There has been a request for more smut. But coming as it did from jcn, it was phrased somewhat more delicately: "When do we get back to the salacious stuff?"
My Master says I should give you all more of what you want, and gave me permission to share the following. I wrote it last Saturday. I didn't mean it to be a story - a vignette, to be more accurate. I can't pretend that it's a fully developed story. All I meant to do was observe that I felt a cock moving in and out of me...
******************************************************************
I'm feeling a cock moving in and out of me, Sir... slowly, deliberately, the man taking his time, consciously feeling the heat, the kiss, the embrace of the moist velvet passage that is my pussy. I squeeze my muscles around him, ever aware of your order to enhance his pleasure in any way I can.
I am bent over the foot of the bed, a position that maximizes the separation of my openings from my greater identity. Nothing exists for him but the dance between his appendage and my receptor, his cock and whatever part of my body is at that moment stimulating its nerves.
I hear a groan. His pace has accelerated, just one notch, but enough with his utterance to signal the growth of his arousal. He plunges harder, his pelvis pushing against my butt hole, his balls slapping against my perineum. He reaches under me and cups my breasts, massaging them into my chest, desiring my own arousal as a way to incite his own. The stimulation of my tits telegraphs my cunt: CONTRACT.
I squeeze around him, tight as a fist - once, twice, and then again. He moans, and the tit massage changes to a series of nipple pinches followed by hard, rough twists. His actions surprise me, as until then he had shown no sign of wanting to hurt me. I push my ass back into him, doubling the force of his fucking. He releases my screaming nubs and, digging his nails into the tender flesh beneath my breasts, scratches tracks under each tit from the valley between them to the outer edges and up under my arms. If I could care about such things, I would realize that I would find the evidence the next day and would resist wearing a bra for a week thereafter.
His right hand moves up to my neck and pushes back against my throat, thrusting my head up. He could strangle me if he wished, but he is not like you, and is only stopping briefly on his way to the nape of my neck. He clutches my flowing hair in his fist, twists it around his hand, and jerks my head back. Swiftly, he bends over me and fastens his teeth into the back of my neck. Again, his bite isn't as hard as yours, lacking that sadistic drive, but he is drowning in testosterone and is only one step beyond a lion smelling a female in heat.
He maintains his hold while his cock thrusts so deep that he hits my cervix. Now I am the one who is grunting, moaning, releasing small cries of pain and surrender. Suddenly, he pushes me hard down on the bed and I am aware of the absence of his penis. Unconsciously, I cry out at the loss, and then scream as he impales my nearly virginal butt hole with his condomed but unlubed prick. K-Y jelly was included in the bedside display, but he is beyond thinking of such niceties now. He needed the tighter clutch of that tiny, puckered entrance, and the harder thrusts needed to fill it.
I scream two more times as he makes his way further and further in, screams resolving into grunts as tears slide from my eyes and down my nose, leaving a puddle on the patchwork quilt. Now he is spanking me as he fucks me, hard, deliberate slaps echoing the hard deliberate pistoning of his prick. More than ever I am nothing but a road to release. His entire being has contracted into his cock.
His rhythm has picked up and his grunts join my own. I moan "please... please..." not even begging for anything in particular, only responding to his urgency and now my own and the pain and all my body knows is that together we are going somewhere and oh please, let it be soon, and please, you are hurting me, and please, please, perhaps I will cum?
I don't.
He does.
The thrusting stops when he is deep within my ass, and I feel the semen pulsing up through his penis, I feel his penis pulsing within my anal pussy, I am holding my breath and drinking in his orgasm and feeling almost as much relief and release as he must be...
And then the air is driven out of me as he collapses on my back, pressing my belly into the bed.
We lie there for 5 minutes, sweaty and drained, our breathing slow and synchronizing as our bodies smile and relax. He strokes my hair and kisses the site of the bite on the back of my neck.
Finally, with a gentle slap to my right butt check, he rises off me. I sigh as his shrunken dick completes its withdrawal from my battered butt hole. I lie there, not moving, hearing him behind me, clothing his satisfied body and gathering his things. He says nothing. No praise, no thank you's, no request for a return visit. All such appreciations and arrangements will be dealt with through you.
I hear the door open as he heads out.
"Next!" he calls out.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
3 comments:
Oh, you are such a tease, OG! For goodness' sake, you KNOW everyone out here is waiting for the next segment in the Main Event. And you're certainly living up to that promise you made that as a writer, you were a closet domme. Enough, already. We're (metaphorically) stuck at the genesis of a sneeze, the physical experience most closely related to orgasm - involuntary, and delicious, unless unprotected.
This story is terrific. What's to develop, beyond our natural curiosity as to whether whoever answers the "Next" call will make you cum, or the one who follows? I like, particularly, your observation that that bent over position separates the orifices from the greater self to a blinding and extreme degree. Smut, perhaps, if you insist, but elegant and thoughtful smut. Thanks for that, at least. (Sigh. A muttered, "Tease!)
So, as to the Feature Film, I must confess to a sense of puzzlement. You know that university staple, in which someone rushes into a classroom and performs a violent act? And afterwards, the authorities question the witnesses, and get wildly varied replies?
I'm beginning to feel a little bit like one of those poor, befuddled, pretend security men, as I read. We have (in your Master's voice), I found you in prison, and I chose not to help, or befriend or support or encourage you.
Which is difficult to match up with your image of yourself, downy and delicate, crouched beneath him, being fed precisely the correct diet to strengthen your wings.
And there is the problem of his view of an unrelenting and merciless captor, and yours of joy dancing within you as you waited to be subject, yet again, to his terrible ministrations.
I do laugh, too, when I read your descriptions of yourself, sparkling and full of soul songs in his hands, and his descriptions of you, bleary-eyed, hanging from a branch, in despair over his command over you.
So, dear OG, we wait for all these mysteries to be solved, for these apparent discrepancies to be explained, certain that Part 6, or perhaps Part 7 or 8 will make all clear. - jcn
yeah. What jcn said :D
Ah. I misinterpreted as usual. I had taken jcn's previous request for salaciousness as a desire for some immediate smut, as opposed to a respectful kick in the pants to get a move on back to our progress through that extraordinary week. Especially with that progress having been interrupted by a spurt of shameless but entirely appropriate self-promotion for Best S&M Volume 3. I humbly apologize for my denseness.
Still, you must admit it was quite delicious smut. No?
As for the apparent contradiction between the images painted by me and my Owner, the fiend pointed out quite rightly that there is no discrepancy.
The "2 dynamics [...] are in fact inseparable."
Post a Comment