Beautiful Agony (A Tale Of Savage Love, Part I) by Dominique D. DuBois

Focusing in , I could see my thin, bony fingers as they clenched ineffectually around the thick metal bars.  My skin was bloodless and cold, my hands white and cramping, my mouth was hanging open.
    “Beg me to make you come again,” he said , almost angrily.  I was too lost in my own sea of anguish to even care why he had become so mad .
    He wanted me to implore him for it.  Fine.  I’d never done anything of the sort before, n ever really even had a reason to so much as voice a single utterance during sex.  Now , however, it was suddenly all I could do to slow down .  The pleas came streaming out of me; words and sentences I didn’t even know I possessed inside.  Requests and entreaties that I had no idea I was capable of imagining, much less saying .  I was subservient to the core of me, beseeching and supplicating of him as it I were reciting hallowed and sacrosanct vespers before a shrine.
    “Please, oh please, I’ll do anything,” I whimpered.  “I need it so bad, so goddamn bad , oh please.  Please make me come , I’ll do anything, say anything, be anything you want.”
    “Ho w do you want me to make you come ?” he asked suddenly.
    I hardly knew what he meant, but I dove in anyway, “Rub me, punish me.  Spank me harder…harder… spank me there …”  Who in the hell was I?  I didn’t even recognize my own self anymore.
    “That’s what you want, huh, sweetheart ?  You want me to strike you there again?  Right on your pussy?”  His fingers twisted and my scalp prickled as the tears streamed down my cheeks anew.
    “Oh, God.  Oh, God,” I gulped.  What had I done?
    I braced myself for the next slap, tensing all my muscles and crimping my eyes tightly shut.  But instead of smacking the aching flesh, he began to sweetly caress it.  The gentle touches were a thousand times more tormenting, more excruciating than another blow would’ve been.  He softly stroked the hot, red skin while I moaned franticly; chill bumps racing like wild-fire, all up and down my spine.  Then, when he got to my scorching wetness, he lightly spanked it, over and over again while my clitoris spasmed and I sobbed like a baby.
    “That’s it,” he said soothingly.  He shoved his entire hand up against me , placing his palm right into my sopping wet opening .  I could feel my sex straining towards him of its own accord, bearing down on his rough skin , clenching against his strong fingers as if feebly trying to draw them in side.  He angled his wrist and pressed down on my clit rather mercilessly , a nd it thudded and pulsed against him.
    He spread my lips with his fingers for just a second, then he brought them slowly back together.  This time, though, he clipped my quivering little bud right between the knuckles of his index and middle finger as he did so .  He kept it scissored there, like that, as he let go of my hai r and moved around behind me.  When he was in position, he loosened his hold just a little, and then he began to jerk back and forth against the aching nub while I continued to cry .
    My whole pussy was so swollen, so sensitive, so ready.  It was damn-ne ar ab out to explode.  I was squirming and writhing on the bed before him when s uddenly, he let go of me completely .  I could feel his huge body back there , towering just behind m e.  I could also sense his enormously hard member thrusting up aggressively right behind my sore, burning ass cheek , almost close enough to touch my traumatized skin .  I thought about that thing going up inside me, invading me, ripping me open.  As bad as I w anted it, I was still terrified.   I hadn’t had sex in nearly ten full months.  He was going to hurt me, bad.
    I was trembling , face crimson, chill-bumps sprinkled liberally across my exposed nakedness.  My pussy was so wet I could feel the sticky sweetness sliding languidly down the tops of my thighs.  I wished abruptly that he was down there now, tonguing it off, licking it up;