that they stay together, considering the tumultuous legal battles that are bound to ensue.  The world is certainly missing a legend; however, his children are simply missing their daddy, and their pain is more immense than anyone’s during a time like this.

Tangled

Alone in my bed, all I can think of is you.

Awake and in motion, my body turns to one side, then the other. The cool air from the window does nothing to combat the heat or humidity. My t-shirt and shorts cling to my skin. I run my fingers through my hair, damp from the evening shower.

Your fingers are tangled in my hair, pulling hard from behind. A shiver moves from my scalp down the back of my neck as you increase the pressure.

My fingers come to rest on my face, feeling the lingering ache in my jaw, my lips soft and wet, bruised from your kisses. How can I spend days and nights without your lips touching mine? Without your fingers stroking my cheekbones?

You kiss me gently, your full lips so soft and damp against mine. Then, pulling away, you slide two fingers inside my mouth, running them along my gums and teeth. Pushing deeper, opening my palate. I make a noise for you to stop, but you do not. You continue to push your fingers inside, opening the back of my mouth and causing me to gag. You hold them there briefly and then push forward again, entering my throat. I am gagging and swallowing rapidly, muscles spasming around your unrelenting fingers. You withdraw your fingers and order me to my knees.

Pulling off your boots and pants, I take in my first view of your beautiful cock. Longer and thicker than I expected, my first sensation is fear. Will I be able to take it inside me, my mouth, my pussy, my ass? Will it hurt? Will I be able to take the pain? Will you stop if it hurts too much? I am suddenly nervous that I won’t be able to please you. I have never had a cock that large inside my body before, much less in my throat. I wonder if you see my fear.

I reach to my nightstand for a drink of water, swallowing the ice cold liquid. My throat burns even now, and the icy fluid provides relief. I wrap my fingers gently around my neck, remembering the sensation of fullness there.

I hold your thighs tenderly as you push my face toward your rigid cock. “Take it,” you tell me. My mouth opens, gingerly taking just the head inside. I lick my lips to wet them, sucking as I take you in deeper. My jaw begins to hurt as you push farther and farther inside my mouth, my lips stretching around the width. “Deeper,” you say, and I feel I cannot do it. My throat closes, my mouth is stuffed with cock, I can’t relax to take any more. I lower my eyes.

“Stop,” you command, jerking my body aside like a doll, dragging me by my arms to lie on my back, my head tilted backward over the edge of the bed. Standing behind me, you command, “Open.” I do so, feeling your fingers pulling my jaw open, holding it there as you feed your cock inside my mouth. You hold my tits in your hands, using my body as leverage to breach the back of my throat.

“Gaaaackkkkkk,” my body recoils as you penetrate my throat. I gag, but you continue to enter. I feel the width of your dick stretching my esophagus. I can’t breathe or make a sound, and my eyes widen in pain and shock. My stomach rolls as I fight the urge to gag again, instead swallowing, feeling my throat muscle massaging your cock. I try to breathe through my nose, but it seems my lungs are blocked completely. Just when I feel I might pass out, I tap your side and you pull out, leaving me gasping for air, choking and sputtering.

“You did well,” you tell me. “Once more, I want to feel your throat when I go deep.” And again you are holding me down, your strong hands wrapped around my neck, waiting to feel how wide your cock stretches and bulges my throat. “Stick out your tongue,” you demand, and I obey. Slapping my tongue several times with your dick, you finally slide inside. When you reach my throat, you say, “Do it again, stick out your tongue.” As soon as I do this, you clamp my nostrils closed with one hand, shoving deeply into my throat before I realize what has happened. I can’t breathe or move; I can only swallow. Can you feel the bulge in my throat as it is filled?

The heat is unbearable now. I hold the chilled glass to my forehead and shift in the bed, pulling my t-shirt up over my head. Stretching my back in an arch, my breasts exposed to the warm evening air. I slide the cool glass across my nipples, and they harden immediately, goose bumps forming all around them.

Your fingers search out my nipples, tightening around them and twisting, dragging pain and pleasure from my lips. You squeeze harder, the sensitive tips drained of blood, aching as you pull them away from my body. My mouth is open in awe as you plump one breast with your hand and close your warm mouth over my nipple. You suck hard, teeth digging in to the areola, sucking as if you wish to tear it from my body. I arch my back against you, pushing my feet against the bed in an attempt to escape. You continue to squeeze and knead my breast while moving your mouth to the other side, biting and sucking as I writhe beneath you.

Sighing, I curl my body against my pillow, trying to decide if I need to take a walk, get fresh air, cool myself off before any attempt to sleep. The house is so quiet, I can hear the sound of the crickets chirping outside, the occasional car passing by, the sound of the house settling into night. I cannot be still, my hips moving involuntarily thinking of your warm body against my own. I tug my shorts off, feeling smothered by the layers of clothing. My hands wander toward my stomach, sliding over the skin and just under the waistband of my panties.

You push me backwards on the bed, shoving my knees apart so you can kneel between them. I feel your finger under the narrow band of my panties, pulling the fabric aside. Your finger traces along the crease of my thigh until I can stand to wait no more. Finally, you touch my pussy, resting the tip of your finger on my clit, stroking it softly. When you finally move to enter me, my pussy is dripping fluid on your fingers. With one finger, then two, you steadily push inside my pussy, stretching as you go deeper. I let my legs fall open, pushing my hips toward your hand as you fuck me with your fingers. Suddenly I feel a sharp ache inside. “What are you doing?!”

“Stretching you,” you say. You are spreading your fingers apart inside me, the walls of my pussy forced open as you twist and shove inside. You add another finger, finding the ridge of nerves at the back of my vagina and slamming it hard with the strength of your forearm. I scream now, feeling my internal organs shift backward as you continue to slap against the spot. You widen your fingers inside, bringing that unbearable stretching sensation again, and then you slowly turn your hand, twisting my walls painfully, grinding your knuckles deep inside my body. I shudder from the pain, my pussy contracting in spasms, spilling forth my creamy fluid as you open me up to you. My fingers clench against your back, scratching against your smooth skin as I cum, grasping you as if to prevent myself from falling from the edge of a cliff. I sigh loudly, collapsing beneath you.

Withdrawing your soaked fingers, you hold them shining to the light. Blood and fluid glisten, showing without a doubt how you have probed places no one ever has, stretching my body and my limits with your fingers alone.

I slide my fingers inside my panties, feeling the dampness there, the thought of you causing me to spill forth even in your absence. Remembering how intensely you explored my body and how shamelessly I reacted to your exploration.

You are lying on your back, beckoning me to squat above you, my pussy inches from your gorgeous face. You grab my hips and pull my body down, easily finding my clit with your tongue. Flicking, flicking, flicking until I am bucking above you, struggling to stay on my feet. And then poking your tongue between the folds of my pussy, delving deep inside, tasting and stroking. “You are ready,” you say, turning my body easily over in the bed, using your hands to force my legs up and out, laying my pussy open to your view. You poise yourself above me, your cock hard and twitching. Reaching beside you, you retrieve your leather belt and fasten it securely around my neck, holding on to the loose end with your hand.

“Spread yourself open,” you command. I peel back my lips and expose my opening to you, waiting to feel the spear of your cock inside me. You lift my hips higher off the mattress, forcing the head of your cock inside. My body opens to you, wet and soft, and you thrust inside deeply, ramming into my cervix, bruising it. I have never felt that pain before, the length of your cock pushing my insides up. It almost feels as if you will open my cervix, too, penetrate all the way inside my uterus with your long, deep thrusts. Despite the pain, I want you to do this, I want you to be inside me as no one ever has, to reach below my surface and pull the deepest part of me open for you to see and understand. You will see then that there are places in my soul no one has ever gone, places in my body no one has ever felt or been capable of finding. I cry out, against my will as you pull on the end of the belt, tightening the leather around my neck, taking my breath from my lips before I am able to exhale.

A tear runs down my cheek as I slide my fingers inside my pussy, knowing that I cannot recreate the sensation of your touch. My insides are slippery wet, still burning from your fingers and cock. I cannot bear to touch myself now; it only makes me want you more. I stroke my clit softly with the tips of my fingers, imagining that it is your tongue flicking there. I remember the things you did to my clit – flicking with your finger, clenching it between your fingertips and squeezing hard until I came in a rush of screaming and crying. I recall how sensitive and red it was, electrified by your torturous touch.

Laying across your knees, my ass pushed high in the air, I feel the soft caress of your hand over my cheeks. Spreading and kneading my skin, suddenly your hands are gone and I flinch knowing what is coming. “SMACK!” your wide hand hits my ass, and I jump from the surprise and pain. Again and again you slap me there, shoving my legs apart to slap my open pussy as well. I knew you would inflict pain on me, but I had no idea how powerful your smacks would be and how much my flesh would burn and ache from the punishment. Still, my pussy is wet, and you know this. And thus you continue. I reach my limit sooner than I expect, drawing my knees up and spreading my cheeks apart in a sign of submission. You know I can take no more. I am crying.

I slide my panties off beneath the sheet, tossing them aside with the rest of my clothes. Spreading my legs, I run my finger down my slit, feeling the wetness of my pussy and then the tiny opening of my asshole. I could barely touch it without cringing in pain.

“Did you do what I asked?”

The enema. I haven’t done it, but I have brought it, knowing you would not forget you had asked me. I have only done one once before, and it was a difficult experience. Just the feeling of the rigid little tip of the bottle in my asshole was painful, and the water had been too cold, causing me to shiver and cramp inside.

“Do it,” you say, pushing me to my feet. I go and make preparations, warming the bottle and checking it. As I walk into the bedroom to complete my task, you follow me in. “Do you want to do it?” I ask you. You do not need to answer. You lay me down on a towel, lifting my legs up and apart. Finding my tiny opening with your finger, you push the tip of the bottle deep inside, the lubricated tip providing some relief as I feel full and slightly stretched by this unrelenting plastic. Your hands are much stronger than mine, and when you squeeze the warmed bottle the liquid flows quickly inside my body, filling me up with a warm sensation. I feel I can take no more, but you squeeze again, forcing the rest of the liquid inside. Then tugging the emptied bottle from me, you push my knees together and quickly leave me to my work, going to prepare a shower for us.

Here I am, alone in my own bed, blushing from the things you have made me do. I believe you know that I would do anything for you, and I wonder often how far you will push me. Having a short time together was not enough to explore all the desires we have for one another – I am not sure a lifetime is enough.

A short time later, I enter the shower along with you. Feeling the hot water streaming down my body is a relaxing sensation I badly need. You soap your hands and bathe me, finding every inch of my body with your wet hands. You nudge my legs apart and soap between them, finding the sore spots where you fucked me hard earlier. Taking the shower head from its hook you spray the warm water directly upward toward my pussy and ass, effectively rinsing the soap away and causing an orgasm that causes my knees to buckle underneath me. With my body clean and weakened, you turn me to face the wall, pressing my damp cheek against the hard surface. I feel your soapy fingers spreading my cheeks apart, pressing a finger against my asshole, not penetrating, just stroking there. You hurt my pussy with your large fingers, and I was afraid of this. You do not penetrate me, though; only continue to rub hard against the opening, helping me to relax my body to you. “I want you on the bed so I can play with you some more,” you tell me. “But wash me first.”

I do this eagerly, rubbing the soap between my hands and running them over your body. The feel of your smooth brown skin beneath my fingers is indescribable. I bath your head and face, your neck and shoulders, your chest. Finally I kneel and run my hands over your ass and thighs, taking your balls in one of my hands and your cock in the other, washing you gently and thoroughly, sliding my hands between your thighs for a better reach. Then taking the shower head again, I rinse you as well as you had me, spraying you all over before returning the sprayer to the hook.

I want you in my bed now. I feel the same as if I were suffering from lack of food or water. It isn’t a voluntary desire; it is a deep need that penetrates every thought I have. Thought of our bodies together floods my brain, carrying me away from reality. I writhe beneath the sheets, wishing for the weight of your body on top of mine, craving the taste of your skin beneath my tongue.

Once we are dry, you lead me by my hair to the bed. Pushing me backward, you lift my hips onto a pillow and spread my legs again. Kneeling beside me, you reach toward the nightstand for some oil and pour it over your hand. I feel your finger between my cheeks, seeking its tiny target. Then a rough pain as you push inside my ass. “Relax,” you say, pushing deeper. I cry out, “But it hurts!” and you smack the inside of my thigh.

“It will hurt. You are so tight back here,” you tell me. “You must learn to relax your muscles. It is the only way I can get inside. I want you to open to me.” Your finger pulls out, joined by a second finger. “Relax!” and that splitting sensation again, followed by an intense stretching. I close my eyes, drop my knees apart, and begin breathing slowly, trying to open up to your fingers. You continue to move your fingers around inside my ass.

The sensation is difficult to describe. Pain, yes. The discomfort of feeling filled up with moving fingers. The embarrassment of knowing you could feel inside me where no one is supposed to go. And also the pleasure of knowing that I can please you this way, giving you access to all parts of my body.

“Now three fingers. Relax.” I can’t help but cry out, the pain splitting me in half as you force three fingers deep inside my ass. You keep them buried there for a long moment, allowing me to adjust to the width. Pushing my knees back more so you can push your fingers in deeper, I am afraid to move. The pain is deep and intense. I force myself to relax. I know what is next.

Popping your fingers out of my ass, you roll me onto my stomach, pushing my knees forward to expose my ass to you. I feel you spread my cheeks apart, positioning the enormous head of your cock at the entrance to my asshole. You pour more oil there, and I feel it running down over the crack of my ass and my thighs. Then you hold my hips steady and begin to press your body forward. I feel my body opening to you, stretching painfully around your cock. Your fingers could not begin to open me up enough to take your cock easily; I feel a deep burst of pain like you are splitting me in half, no amount of relaxing can stop it. You continue to press deeper and I begin to cry, my tears spilling onto the pillow, betraying my desire to please you.

When will I see you again? I don’t think I will sleep well until I am beside you, your body curled protectively around mine, your breath soft on my shoulder. I want you to know me. I want you to own me. I have no other desire.

Madeline’s Guide to Life

1. Never fall in love with your biological relatives, EVEN if it SEEMS like the right thing to do…it ISN’T.
2. Never trust a robot to serve you dinner.
3. Take that fucking jesus fish off your car and get with reality.
4. Find out if you are schizophrenic.
5. Do not walk home from work during a riot.

Gleam (Hanging out to Dry)

This is not a new story; it has been at Literotica for a while, but for some reason I have neglected to post it here…so I wanted to remedy that. Hope you like it!

I have been out late tonight, a girl’s night out that we have planned for weeks. Going to a concert, stopping by a bar for a few drinks. I am more than a little tipsy when the girls drop me off at our apartment, and it takes me a moment to find my key, turn it in the lock, and stumble through the door. I toss my purse on the floor, kick off my shoes, and make my way to the couch where you are sitting, flipping through a magazine. You raise your eyebrows to see me sit down.

“Feeling alright?” you ask.

“Mhmmmm..” I recline against the arm of the sofa, raising my legs to stretch them into your lap. My eyes close and the room spins. I snap them open again, not wanting to feel dizzy.

You set aside your magazine and run your hands up the length of my legs, underneath my skirt, until you reach the crest, sliding one finger inside my panties quickly. “AH!!! You come home wet between your legs? What have you been doing?”

“Only thinking of you,” I say, and it is true. Anywhere I am, those thoughts filter down, preventing me from paying attention when people are talking, preventing me from sleeping a dreamless sleep. You know I am honest; I can see it in the way you look at me, tender and yet…danger lies behind your dark, beautiful eyes.

Your hands reach out suddenly to grasp my shoulders, easily lifting me from the sofa and pushing my body hard against the wall, the wooden chair rail digging into my back. I gasp in shock and with the strength of the impact, breath forced from my lungs. You wrench my shirt off; unclasp my bra, making me naked from the waist up before I can catch my breath again. The cool air of the room breezes across my nipples, making them harden before you.

Reaching behind you, you produce a length of coarse rope, already tied into a noose. I slide down the wall, determined to get away. I had told you how much this scared me, that I wasn’t ready for it…but you grab my neck and pull me back, forcing me back against the wall. “I can tie you up so tight you won’t be able to breathe,” you say in my ear. “So fucking be still.” I whimper, feeling the rope scratch against my smooth skin as you pull it over my head and tighten the knot around my neck. I can still breathe, but swallowing is difficult. The end of the rope you hang down my back, wrapping it around my wrists. Any straining I do with my arms will tighten the knot around my neck. I strive to be as still as possible, head tilted back slightly, shoulders low, pressing my tits forward obscenely.

You slap them hard with the flat of your hand. “Slap! Slap! Slap!” I moan, afraid to be too loud, not wanting to be gagged…although you rarely gag me, you like hearing my cries. I feel your fingers touch my nipples and then pinch them tightly, hurting. “Fuckkk, that hurts!” I say, and you laugh.

“Do you think so?” Soft strokes, drawing each nipple to its full hardness, plumping the flesh with your hand. Then producing from your pocket a clothespin, showing it to me. I begin to strain and remember the rope preventing me from doing so. You squeeze my areola, clipping a clothespin to one sensitive nipple and then the other. The pain is like needles shooting back through my chest, and I slump slightly. “No, no!” you say. “It isn’t enough, I want more from you than this…since when do you give in so easily?” My eyes widen in fear as you squeeze more of the flesh of my areola, clamping two more clothespins to each one, smashing my nipples hard between the teeth of the pins.

Despite the agony in my breasts, I can feel the blood rushing between my legs, swelling my clit, and the gush of fluid there proves that I am your pain slut, that as much as I try to fight you, that gleam in your eye as you torment me is enough to make my pussy wet. I try to be as still as possible, although my instinct is to wiggle my body to escape the pain.

You kneel on the floor in front of me, yanking my skirt and panties off in one motion. “Spread your legs,” you tell me and I do so without hesitation. You spread my labia apart with your fingers and direct your tongue toward my clit, licking softly. I feel more blood flowing toward my nipples, which are straining painfully beneath the clothespins. I yell out in a brutal mix of pain and pleasure, my legs failing me. The alcohol in my blood causing my head to spin. You push my body forward, my cheek scraping the floor as you pull me toward the sofa again.

“Up there, get up…” I move awkwardly due to my arms being bound, clothespins dragging against the floor, pulling and stretching my nipples even more. You wait for me to climb onto the sofa, watching my struggle. “Legs wide,” you say, and I begin to fear your plans; it is obvious to me now that you have been planning this all day.

I spread my legs, hesitantly. “Wider, open yourself up for me.” More and more I pull my knees back, pushing my pelvis forward to the edge of the sofa. There is nothing you can’t see, nothing you can’t access. I lock my eyes onto yours. I see you holding more clothespins in one hand, and a tear streams down my face, knowing your plans. You pull one of my lips back hard, stretching it from my body. Clipping the flesh there, the pain is exquisite. I draw my legs together instinctively, trying to protect my tender pussy. You throw them open again with your strong hands. “Fucking do that again and I’ll beat you when I’m done with this artwork.” I know you would do it, flailing your wide belt between my legs, tenderizing me for your cock, drawing long, loud screams from my lungs. I open my legs again, resigned to the fate that awaits me.

You kneel down between my legs, bringing your face close. One finger slides up and down my slit, gathering the wetness there. Then you move your finger down, sliding it slowly in my asshole. “Now another,” you say, and for a moment I think you mean another finger, but no! You have clipped the opposite side of my lips with another clothespin. The two pins click together when you release them. Another finger opens my ass, stretching me. “Three?” you say, and another pin, this time above the first one, closer to my clitoris, which is throbbing uncontrollably now. Pulling your two fingers out of my ass, you thrust back in with three, and I cry to you that I can’t take more. You lean up and kiss my stomach, stroking my side with your free hand. “Can’t take more what, darling?” I relax to feel your warmth against my stomach and you take advantage of this and push another finger inside me, four fingers now pushing deep, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been opened. And another clip, just far enough from my clit that it is torture. “You are taking it quite well, I think,” you tell me. “Squeeze my fingers, can you?” I clench my muscles to obey you and feel the clips clicking together as I do so. “Beautiful,” you say. “But there is one more!”

“One more what?!” I yell, afraid of the answer. I find out soon enough.

“Here is what you are going to do,” you say, reaching with one hand to release my wrists. “Spread your legs very wide. Good, now reach down with your fingers and hold the clips on each side.” I do this ever carefully, sparing myself the pain I know you will momentarily increase. “Now pull them apart, stretch your pussy open with them. Let me see your clit.”

I can’t do it; I can’t hurt myself that way. I hesitate, my fingers loose on the clothespins. “Smack!” your hand comes down directly between my legs, forcing a deep, shocking moan from my lips. “Fucking do it, bring that sweet little clit out to play!” And I am yours again, you molding me with fire, testing my limits, punishing my hesitation. I stretch myself open with the clothespins, unable to choke back the tears. You have not removed your four fingers from my ass, and the pain from being so stretched causes me to close down on them, eliciting a pleasurable moan from your own lips. You turn your hand, feeling my insides, pushing in deeper as I writhe.

With your free hand, you produce a final clothespin. I feel your fingers withdraw slightly and then pressure against my ass as you insert them again, this time with your thumb alongside. I am sure I will split in half as you continue pressing until you have penetrated me. “Mmmm, I can see your clit is swollen, peeking out at me,” you say, and I know you are going to hurt me there, too. I close my eyes, turn my head. I feel you prodding at it with the clothespin, pushing the hood back so it is cruelly exposed, this tiny area of skin and nerve. You move the clothespin down and push it inside me, testing the wetness there. Moving back to my clit again, scraping against the swollen skin with the rough edge of the wood. You open the spring and  position it, letting the edges close just enough to test the depth, being sure to center my throbbing clit between the unyielding clips. And then a hard snap and you have crushed it in the clothespin. My head is delirious with beer and pain. I sob wracking sobs as you stand back to admire your work. “Mmmm, darling, your tears are beautiful,” you say, drying my cheek with the back of your hand, tasting the salty tears that cling to your skin. “But I think this red, tortured pussy is even more beautiful.” Removing your hand finally from my ass, you press my thighs backward against the sofa.

For a moment, you only stare, firmly holding my legs back. The clothespins are heavy, tugging painfully at my skin. “I need to check that they are secure,” you say. Your fingers grasp one of the pins on my labia, squeezing the base, drawing more desperate moans from me. You tug hard, stretching the skin until I think it will tear and then letting go, which causes my labia to snap back, a clicking noise as the pins snap together. You do this to each pin; finding one loose, you remove it by slowly pulling without opening the spring, dragging my skin between the jaws, my hips arching in an attempt to stop the pain. “Let’s reattach it, darling, tightly this time.” Your fingers dig into my labia, digging to get a good grip, the skin so tender where the clip had already been fastened. This time you attach it deeper, the metal spring of the clothespin straining and hurting me. To be sure, again you squeeze the base tightly.

Finally, you again command me to grasp the clips on my labia and spread my body open for you. The clip on my clitoris is pulled forward by gravity. I am reeling with the pain. You grasp this clip in your fingers and lift it, exposing me to you, framed in wooden pins, my vagina gaping open for your eyes. Stretching my clit upward, stretching it unnaturally. “Beautiful,” you say. “Your clit is so red and swollen. You will be feeling this for days.” I find myself begging you, begging you to release me from this agony. I am unable to prevent my legs from closing, easing the stretch of my skin beneath the clothespins.

You gasp. “Ah! You are giving up on me again!?” Shaking your head. “No, no…we must continue! You have disobeyed.” I spread my legs apart with much effort. “Yes, babe, that’s it…wider now. Hold them back – no! Not with your hands, just hold them there. You are strong, you can do it.” Assisting me by pushing my legs back again until my pussy is stretched open and sore. “You must learn to obey me!” you say and I see your hands reaching for your belt, whipping it off and folding the leather over in your hand. Oh, God, you are going to whip my spread pussy. Can I take this? Can I even stay conscious for it? I know you will force me to.

“I want your eyes on me, nowhere else. I want you to spread your pussy so wide that I can see inside it…I want to see those pink silky walls open up.” You step back as I follow your orders, my fingers shaking at what is coming. My pussy already hurts so badly, clamped and spread. You grab the ends of the rope that is still draped around my neck and pull until I am gasping for breath. Keeping the rope taut in your hand, you raise your arm and find your target.

The first lash of the belt hits the tender inside of my thigh, leaving a red mark there. I sigh with relief that my pussy was spared, although the shock of the strap causes my muscles to clench tightly around the frame of clothespins, a painful reaction. The next lash hits the pins and causes them to tangle together, so that when you pull the belt away the pins cling to it and stretch me even more. I begin to cry again, my entire body shaking. “Spread open, love…don’t let that happen again. I want this to go deep in you…open wider…wider…” The next slap misses the clothespins and strikes the inside of my vagina, that interior flesh turning angry red in reaction to the blow. Two more thrashing blows there and you tell me, “Use your finger, pull that clit upward. Stretch it out for me.” The belt whacks my clit and my fingers, and I must strain to keep my legs apart and back. I can see the bulge in your pants, I know you will not be able to wait much longer. I stroke my poor clitoris with my fingers, trying to take my mind of the pain of your beating.

“Do you want me to take the pins off?” you ask as you ease your pants off, and I nod. “Do you want me to fuck you?” I nod again. Your cock is hard and pushing against my thigh. You spread my cheeks apart and slide the head just inside my ass. “Squeeze me, babe. Fucking use those muscles.” I squeeze hard, drawing new pain from my crushed pussy lips. You enter steadily until you are all the way in. With one hand you flick the clothespin attached to my clit. My scream is loud. “Fuckkkkk!!!” and you smile at me. “I want in that battered pussy. I want to hurt you so bad,” you say. “I want you to scream when I fuck you.” You slowly pull the clothespins apart, and the pain is almost impossible to bear. You instruct me to hold the one on my clit back so it won’t hurt you as you fuck me. “Don’t fucking let go or I’ll make you wear it all night.”

And then you slide inside my aching pussy, your skin rubbing over my wounded insides, making me move my hips awkwardly underneath you. I hold my clit back, thinking I could pass out from the pain; and yet as you fuck me, I feel the ocean swell of an orgasm building there, forcing its way through the pain, soaking it in and becoming overpowering. “That’s it, girl, cum for me, bruise that clit and say my fucking name.” As the waves take over, you grasp the clothespin and move it back and forth. I am hoarse from yelling now, and as the wracking groans die down you slide the pins off slowly, without opening the jaws, so that my orgasm finishes with fresh pain.

Next you remove the pins from my breasts, slapping them off in rhythm as you continue to thrust inside my damaged body, each time hurting me more, each time bringing yourself to a greater level of pleasure. Pleased with the marks you have left on my skin, you lift my legs up to your shoulders and I feel your final thrusts before your warm cum begins to fill me up. You pull out slowly, and fluid drips out of me, coating my soreness in the soothing creaminess.

Carrying my limp body to the bed, you prop me against pillows, allowing my legs to spread to ease my soreness. You use your tongue to go over the deep marks, licking and sucking softly as I drift to sleep. My dreams will not be tormented tonight, with your face soft against my body.

Hungry

I am hungry.

Often I go to bed this way, feeling the slow churning of my stomach, savoring the emptiness in my gut. The pain is comforting, bringing my focus inward, keeping me calm. I rub my hand over my bare stomach, feeling the vibrations there when my stomach growls. Thinking of food does nothing to help me sleep. I roll around languidly, grasping my pillow from above, pressing my starving stomach to the mattress, my legs drawn forward in a comforting position.

Some time later, in a half-sleep, I hear Aidan come into the room. His boots hit the floor as he removes them, then the soft sound of fabric against his skin as he removes his shirt and pants. Never one to make a mess, he drapes his clothing easily on the back of a chair. I see his dark, muscled silhouette as he sits down on the side of the bed and stretches his strong arms before reclining beside me. He thinks I am asleep, and indeed I am nearly, barely aware of what is going on around me. The moon casts half-light into our quiet, secluded bedroom.

Seconds after he gets into bed, I feel Aidan’s arms around my waist, pulling my body toward him. He tucks me into the curve of his body, my back against his chest. I feel his cock pressing against the crack of my ass. His hands slide around to rest on my stomach. I never feel so safe and comfortable as I do now, his body wrapped lovingly around me. I know I can drive him utterly crazy by pressing my ass against him. Wiggling and grinding until his cock is hard and he pins me down with his body, driving deep inside me urgently.

But I don’t do this now; my energy is depleted from hunger. I feel dizzy and restless. My stomach again begins to growl, and Aidan feels this shuddering beneath his hand. “You didn’t eat much today, love,” he says, reaching to the night stand for a glass. “Some water, at least, hmmm?” I sit up, grabbing his shoulder to raise myself. Sip the water obediently. He is watching me, stroking my arm silently. “You need to eat something.”

“No, Aidan, I will have something in the morning. I can’t eat this late.” I set the glass back down and again retreat into the comfort of his arms. The last thing I hear before I drift to sleep is his voice, quiet and insistent in my ear.

“Indeed, you will.”

Morning.

The light through the window burns my eyes through my eyelids. I stretch out in the bed, flexing my toes and feeling the energy coursing through me. Aidan is gone. I curl back up and decide to keep sleeping, shielding my eyes with my pillow.

“Maili! Up!” His voice, insistent. “Breakfast!”

I putter to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I run a brush through my blond hair. Still wearing only a pair of white panties, I grab one of Aidan’s t-shirts and pull it over my head. It covers me down to the top of my thigh. I head for the stairs, following the urgent sound of my boyfriend’s voice.

The table is set for one, I notice as I pad into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “Maili, are you hungry?” Aidan asks me, coming quickly to wrap his arms around me. “I was worried about you all night.”

I nod. “Yes, I am hungry! What’s for breakfast?” Looking around, I realize that the glass dining table has only three items set: a soft cloth napkin and a delicate narrow wine glass.

As I glance back at my man, I see the scheming laughter in his eyes. Before I can protest, his hands wrap around my neck in reply to my innocent question: “You.”

He lifts me by my bare thighs and sets me on the table, the glass top cold against my cheeks. “Bring your feet up,” he commands. “Stand up, don’t move.” I stand awkwardly, nervous of falling from the table. After lifting my shirt over my head, Aidan picks up the napkin from the table setting. He uses it to tie my hands up behind my neck, a position which forces my breasts to thrust forward, exposed. Then I feel his hands dragging my panties down over my hips and down my legs. I step out of them as he tosses them aside. “Now squat, press your little pussy against the glass.” His commands make me shudder, the deep voice enough to bring moisture between my legs.

As I squat obediently, Aidan sits down in the chair in front of me. He leans back, hands behind his head. I am balanced awkwardly, afraid of falling. “All the way down, Maili, I want to see your pussy pressed hard on the table.” The cold is excruciating as I open my legs wide to follow his orders. He can see my labia spread as the unforgiving table spreads them open. He bids me lift my hips a bit so he can spread the lips apart before resting me back down, creating a symmetrical spread. My clit and the opening of my vagina are framed as if behind museum glass, the creamy wetness smearing against the clear glass table. “Ahhhh, beautiful,” he says, pleased.

Aidan leans forward and slides his face against the skin of my abdomen, eliciting a murmur from my lips. His hands on my hips, he tilts my body backward until I am lying flat on the table, my feet on his shoulders, knees pulled back. The position is unbearable until he slides his hands underneath my ass, lifting my pussy toward his mouth. He sticks out his tongue, licking tenderly at the flesh there, between the shiny lips. Bringing his thumbs from underneath me, he uses them to spread my pussy open roughly, stretching the skin and causing my body to become tense. He slides his tongue forward to my clitoris, pushing back the hood to expose the small organ. Then I feel his teeth gripping it, tugging painfully at this small sensitive nub, pulling it from my body. I buck my hips and he loses his grip, his teeth dragging painfully.

“Smack!” A stinging slap to my pussy wracks my body. “Be still, Maili,” he tells me, squeezing my ass hard beneath his hands as he begins again. This time he takes hold of one of my labia, biting hard enough to leave a mark, and then flicking his tongue inside my vagina. The other side receives the same treatment and then I feel his mouth cover both of my lips, teeth squeezing into my delicate skin. At the same time his thumbs, wet now from the juices flowing from my body, push insistently against my asshole. I am struggling to remain still as he continues to press there, knowing that my body will only fight him for so long, that the strength of his will can overpower any resistance my body offers. And yes, the thumbs enter my ass, sliding in deeply and spreading apart, stretching my asshole until I yell out loud with the pain. He again begins to assault my clit, alternating between soft flicks of his tongue and sharp bites. “Can you cum for me, Maili?” he asks me. I know that I will; my feet press hard against his collarbone as the sensations overwhelm my body. His mouth is open over my pussy as I cum, drinking in the creamy liquid that oozes forth as my body shudders with orgasm.

When I have become still again, he licks the length of my slit, one last taste before he spins me around, my head hanging backward off the edge of the table, my hands smashed painfully beneath my lower back. I know he wants me to spread my legs; some things do not need to be said anymore between us. And so I spread them, the air hitting my bruised, tender pussy and causing me to gasp. He stands, unzips his pants and takes out his cock, which is brutally erect. “Open,” he says, and I do so, feeling my throat close in fear of being penetrated. Using his hand to bring it to my lips, he begins to feed the tip into my open mouth. I feel his other hand stroking my exposed neck, gently at first. I am unable to move or fight as he pushes deeper. My mouth fills with saliva that I am unable to swallow due to holding my mouth wide open. The wetness there eases his entry. I feel him pause at the back of my mouth, pushing repeatedly at the opening to my throat. His hand tightens on my neck.

He lets go of his cock and reaches beneath to pinch my nose closed, knowing how difficult it is for me to take him in this deeply. I reflexively swallow, my tongue pulling back on him. At that moment, he plunges inside my throat, unimpeded by my gag reflex. I wait for him to let go of my nose, but he doesn’t right away. His hand around my neck squeezes as he pushes his hips forward, and I feel that he will reach my stomach if he goes any deeper into my throat. I blink my eyes, fighting the tears that want to fall as he remains buried inside my body. Finally he lets me breathe through my nose, but still he remains inside. He just wants to feel the muscles of my throat contracting and releasing around him, an involuntary reaction to the invasion of his thick cock inside. “That’s it, milk me with your sweet throat, baby. Yeahhhh…” I can tell he is ready to cum. I feel the swelling and twitching of his cock. But he does not. He pulls out slowly and watches my face, drool running down my cheeks and making my face shine.

“Turn back the other way,” he says to me, and I spin to face him again. He pulls my legs up high, rubbing my feet against his face. He thrusts his cock inside my battered pussy, long and deep. As he increases speed, he pushes my legs back to my shoulders, increasing the depth and therefore the pain of the thrusts. I am yelling now, my voice echoing in the open kitchen. His fingers bruise my thighs he is pushing so hard.

As he nears his orgasm, Aidan pulls me forward by my arms so that I am again squatting at the edge of the table. I feel his cock twitch deep inside and he lifts my body, impaled, to spurt his semen deep inside my body. He keeps my pussy sealed there, my feet balanced on the glass tabletop. Before he pulls out, he reaches for the wine glass from the table setting. He sets it between my legs and reaches around to free my hands. Tilting the glass toward me, he uses one hand to spread my lips apart and the other to hold the glass there, catching the cum which is dripping slowly from my body. I use my hands to support myself in this position, my dripping pussy exposed cruelly to his view.

“I want it all to come out,” he says, poking his index finger inside to aid the process. I use my muscles to squeeze, the thick liquid increasing in the glass as I do so. One last swipe to my lips and he brings the glass forcefully to my lips. “Drink it all,” he says.

I swirl the glass like it is fine wine and bring it to my lips with both hands, tasting the creaminess on my tongue before swallowing every drop of his cum. He commands me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue; wanting to be sure I have swallowed it all. Then he lifts my body from the table and carries me to the soft chair in the corner of the den. “You know I won’t let you starve,” he says and returns to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

I loll my ahead against the cushion, still tasting the flavor of him on my lips. What breakfast can compare to being ravished by my love in the morning?

Awwww you guyssss

Viewing the statistics on my blog made me again believe in humanity.

I have readers from all over the world!!! Singapore, Saudi Arabia, Japan, Australia… That officially means Madeline Madly is international, and for a small town girl that is a big fucking deal.

I have a lot of readers who come back EVERY DAY. Regulars!!! Whoo hooo!!! If I could actually see you coming, I’d be all, “Hi, how are you today? Glad to see you! Can I pour you a brandy?” But since I can’t, and you know who you are, just know that I appreciate you greatly!!!

There are people like me out there!!! Some of the search terms which have led readers to my site: fuck her hard bondage fiction, household items as nipple clamps,  submissive erotica fiction,  submissive fiction. Now, again, I don’t know who searched for what but the person who searched household items as nipple clamps has a special place in my heart. Hope you found what you were looking for.

My ONLY request of you beautiful, amazing, wonderful, dear (if perverted) people is this: Comment more! Tell me what you like, don’t like, would like to see more of!!! I really love to hear from you! And if you just cannot bring yourself to do it on a public level, then you can email me at missingyoumadly (at) live (dot) com. I really like to receive feedback about my writing!

And so, as I wipe a sentimental tear, I shall get back to work. I am still working on writing my novel, which I am VERY excited about. I also have some other projects going, trying to drop in a short story every week or two. So keep coming back to check on things ’round here and feel free to send me a virtual kick in the pants if you think I should be doing anything differently…you guys are awesome.

Flame

There is a candle in her window.

I can see the tiny flame flickering, reflected in the glass on the second floor. It is the only light in the house as I park my car on the quiet street and make my way up the walkway to the front door.

Light a candle in your window, and I will find you.

The key sticks for a moment in the lock, this silver key which made its way to me by postal mail. I jiggle it four or five ways before the lock gives, and the doorknob turns easily, allowing my access. I follow her instructions to find the winding stair case, my hand running the length of the smooth wooden banister. I know she can hear my footfalls on the steps as I ascend toward her room.

My instructions were clear. She would follow them, to the letter. I had worked with her for months from a distance, training her mind to let go of resistance; training her fragile body to heed my wishes. She had appreciated pain before, she told me this. She said it had helped her to find her true self, ego pushed aside as another person inflicted their violent desires on her helpless body. To be a toy, a pet, a fine possession that could be used at will. This was what she wanted.

But I warned her.

She had experienced pain, yes. But I could hurt her far more than she could imagine. I told her this, hearing her sharp intake of breath at my words. “You should be afraid to know me.” And even as she gasped, she spoke.

“I am not afraid.”

But blood betrays the tongue, retreating from the skin to protect the delicate heart.

Lay yourself down naked, arch your back deep into the mattress. Pull your knees back sharp against your shoulders. Pull them back hard so that your thighs begin to burn from the strain. Lay your head backward and breathe slowly, push past that point of giving up…push past it. I want to find you this way, your legs spread revealing those small passages for me.

“But when will you come?” Her eyes are wide. She knows the answer, but hearing my reply will bring a sigh from her lips nonetheless.

I will come when I am ready. You will be ready when I come?

She nods, reluctant.

You understand?

“Yes.”

I close my eyes before I open the door to her room. I can smell incense, the temperature rising around me as I step inside. I can hear her labored breathing, so familiar to me. I know she has obeyed. I open my eyes. She is there.

The tiny candlelight illuminates her curves. She is on her back, just as I had commanded. Her flesh is so fair and smooth, a fresh canvas for my hands and belt. Her blond hair is spread in a wide swath above her head. Her legs are splayed beautifully apart, her arms curled around each thigh, her eyes closed as if asleep…but I know she has been struggling. There is always a point in doing something difficult when the body gives in to the will of the mind and the struggle ceases. The pain works its way from the source and anesthetizes the body, streaming endorphins into the blood. Her vision will blur with the intensity as her eyes open to lay on me.

“You…are…here.”

I shed my jacket and shoes, kneel before her on the bed. The cold of my hands startles her as I lay them on her legs, stroking her thigh muscles gently and releasing her legs from their self-bondage. She sighs. “Are you hurting?” I ask her, and she nods. “I know.” I rummage in my bag, find a small bottle of oil. Rubbing some between my hands, I begin to massage her legs, working my fingers deep into her skin. She moans as I reach her soft feet, sliding my fingers between her toes, pressing my lips against the soles.

I reach down, unzip my pants and free my straining erection. She is watching me closely, no doubt wondering what I have planned. I use a black scarf as a blindfold, tying it around her face. She sighs, afraid. I know she likes to see, I know she is afraid of not being able to see. Her fear makes my cock harder. I continue to stroke her feet. Her body is beginning to relax after spending hours in self-torture. Without warning I push her knees back again, and she cries out in pain. “Hold your ankles,” I tell her, and she grabs them, presses the soles of her feet together. “Don’t fucking move them, keep them together.”

Into the opening of her arches I press my cock. Her knees are bent awkwardly now, her feet pressed so tightly together that I gasp at the snug, slippery sensation. I begin to thrust, laying my weight on her legs. I rise up on my knees, thrusting downward into the tight space between her feet, fucking her feet like it was any other opening in her body, a narrow entrance for me to abuse. She moans. If she could see, she would see the head of my cock poking out toward her face. She would wonder if I was planning to bathe her face in semen. She would squint against the possibility that at any moment, she could take a hot stream of cum in her eyes.

But she cannot see this. She doesn’t know. Her mouth drops open as I fuck her little feet. I can see the shiny pink polish on each perfectly-manicured toenail. I bring myself to the verge of orgasm before deciding that this is not the way I want it to end.

“I want you to pull your legs back again,” I tell her. I can hear a whimper of protest from her lips, and she receives a sharp slap on her thigh to encourage her to comply. “Do it.”

She does, spreading her legs far apart for me. I don’t touch her right away. She still cannot see me as I squat between her open legs, seeing her moist pussy lips separate as her legs open to the widest point. Now her pussy is spread and I can see the wetness there, glistening in the candlelight, a drop of moisture sliding gently down to her exposed asshole. “You are so beautiful,” I tell her. I sweep my finger there, gathering that drop of fluid on my finger and shoving it into her mouth. “You taste so sweet, hmm?” My fingers probe her mouth as she sucks the liquid from them.

My forefinger wet with her saliva, I touch her asshole gently. She jerks backward, trying to escape. I lay my forearm across the upturned backs of her thighs and hold her body down firmly. Pushing my finger inside her ass, I can feel how tight that passage is. I hear her plead. I push deeper. Her muscles fight me, pushing my finger out and I thrust back deeply with two fingers, spreading them apart as I pull them out. She is writhing, her entire body in motion as I penetrate her in this sensitive place. As she wiggles, I remove my fingers and replace them with the tip of my cock, pushing gently there until she cries out. I feel my cock sinking in, her tight walls squeezing so hard that it hurts me.

Suddenly I change my mind. I pull out quickly, and she sighs with relief. “Keep those legs back,” I tell her, wrapping my hands around her neck as I push my cock inside her pussy. She is shaking as I pull her body to my mine and away, using her neck for leverage, sinking deep inside her body. Each thrust draws a high moan from her lips. The thrusts are long, slow, and deep. She continues to hold her legs back, a difficult task now that her legs are slick with oil. Her fingers slip and slide, causing her legs to move forward. A smack to the inside of her thigh rings loudly in the room.

“Turn over,” I say to her, taking her hips in my hands myself to corkscrew her body so that she is on her stomach. I shove her knees forward so that they are positioned beneath her, place my wide hand between her shoulder blades and push her upper body and face into the mattress. Now her ass is high in the air, legs spread obscenely. I get on my knees above her, lean down to whisper in her ear.”I am going to fuck your ass,” I tell her.”You hurt me before…you will not hurt me again. Close your eyes…. breathe… you are going to relax this time. It will hurt if you relax and more if you don’t…if you hurt me with that tight asshole I am gonna beat you until you pass out and fuck you afterward. Do you understand?” She is crying now, I can hear her muffled sniffles. But she manages a Yes between sobs.

I pull her arms roughly behind her back. My hand wraps easily around her thin wrists, gripping them brutally, pinning them to her lower back and using them to push her body down further into the bed. With my free hand I spread her cheeks apart, revealing her asshole, already punished from before, still slick from the coating of oil. I position my cock there, smacking her ass one good time to remind her to relax.

She does.

I sink in, making the first thrust as deep as possible, lifting her hips off the bed with the power of it. She makes a sound I haven’t heard her make before, a deep growl like a cornered wildcat. I can’t help it; I moan loudly too, her ass is so tight and soft around my dick. I grab her upper arms and pull her back and forth, pounding into her as hard as I can, my feet pushing back against the foot of the bed. She is done fighting, her body like a ragdoll beneath me. I love the way she looks bent over this way, hands bound together by my own. I run my hand down her spine, from her neck to her hips. She shudders, her brain momentarily confused by the pleasurable sensation, blocking the pain of being opened so wide and deep. I hold my cock inside her and reach under her with my hand to flick her clit with the tip of my finger…her pussy is dripping, proving that this pain is bringing her to orgasm.

Her back is shiny with sweat and oil, and I continue to push deep inside her ass as my pleasure builds. As I cum, I stay inside, using my hips to push her body down, my hand still between her legs, pinching her swollen clit between the tips of my fingers. She bucks against me, still growling deeply, and I feel her fluid dripping steadily into my hand. One last thrust inside her to finish and I pull away, immediately lifting her hips high in the air, wanting to view her battered insides. “Knees apart,” I say, using the backs of my hands to knock her knees wide. Her pussy is glistening, a thin stream of my semen running down the inside of her thigh. I lean forward and kiss her hipbone, crawling over her to pin the length of her body against the bed.

As she turns her tearful face toward me, I release the scarf that is covering her eyes. She is looking up at me, overwhelmed by what has just happened, unsure If she is allowed to speak or not, unsure if I am going to finally let her rest. I kiss her now, covering her soft mouth with my own. Grabbing a handful of her hair to keep her close, my body is heavy on top of her. Her voice is soft in my ear. “I love you,” she says.

I know now that she is mine. She drifts to sleep in my arms, her body and mind desperate for rest. Rising to my feet carefully, I walk to the window and look outside for a long time. Her breathing is soft and gentle, the only sound in the still night.

Licking my fingers, tasting her juices there, I gently squeeze the wick of the candle to extinguish the flame.