Lucy is kneeling, looking at my shoes. She's wearing her short black skirt and her black t-shirt and her brown hair in that one, long braid. She's on the floor of my bedroom. She belongs to me, now. Ray gave her to me and I have to figure out how to keep her.
Just looking at her makes my blood rearrange itself. I feel my cheeks redden, my pussy enthusiastically engorged. I want her all over me. My whole body wants her everywhere around me: her scent, her moans, the salt of her skin, her muscles closing around my probing fingers. My clit jumps at all these thoughts.
I step forward to stand in front of her. I cup her chin in my left hand, tilt it up toward me so I can kiss her lips. Her lips meet mine with the same force, the same desire. My clit jumps again.
"I want you," I whisper in her ear. She moans softly into mine. "I'm going to take you," I continue, "I'm going abuse your soft, delicate skin, then I'm going to fuck you with the fattest dildo I have until you cum."
"Oh, Rebecca, I want that, all of it," she breathes.
Then I say something I've never said before, to any of my lovers. I make the monster in me sit and wait. I grip her hair with my left hand and pull her face away from mine so I can look her in the eyes. She stares at me for a half second before her conditioning kicks in and her gaze slides away.
"Your safe word is red."
"You don't need a safe word," she says, sounding like she's on automatic.
"I want a safe word. Tell me the safe word, Lucy."
"Red," she replies, not looking at me. Tears are leaking out of her eyes. They make me angry. I want to hit her.
"Tell me when you'll say 'red,'" I demand. I use my right hand to slap her breasts, hard enough to make both of them swing a little under her shirt.
"If it hurts too much," she replies, her voice shaking.
"And you'll actually use it," I say. I slap her breasts harder. Her nipples harden, rub against the fabric.
"Y-yes," she breathes.
"That's my girl," I say, grinning down at her. I kiss her hard again. Her lips are softer, yielding. She seems confused and I'm not at all surprised. It's funny, I realize, that I'd want to use a safe word when I'm not playing anymore.
I kneel so I can grope her breasts through her shirt as we continue kissing. I pinch and pull her nipples, hard enough that she gasps and squeaks into the kisses. She drapes her arms around my neck, passive aside from meeting my lips, teeth and tongue, kiss for kiss.
At first, her lips taste like cherry-flavored chapstick and her mouth is dry. But soon her mouth tastes like mine, like nothing, like traces of iron and copper, like a clean, clear lake. I feel like I'm floating.
I float clear to the other side of my desire, where I find myself waiting.
Standing, I pull Lucy up, too, and slap her face with my open palm. She stares at me, hungry. This is what we're both familiar with.
"Take off your clothes," I demand. She complies very quickly. I don't bother taking the time to admire her perfect figure. Instead, I grab her wrist in my left hand, pull her left, then let go of her and step forward to push her onto my bed. She lands on her ass and scrabbles backward until her feet are on the bedspread.
I take off my shoes and socks then climb up after her, straddle her hips, and start slapping her: her face, her breasts, her upper arms. She moans and growls. Her skin reddens. I am focused on hurting her. It feels so good to hurt her.
I start to rock my hips, still clad in undies and jeans, against her, my mons against hers. I know the fat seam of the jeans must hurt, grinding against the shaved mound of her pussy, drawing back the hood from her clit and attacking it. Her moans become little yells, her arms and knees draw up, helping her hips sink away from mine. I seat myself more firmly and rock again and again.
Her hands come up, as if to push me off. I grab them and hold both wrists in my left hand. I continue to slap her red, sensitive skin. I'm done with her face, it's red enough, so now I fall into a rhythm just slapping her breasts, watching them jiggle, listening to her little yells become louder screams, still pitched low enough to tell me I have more time.
We are so perfectly focused on the moment that times stands still. I only know it's moving forward by the way her skin grows brighter, in the rising pitch of her sounds, her open, panting mouth. Her eyes are closed. She arches her back when I slap her breasts, presenting them to me more completely, pushing back against my violence.
Finally I hear that specific pitch, high and nasal, that lets me know she's close to having enough. Letting go of her wrists, which fall limply to cross each other over her abdomen, I walk myself back on my knees, far enough to grab her by the back of her knees and draw them up and out, opening her cunt and ass to my eyes.
She's wet, red and engorged. Her clit and mons are bright red from my jeans rubbing against them. I know she hasn't cum, yet, but I can see it won't take much to push her over the edge. I lean forward and slide two fingers into her mouth. She sucks on them, runs her tongue over them, content to suckle them until I pull them out. I use her own saliva to run my fingers down either side of her pussy, between the inner and outer labia. She groans and her head tilts up and to the right, her eyes closed.
"Give me two of the pillows above you," I demand.
Her body shudders with a long sigh as she reaches beyond her head and pulls down two pillows for me. I tuck them under her ass, lifting her up toward me and the perfect angle for slapping.
I start with the insides of her thighs.
No comments:
Post a Comment