Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. I wrote it and posted it on an old blog of mine and I have decided to post it here as well. Enjoy!
A million miles away, somewhere on the fringes of consciousness feel him stroking my hair. Then his lips on my flesh, lightly. I stir, annoyed at being woken up, but my body won’t refuse him. Whatever he wanted that was mine to give, he would have.
I sigh, still in sleep, as he runs his hand down my stomach, to my hip, to my thigh. Instinctively, my legs open for him. He withdraws his hand, and I don’t have to see his face to know that twisted little grin he wears only for me. I’m a whore, after all. His whore. As I surface from sleep, I know he will tease me mercilessly, then use me. He won’t give me what I want, not tonight.
He slaps my cunt, sharply, and my eyes fly open. The unexpectedness takes my breath away for a moment, and my fingers curl around the bedsheets under me. I try to stop the whimper from escaping my lips, but he hears it anyway. I know it excites him. Then he slaps me again and again, steadily increasing the force, until I think I will cry. But I don’t say stop.
His fist is tangled up in my hair, and he yanks it, viciously pulling my head back. I feel his teeth sink into my throat as he rakes his nails down my back. I hear him growling, low in his throat, and I know that tonight, I am the prey. I moan softly, as his teeth grind my flesh. I feel something warm and sticky, but I don’t know if it’s blood. He licks my throat, tasting. Even in the dark, I can feel his predatory eyes on me.
I reach out to touch him, but he pulls away. He won’t let me have this simple pleasure. It’s not about what I want tonight. Instead he pins my hands above my head, and with his free hand, runs his fingers lightly down my throat, pausing over the bruises already forming. Then he pinches me. The already tender spot comes alive with searing pain, and I cry out.
“You like this, don’t you?” He growls in my ear. I want to say no. I want him to hold me, with tenderness. But we both know I do. I nod my head, and he pulls my hair sharply. “What was that?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper. He knows it’s a little bit humiliating to me. That’s why he makes me say it. I can tell he is grinning again, that malicious grin, the one that says I’m in for a world of hurt.
He takes a deep breath, letting it out in a baleful chuckle. “Do you know what you are?” he says to me. He answers for me, “You’re a whore. A disgusting piece of filth. You’re nothing but an amusing toy for me to play with. And even then, you make me sick.”
I say nothing. As if my silence is all the answer he needs, he wrenches me up by my hair, and forces me off the bed onto my knees. I can’t look at him in the face, so I stare at the floor in front of me. I hear it before I feel it, the back of his hand across my cheek. I taste blood. I must have bit my tongue.
I have to struggle to calm my breathing, and my heart is pounding so hard that I don’t hear him come closer to me. I flinch as he puts his hand on the back of my neck and gently guides my head forward. I’m unsure what he wants, but I awkwardly comply. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, and gently forces his cock all the way into my mouth. I almost gag. I grasp his legs in my hands, and bury my face between his legs, sucking. I hear him moaning softly. Encouraged, I move my lips up and down his cock faster and faster. His hands are tangled up in my hair. He pulls it gently, but forcefully, guiding my movement. But he becomes more demanding, forcing my head back and forth. As his cock keeps hitting the back of my throat, I gag. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t stop his assault on my mouth. I hear him moaning, calling me a whore over and over, saying this was all I was good for. I cough and choke and try not to throw up but it’s no use, and before he cums, I push him away and let go all over the floor. Embarrassed, I try feebly to apologize, but he doesn’t hear me. I am afraid now. I don’t know what he will do to me.
“Clean it up,” he says, maliciously. I try to stand up, to get something to clean up the mess and he slaps me again. “I said clean it up. Now.” Now I am crying. Understanding dawns on me, and I realize he’s not talking about cleaning it up with a towel.
“I can’t,” I sob, still on my hands and knees.
“You can, and you will, or you’ll regret it,” he says softly, menacingly. I can see he has the cable in his hand. “Or maybe you want me to punish you, is that it?” he asks me. I can see him examining the cable in the dim light out of the corner of my eye.
“No sir!” I am crying harder now. I can’t do what he says but I don’t want him to beat me either. I sink down lower, my chest on the floor, crying shamefully. I can smell the vomit soaking into the floor, and I almost retch again.
I feel the pain exploding on my back from the cable, and I shriek in pain and scramble away. That one movement incenses him, and in one step he closes the distance between us. He whips me again and I scream. He grabs my arm, and almost pulling it out of the socket, he drags me across the room, and forces me down on the floor and handcuffs my hands around the leg of the bed. And he beats me again and again with the cable, ignoring my screaming and crying. It feels as if my skin has been sliced open repeatedly, and soon my whole body goes numb. But he doesn’t stop until his arm gets tired. I can’t control my sobbing, and for a long time it is the only sound in the room. My back and my ass are bleeding, I don’t have to see it to know. My mind is reeling from the pain and the shock of his treatment of me. For the first time, I am truly afraid of him.
I feel him kneel down behind me, and I jump, fresh tears forming. “Please, no more,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage, my throat raw from screaming and crying.
“No more what?” he murmurs as his finger probes my ass. I don’t want to enjoy it. I inhale, sharply, as he pushes another finger in. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, and pushes them back in. My hips match his rhythm, and I moan softly, the words dying on my lips. His other hand finds my clit, soaking wet, and it embarrasses me. As he massages my clit, he forces his cock into my ass, and I moan loudly. “Ah, that’s my good slut.” he sighs. He grabs my shoulder, and fucks my ass, his cock sliding in and out as he rubs my clit. I am close to screaming again, the pleasure is so intense. I moan his name. I feel him grab a fistful of my hair, as he thrusts even harder, and he grunts with the effort. I gasp sharply as his teeth sink into my back, and I can hear him growling loudly. And then he cums, and I can feel it inside of me, dripping down my legs and my pussy. He collapses on top of me, and it seems like hours before either one of us speak or move. Then I feel his tongue on my back, licking the blood from my wounds. He purrs in my ear, rubbing his cheek against mine.
“I love you,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me.