MARY
The belt lands across my ass, a searing stroke which makes heat flash deep through my flesh. Holy fuck, he’s really taking his belt to me. I feel like one of the little rascals or something, caught by daddy and taking a licking for it. The thought makes me giggle just as the next stroke lands and my giggle turns into a gasp.
“You think this is funny, huh?”
He stands over me, so sexy and dominant, the leather clutched between his big hands.
“No?” I squeak the answer. I don’t think this is funny at all.
Other people have hurt me, but this isn’t pain in the way they inflicted it. This is the kind of heat and sting which wraps around my soul and makes me feel held. This is the kind of pain that imposes a limit, not the pain that degrades and destroys.
This… is what I have been searching for all this time. I didn’t know it. I just kept pushing and pushing, looking for this feeling. This safety which is not entirely safe, this affection that isn’t cloying, shallow nonsense delivered with a plastic bag of wilting flowers and a dinner at a lobster chain.
“You’re going to follow orders,” he snaps, his voice holding just the right note of dominance and care. “I will not let you get hurt because you think you know better. I will not let harm come to you from anyone, including yourself.”
I need him. Not because of fate, but because he alone in the world seems to be able to see me for what I am. He doesn’t look past the scars. He understands them. He’s not afraid of them, or what they mean, and he doesn’t pity me for having them. They’re not a get out of jail free card for me either. In spite of seeing what lies beneath my clothes, the marks of those who hurt me so deeply I never thought I would heal, he’s willing to whip my ass because I disobeyed him, and maybe that means he intends to have me with him long enough for that obedience to matter.
The belt lands a dozen more times, hot strokes making my ass burn. It all feels good. The arousal he left me with when he pulled out of me still burns low in my belly and the lashes of the leather that should hurt like hell are transformed into pure erotic energy.
He drops the belt and surges inside me, his cock plunging deep into my soaking wet pussy. I let our a cry of pleasure as an incredible sensation washes through me. His strong arms wrap around me, draw me up from the bed, push me back against the wall and I am pinned there as his powerful hips surge against me time and time again, his mouth on my neck, my breasts, my lips, devouring me.
This is not fucking, or lovemaking, this is something deeper and more satisfying than either of those things, and it is both combined. We are the same thing, for several incredible minutes, there is no difference between he and me. His cock plunges inside me, is wrapped in the tight embrace of my inner walls and we are one.
Orgasm comes like a wild thing, rushing through us, making our blood boil. The thrusting, the crying out, the rough grinding and the desperate clenching, the tightening of muscles and the spending of seed. He carries me through it all until I can barely breathe from pleasure, and then he draws me back down to the messy bed where we began and we lie together in a silent reverie in which there are no words, only touch.