Beautiful Agony (A Tale Of Savage Love, Part I) (12 page)

The pillows
were thick, but hard, and they lifted
me up quite effectively
.  The lower half of my body dangled off
of them, my rear
in the air permanently, my
knees brushing the mattress, my
shins scrubbing the sheets.  My breasts were swinging somewhat freely now, the bottom half of my nipples exposed.  My sternum was still resting on the pillow he’
d given me for my head, but
my face was planted even
more
firmly against the mattress. 
Now even with my eyes wide open,
I couldn’t see anything at all.  I felt my fingers slipping against the metal bars of the headboard,
and I
tightened my grasp.  My arms
were
already
starting to cramp.

“Spread your legs as far as you can,” he barked, and altho
ugh trembling, I did as he demanded
.  He came around to the left side of the bed, leaned over, reached down bet
ween my thighs and felt my privates
, making sure he could touch
every single last inch of me
.
  My face flushed, even though
he certainly didn’t notice
it.  Here I was, spread-eagled, ass in the air, legs
open
, vagina
gaping.  And as if things couldn’t get any worse, he then reached under my stomach with his other hand and tweaked my still-sore nipples one by one.  I helplessly cried out each time.

“Arch your back,” he said emotionlessly, and then I knew that this was it.  Whatever punishment he was about to dole out to me for not obeying him earlier; the time was here.  Shuddering, I did so, feeling the pull of muscles in my stomach and around my spine.  Now I really must look like
a slut, a tramp, a dirty little harlot
in heat.

I felt the
mattress buckle
slightly
as he climbed
back
on
to the bed
beside me, kneeling perpendicular to me
this time
so as to be able to wield the most force with
each and every strike of his palm
.  Without any further ado, he r
eached out and grabbed a fistful
of my hair with
one powerful hand
, and with the other
, he swu
ng down and flayed
my tender bottom
.  My entire body juddered, thrusting
up
heavily
towards the head
board. 
The
fingers
of my right hand
accidentally
skidded
off the twisted metal, and I had to grip on
to the left side for all I was worth to keep from toppling over.

“Grab the goddamn bars,” he said so
coldly my stomach rolled lurchingly
over.  I quickly regained my hold and he unleashed himself on me again.  H
is palm slapped down against my rounded ass, stinging, burning, thrusting me up into a whole new plane of existence.  He began raining the blows down upon me, and with each one, I felt a different emotion jolt wildly through me.

First
,
I felt embarrassm
ent; unholy
shame that I was letting some strange
man have
freely
at me.  Second
ly
, I felt fear.  How far would he go?  How much would I have to endure?  Would I be able to withstand it until the very end?  The
next
smack was so hard, so loud, it echoed off the
very
ceiling.  My ass cheeks were on fire.  “Hey, hey!” I said softly, unable to stop myself.

“What?” he asked sadistically.  “
What
?”  Then he slapped me again.  That one thudded against my
delicate
rear-end so hard, my entire body lurched forwards again.  I felt my knees dragging on the sheets – sheets so
supple
and so dense
,
I knew they had to
have
cost a fortune.  Even so, they were giving me burns clearly indicative of someone having been fucked on their hands and knees.  And with that, I felt guilt.  Why was I doing this?  What had made me so sick, so disgusting that I needed to have the darkness beat right out of me? 
Thwack
,
thwack
,
thwack
.

The next one caught me lower,
right
against my
delicate
lips.  I heard the wet
ness there, realized how viscously the tissues were swelling.  Everything down there was so damn hot, my m
uscles
were clenching, my inner walls
fervent
ly clamping down
in eager anticipation
.  He
smacked me again and I grunted
like an animal.  There was nothing lady-like about me any longer.  I was
naught but
a savage whore.

Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  The rhythmic thudding was burning and stinging more
and more.  “Fuck you,” I gasped
out,
suddenly
furious. 
I shook my head against his hand,
trying to wrench his cruel, iron grip loose.  B
ut he
just tightened his fingers, clenching my hair even more sternly as he whacked. 
Swea
t was dripping off my brow and o
nto the sheets. 
I growled.  He laughed.

Now each time he smacked me
, I felt my rage growing;
flowering,
blooming,
coming to ripe, bloody fruition.  I wanted to turn around and rip his throat out.  The frustration was nearly overwhelming.  I couldn’t take it anymore.

Just when I thought I was done, just when I figured I would
reach back and snatch
his hand out of my hair (even if it pulled some out by the roots), and
then whip myself
around and smack
him
right across his calculating, callous and despicable face, his hard, rough fingers once agai
n came down and caught my pussy.  T
his time
they lashed
right
up against my
throbbing
cli
t.  I was swept away in another
tide of
sensation and
emotion,
this one so fierce, so sharp;
it almost made me come
right then and there.

“Ah, God, oh God…” I shrieked.  “Ple
ase, please
, please!
”  I was begging
, frantic…desperate
.  Without warning, tears began streaming down my face.
  His
hand at the back of my head
had become unexpectedly
comforting;
quite odd because
it was still causing
a great deal of
pain.

“What do you want, Ruby?” he asked
,
aloofly ruthless
.

“Please,” I whimpered, “please.”

“Tell me what you fucking want.”
  Cold.  Arrogant.

“
I, I, I
,” I kept stammering.

“What?” he bellowed, his
free
hand smacking
right into the heart of
my
pussy
again.  My thighs began shuddering, stomach tightening, clit
oris
twitching and spasming helplessly.
  The need was immense.

“I want
it,
please.  P
lease give it to me,” I begged
brokenly
, totally at the end of my rope.

With each slap against my sore, flayed
cheeks
, my nipples scraped back and forth, back and forth.  Even that small sensation was driving me mad.  Every single cell in my body had come alive, each atom was awoken, each tiny tissue was aflame.
  My
poor, aching ass
was in acute distress
, the skin there raw and practically blistered.  The spanking had gone from merely difficult and uncomfortable, to agonizingly excruciating
. 
Yet all I could think about was having him inside me.

I knew I could let go of the rails, turn around, and then try to
appeal for
some sort of blessed release
from him
.  But I was also aware that to do so would undoubtedly result in
my
loss
in the end
.  The only way to accomplish anything was to follow his rules, play his game, submit to his will.
  And even so, even though I was in abject misery, I also realized instinctively that every single blow I endured now, would somehow, someway, banish a
tiny
piece of my ever-present grief and sorrow forever.  How could I change it
, then
?  How could I
ever
ask him to stop?

Rather abruptly
, h
e
stopped spanking me and
pulled back on my hair, wrenching my head up off the bed
and shattering my thoughts into splintered shards
.  I opened my eyes and saw the wall, fuzzy and dim.  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.