It was only a few hours” S protested, rolling His eyes at my dramatics. It was morning and I’d just left the bathroom from my morning tinkle.
“It hurts! I can’t even wipe. I had to tap the toilet paper.” I was referring to last night’s two and a half hour long brutal fuck-fest, that had literally left me too sore to wipe properly.
He muttered some dismissive sound and waved His hand in my direction. I bristled.
“You broke it and now You can’t touch it. I hope You’re happy!” I snapped. Spinning around I tried to execute a grand exit from the room, but it was completely ruined by having to waddle bow-legged.
As I left, I heard Him mutter “It’s Mine and I’ll use it any damn time I please”, to which I muttered back, thinking I was out of earshot, “Bastard.”
“Master Bastard?” He called after me and laughed when I declined to answer.
He did in fact, use my broken pussy shortly after that. To prove a point no doubt, though I put up a pretty good fight. A fight consisting of whinings and but Sirs! that He totally ignored as He climbed between my legs. Just the pressure of His weight touching my bruised groin area made me whimper.
“I’m going to take it all in one hard plunge.” He threatened. But He was smiling down at me and I tried to laugh, vehemently retorting back “Oh no You are NOT- Oh! Fuck! Jesus Christ! OW!” and arching against Him as He did take me in one hard plunge.
The entire rest of the fucking was hard, deep and vicious, all I could do was hang on for the ride. When He’d finished, yanking me up so I could suck the last of the cum from Him, I flopped back on the bed with my hands cupped between my legs and groaned.
He smirked, acting all King of the Sexual Universe. “I think you should do an entry about this. ‘Can sex be used as an s&m tool?'”
“You write it!” I snapped. “You know what You want to say. All I’d say is that You are a mean bastard and everyone already knows that! (And am I right about that? I thought so!) Besides, I don’t think I could sit in the chair that long.”
The rest of the day, I whined each time I had to pee. I walked funny and He mocked me for it. And any time He so much as hinted at anything sexual, I curled up into a ball and whimpered.
But then I begged for, and was gifted with chocolate. And He intended on making me pay for it.
When I looked at Him standing there in the doorway, cock in hand, my first reaction was a trembling, sobbed out “Noooo, please, no!” Can I accurately express how beat up and tender my cunt was(and still is)? Have I mentioned that He’s well endowed? Is it obvious that He doesn’t usually “do” gentle love-making kind of sex?
The thought of what was to come had tears pricking the backs of my eyes. Oh I obeyed, stripping and spreading my legs while He watched, but I whimpered the entire time. I pleaded, reminding Him of how sore He’d made me. He nodded, acknowledging my pleas, but carried on with settling down between my legs and taking me with the same force and savageness as He normally does.
For a long time, the only thing I could manage to do was lie still under Him, fists curled up and held tight to my chest, eyes squeezed shut. I was being stabbed with a hot poker in my most sensitive of all places. I was being pummeled and beaten with callous disregard to my feelings. I was angry, and hurting, and barely, just barely submitting.
Still freely pounding away, He whispered into my ear, “You know slut, this can take a long time. Is that what you want?” He punctuated that with a deep and painful grind against my pelvis.
“No Sir,” I choked out, stiffening against the ramped up pain.
“You know what you can do to make Me come faster. You aren’t doing them so you must like this.” Again, another bump and grind that spurred me into action.
I know how to move, where to lick, where to suck, where to flick and scratch and how to make my hips undulate against Him. It’s a no win situation for me, though. If I do nothing and just concentrate on “taking it”, He takes longer, drawing it out. If I do those other things, I lose my concentration on “taking it” and everything hits me full force, feeling ten times harder, and ten times sharper, and ten times more painful.. but it’s shorter.
I chose to assist. Moving and sucking, licking and flicking… with tears dripping down my cheeks.
It hurt. That’s all I can say.
After, in bed, I tried to get Him to admit that He hadn’t enjoyed it. I was petulant and pouty, with a sore throbbing cunt and my feelings were hurt.
“You didn’t like it.”
“Yes I did.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t like treating me that way.”
“I came didn’t I?”
Why do my feelings get hurt just sometimes? Why am I occasionally insulted that S takes pleasure when I don’t? Who knows. I sure don’t.
I am still sore and I know my rest before He want’s to take me like a savage animal again will be short. All I can say is Thank the Rock and Roll Gods that I have a child running around the house until at least 9 tonight. Maybe by then I will be able to stand having Him inside of me again.