The Life of the Flesh

I knelt before him, naked, carefully untying his shoelaces as I began the ritual of undressing him. He looked down at me, his features immobile, watching. I remained on my knees after I had undressed him, my head level with his turgid dick. “May I?” I asked with a timorous smile. “Go ahead,” he acquiesced. I took him gladly between my lips, enjoying the way his dick filled my mouth, its hardness cushioned by his spongy foreskin, the familiar taste of him on my tongue. He knew what I wanted, even more than this, but he made me say it first.

“What do you want?”

“To… to… for you to… ” I blushed, he pushed me onto the bed. “Oh, but… wait! We need to…” I scurried into the bathroom and returned with a pristine white towel, which I laid onto the bed, feeling like a virgin preparing the scene for my own deflowerment. (An old, old fantasy of mine, which sadly bore no resemblance to the drunken adolescent fumbling which set the scene in reality – as for so many of us, I am sure.)

He pushed me down on the towel, where I parted my legs eagerly for him, and for that moment, long-awaited, when he first plunges into my hungry cunt. Always a little painful after a long separation, I gasped and grimaced with joy and discomfort. After several hard thrusts, he pulled out, and I was mortified to see a trail of bright red blood splatter across the white towel and bedsheets.

“Looks like you need to clean me off,” he told me, ignoring my shame. My eyes widened at the sight of his dick, covered in menstrual blood, but I crawled over towards him and opened my mouth…

When I had cleaned him to his satisfaction, he pushed me back down on to the bed, this time on my front, so he could attach my wrists and ankles to the restraints he had set up beneath the mattress. Silently, I held my arms out for him one by one, and then he pulled my legs apart and fastened the straps around my ankles, tightening them to keep me in position, immobile and completely vulnerable! I buried my face into the sheets, afraid of what was coming.

I was only vaguely aware of him drawing out a selection of instruments from his bag – the cane I knew so well, and its forerunner, which we had deemed too heavy after the dark purple bruise it had left me with last year. But he started with the riding crop, delivering a couple of stinging lashes onto my bare backside. I squealed as the sharp pain rang across my nerves. I knew I was such a lightweight. I felt ashamed of my cowardice, and yet I couldn’t overcome it. He moved on to the usual cane, the one which I know leaves the best marks, and I had asked him to give me some good ones for my birthday. I gritted my teeth and tried my best to bear it – that dull, gut-wrenching pain which makes my stomach churn! Again and again! I couldn’t help myself, I begged him to stop. But rather than stop, he moved on to the shorter, even heavier model. One whack of that was all I could take!

Finally, my torture was over. I watched as he moved away, replacing the canes, and felt a twinge of disappointment. But my regrets were short-lived as he crouched behind me, smacking my stinging flesh with his hand and telling me to raise my hips. I raised them obediently, and he thrust his dick unceremoniously into my cunt. I moaned with pleasure, but then I felt his thumb harshly pushing its way into my ass. I knew what was coming, and, still spread-eagled on the bed, I was completely helpless to resist. Sure enough, he pulled out and said, “Now I think it’s time for me to fuck you in the ass – don’t you?” “Yes,” I weakly concurred. He slammed into my ass, I screamed as the pain shot through me. “No, please, stop – it’s hurting,” I begged him, but it seemed only to increase the force and tempo of his thrusts. I groaned, resigned to my fate!

Strangely, it seemed that the pain was evaporating, and I found myself beginning to enjoy the feeling of his thick, hard dick buried in my ass. But eventually he decided I’d had enough, and withdrew. Then he released me from my restraints, which had been pulled in every direction by my frantic attempts to escape the thrashing.

“Now clean my dick off,” he ordered me. I ran my tongue gratefully all over his dick, eagerly licking off any trace of blood or… anything else. Then he told me to go and look at my backside in the mirror. I got up unsteadily to do as he said, and was astonished to see my flesh criss-crossed with bright, raised welts. I felt a little less ashamed after I saw that.

I crawled back into bed, and lay in his arms for a while, feeling cold and somewhat used. We filled each other in on the days we had spent apart, since our last meeting. I knew this was dangerous, as at any moment the conversation could veer towards an emotionally-charged subject for me, and, sure enough, it did. I tried to suppress the thought rising up inside me, but before I knew it, it had flown from my lips to fill the air with its sadness. My eyes brimmed with tears and my lower lip trembled beneath the weight of this heavy sorrow. Would he see? He noticed at once and slapped me sharply. I started laughing, the thought had dissipated.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and brought my head down to his dick to suck it again. Then he told me to lie back down on my back. Pushing my legs up on either side of my head, he plunged his dick ino my cunt and began to fuck me. I wrapped my arms around my calves to hold them up and open myself up even more for him. My cunt was slippery with blood, I realised that I craved him in my ass again, and told him so.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, and, pushing my ass up even further, he slid inside. I was now bent almost double on the bed, with him pumping down into my ass from above. It was almost like the screwdriver position in porn. I felt like a porn star. I was so proud and happy!

He made me suck him off again after that. I shuddered, his dick and groin were coated with massive globules of menstrual fluid mixed with copious amounts of lube. But I licked him clean. Then he ordered me into the bathroom, to wash my face, which was smeared with blood. I did as he said, too humiliated to look in the mirror.

He came in my ass, of course, that day, ploughing into me from behind, pushing my face down into the sheets to make me feel like just an anonymous hole for him to fuck. And also, no doubt, to muffle my cries of pleasure as he shot a massive load of come deep into my ass, leaving me bruised, aching, covered in blood, full of come, and still, still wanting more…

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