DarklyEverAfter (12 page)

In a moment of sheer terror, I felt someone’s hand beneath my pants. Opening my eyes, I caught a glimpse of Number Three’s smile, a smile I had never seen before. My eyes followed the contours of her shoulders down to the joint in her hand that disappeared beneath my clothes.

Her finger slid over the damp spots between my pussy lips as if she was gliding over wet ice, gentle but firm. One small twitch of my skin came just before she slid her finger deep into me. I felt her first knuckle glide across the roof of my vagina as if she knew every special crevice and cubbyhole wanting attention. She was slow and methodical, all the time staring into my eyes, keeping me focused on her face. I thought I saw her mouth
I love you
once, but I couldn’t be sure if it was real or I just wished it was true.

She kissed me, deep and longingly. Her hand pulled firmly on my back, pulling me closer and tighter into her body. I felt her damp breasts pressing against me. Her hand never stopped its rhythmic attack on my pussy, once gently rubbing my clitoris and then down into the depths of my pussy.

I turned my head to see about a noise by the door. The change of position allowed her to slide her tongue in my ear, flicking it around the different spaces and sending a river of pleasure through my body. I held my breath for several moments, hoping the sensation would resolve into a warm delight, but the motions between my legs added even more strain on my senses. I felt the mounting orgasm approaching, but I certainly did not expect one of this magnitude.

I shuddered, cursed and released the avalanche of sexual pleasure, freeing it to roam over my entire body, overloading my sensory receptors and causing me to moan in pleasure. The room echoed with my attempts at being quiet. Nothing Number Three did seemed to calm me down enough to control the noise bouncing from wall to wall. As I collapsed on the bed, a team of nurses and orderlies descended on us, wanting to know what was the matter.

“Just after shocks. She will be fine.” Number Three waved them off, watching for their exit.

“That was close,” I said.

“Nothing to worry about,” she said. “Now, how about some warm milk, fresh from the tap?”

There is a season for everything. Someday, this virus will end and all the girls of the center will be able to go home. For now, Number Three and I live together in the center apartment complex near the river. On our days off, we love to walk along the banks, skinny dip in the cold water and suckle each other on the rocks near the center of the water. Having been conscripted to service at the center myself, it is nice to have a loving touch on my breasts.

And the greasy-haired boy? He never comes around anymore. One swift white knuckle crushing of his balls cured him of his biting habit. Now I am the only one that nibbles on Number Three’s nipples.

Chapter Ten
Bad Girl

I had to do it.
There
wasn’t anything anyone could do that would have stopped me once I saw him bent over like that. The awkward way he was trying to push that little chord into the wall socket made me want to give him everything he ever dreamed of doing to me.

Perhaps it was the evening. He had been drinking shots for most of the day and I was filled with disdain for those types of days. All too often he would use that drunken state to get me into positions I really didn’t like. More than once he had me bent over a chair and forced my tight little butt in the air. Once it was exposed, there was no stopping my old man from filling the exit hole with his dick.

This particular evening, not only was he drinking, but the titty channel was filled with talk about how women loved to have anal sex and that it always makes them come. Although it never made sense when he was sober, when he was drunk, it became gospel.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t been drinking most of the day, myself. A shot of whiskey with him at breakfast. Maybe I had a beer or two while sunning on our deck. Who could avoid the cocktails before dinner. By the time I got to the table wine, I was feeling pretty good.

Just looking across the room and seeing that fully exposed asshole situated in the center of my old man’s legs started me to thinking about how the funny lady on television had said that men really want to be screwed in the ass, that their pleasure center resides in their prostate, and in my tipsy state, that sounded logical. I knew all I had to do was go over there with my strap-on and I could give him the best night of his life.

With catlike motions, I crawled across the floor to the night stand where all my favorite toys hide. You know, the ones I don’t want Tommy to know about. The friction on the rug burned my knees, but I couldn’t let out any sounds that might alert him to my plan. I bit my lip and shuffled from one knee to the other until I could reach the drawer handle. I thought the scratching sound the drawer made when I pulled it from the night stand had alerted him, but it was just a curse word aimed at the socket for keeping his television from coming alive, again.

I pulled out my favorite toy, the one with all the buzzing feelings without the sounds. It was still attached to the strap-on harness from that morning. Lilly and I had spent the day together getting a little drunk and a little relaxed. Did I mention those shots?

Her smell hung on the vibrator just as though she had just left. Pulling the straps tightly to my waist and under my ass, I switched the beast into overdrive. For just a second, I felt Lilly’s lips pressed against mine. I could taste her, the common taste of cheap wine and the subtle taste of me still lingering on her lips.

The great thing about this machine is that when I am wearing it in the harness, it vibrates my clit better than anything else I have ever found. I usually orgasm long before my female counterpart is even close to coming. Sometimes, I even get a two-for-one special service, coming a second time with the other girl.

A couple of drops of oil on the tip slid down the head of the seven-inch fake penis like it was alive and dripping. I rubbed the lube all over the shaft, feeling the vibrating motion in my hand. Giving the little fellow a harder push to my groin, I must have let out a small groan from the extra sensation.

“What’s that, honey?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just coming over to see how things are going.”

Tommy never glanced over his shoulder. “It’s like trying to put a square peg in a round hole.”

“Want a round peg for your round hole, do you?” I smiled, knowing he didn’t get it.

I made my way behind him with my vibrator hovering just inches from his butt, still up in the air as he fiddled with the plug. Too scared to actually shove it in, I stayed there, on my knees, drunk and wishing I didn’t have a strap-on around my waist. I couldn’t believe I had gone this far. If only he wasn’t naked while fixing things, the thought would never have occurred to me.

“There. Round peg in round hole.” Tommy reared up on his knees, proud of his accomplishments.

The compelling urge to push him over and screw his ass couldn’t have come at a worse time. I wasn’t close to coming, but I could feel those road marker signs that the orgasm machine was engaged and I was going to finish the ride whether he saw me or not. With the knowledge he was going to become aware of my secret hidden in the drawer, there really wasn’t any reason not to go ahead. With his arms still firmly planted on his hips and his body supported on his knees, I pushed him over on the coffee table with a thud.

“What the hell?”

The sudden increase in volume and pitch in his voice should have indicated to me that he had never experienced a vibrator in his ass. The more he fought with me to get the vibrator out, the more pressure he was putting on my damn clit. It wasn’t until I finally got my hand around his waist and pinned him to the table that he slowed his resistance. It probably helped that I was also massaging his balls from the sagging skin to the dangling bits.

The vibrations were now less pronounced but they still hit the right spot. When my left hand found his dick, I knew he was going to let me finish. The moans, the bucking and the cooing all melted into a fabulous array of sensations that complemented my thrusting. First deeply and with force, I would then move my hips in a swirling manner, forcing the machine to buzz like crazy.

I wondered what exactly he had in mind when he started to buck his ass against my groin. I felt his penis start to spasm before there was a large load of goo in my palm. I milked his balls firmly for several strokes, hoping to keep him in the moment with me. Drained of all fluids, he started to stand and remove the vibrator.

I couldn’t allow that. The motion and vibration was running a chain of pleasurable reactions in my body that I wasn’t going to stop. The train had left the station and I wasn’t going to let some brakeman stop me now. Grabbing his balls as tight as I could, I pulled him back down on the table and continued my assault on his ass with increased fervor. That little buzzing sound dropped off to nothing, but the vibrations intensified. The ripples of shocks running along my spine tickled me to the core. I felt sweat break out across the breadth of my back. My clit was almost numb from all the ramming it received, but my pussy was pounding out signals to my brain. It wanted something to fill it. For a minute, I thought I could hear it calling to the limp dick for help.

I drove my goo-covered fingers into my pussy as far as they could reach. Thrusting both holes, his and mine, as hard as I could. I pushed and pulled his body with my ball-clenching hand until he finally stopped screaming and joined in the process.

And it hit like a volcano, earthquake and hurricane, all at once. I felt all my nerves popping in that one instant. All I could do was scream and moan until my body finally collapsed on his back. Panting and sweaty, I kissed him up his spine to his neck and released his balls.

“Sorry. Did that hurt?” I asked.

And that is when he hit me, officer.

Chapter
Eleven Carla’s Room

The
light
shining in the corner of Carla’s room illuminated her back, exposing her bruised butt cheeks. He complained that the shadows cast by the Saint Andrew’s cross blocked his view of her tits, still drooping under the strain the weights on the nipple clamps exerted on her. She could think of nothing else except the end to this session where she could get relief from his vicious punishment. She strained against the leather straps holding her body erect, hoping to find a position that would stop her master from beating her so hard. Master Ord was fair, but brutal.

“A few more and you will learn not to eat those,” Ord said.

The slap of the leather whips struck hard against the small of her back. Trailing a dribble of blood across the floor, Ord lifted his hand again.

“Stop,” Morgan ordered. “She’s had enough.”

“As you wish, but this slave is stronger than most. She needs more.”

Morgan unhooked the chains holding Carla to the post. Collapsing in a heap beneath them, Carla sighed a breath of relief. Her body, racked with pain, failed to stand, especially as her mind was swimming with visions of dozens of previous beatings. She sought the special place in her mind where there was no more pain and no more struggle to be a good sub. The mind desired it, but the body failed to provide. There was little she could do. This was her home, a place where she could thrive and survive. At that moment, she just wanted to get some rest to heal her body.

There was no place. Carla knew she could never be happy in a Vanilla world with two children and a white picket fence. The beatings were mind candy, releasing her inner desires. The need for pain at the hands of her lover was paramount to her existence. There was no world of happiness without it.

“For your services, Master Ord, she will suck your dick.”

Carla hated this. Crawling to the Master’s crotch, she already dreaded the fateful moment when he would fill her mouth with semen. Spilling even one drop would send her right back to Saint Andrew’s cross for a quick lashing.

Ord forced his dick deep in her throat. The faint trace of salt permeated her taste buds as she struggled not to gag on his piece. Deeper with each stroke, however, Ord told her he could force her to spill, if he wanted. When he flushed her mouth with semen, he proved he was right.

The first drop of white fluid fell on her breast. Against her dark chestnut nipple, the stain was obvious to everyone. Master Ord smiled widely, offering her a brief moment to apologize. None came.

Morgan lifted her to the long table, a wooden contraption built to sustain a stretched position for the duration of any torture. “Clamps,” he hollered as he fixed her shackles around the last extremity. The heavy tugging from the nipple weights pulled her large breasts to her sides, leaving a clear path for the cane reed to strike.

“Please, Master, be kind,” Carla begged.

Nothing about Master Ord was kind. He enjoyed the pain of others. Morgan, her real Master, was a kind and generous master who could be lenient when he chose.

“Not today, Carla. You know the rules. Spill the seed and face the reed.”

Ord struck without waiting for Morgan’s word. He struck again. Carla’s flesh rippled. Riveting strokes of the cane drove her to scream once, only once.