She loved the fact that he was a gear head at heart. She loved old muscle cars, going fast in them and the fact that he could make his dream car purr if he had half a chance. She wanted to see him resurrect his 1968 Firebird from the dead.
Poor car. It had been a very long time since it had been given the opportunity to haul ass, impress, and be worthy of its own existence. She couldn't wait for a ride once he got it running the way he wanted. The sparkle in his eyes as he spoke about the beast he was rebuilding made her smile.
She liked him working on his car; she thought it was very, very sexy. It was something he loved to do when he had time and he was good at it, as he was good at everything he did. Sometimes she would go out and watch him wrench away. She usually stayed until she could sense she was getting on his nerves with all her questions and her mere presence lowered the testosterone level of his man haven. She got very aroused thinking of him in the garage being a manly man. She took a last swallow of her beer and went to the bedroom to get dressed.
Normally when she visited, she would just go out and kiss him goodnight, go to bed to read awhile and wait for him. But, tonight she was horny as hell. She needed him and all he had to offer. And he had a lot to offer.
She threw on one his favorites, a black bra, a black strappy thong, garter, stockings and her new Domme black leather above-the-knee- boots with stiletto heels. She checked her hair and makeup in his bathroom mirror and took a deep breath.
Her high heels clicked across the laundry room tile to the garage door as she felt her confidence build and her womanhood yearn for the touch that only he could provide.
She opened the door to see him bent under the hood of his sweet ride. A look of total surprise washed over his face.
"What are you doing?" He giggled. His dick twitched at the unexpected site of her like that and he dropped the wrench in his hand.
"I just wanted to tell you good night," she said as her fuck-me eyes told the real story
He got it immediately and new what she needed.
He grabbed a shop rag and wiped his hands off as he walked to her before grabbing a handful of her long hair at the base of her skull, pulling it hard, and leaning in to her face, thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth.
He smelled of motor oil, grease, and sweat. The combination of his manly scent and his passionate kiss buckled her knees and she felt her pussy get moist.
"Move to the corner of the workbench and stand in front of the vice," he said softly, yet firmly as he looked into her eyes. It felt to her as if he were staring directly into her twisted soul.
She moved to the workbench and stood as instructed, eager for her torments that were sure to take her to the place she loved to be.
He couldn't believe this woman actually needed his sickness to be happy. But she did. The sicker he got, the more it turned her on. The more sickness he introduced her to, the more sickness she needed. The more pain he put her through, the more she begged for. He wasn't sure what her limits were going to end up being, but he was constantly trying to find them. So far he had not. He felt like the luckiest Dom in the world. She felt like the luckiest Sub in the world.
He came behind her and took her bra off, rubbing her tits and the metal in them with the firm grip of both hands. Her nipples hardened in an instant at his familiar touch.
"uuummmm," she moaned as she leaned back against his big strong body and got lost in his touch.
He took one hand off her mammories and started twisting the handle of the vice, opening it. She eyed the vice and knew exactly what he was going to do and couldn't wait to feel the rush of the pain he was surely going to inflict upon her.
Although she could see a lot of his torments coming, he always seemed to surprise her with something she had never thought of before. She wasn't sure where he came up with all of his ideas to torture her, but she thanked the universe daily that he did. He was the best at it and always allowed her to experience new feelings.
"Bend over and put your tits, together, in the vice," he said calmly as he gently guided her by putting his big strong hand on her back between her shoulder blades.
She squeezed her breast together with both of her hands and bent forward to the vice. Shivers ran over her body as her sensitive flesh felt the cold, grooved steel.
One of his strong hands slowly started to spin the handle to secure her tits and the other hand reached under her thong and started rubbing her. He rubbed her puffy clit a few times with deliberate circular motions then ran his fingers to her wet fuck hole, caressing it, before sliding his juice slimed fingers to her back door. She quivered as she felt him trace her little, brown hole, rimming it. He reversed and went from her back door back to her quickly hardening clit and then back to her ass.
"Ooooohhhhh," she breathlessly let out at the extreme pleasure of his petting as the vice was closing in tight on her tits.
She developed tunnel vision and couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her, she could no longer hear the radio he had playing loudly, she lost her sense of smell. The only sense she seemed to have control over was touch. Her body started to respond to the feelings he was producing by grinding to his hand, wishing he would slip his fingers in her. She felt like she was in heat and had to have part of him enter her or she was going to go out of her mind.
He sensed her pleasure and sped up the turning of the vice handle, quickly smashing her hot, big, pierced melons almost flat in a most painful way.
"Oh, FUCK Baby," she screamed.
Her stilettos were tightening her calves, thighs and ass to the extreme. But her bending forward to try to relieve the massive pain her tits were in made it all a more enjoying view for him.
His grabbed her arms with his big hands and put them in front of her at her waist.
"Oh, you are in for it sexy," he said as he breathed in her fear.
"You are all mine. You gave up your safe word. I will let you know when you have had enough," he said in a hard, strong voice.
He was in his zone and she was in trouble. His sick mind was in overdrive!
He grabbed a bungee cord that happened to be on his workbench and wrapped it several times around her wrists, binding them together tightly in front of her. He then took the hook ends of the cord and slipped them into the hole in the zipper of her boots, pulling her hands, hard, down towards her knees, contorting her body in a most uncomfortable way.
Her tits were totally immobile in his vice and beginning to gain a purple hue. Her arms in front of her, fastened to her boots. Her ass jutting out at the uncomfortable position she was forced to be in. Her black, lace-up the back stockings hugging her long legs. Her strappy, black thong embraced her hot holes and slender hips.
Her legs shook atop her stilettos. She strained to keep her balance. Every wobble proved very painful on her besieged tits.
He lit a cigarette and grabbed another beer from his "beer fridge", a centerpiece of the man sanctuary, and just took the sight of her in for a moment. He also took a break for her to sweat it out. He knew exactly how stressed out she had been recently and how horny she was. Both of which made her need his torments to survive. It was almost like her "therapy" on some twisted level.
She was not a weak, demure, dependant woman. In fact, she was one of the strongest people he knew. But this, their play, is one of the things that enabled her to be strong, confident and in charge in "real life". It allowed her mind to slow down and think of only one thing, their scene, instead of the usual eight things she was coping with at any given moment in real life. She had zero decisions to make when he was in Dom mode and it also forced her to trust. Something that was not in her nature, but she secretly yearned to be able to so. Not to mention it just plain felt great to her to be tortured and pleasured at the same time by him.
