Driftwood Deeds(25)

“How does your cunt feel, puppy?”

My mouth opened. I love you was not the right response to that question and it had to be consciously discarded before I could answer.

“Empty...” I breathed, high pitched and shivering.

“Poor little puppy cunt.” He trailed the leather down between my aching breasts, stomach and over the soft hill of wiry hair. “So impatient.”

He resettled his glasses with a tender smile that made my eyes brim with tears again. “We can’t blame her, can we? So untrained and neglected...”

I found myself nodding, “Yes, Sir.”

And already, I could feel my thighs quiver again, struggling to stay this open even —or especially—as his fingers brushed down my inner thigh.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the puppy you are?”

My nod, eager and fast, was there before I found my voice. “Yes, please Sir!”

This time, he proceeded to untie me without any further delay. When he got close, I could feel the quickness of his breath, however well he managed to hide his own eagerness. He ordered me on all fours, smiling down at me. Reaching into his bedside table, he produced a simple black satchel, opened it with his teeth and pulled a condom over his cock. He was maybe a foot away from my face and I could feel my cheeks sting with longing.

“Now. What else does a puppy need?” He patted his chin in mock thought and then smacked his belt again smiling down at me. “A nice tight collar to keep it in line.”

I whimpered, my whole body seemed to angle towards him in an attempt to get closer. But he quickly looped his belt around my neck and let the metal rod slip into the one hole that had been drilled far more towards the center of the belt than any of the others. It would hit me later that he’d done this before, with this very belt but on a different woman. In that moment, I was too busy concentrating on my air supply when each cell in my body seemed to scream for release. I could feel every breath squeezing itself past the belt, creating a tiny wheezing sound.

“Please...” I whispered again and this time, he stepped behind me on the mattress. He was still holding onto the end of the belt and easily forced my head back.

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me! Please, Sir,” I croaked against the obstruction.

“How?”

“Please, fuck me hard. Please, like I’m your puppy, Sir.”

I don’t know how I knew he was smiling. Maybe there was a soft humming sound or the tiniest snicker but I knew that he was when his fingers dug against my still sore bottom. It didn’t help that my breasts were pressed against the sheets. Just as I was ready to howl in pain and frustrated need and without any warning, I could feel him at my entrance and then he plunged in deep. I cried more in surprise than pain but tears were there anyway, a sweet liquid release that allowed me to slip deeper and deeper into the moment with each hard thrust. He was holding onto my ass and smacked it again and again when he realized that each one caused my cunt to contract hard around him. It was like I entered a different world, a world in which I was his completely, where my sensations, my pleasure, my brain was fused with his. His grunts were mine, my aching breasts were his and so was the steady climb and we both pushed each other on. Harder and harder, faster and faster until I couldn’t hold myself upright anymore—teetered and suspended for a long heartbeat and then I came again with a shuddering cry. As though to prove that he could, he made the next few strokes all the harder against my sensitive flesh, until he groaned and I felt his weight on me as he collapsed on my back, breathing hard against my neck.

He was heavy. My knees caved in and he rolled off me, pulled me back against his chest as we both fought to draw air into our ravaged bodies. We didn’t say anything even when our breathing slowed. The moment was a fragile one, and we both seemed to sense that falling asleep would be the least hurtful thing to try once our brains cooled down enough to allow rational thought. At least, that’s how it was for me, already painfully aware that I would leave in the morning.





XII





Paul was already out of bed when I woke. It took my body a moment to catch up, to remember where I was but then I tried to move. I felt as though a truck had run me over and not just my breasts or ass but my entire musculature—bent and moved in ways it never had before. I lay back against the pillow and breathed slowly in and out. Carefully, I touched my breasts. They weren’t pink anymore, just a little sore. The bed still smelled like fresh sheets and for a second, I couldn’t comprehend how a night like the one we had shared wouldn’t leave a richer olfactory profile on them, on the air, and the curtains.