Trust Me (Rough Love 3)

But I couldn’t talk things out with him in the dungeon. I wasn’t allowed to talk, and he was naked and hard and not in the mood for talking either. He walked me over to the spanking bench and battened me down, hooking my collar to the structure and binding down my waist and legs. My arms were still cinched behind my back in a lattice of rope knots, and no amount of squirming could free them. When I was finally restrained to his satisfaction, he went to the chest of drawers and returned with a heavy strap.

So it wasn’t going to be a long, drawn out session tonight, just a beat down that was probably going to make me bawl. The strap brought real tears, not just the moisture forced out of my eyes through choking and physical exertion. He didn’t reserve the excruciating blows to my ass either, but worked over my thighs until I strained against the bench.

“Is your mouth open?” he asked as I cried and panted. “Open your fucking mouth in case I want to put my cock in it. You’re mine to use, in whatever fucking hole I want.” To illustrate that fact, he whapped the strap across the base of the butt plug, then walked around the bench and jammed his cock between my parted lips. I wanted to tell him that I felt hurt and exhausted, and that my asshole felt fucking abused by that plug, and that I hated the strap he clutched in his fist.

“If you can use that mouth to talk to Cantor,” he said, fucking my face, “then you can sure as hell keep it open to serve me. And if you can’t, we’ll get out the cock gag and do a little more training.”

Oh, shit, the cock gag. A thick, hard, intrusive piece of rubber that was as humiliating as it was uncomfortable to wear. I opened my mouth wider and let him pound me out. Please, no cock gag. Please, I’m sorry I spoke to Cantor. I’m sorry he ever almost came between us. In the end, I chose you…

“Keep your mouth open,” he said, pulling away from me. I did, even though a thick string of drool dripped from my lips. He gave me a dozen more blows with the strap, until my butt throbbed with a hot, deep pain, then he put the strap away and returned with a vibrator wand. I eyed it in dread. Please, no, please, not the forced orgasms.

He shoved it under me, positioning the wand between the bench and my body, and setting the oscillator squarely against my clit. Did it feel good? Yes. Was I wet and riled up from everything he’d done to me so far? Yes, but I knew this horny, trembling pleasure was about to be turned against me in the very worst way.

He walked behind me, grabbed my shaking hips, and impaled me on his cock. My nipples throbbed in their chopstick prisons as his shaft pushed inside, rubbing along the unforgiving glass plug in my anal channel. His cock felt awful and wonderful at once, slipping, sliding, hurting me, filling me, taking up every inch of space inside me at his whim. He slapped my ass as I keened from the pleasure and pain. The wand vibrated my clit, building to an intensely sharp orgasm. I contracted on the hard intrusions inside me, my whole body shaking from the power of the release.

I clenched my teeth to stop myself from babbling Oh God, oh God, oh God. He slapped my sore thigh. “What did I tell you? Keep your damn mouth open.”

I obeyed. I opened wide and made frantic, crying sounds through my lips. He loved to show me that he could take over my body and command me to do almost anything. At the moment, I was nothing at all, except his.

The orgasm started to wane and my body quailed with exhausted satisfaction, but the wand continued on, stimulating my clit. I tried to arch away from it, but the strap around my waist held me captive to the continuing vibration. He continued to fuck me, steady, hard thrusts that felt even fuller now that I’d come. I knew it would go on like this for fifteen or twenty minutes, that he would purposely hold off his own orgasm as long as possible to make me suffer the maximum amount of overstimulation.

I tried to relax. I tried to let another orgasm come even though I didn’t want it. I came again, and a few minutes later, again. My clit felt swollen and overused, but the vibrator did its work, and physiologically, my body kept coming in a continuous volcanic eruption.

Mentally, I thought I was going to die.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. My mind kept telling my body that it couldn’t go on any more, that my ass was spasming and my pussy was all used up, and my nipples needed freedom, and my clit couldn’t bear one more moment of stimulation, but the man tormenting me didn’t care. The fucking went on, and the vibrating went on, and the orgasms came, each more painful than the last.