Also, it's just fun to write. Enjoy.
I should know
“Don’t you dare cum without my permission.” The threat in
those words isn’t subtle. It’s not hinted at. It’s blatant, and looking around,
I can see that she fully intends to follow through with it. There’s a set of
leather gloves, gloves that end in claws, sharp enough to scrape away skin,
sharp enough to leave marks for days. I should know.
There’s a set of riding crops against the wall, laid out
like a set of katana swords for a samurai. She can use them with about the same
amount of skill. I should know.
And then there are long strands of cloth, every inch of them
covered in clothespins. Three hundred and eighty five of them. I should know.
I swallow hard and nod, trying to concentrate, trying to
follow her instructions. She runs her leather clad fingers through my hair,
makes a fist, and pulls me back hard, yanking my neck back so that I’m forced
to look up at her. For a second, I don’t know if she’s going to kiss me or spit
on me, if she’ll smile or slap me. Her other hand slips under my chin,
squeezing my throat a little bit, cutting off just enough air to get me
excited, to make me focus there and beg my body to obey, to avoid cumming. Just
a little bit longer.
She looks at me for a few seconds with a sadistic smirk on
her face, her hand squeezing a bit tighter, as if waiting for me to panic. But
panic won’t help. If I panic and try to pull against my bonds, she’ll just
squeeze tighter. She’ll squeeze and squeeze, until my vision blurs at the
edges, until I almost pass out. I should know.
Then she bends down and kisses me. He presses her lips hard
against mine, her tongue invading my mouth with all the subtlety of a Mongol
horde. No one would ever doubt that it was her kissing me, not the other way
around. Not us kissing each other. Her kissing me, her tongue fucking my mouth,
using me as she wanted to.
My eyes close somewhere during that kiss, and don’t open
again until she starts to pull away and I realize that my lower lip is clamped
between her teeth. She bites down a little, pulls a little, and her eyes
sparkle with an elegant cruelty, as if she wants me to wonder, just for a
second, if she intends to rip my lip off completely.
But she won’t. I know she won’t. She loves my lips. She
loves how big they are, how soft. She likes what I can do with them. She
compliments me on them sometimes. Perfect dick sucking lips. I should know.
Finally, she lets my lip go, then throws my head down so
hard that I fall all the way to the floor. I roll at the last second, hitting
with my shoulder instead of my face. I don’t want a black eye, and I know that
hitting the floor like that would only upset her. I roll, and the impact stings
my shoulder, but just a sting. Not a problem.
Her heel clicks on the floor as she walks around in front of
me. I look up, and the boot, that wonderfully soft and beautiful leather, is
just inches away from my mouth. It’s out of reach from my tongue, though. I can’t
reach out and try to lick. If I stick out my tongue, she’ll step on it, grind
it into the floor, and she’ll punish me for daring to try to lick those boots
without her permission. I should know.
“You’re learning,” she says, pride obvious in her voice. “How
disappointing.”
She takes a few steps away, knowing that I’m watching her
move, knowing that I’m enjoying the sway of her hips, the strain of the leather
that is barely painted against her skin. She walks over to a bag on the table.
The bag is always there. Sometimes it’s empty. Sometimes it has a new toy in
it. Sometimes it has an old toy that we haven’t used in a while. She leaves it
there to tease me. I can’t look inside unless she tells me to. I just have to
look at it, see that it’s there, and wonder. I have to wonder what’s in there.
And whatever it is, it’s never good. It’s never something
meant to make me feel good. It’s always something I’ll regret. Always something
painful. I should know.
“Get on your feet,” she says, her back to me. I struggle to
stand. It’s hard to move with your hands shackled behind your back. You don’t
realize how much of your balance relies on your arms until you have to stand
without them. I could get to my knees and just kip up, but that makes too much
noise, and if I make too much noise, she won’t like it. She might put a gag in
my mouth, and inflate it until it feels like my jaw is going to dislocate. I
should know.
So instead I have to roll, I have to awkwardly amble to my
feet and stagger a bit to get my balance, to avoid falling again. And while I
do that, she takes something out of the bag. She turns around.
I look first at her smile, the affectionate cruelty painted
on her face. Her eyes burn with a delicious evil, and she gestures down. I
follow the gesture, and I see what was in the bag.
She has many strap ons. I recognize the rig. It’s form
fitting, pressing so well against her that the cock she attaches to it might as
well be real. I know that it presses with a little nub behind it, that she gets
stimulated by it when she fucks, so long as she pounds into me hard enough. I know
that if she slams into me again and again, sooner or later she will orgasm,
though it will feel like I’ve been brutally ravaged. I should know.
But it isn’t her normal cock this time. It’s not the small
one, the one that looks like it might belong to a human. It’s not even the
eight inch one that once left me barely able to sit. It’s more like a human arm
from the elbow up. There’s even a fist at the end of it, round enough but still
ridged with knuckles.
She laughs at me as I stare at it. “Aww,” she says, “I think
you’re blushing.” She spreads her legs and lets it flop up and down a little
bit, so I can get some idea of the weight of it. “I think you like it. Do you
like it?”
I know better than to speak. Speaking will get my mouth put
in a spreader gag, and may leave me open to be used as a toilet. But not
responding can be worse, and might leave me caned until there are marks on my
back and my ass for a week to come. I should know.
So I nod, and I feel my skin flush.
“You’re definitely blushing,” she laughs. “Now bend over the
table and,” she gives me a velvet smile, “try to relax.”
I don’t hesitate. Hesitation might cause her to conveniently
forget to use lube, or at least to use too little. It might cause her to pound
away at me so hard that I’m left wondering if I’m being torn in half. I should
know.
“I think you like it,” she says when I jump at the sudden
cold of the lubricant. I hear her sliding her hand up and down the huge fist
shaped strap on she intends to peg me with. “You always jump at the
opportunity.”
She leans down and I feel my ankles being clipped to the
table, holding me good and steady.
Her hand slides into my hair again. Thankfully, it’s the
clean hand. She grips my hair and pulls me up from the table, bending my back a
little bit the wrong way as she presses her huge toy up against my asshole. I
try to do as she wants. I try to relax. But no amount of relaxing will help
with that monstrous thing. I just have to fight the urge to get tense. I just
have to submit as completely as possible. I should know.
“This,” she says, “is going to hurt. But don’t worry.” She kisses
my ear and pushes a bit, the fist pressing itself into my ass. “It’ll hurt you
more than it hurts me.” She laughs and pulls my hair harder, pressing her dildo
even deeper. I gasp as I feel it break its way in, knowing the rest will be
easier.
She pulls out a little bit, leaving the fist itself stuck
just barely inside me. “A lot more,” she says. She gives me a cruel chuckle and
pushes in again, forcing the fist, the wrist, and the arm all the way inside me
in a burst of ecstatic agony. I couldn’t hold in the scream if I wanted to. I
know it might result in punishment, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t hold
in the noise.
She doesn’t say anything. Her hand moves, adjusting itself
in my hair, getting a better grip. She pushes forward, making me gasp again.
“Don’t you dare,” she says. “If you cum without my
permission, you’ll be doing a lot more than just licking it up.” She pulls back
and plunges in again, and my vision sparkles at the edges. “You cum without my
permission, and I’ll make you clean this off with your throat.” She pounds in
again. “Do you think you can deep throat this without dislocating your jaw?”
She pulls out a bit farther and plunges in.
Then she laughs. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
I focus as hard as I can on not cumming. It’s not an idle
threat. She doesn’t make idle threats.
I should know.
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