Ruby

 

 

 

He doesn't check my status for a long time. After every strike with the belt, I fear that his hand might wander between my legs to see if I'm obeying his demand.

I know I'm not.

I can't help it. It's a natural response to the kind of pain he's inflicting upon me. There are no tears yet, but my body tenses up every time he hits me with the belt, always meeting a slightly different spot on my ass than the time before. Once he has covered the entire area, he returns to the beginning, inflicting more agony on an already sore spot.

The pain is intense, almost blinding. It’s molten iron. A reminder that I am alive.

After a while, I no longer suppress my anguished cries, filling the room with unbridled shrieks that no one but him will ever hear. I don't even notice that I started crying until I taste the trickling salty liquid on my lips. The taste awakes me from a slumber, one that provides the comfort I need during sessions like this. Some call it subspace, but I've always called it warmth, simple warmth. It's a kind of vertigo that helps my mind elude the agony at hand, and escorts me to a place where there's no pain, only the throbbing left by every impact. That hot pulsation, the one that carries me off to a place to which I have no access unless there's a man to help me get there.

I crave this feeling and the surrender that comes with it. I almost feel sorry for him, for my captor, because I know that whatever he's feeling right now, it can't be nowhere close to as good as what I'm experiencing.

And that's exactly the problem.

I know my core is dripping wet. I know it before he finally moves his hand there, his gentle touch clashing with the torment from before. My skin is glowing and I moan in anguish when he graces my tortured ass, as his fingers part my velvety lips, revealing that I've been anything but a good girl.

"Oh, my sweet little toy," he whispers, his voice underlined with an ominous threat. "You're being punished, and yet here you are, disobeying your master again."

I groan with relish when he begins playing with my clit, sending sparks of pleasure along my spine. I know this won't end the way I want it to, but I choose to enjoy the bliss while it lasts. He draws circles around my swollen nub, inserting one finger, then two. I know I'm only making things worse for myself when I start grinding against his hand, eager for more.

My heart skips a beat when I hear him unzipping his pants. Just a moment later, his hand is replaced with the familiar tip of his massive cock, parting my lips just the slightest bit as he teases me.

I groan, moving my hips back to invite him in, and to my surprise, he follows my call. A smile blossoms on my face, breaking the crusts of dried-up tears as he shoves himself inside of me in one brute thrust, his hands digging into the flesh around my hips as he begins fucking me like a stallion. His pelvis rams against my tortured skin with each onslaught of his steely girth, causing me to gasp in a blend of agony and ecstasy.

"Such a greedy little slut," he hisses behind me, changing the rhythm of his patient thrusts to the unyielding pace of a hungry beast. He lifts me up, my skin parting from the sticky leather as he takes me with such ferocity that I'm almost shoved off the horse at the other end. I suppress my groans, because they drown out the sweet sound of his frantic breathing behind me. Upsurges in bliss are taking over my core, making it impossible to believe that this is still a punishment. I know I would've begged for him to fuck me, just like this, if he hadn't done it on his own. I would've begged and promised to do anything, because that is what I do when I'm beaten into the place of warmth that I call my own, a place filled with nothing but desire for him to be buried inside me.

I gasp, already so close to a climax that I know I'm not allowed to have. As good as this feels, it's still a punishment, and I know he won't let me reach my peak so easily.

I'm proven right just a moment later when he leaves me empty, my wet center helplessly clenching around nothingness while he walks around the bondage horse to the other end, ignoring my moans of protest. He grabs a fistful of my hair at the back of my head and tilts my head back, so that I'm faced with his hardness right in front of my face, my own juices glistening on his tip.

"Open your mouth."

I do it, reluctantly, and as soon as my lips part, he plunges between them. If you'd ask me in a sober moment, I'd probably say that I don't like tasting myself on a man. There's something so filthy about this, a kind of humiliation that has a vile place all its own.

He doesn't let me suck on him, but instead fucks my mouth almost as violently as he fucked my pussy just a few moments ago. I cough, suppressing my gagging reflex as best as I can while he pistons his length into my throat until the tip scales the back of it. He leaves it there for a while, pushing and shoving and watching as I choke on his cock, my eyes filling with tears.

Release. I take in big gulps of air when he lets me, knowing this is only to prepare me for the next round. I'm delirious, instinctively opening my mouth and practically begging for his cock to be thrust inside every time he gives me a few moments to breathe.

His breathing is ratcheting out of control, almost as if he's hyperventilating. I know he's close. He will come very soon, and I'm still hoping for mercy, hoping for him to let me come as well, preferably while I'm wrapped around his cock.

But he's too strict for that. I grimace in pain when he pulls my face back at the roots of my hair, tilting my head all the way back into my neck as he rubs his length in front of me.

"Look at me," he hisses with frantic, panting breaths. "Look at me, toy!"

My eyes wander up to his. I blink desperately to clear my blurred vision, just in time to see his handsome face as he climaxes, shooting ribbon after ribbon of hot cum across my face while I cast him a smile of accomplishment.