Friday, December 9, 2011


He forgot the details of a conversation we'd had about transportation, twice. The first time was one thing, but the second time I just said "You realize that means we need to leave now, right?" and I went to quickly get ready to go. If he hadn't wanted to take us he could have just said he didn't feel like it, not repeatedly "forget." I also felt like the extra time with me meant nothing to him vs. his own inconvenience.

Anyway, it was over, I was going to drive. He tried to hold me in place for the extra hour, but I eventually managed to convince him to let me go. It's not really quality time if I'm just trying to leave the whole time.

Hours later, after the outing, we went to bed. I kept to my side and laid flat on my back.

"Are you upset with me?" he asked.

"No." I wasn't, really. I was just saddened and frustrated by the entire situation.

"You should be." He started rubbing my leg. I remained silent. "I suppose you don't feel much like kissing me, huh?"


"I don't blame you. I like doing things to you though." He kept rubbing, sliding his hand underneath my night shirt and stroking my breasts, my stomach. I didn't stop him.

"I don't really want you to."

"I know. But maybe there's something I want from you."

"I don't have anything for you."

"I think you do."

I wasn't in the mood for this, but neither did I want to stop him. I like sex, and we already skipped the previous night. I thought maybe if I just didn't respond to anything it'd shut him down without me directly refusing, and if it didn't, then I would get laid. He kept stroking me and making happy noises. I kept silent. "Kiss me," he said. There it was, a direct challenge. I thought about ignoring it for a split second, but turned my head and gave him a perfunctory peck. Yes, I'm well-trained.

"Thank you," he whispered. "What if I want more kisses? Too bad for me?" I shook my head to indicate a negative, but he didn't push.

He got some things from the drawer of his nightstand, and came back to me. I was a little frightened when he slipped beneath the blankets, but then I felt the tickler gently gliding along my legs. My flesh responded, my skin loving the attention, but I remained stubbornly silent.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, muffled beneath our comforter.

"Yes," I responded, cutting the word off sharply.

"Mmmmmm," as he continued to brush the tickler back and forth along my skin. He kept making that noise, sounding so pleased with himself, with me. It was perplexing.

Things are fuzzy here and maybe not in completely the right order.

He pulled my knee toward him, bending my leg and exposing my inner thigh. I think he rubbed me there first with his hand, and then with the wooden ruler. I braced myself mentally to keep my silence, and he hit me. It hurt, but I made not a sound. He hit me again, and again. On the third one I arched a bit, but kept my silence pulled protectively around me. He hit the front of my other thigh pretty hard and I gasped, then bit my lip. "How does that feel?" he asked me.

"It hurts."

"Poor thing." He pushed up my shirt and then slapped the ruler against my right nipple. Not a peep from me. He did it four more times, then moved to the other one, where he could hit even harder, and he did. I squirmed. On the third stroke I couldn't stand anymore and I cried out. "I thought you married a nice man," he told me as he continued hitting me.

"Me too," I gasped, my nipple burning and standing up like an idiot to get itself beaten harder.

He put the ruler down and started running his hand over my body. It brushed over the top of my thigh where he'd hit me very hard and I gasped. "Oh, does that hurt right there?" he asked, as he rubbed over it again. "You're a poor thing. You should watch out for these bad men. They'll do all kind of horrible things to you."

"Like what?" I asked as he continued stroking me, his fingers finding my poor abused nipples and tugging gently on them.

"Like.. hurt you just for their amusement. Like fuck you," his hand cupped under my chin, the other one curving over the top of my head, "but not just fuck you. A very bad man would hold your head still and force his cock into your mouth, fuck your face. Hold you down so you couldn't get away and just use your head like a fuck toy."

I started to whimper a little while he spoke. He was turning me on.

"But I'm not that bad. I won't do anything to you that you don't ask me for. So you'd better ask me to fuck your face."

I bit my lip, shook my head. Not gonna happen.

"Oh, I see." He took the ruler up again and hit my already-hurting right nipple several times with it. My silence was a thing of the past. "I believe I told you to ask me to fuck your face," he said as he kept hitting my nipple. I shook my head again, biting my lip to keep from a full-on scream. Fine beads of perspiration broke out all along my body and I squirmed.

He switched nipples. "No no no," I panted.

"What's that? 'Please hit me again?'" he taunted me, pausing the beating.

"No, no, no." Pain, squirming, my nipple was not happy with this situation. My nipple said "Ask for a face-fucking already, stupid!"

He hit me a few more times. My nipple screamed at me. "Do you have something to ask me?"

"No, no, no." I panted, shaking my head. My nipple said "If he hits me one more time you will beg to have your face fucked, idiot." I would have begged for anything to make it stop if he'd hit me one more time.

"Strong-willed tonight, aren't we?" he said, putting the ruler down. "That's okay. You don't have to ask with your words. I'm sure your other body parts will ask loudly enough." He had no idea about what the nipple was saying, surely, he couldn't. His hand slipped between my legs and his fingers probed. Ah, that's what he meant. "What does this pussy have to say?"

"No, no, no, no."

"I don't think that's what this pussy is saying." He slipped a finger inside. "The pussy is saying 'don't listen to her, fuck me, fuck me,' isn't it?" He climbed on top of me and pushed his cock against my folds, not entering me. "Now it's saying 'I feel a cock near me. I like it.'" He teased me like that and I kept saying no over and over.

He slowly pushed his cock inside me, and I was still an endless font of "No."

"Your pussy is saying, 'shut her up and fuck me,' now." He slid the finger that had been inside me into my mouth and I sucked, effectively silenced. My hips tilted to allow him to enter me fully.

Oh it felt good, yes it did.

He eventually removed his finger from my mouth. He held my head up close to his chest when my body arched in that direction. Long minutes of deliciousness stretched out, passed, but slowly.

"What's your pussy say?" he asked me a million years later, driving a particularly hard thrust down into me.

"Fuck me," I panted as I moved with him.

"That's better. It's so much better when your body and your mouth are on the same page." He kissed me.

He moved his head and sucked hard on my poor over-abused left nipple. It hurt and I bucked beneath him. "I like sucking on this nipple," he told my by way of explanation, apparently due to my reaction. "It's mine."

"It hurts," I gasped.

"You think I give a fuck if it hurts you?" He moved his head back and sucked it again, harder, a little bit of teeth in there too.

"," I cried out, bucking beneath him over and over in a vain attempt to relieve some of the intensity. So hot.

His hands wandered up my sides and he pressed both my arms over my head. "Look at you. Legs wide open, body begging to be fucked." I trembled and his lips claimed mine.

Ages passed. I couldn't tell you how long. "You think your pussy has had enough?"

"Yes." I don't ever say that but I was still in bit of a contrary mood despite all the fabulous sensations coursing through me.

"Oh, huh. I disagree." He moved off of me. "Turn on your side."

I did, and he was inside me again within seconds, filling me with a suddenness I hadn't expected and driving a gasp from me. He slapped my ass a few times. He talked about me being his, he held my head.. several times he gripped my hair so hard I thought surely it would rip, but it didn't. He fed his finger into my mouth and I sucked on it hard.

"This is where my cock goes," he told me firmly. "It belongs here inside of you. It's too bad I can't fuck you wherever I go." I made a noise around his finger.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? If I just walked around with you on my cock so I could fuck you constantly." Any ridiculousness inherent in that image didn't even occur to me, I just moaned because when I'm all turned on like that yeah, constant cock sounds so hot. "Yeah, you'd like that, sweet little cockslut." I was moaning constantly at this point. He moved faster, gripped my hair.

"You want me to come in you, baby?"

"mmm, mmhmm, mmm, mmm, mmm," I responded, still sucking on his finger, every inhalation of mine just fuel for the next moan.

"Is that what you're for?"

I dropped another exuberant "mmhmm" between my moans.

He pulled me close to him and emptied the results of his passion into me, as I continued making turned-on noises. When he calmed and stilled, I softly asked him, "Did you get what you wanted from me?"

"Part of it. The other part involves you turning over."

So I turned over, and his fingers brought me an orgasm that took a while but was lovely. After, he gathered me close to him, told me he loved me and that I am so good to him.

"I'm yours," I responded.

"I'm lucky," he countered.


  1. Sounds like a lovely way to end the evening.

  2. faerie: It's so much better than if he'd let me go to sleep sad and frustrated. :)


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