Control is a many-splendored thing

"Maybe you should do something violent to me," I suggested to my husband. I was tired, had been wanting to go back to bed ever since our little one woke us up far, far too early on a holiday morning. But we were in bed early and I didn't want my exhaustion to overtake me.

"Really?"

"Really." Nothing to keep a girl awake like having some consensual violence visited upon her person.

"I haven't done that in a while..."

"I know."

His hands that had previously been stroking me gently and running the silky tails of our blue flogger against my skin became weapons, targeting my breasts, my nipples. "MINE!" he barked as I whimpered, twisting beneath the blows and then arching up for more, "I will do whatever the hell I want to you!"

He rolled more toward me as I twisted away from him, my brain becoming more aroused with every crash of his hand into my sensitive breasts, my body trying to escape the onslaught of pain. His leg was on top of mine, his cock pressing into my hip. His hand wandered down, slapping into my thighs, pulling them apart forcibly when they tried to close against the pain, holding them open to hit me. I cried out especially loudly when he slapped my calf. "Oh, does that hurt, girl?"

"Yes sir," I whimpered between cries. I was crying out with every blow, and he was slowly humping my hip, making me feel his arousal.

"Good. You know what I think?" he asked, his hands never stopping their attack on my body, my calves, my thighs, my breasts, my forearms. "I think that you like attention of any kind. Pain's just another kind of attention for you, isn't it?"

"Yes sir," I panted.

"'Yes sir,'" he repeated, still slowly humping my hip. "Oooh, you feel my cock? That cock wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you. You know what that means? It means I will fuck you. I will do whatever the fuck I want." His hand came up between my spread legs and he slapped my pussy lightly, over and over until I was gasping. "You like that kind of attention too, don't you? Does this turn you on?" He stopped slapping me, his fingers gently probing the extra-sensitized flesh, sliding the tip of his finger easily into my wetness.

"Yeah, I see it does," he said, sliding his fingers against me, stroking my clit gently until I gasped with pleasure. He started slapping me again, unexpectedly. Oh, it hurt. I twisted to get away but his leg had mine trapped. Spread, helpless, owned. "Mine," he confirmed my thoughts as he continued slapping my sex. "Turn on your side so I can fuck you."

I was breathing heavily as I turned over, facing away from him. I lifted my leg over his hip, opening myself to him. He rocked his cock against my wetness, back and forth, teasing the head across my opening, bumping into my clit repeatedly. It felt lovely but I wanted him inside me. "Oh my God," I moaned.

"What is it, girl? You want something?"

"Yes sir."

"What is it you want?"

"Fuck me..." I breathed out, the words barely escaping my tightening throat.

He teased me a while longer, clearly enjoying my whimpered noises of frustration. The head of his cock lodged inside my opening, and I groaned, rotating my hips, pressing back onto him. He wasn't moving at all; I wasn't sure if he meant to tease me or meant for me to do something, so I did something. I wriggled, I squirmed, I backed onto his cock that felt fucking enormous, and groaned and sighed and whispered "oh, fuck," as I did it.

"Good girl, go on, take that cock," he said as I backed onto him, finally, finally managing to squeeze all of him into me.

"Can I help you?" he asked as I squeezed around him, relishing the fullness. He just stayed there, buried fully in me, letting me squeeze around him over and over. My answers were my continual moans of enjoyment.

"I see, you didn't want to be fucked, you just wanted a hard cock shoved up your pussy. There is a difference, you know," he murmured, his hand grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, shoving himself extra hard into me.

I squirmed, but without his equal and opposite motions from the other side, the position we were in was no good for me to fuck him, just to wriggle insanely on his cock, like a specimen pinned for examination, legs spread, breasts exposed. His fingers stroked my clit. I was getting more and more aroused by my own inability to do anything.

"Are you trying to fuck me?" I just squirmed, my arousal growing more with his words, hearing the slight condescending tone he delicately applied to them. Oh, God, he's good at this. "Let me see if I can help you," he said, and moved his hips back, withdrawing slightly and then thrusting fully into me. I screamed with pleasure, with the release of the built-up tension. Oh, that was one fine-feeling thrust. He rocked his hips slowly, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. His hand gripped my throat, and then it was pressing on my face. I screamed. I love having my face covered, especially if it's by his hand. My breathing was slightly restricted, my pants becoming gasps, and I loved it, loved feeling his hand smashing out the very thing that people identify as "me," so that I was nothing but his. Oh, fuck, yes.

"Good fuck hole," he whispered, at the perfect moment to make me scream again, around the side of his hand. My racing thoughts of self-eradication collided with his words and a glorious brain-explosion occurred inside my head.

"You are my good fuck hole," he confirmed as my scream faded. His fingers slid inside me alongside his cock, stretching me.

"Oh, God, full," I whispered, as he thrust his cock into me, holding his fingers still, for an eternity of pleasure, riding the edge of pain.

"I like to fill up my slut," he agreed, moving faster. I could feel his fingers and his cock stretching me, rubbing ever so delicately against my anus the way my legs were spread for him. Oh, I needed to be fucked there.

"I want you in my ass," I ventured, softly.

"You want to feel this hard cock fucking your ass?" he asked, driving the point home as he thrust into my soaking pussy.

"Yessss," I hissed, pressing against him, taking him as deeply as I could.

"What a fucking slut," he spat out.

"Oh, oh, oh," I panted. "I'm your slut."

"You are my good slut," he said as he pulled his hand away, reaching behind us for the lube. He kept thrusting into me while he retrieved it, and when he pulled away I whimpered with the emptiness.

"It's okay, slut, I'm going to fuck you more." His words were interrupted by the squeeze of a nearly-empty tube of lube, a singularly unsexy sound. I forgot about it as he applied the lube to me, and then pressed the slippery, rounded head of his cock to my hole. He pressed; bounced off. I groaned, reaching back to hold his cock, to angle my hips and press against him just so.

"Take it, that's it, good girl," he whispered. I groaned loudly, rocking my hips against him in an echo of our earlier penetration. Oh it was even more intense, though. I rocked my hips, and slowly, slowly, my ass opened to him, taking him inside. I relaxed briefly once he was all the way in, and he started moving, gently at first. His hand moved to my open pussy. "So fucking wet," he said, sinking fingers into my pussy, his thumb working at my clit as he thrust into me.

I was stretched between his cock and his fingers, my legs wide open, my body at his mercy.

"So full of you," I whispered between groans and sighs of pleasure.

"You are my collection of fuck holes, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his fingers twisting.

I screamed.

His hand started slapping my pussy while he moved in my ass. I'm sure it made it a more exciting fuck, as I squirmed, wriggled, and screamed. Already so sensitive, so full of blood, and he was slapping me there. "Oh oh, I'm a good slut," I begged softly as he continued hitting me.

His fingers were back inside me when he came, pressing his cock deeply into me and spilling his seed into my bowels, moaning deeply with satisfaction. I do so love hearing him sound so pleased, but I didn't have very long to relish it.

He kept working on my clit, kept thrusting into my ass, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair. I began to convulse upward, my head raising up, my knees lifting. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head to stay down, forcing the intensity to stay in my body rather than to release through the convulsion. "You're not going anywhere, slut. You'll stay right here and take it."

I did. Every time my head tried to rise, he yanked it back down by my hair. I trembled with unreleased tension. I screamed. I came, a great, shuddery wave of orgasm crashing over me, brought on almost exclusively by the violent control he was exerting. Well, and the fingers. Of course the magic fingers.

My breast hurt all day today. Somehow, I'm okay with that.

---

I know there's a challenge on, and that I'm somewhat of a CWS slacker... and a blog slacker! I had to get this post written, which means very few other things got to happen online. I SIMPLY HAD TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, y'all.

---

And further. My husband says he is in the process of writing out a post about the filthy sex talking. Just for you guys.