Delight

"Do you want your ass whipped?"

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want my ass whipped. I want to suck on you. I want my mouth fucked. Please."

The abrupt stop of the whistling, the sting of the lash drove her mouth onto him. She can't help the jump. The jolt of her throat against his groin makes a groan. She pulls back and so does he.

"Do you want another? Do you like that?"

"Yes. I want my ass whipped. I love sucking you."

"I'll give you one for each time you take me in your mouth the way I like it. Deep into your throat and all the way out to lick the head. That's one lash. If you do it really well, the next one will slice down on your pussy lips. Or nip your clit." She shivered. Really, a tremble that shook her spine.

To cover her fear? Trepidation? She took the head of the cock that stood just outside her lips into her mouth. It fit nicely inside.

"Do you want your ass whipped?"

"Yes". She never trusted her voice not to betray her. She always pictured it shaking and even failing to work.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want my ass whipped, please. Please." She tried to take more of the cock into her lips than just the mushroom, but it pulled away. "Please. I want to suck you."

"Is this what you want?" The whip whisked through the air, slashed a red streak over the left globe. A traceable mark that even now drew his attention. He wanted his finger to smooth the length of it. Sometimes they would weal and there would be an ever so slight raising over the mid part of the redness. It wouldn't always be visible, but his fingers could tease it.

"Yes. Please." The strike had made her jerk. Her lips had just grazed the tip of his cock at the outer edge of the wrench, before her body relaxed back. She felt it and strained to get back to it.

"Yes, please, what?"

"Yes. Please. I want my ass whipped. I want to suck you. I want to taste you."

The cock pushed forward, forced its way through her lips. They parted willingly, pushed back even. When the lash snapped, her throat shoved down the remainder of the thick base. That elicited a delicious groan from him as her lips clung to every departing inch. Her tongue started working over the delicate underside as soon as it was free enough to move.

Before the head exposed itself, it was being pressured back in, his hand on the back of her head. This time the strip of thin leather sliced straight down between her cheeks and snapped as it snipped her clit. Her head crashed to his groin.

It was her turn to moan as he pulled it all the way out of her mouth. Didn't she do it right? Wasn't she doing everything the way he liked? He was so hard she couldn't imagine that he wasn't enjoying this.

He shoved his finger in her mouth so she couldn't ask, or beg, or plead (she wasn't sure what she was about to do), shifted and suddenly he was ramming through her juices and deep into her pussy. She gave a small scream of surprise. "Oh!" Then a groan of need. He shoved against her ass. Ten, twelve, fifteen times. She was so full. Just as sudden, she was empty and aching.

"Do you want your ass whipped?"

"Oh god, please. Please whip my ass." This came out in a groan. Long and drawn out. A few more thrusts and she would have cum, grasping the fullness and reveling in the feeling of her own juices dripping down her thighs. When he pulled out, she felt a little splatter and knew she was dripping onto the bedcovers.

His drenched cock shoved between her lips again and the crack that sliced down across her pouting pussy lips could have been a hand yanking her hair and stuffing his cock down her throat. She opened and took it all and at the base, she shook with spasms.

It was the thrill of taking his hardness, tasting herself, feeling it slick and slippery with her wetness and at the same time feeling the damp slithering down her thighs. Sometimes he wipes the juice across her cheeks before pressing into her mouth. Usually then, he'll kiss it from her face as he moves between fucking her mouth and fucking her pussy again.

The spasms wrack her body, produced as much by the knowledge of what will come as by the act itself. The back and forth drives her beyond her ability to manage the sensations. The whip and the cock give sharp or full reaction. A need for each and a desperate want for both.

Her body shudders now every time the cock is taken fromout her grasping cunt. She can feel herself contracting on the memory and it sends the rest of her body into paroxysms of wantonness. She's once again at the point where orgasm shimmers within her every nerve, waiting the final spark to ignite. He brings her here and toys with her until he is satisfied that every ounce of herself has disentangled and every speck of control has passed out of her reach.

"Do you want to cum?"

She has little capacity to spare more than a whisper. A husk of "please."

"Please what?"

His fingers stroke the length of her spine, testing the reaction, teasing a nerve here, relaxing a muscle there. As one pores over her scalp and the other pinches her nipples, her body submerges and she thinks she will cum whether she tries to stop it or not.

"Please." She begs. "I'm going to cum. Please stop." She's shaking with the effort and despite even the tears welling up inside her she feels the twitching of her thighs.

It's a blissful relief and utter agony when he pulls his hands off her. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me until I cum. Please shove your cock in me and let me cum."

"How do you want it?" Sometimes he lets her have a choice of positions. It's his way of distracting her. Both making her think of all the ways she wants him and to have the foreknowledge of how she will cum. If she's good.

"Please fuck me with my ass in the air. Fuck me until I cum."

His fingers close around her scalp again and gently push her head over his hard and throbbing member. She tongues it as best she can as he presses it steadily in. Another lash on her red, hot and sore bottom. She greedily slurps at him. She can't help it. She wants it all and always.

The shivering starts to build again and he removes his rod. She's been tied all this time. Tied with her hands together in front and her ass in the air over pillows holding it up. He takes the straps from her ankles and kneads her mounds. Smooths them and lightly squeezes. It reminds her of the whippings as it flares the pains along lines. His fingers move in longitudes while his thumbs press circles and she gasps with pleasure and ache and hurt and longing.

He flips her easily onto her back and shoves his pole straight to her heart. She loses all her breath and will. The orgasm is back, running through every sliver of flesh it can melt together.

"Please!" It's not a cry, nor is it a whimper, but a keening. She wants to cum. She wants the sweet anguish of liberation. She wants her muscles to burst in on themselves the way they do when he finally lets her go. The sting of the lash is nothing to the hurt and ache of her body turning inside out. She's already chosen how she will cum, knows she's not allowed to the way he's fucking her now, but she can't help it. Can't stop it.

She's never disobeyed him on this before. Whatever it costs her to keep from climax, she has always done. He's told her the punishment for letting loose before he says and, for her, it's unthinkable. He'll stop there, he's said. He'll stop while she half cums, masturbate across her ass and leave to come back and finish with her another day. The more she nears her ultimate bliss, the more she needs him there. The tears start again as the feeling overwhelms her. She can't help but orgasm, needs it so bad, wants it more, but wants -- no needs -- to hold off. It just keeps building.

He stopped. She's shaking so hard, she can feel droplets of sweat rolling into her eyes. She can't even moan, just chant in a hoarse stage whisper "please. Please. Please. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me. Til. I. Cum."

He presents the gleaming purpled head to her lips and she licks at it with delight. Tears are flowing even as the shivering has yet to subside. He kisses her lips after rubbing his cock across them once more, moves to her legs and flips her again.

"You can cum now." He says as he pierces her soul. She doesn't immediately. It's such a relief she's not ready for, but she feels the ache build with four, five, six thrusts. Her hands are squeezing the covers they've grabbed. Her muscles are completely tensed, all of them. And the orgasm forces its way past the numbed nerve endings like a brick shattering a plate glass window. She has no idea of sounds she makes (animal grunts and squeals, cries of surprise and moans torn from her mouth). She only knows the feeling of bliss or pain or both and of not knowing the difference. And it goes on forever. At least until sleep.