He places his hand upon her back as she kneeled before him. With a breath, an exhale he grabs the chains. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The moment in which he was to take control. This would be the moment that she would surrender and become his. The moment in which she would hope to relive. The moment which she would never have to forgive. This was the moment When he would take her will from her. When he would cease just being her lover. She wanted a man, not a boy. She wanted a master, not just a love toy. She wanted to alive again… To be treated like the woman she had once been…
With a pull of the collar, followed by a sharp whip to the back, she moaned, she gasped. From the painful pleasure, her breath nearly collapsed. Her back arched with each strike; she let out a multitude of moan filled cries. She shook and trembled, her body almost gave way. Yet she didn’t want this to end, she wanted it to be eternal, she wanted this till the break of day.
Her head tilted back as he tugged her chains. Her black lips parted as she climaxed again. “More” she moaned. “More” she whispered in a desperate tone… “More.” She begged nearly out of breath. “More” she pleaded as her hips began to rock before him. “More” she screamed as he struck, harder than before. “More she cried” As the welts grew within the night. “More!” Her voice erupted with painful thighs. “More!” She demanded. “More!” She finally felt right.
This was what she had always wanted, to be owned. To be treated like the woman she sought to be, not just like another fragile thing. She wanted to be dominated and give herself completely. To be allowed to be free and feel the maddening stings. She didn’t want a boy, but a man. A man that would hurt her out of love. A man that disciplined. A man that would protect her when she needed him.
His hand pulled as he struck again, making sure she felt every inch. The tips struck from back to front, he showed her no mercy, he showed no remorse. His expression was cold, and course. To her he was cold, he was strong, he was everything that had never gone wrong.
He struck from tit to clit and then back to the rearrests of it. He struck with hate, with love, and most of all he struck with rage. He hated this act, he hated himself. Yet somehow within this,, he found a way to let it out. To allow himself to dominate and give her hell, at the same time though to give into her most beautiful of spells. Somehow this pain, this brutal, act was a tender thing and that was the fact. It was softer than a feather, yet stronger than stone… It was a contradiction unto itself. A pleasure of its own.
He found within every hit, that she had power and beauty that had been hidden. He found her strong when many thought her weak. He found her one of the most amazing of things. He could not look away. He had to comply. He had to give to her will this night.
As if possessed he struck again and as he did her breath drew him in. With her every scream, he wanted to both strike and to flee. It forced him to both die and at the same time come alive. The confusion was harder than anything in his life. It was tormenting far beyond anything he had experienced. Yet it was complete and absolute endearment.
He derived pleasure in her pain and as the crimson hues washed her pale flesh away, he wanted her. He wanted her bad. He wanted to be inside her, to be with her like he never had… He was doomed to strike again…. He was doomed to love her until the end. To strangle her into submission.
She buckled and she screamed, her hips moved with each and every sting, and when she could take no more, he continued until she sank upon the floor. It was then that he would finally put the whip down, before pulling her hair then releasing her bounds.
She begged for him, she wanted him so bad, she wanted him deep, she wanted him fast. She wanted him more than in the past. She wanted him now and she wanted it to last.
He pulled her to her knees, she tilted her head back as if to please. She growled and nipped at his lips, begging to taste his bliss. She wanted his fingers in her hair, for hands to run everywhere. She wanted him in and out. She wanted him without a doubt. He had raged for now it was her time. To give him want he wanted, to treat him like a god divine.
She wanted him to show the love that had built in his rage. The love of the beast, the love of a long lost and forgotten age. She wanted him to ravage her, to treat her like a whore. Most of all, she wanted to pass out upon that floor. She wanted him to use her and then she wanted more…
Against the floor, she was pinned as her arms spread wide and him within. Her head tilted towards the side as she took him deep that night. She took him not once, nor just twice. But she took him a dozen times. As long as he was willing to so far, to strike the whip until it formed scars. She would cry and take him again without a single thought or second.