gentle, which only makes me expect something far worse. From him. From Gilby. But for several moments in which I feel as if time is suspended, nothing more happens. Just Gilby’s big cock resting against my ass, and the Master’s hands stroking my face in a way that makes me begin to cry again very softly.
Gilby pushes in, slowly at first, which surprises me, until he’s past that first tight ring of muscle. I do my breathing, but he’s so damn big I know ultimately it will be no use.
I cry a little more when the Master releases my face. If I blink I can see that he is still standing close by, which makes my heart soar. It’s Gilby fucking my ass, but it’s the Master’s presence that commands me. It’s the Master I am falling in love with.
“Oh, yeah,” Gilby mutters. “The little slut is tight as a virgin. I like it tight. It means it’ll hurt all the more. It means it’ll make you want to scream, slut. My fat cock will make you need to. Let’s take care of that.”
He clamps a hand over my mouth and shoves his huge cock into my ass, driving it in all at once. I make some rough noise deep in my throat as my insides burn, but it only makes him push deeper, harder, until it’s like a heavy drumbeat pounding my body from the inside out. He starts a jabbing, punishing stroke, and as soon he gets his rhythm, he begins caning my thighs again. There’s too much going on and I can’t process it all—pain and pain and the pleasure of being abused this way and the even greater pleasure in being watched by the Master, whom I worship already. The pleasure of having my ass fucked by the biggest cock I’ve ever felt in my life, and Jesus, I’m going to come, or maybe pass out, or maybe both.
His hand over my mouth is cutting off my air a bit, but I love it, my head light as he fucks me, as he hits my poor, tender flesh with the cane, creating welts upon welts. And God, I love being fucked this way, in my sore ass, sore inside and out. I’m overloading like mad, my head spinning, my cunt contracting, pleasure deep inside me, shimmering outward, like some arc of electricity, like light itself. I feel sensation shining through my body, as if I am translucent. As if I could light up the sky. And my orgasm is some screaming animal, loosed from its cage, as my ass tightens on his plunging flesh. I scream beneath his hand, then everything goes black.
When I come to, he’s untied me and I’m on my back on the table. My insides hurt. So does my skin. But my brain is floating, weak with pleasure and that strange, almost detached love I feel for anyone who plays me well, who can make me lose myself like this.
Blinking, I slowly realize a fire has been built in the hearth—I can hear its crackle, feel its heat. I dare to glance around, and see the Master’s wide back, and I realize there is nothing detached about the love I feel for him at this moment. Nothing.
Save me.
Punish me.
Love me.
I bite the inside of my lip hard, needing the pain to carry me away, but it doesn’t work.
Fuck.
The Master is on the phone. Gilby is nowhere in sight.
“Send the two Girls,” he says into his cell phone. “We’re done with her for the moment.”
For the moment? Does that mean there will be more later? I don’t think I can take more, but I want it anyway. I want it all, whatever he wants to give me. Gifts of pleasure. Gifts of pain. I am so selfish.
Lying on the table, I am luxuriating in the aftershocks of orgasm and pain and his presence in the room. I want to keep my eyes on his strong back, on the fabric of his linen dress shirt stretching over the hard muscle and broad shoulders, but I’m starting to dream a little. Or is it a memory?
I’ve never really had a boyfriend. Not really. My first “relationship” was with Mr. Merrick. After him, when I went to Paris, one of my roommates, a Belgian girl named Arianne, invited me to a kink club. She didn’t really understand what it was, but it didn’t matter. The
Gilby pushes in, slowly at first, which surprises me, until he’s past that first tight ring of muscle. I do my breathing, but he’s so damn big I know ultimately it will be no use.
I cry a little more when the Master releases my face. If I blink I can see that he is still standing close by, which makes my heart soar. It’s Gilby fucking my ass, but it’s the Master’s presence that commands me. It’s the Master I am falling in love with.
“Oh, yeah,” Gilby mutters. “The little slut is tight as a virgin. I like it tight. It means it’ll hurt all the more. It means it’ll make you want to scream, slut. My fat cock will make you need to. Let’s take care of that.”
He clamps a hand over my mouth and shoves his huge cock into my ass, driving it in all at once. I make some rough noise deep in my throat as my insides burn, but it only makes him push deeper, harder, until it’s like a heavy drumbeat pounding my body from the inside out. He starts a jabbing, punishing stroke, and as soon he gets his rhythm, he begins caning my thighs again. There’s too much going on and I can’t process it all—pain and pain and the pleasure of being abused this way and the even greater pleasure in being watched by the Master, whom I worship already. The pleasure of having my ass fucked by the biggest cock I’ve ever felt in my life, and Jesus, I’m going to come, or maybe pass out, or maybe both.
His hand over my mouth is cutting off my air a bit, but I love it, my head light as he fucks me, as he hits my poor, tender flesh with the cane, creating welts upon welts. And God, I love being fucked this way, in my sore ass, sore inside and out. I’m overloading like mad, my head spinning, my cunt contracting, pleasure deep inside me, shimmering outward, like some arc of electricity, like light itself. I feel sensation shining through my body, as if I am translucent. As if I could light up the sky. And my orgasm is some screaming animal, loosed from its cage, as my ass tightens on his plunging flesh. I scream beneath his hand, then everything goes black.
When I come to, he’s untied me and I’m on my back on the table. My insides hurt. So does my skin. But my brain is floating, weak with pleasure and that strange, almost detached love I feel for anyone who plays me well, who can make me lose myself like this.
Blinking, I slowly realize a fire has been built in the hearth—I can hear its crackle, feel its heat. I dare to glance around, and see the Master’s wide back, and I realize there is nothing detached about the love I feel for him at this moment. Nothing.
Save me.
Punish me.
Love me.
I bite the inside of my lip hard, needing the pain to carry me away, but it doesn’t work.
Fuck.
The Master is on the phone. Gilby is nowhere in sight.
“Send the two Girls,” he says into his cell phone. “We’re done with her for the moment.”
For the moment? Does that mean there will be more later? I don’t think I can take more, but I want it anyway. I want it all, whatever he wants to give me. Gifts of pleasure. Gifts of pain. I am so selfish.
Lying on the table, I am luxuriating in the aftershocks of orgasm and pain and his presence in the room. I want to keep my eyes on his strong back, on the fabric of his linen dress shirt stretching over the hard muscle and broad shoulders, but I’m starting to dream a little. Or is it a memory?
I’ve never really had a boyfriend. Not really. My first “relationship” was with Mr. Merrick. After him, when I went to Paris, one of my roommates, a Belgian girl named Arianne, invited me to a kink club. She didn’t really understand what it was, but it didn’t matter. The
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