Elliot Mabeuse (10 page)

It didn't really matter. I just held it against her clit and she moved her pussy over it as she wanted—pumping slow, then faster, faster, then pushing, then backing off and starting over. I studied her face, the way she licked her dry lips, the sound of her breath

as her hips worked, the sound of the vibrator, the pitch changing as it was engulfed in her hungry, searching pussy.

Again—heaven. Just standing there, leaning over her, so close she could arch her back and press her naked tits against me, holding the buzzing vibrator as the bound Emma worked herself off on it, getting herself more and more aroused, and making me hotter and hotter ‘til I thought I couldn't stand it any more. I ached for her, needed her. I wanted to fuck her, shove my cock in her and hurt her with it, make her cry out for me.

She was driving me wild—driving me to that state.

Her hips pumped steadily, no more slowing down. She was getting close—very close—and she pursued her come with a fierce and single-minded dedication, almost ignoring me. I reached down on the bed and picked up the crop, never moving the vibrator. I picked up the crop and leaned back and slapped the end against her right breast.

"Oww!" Her eyes flew open in surprise.

"Don't stop," I said. "I want you to get off."

"But—"

"Don't stop! You're going to come for me, understand?"

Her hips started moving against the vibrator again but tentatively this time, because her eyes were on the whip now, watching in disbelief as I brought the crop back. It hovered threateningly in the air and then struck, slapping her left nipple—a hard, flat sound, rude and nasty, just enough to make her feel she was being driven, being driven like an animal under her master's hand.

Emma was a good girl, a nice girl, and she'd never seen anything like this, let alone had anyone actually do it to her, use a whip on her own ripe and virginal tits.

Someone was doing it now, though, and she understood exactly what it meant—the sharp slap of leather on innocent flesh, the sting, the defenselessness. She twisted in the ropes and pulled at her bonds, her excitement growing as I pressed the buzzing vibrator between her legs.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

I spanked her tits with the whip, one then the other, the tops, the undersides, the nipples, the areolas. They peaked, grew even stiffer and seemed to be reaching for the whip on their own, reaching for the abuse as if they wanted it, as if they wanted to be broken and punished. Emma looked down at her tits in shame and confusion as if she couldn’t believe their betrayal, as if this body couldn't be hers.

I knew what she was thinking—she wasn't like this, she didn't like being whipped or treated this way—but the look on her face said otherwise and the sounds escaping her clenched teeth were sounds of frantic excitement. She began to arch into the whip, pushing her chest at it, wanting it faster and harder. Her hips pumped hungrily at the vibrator.

I began to whip her thighs, the insides, the outsides, holding the vibe in place and working around it, increasing the force of the blows so they made a vicious sound as they landed on her skin and began to leave red marks. Emma loved it and her hips worked hard, fucking the vibe, fucking the whip, trying to make love to them both, giving herself to the pleasure and cloying pain as her ass bumped softly against the closet door and she grunted and groaned with the effort. It was the final indignity, being

buzzed and beaten to orgasm like she was nothing but an animal—a racehorse being driven down the final stretch by a feverish jockey using spurs and whip, foam-flecked, panting.

God knows why she drove me so crazy, why I wanted this so much. It wasn't to hurt her. It wasn't because I hated her. It was because I just wanted her so much—

everything she was and everything she had. I felt like I held her heart in my hand, her body and soul quivering at the touch of that whip.

"Oh! Harder! Harder! Harder!" She began to tremble uncontrollably and she grabbed the rope with both hands, staring down at her own pussy as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

At the last second, I dropped the vibrator, just dropped it on the carpet and shoved my finger into her. I pulled her towards me and turned her so I could slap her behind and I held her with my finger in her pussy as I lashed her ass with the crop, swearing at her, begging her, imploring her—"Come, baby! Come for me, Emma! Come for me, damn it! Give it to me, you gorgeous whore! You bitch!"—and that was all it took.

She threw her head back and screamed and I dropped the whip and grabbed her, crushing her against me as if I could feel her right though her skin. I held her tight and shoved my finger deep inside her, looking for that special place, the heart of her femaleness, the center of her come. Her hips lurched and jerked in an uncontrolled orgasmic dance, her contractions so intense I felt her internal muscles bear down on me, felt the hot stream of shameful lubricant ooze from her pussy and run over my fingers like a secret confession, a private gift I knew she'd given no one else in her life. I

held her and held her as if I could somehow absorb her into my body. I felt her trembling inside.

I couldn't stand anymore. As soon as it was decent but before she'd even stopped twitching, I untied her wrists from the door. I picked her up in my arms and carried her over to the dresser. She couldn't walk because the bar was still chained to her ankles so I just carried her in my arms as she kept her eyes closed and pressed her bound wrists against her breasts as if in prayer, still trembling with the aftershocks and looking like a frightened deer.

I carried her over to the dresser and put her down in front of it. Both of us were shaking, me with need, and Emma from the force of her orgasm. I turned her around and gently bent her over the dresser so she was leaning on her forearms, her legs straight and knees locked, ass up like a bitch waiting to be mounted. I stepped back and looked at her and began to tear off my clothes, kicking off my shoes and socks, pulling down my pants and shorts in one motion and throwing them aside, my eyes never leaving her. Aside from the rapid rise and fall of her breathing and the occasional helpless tic or tremor in her thighs and ass, Emma was perfectly still, as if the slightest movement might set her off again. The image that came to mind was she was waiting to be
mounted
, like a heifer or mare, waiting to be inseminated by her bull or her stallion, and that's what I felt like—something wild and bestial.

My cock was hard and swollen, aching with need and sore from being bruised inside my clothes. It felt like a fire-breathing dragon standing out from my loins, a rocket tethered to the earth only by the enormous weight of my balls. Emma stole a glance

back at me and down at my cock and quickly looked away, dropping her head between her shoulders as if she was sorry she'd seen.

I was too naked, stripped too bare. My lust and my need were too apparent and I must have been terrible to look at, like looking into the face of the sun. She moaned softly as I approached her, a soft, almost beseeching sound. I could see the marks of the whip on her ass.

I put my bare foot on the spreader bar between her ankles and stepped on it.

There was enough play so I could press it solidly against the floor and Emma adjusted her stance. I moved both feet so I stood squarely on the bar, holding her in place so she couldn't move her ankles. The head of my cock was inches from the wet vertical slit of her pussy. I could see the juice oozing out of her. She was drooling for me.

I put my hands on her hips, felt her softness, her warmth. I slid my hands up and under until I cupped her naked, hanging breasts and then down again, luxuriating in the feel of this body I owned.

How many woman had I had in my life and how much sex, always confused and compromised, complicated and hedged with conditions and permission, tangled in words and explanations and apologies, or part of some emotional deal or trade, a reward or prize or part of a package? How many women had I lusted after and wanted with a pure and simple desire, just to know their softness and beauty and the sweetness of their embrace, their kisses? How many had I ached for and resented, compromised myself for and tried to please? How twisted and contorted I'd become and how lonely, how wounded and angry, choked with complicated lies and rationalizations over women and my love for them.

And now, with Emma helpless and bent before me, waiting for my thrust, how very fucking clean I felt—how strong and alive and unashamedly male. I felt like Poseidon, like the Bull from the Sea, pure and bright, everything as perfect and obvious as male and female, light and dark, cock and pussy. She was something I wanted, something I wanted so deeply I had no words for it, only this raw hunger, and suddenly I wanted to hear her say it too. I wanted to know we were here for the same thing.

I ran my hand down her flawless back, from her shoulder to her ass, then back up. She arched beneath my hand like a cat.

"What do you want, Emma?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Tell me. What do you want, baby?"

Her pussy was open, inches from me. She didn't know what to say.

I repeated it. "Tell me what it is. Do you want me, baby? Do you want my cock?"

"Yes. Yes. I want your cock, Conner. Please."

"Why?"

"Why?" She turned her head and looked back at me. "Oh God, Conner! You’re asking me why?"

I smiled. I was enjoying this. "I'm asking you why."

She said nothing.

I leaned forward. The red dome of my cock touched the sticky ring of her hole and I felt her flesh give. She twitched inside and shocks of pleasure raced to my brain.

A kind of sensual darkness began to absorb me and the words began to spill out beyond my control.

"Because you want to be owned, Emma? Because you want someone to use you, to find their pleasure in you? To take it from you, take that pleasure?"

I looked down. I was slowly pressing into her without even meaning to, leaning forward. Her cunt was dimpling inward as my thick head pushed into her, tucking her flesh inside. The heat was growing, the pressure, her grip on my cock.

"Because you want to feel me? Feel me inside you, all over you, fucking you, making you my whore, my fucking whore, my sweet, filthy, fucking whore? That's what you want? To be mine, my slave, my bitch, my lover? My cumslut, my dirty fuckdoll, my sub, my goddamn fucking cunt? To be everything to me? Is that it? Is that what you want? You want my filthy fucking love? My heart and soul?"

"Oh Conner! Oh God! God! Conner!"

She wailed and I pushed my cock into her and pulled her onto me at the same time, leaning back and grabbing her hips and holding her like a water skier holds his rope as I stood on that bar to keep her feet fixed on the floor as I made her take me. I was like a maniac as I fed my prick into her, entering her, taking her, filling her with it, beyond rational thought. I kept my eyes locked on her face as I did, and I felt chills as I realized I was part of her now and she was part of me. This was bigger than any sex I'd ever known, and I was closer to her than I'd ever been to another human being in my life, this stranger, this girl I hardly even knew.

"Oh Jesus, Emma!" I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, making a bow of her back. "Oh Christ!"

She gasped and she must have known how I felt just from the way I fucked her. I could see her face in the mirror, her eyes flying open in shock as I finally lost control and shoved it all the way inside her in one huge stroke, mashing her pussy flat and trapping my balls against her clit. I rose up on my toes and grabbed a double fistful of her hair and pulled her even tighter on to my aching cock, pushed harder, wanting every millimeter inside her. I wanted it deep. I wanted to hurt her. I felt her grab and suck on me with muscles I didn't even know women had.

"Oh God!" I moaned. "God, you are so fucking good!"

She was still throbbing and trembling from the vibrator orgasm, little tremors and twitches in her legs and her internal muscles, so I just stood there and tried to control myself, waiting for her to calm down. I let go of her hair and tried to relax, tried not to move, and Emma clutched at the edge of the dresser with her bound hands, resting her face against the cool surface. I waited. It was hard, but I waited.

I waited ‘til I felt her move, ‘til I felt her seem to firm up beneath my hands and around my cock, ‘til she got some strength back, and then I reached over and got another vibrator from the towel next to us on the dresser. I could have just fucked her, but honestly, I was afraid to move. I was afraid that if I so much as pumped once or twice I would come like a fucking fountain inside her so I decided to play with her some more instead and make her do the work. I decided to make her my slave and my toy, to turn her own sexuality against her. I waited ‘til she was starting to push gently against me, testing my hardness, and then I turned on the vibrator and pressed it against her

pussy and Emma reacted with a start. Emma jumped. It was as if someone had hit a button and Emma cried out and came alive.

I stood behind her, my feet planted on that spreader bar, reaching around her and holding her pussy open with one hand while the other played that buzzing dildo lightly over her aroused little clit and Emma moaned, she groaned, she snarled and began to move her ass in abject surrender, not even trying to control herself anymore.

She squeezed her pussy around me and pumped with her thighs. She rocked back and forth, sucking my dick inside her and spitting it out, her tight cunt sliding along the shaft like a ring of slinky steel.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" she spat, savoring the filthiness of the word. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

And I did, I did. I dropped the vibe and grabbed her hips and started to slam into her so hard that she grunted like an animal, her tits slapping against the flat top of the cheap dresser. I reached between her legs and started to play with her again, knowing how it drove her crazy, how she loved being touched. I masturbated her as I fucked her, beating her off like some naughty little boy as my big pole slid in and out of her juicy cunt like the giant drive shaft of a runaway locomotive.

"Come on, baby!" I hissed. "Come on, Emma! Give me that come, bitch! Give me that filthy fucking come, you little slut! Give your daddy what he wants, baby! Give it to me! Give it to me! All over me, baby. All over my big fat cock!"