Pleasures Pain

“No, please.. I can’t. Not again!” I beg as I cry long, deep, sobbing breaths that cut the sound of the vibrator pressing against my clit.

You continue to smile passively. You look almost completely removed from the entire scene that you put into motion hours ago.

“Please… no” I try again to plead to you with words and with the desperate, exhausted expression from red and swollen eyes.

And then it happens again. My body jerks as my head snaps back, my spine deeply arching away from the chair back. Pained moans escape my throat to wash over chapped lips. Against the arms of the chair my hands grip tightly, holding on for dear life. At my wrists I strain to pull out of the straps that keep me secure. My knees pull with the same effort as that of my wrists as I fight to close my legs, yet the bite of cheap rope burning into soft flesh keeps my legs spread. My cunt throbs the result of what used to be such an intense pleasure that I could hardly breathe. Everything aches… and you haven’t laid a hand on me.

When it finally subsides my head drops forward but there is not a muscle in my body that will relax. Not now. Not after hours of your game. I should be basking in the glow of a breathless orgasm, with your cock buried deep inside and your arms holding me tight - but I just want to disappear. I want you to disappear. Moaning through ragged breaths and sobbing again, there are no tears to show for it. There is no trace on the large, bulbous head of the vibrator that I had yet another orgasm. By now I must be close to dehydrated. Do you care?

You don’t so much as move a muscle while you continue to watch me closely. Not even a glance at where you hold the vibrator against me. You don’t need to watch that. You don’t want to watch that. You want to watch me... suffering. Suffering from all the pleasure. I didn't sign on for this. I hate you.

Tears that had been shed during the first two hours left dry riverbed paths down my cheeks. My body can’t produce any more. Hair once neatly twisted and clipped at the back of my head now dangles down in disarray - the result of violent head shaking to protest before, during and after each orgasm clutched and drove through my entire body. My stomach hurts from all the spasms – so much so that I think I might throw up.

Orgasms from clit stimulation are the best kind... and the worst kind. Today they are only the worst kind. Thanks to you.

With your free hand you tap a finger twice against my chin, then withdraw. Unspoken yet communicated so eloquently. Simplistically. Slowly I lift my head until my eyes lock again on yours. At my swollen, aching cunt you continue to hold the vibrator. No matter how much I squirm in the chair it has not shifted position, nor lessened in steady pressure documented by the continual buzz. At this point it feels more like an electrical charge that burns. I can’t take anymore. Can’t you see?

“I won’t do it again,” I sob, pleading with you once more, searching your eyes in an attempt to find some of the tenderness I know lives within you, “I promise. Please, please stop. Don’t make me have another one… not again.”

It’s your smile. It makes me hate you. You make me hate you and I want to hate you for as long as I live. For a brief moment my eyes narrow to convey my unspoken wish. You see it happening and chuckle dryly. Your amusement for my suffering is clear in your expression. All too clear. It’s your silence that drives me insane, and you know this too. I should never have let you know me this well. I should have kept my walls up. How could I have been such a fool?

“I hate you” I spew between sobbed breaths, trying once more to regain some control of the situation. “You’ll be sorry for every minute of this…”

For a brief, fleeting moment I catch something else in your eyes, as if I might actually be more fight than you bargained for. A challenge you are more than ready to put to the test. My spine stiffens and my breaths go shallow. I have to force myself to breathe.

Your smile never fades, even when you flick the switch on the vibrator and the room falls eerily silent. I should be screaming for joy, thanking you for coming to your senses. There is no sound from me at all.

“Jack,” you say without taking your eyes off of me, “pick up her panties and stuff them in her mouth… she’s ready for the next round.”

Shifting my focus from you to the man standing in the door a few feet behind, the similarity shared between the two of you is unmistakable. I thought Jack had left the scene long ago growing bored of the game that went on forever. What little color remained in my face now completely drained as your 17 year old son stepped forward wearing the same smile as you continue to display.

	February 08, 2012, 01:25:38 AM Login with username, password and session length

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