Mistress Gabrielle's "The Smell of Leather: Part 4"
He swallowed the groan of pleasure and pain so that she would not hear it and - god forbid - stop what she was doing. She was asking him a question? She was speaking to him in Japanese? He was about to go out of his mind.
“There’s an old saying baby boy, be careful what you wish for.” She was laughing at him. Or not. The music was so loud he wasn’t sure. It was loud wasn’t it? Or was that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest hard enough to reverberate in his ear? He heard laughing, drums, words, crying, begging, a screaming guitar riff, and the crack of her hand slamming full on his upper back. Bent over, legs spread, he groaned as her full length entered his body. She had him now.
Her weight against the back of his thighs thrilled him. The pushing in, the pulling out, the angling, the feel of her hands gripping him while her body made contact - he groaned with every thrust. Nothing else mattered, no one else was in his world; he was property to be used. He was her slut, her bitch, her fucktoy. It was all he wanted.
Another resounding smack on the upper left quadrant of his back; he tried to move away from the pain but the restraints did their job and kept him just the way she wanted him. Another deep thrust into his ass made him howl with the mix of pleasure and pain. He felt her weight again as she lowered her body onto his and whispered in his ear. “You’re my bitch. I fuck you like a street whore I picked up for two bucks.” He moaned his agreement and she whispered again. “Beg me. Beg me like you beg the men in the street who fuck your ass.” He believed her. “I’m your slut. You own me.” More, she told him. More begging. “There is nothing I won’t do. I am begging with all I can beg.” Make me believe you she told him. “Please,” It was a cry. “Please,” he cried out again. She encouraged him. Louder, she said. Was he screaming now? It sounded like a scream. It came from inside him, from his reamed out ass and from that rock hard part of his body. It traveled up and out of his mouth. Anything. He would say anything. Anything to keep her inside him.
“I use you like I use a whore.” He groaned his agreement. The music was so loud and the pain was so exquisite that he lost all recognition of where he was. Nothing mattered except the cock that was controlling him. He tried to move his ass, tried to meet the pounding she was giving him. He was held down by her weight and the restraints. He was helpless. Then she let up on him and moved to breathe another humiliating epithet in his ear. “Street whore,” she whispered. “Open your mouth.”
Stay tuned for the next installment...