Need 22

My special thanks to

Violent Intimacy

, a volunteer editor here at Literotica, for editing this story and for working with me to get it "just right".

This is a story that I wrote to my Love based on both previous experiences and the muse of an erotic dream. Originally it was intended for his eyes only. I hope you enjoy it.

Need

I'm so tired tonight. Not physically really, it's more a sort of mind-numbing weariness. Tired of what, I don't know. I haven't slept well in weeks so maybe I need more exercise. Perhaps the morning walks aren't cutting it.

I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then blow it out slowly trying to let go of some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. I shift around in the seat and feel...

twitchy

. The drive home from work is only twenty minutes or so and I'm just about there. I realize I've driven the entire way without memory of the individual turns. I do it often when there's a lot on my mind, but tonight there's nothing of significance weighing on me.

Pulling into the driveway at 7:15 I see you've beaten me home -- the outside light is on. The boys never think to do that. My limbs feel like lead as I climb out of the van and move slowly toward the door feeling directionless.

What's up with me?!

I need to snap out of this. Things have been a little flat between us lately and I wonder what kind of mood you're in. When I enter the house it's quiet. The boys must upstairs on the PS2.

"Hi, Baby," you say as you stroll into the room. "How was the drive?"

Vaguely I register your good mood and barely murmur a response. Kicking off my shoes I begin flipping through the mail. Again I'm struck by how quiet the house is.

"What are the boys doing, Love?" I ask.

"They're not here, Baby. Their dad took them for the night."

"Oh, OK," I respond. Then with distracted concern, "But it's a weeknight."

"I know, Baby," you say. "He said he'll get them to school in the morning." You step around behind me and begin squeezing my shoulders. "I thought you could use some relaxation time."

Sighing, I feel the tension there begin to loosen. Your strong hands work their way down, and at their insistence I allow my arms to fall to my sides, the bills clutched in one hand and momentarily forgotten. I lean back against you briefly as you grasp my wrists and wrap them around me for a snug hug and a kiss at the side of my neck.

I sigh. "Mmmmmm, that feels nice." Then I find myself wondering what's on TV tonight. As you unwrap my arms and gently pull them behind me I remember it's CSI, and I wonder if it's a new episode. My ears barely register the sound of clinking in your pocket, a sound like loose change but a bit different.

Your warm hands leave mine for a moment while you kiss my neck again, only to return and securely grasp my wrists. By the time my ears register the ratcheting clicks it's too late to free myself from the metal cuffs you've quickly snapped on. For a moment I want to giggle because they are the "toy" cuffs the boys use when playing "Cops & Robbers." Before I have a chance to voice the fact that they don't require a key to open them, you tug my startled body off balance and back against you.

"But we both know my Baby doesn't relax the same way most people do." Your voice is laced with menace.

"Mark, no!" The forced yelp explodes out of me as the bills fall to the floor. My heart is already pounding furiously.

"Oh yes, Heather. Absolutely yes! You need this. I need this."

"But I can't!" I argue.

"Why can't you Baby?" you ask as your hands come around my body, probing and squeezing forcefully.

I try to think of a reason but realize I don't have one. The blood rushing in my ears is almost deafening now.

Your hands grasp my breasts through my blouse and knead them harshly, pinching the nipples roughly through the fabric. I stumble backwards, trying to get my footing as I'm half-dragged, moaning, the few feet toward the sofa. Helping me stand upright you knock the small pillow on the sofa out of the way and underneath is my little wicker basket, the one I keep the remotes in. My glance flies to the coffee table and I see its original contents dumped out on the surface. Looking back at the basket my gaze briefly registers the roll of duct tape. My stomach tightens viscerally at the sight of it.

"Be still," you command as you release me.

The last vestige of my ego asserts itself, and I take a step to turn around.

"Don't test me!" you bark as you grasp my shoulder and snap me around facing away from you. My knees weaken a bit as excitement threatens to overwhelm me. The sound of my harsh breathing seems to fill the room and I try to quiet it some, taking deep breaths as you've taught me. Your breathing sounds much like mine, I realize. You turn me around roughly to face you and reach over my head with the blindfold. It's been set to fit exactly around my head since you got it last year so it needs only to be fastened. As it slides down you pause briefly to lean in and kiss my eyelids tenderly. Looking me in the eyes intensely, you slide it down over my gaze and run your fingers over the edges to ensure its placement; I hear the tiny click as the fastener closes snugly. The brief moment of tenderness catches me off guard. Moments later I hear the duct tape.

"Open, Baby," you command.

I open my mouth obediently and a damp cloth is tucked in followed by the tape. I feel both strips of tape being secured at the same time and I wonder if you've pre-torn them and placed them together in anticipation of this.

Why not the ball or the ring?

I wonder. Then my attention snaps back to you as you drag me back against you and begin mauling my breasts again. My pussy is throbbing and as my weight shifts the movement of the air chills the soaked crotch of my panties. I groan deep in my throat as streaks of pleasure and pain rocket through me, my breathing hampered by the airtight gag. Your control is overwhelmingly assuring and exciting. You seem unaware of my pleasure and are fully caught up in taking from me.

Take Love

, I think.

Take it all.

You grasp the edges of my blouse and pull them apart forcefully. I hear the buttons pop and land around the room. Your hands close over my bra-covered breasts again and I feel your fingers slide around the connector in the middle that holds the cups together.

"Do you have any special affinity for this garment, Baby?"

I shake my head no and in a flash the brief scream of ripping fabric cuts through the sound of our breathing. I hear jingling and recognize the sound of the nipple clamps. I've no doubt they're the clovers. You want me to hurt and you know very well that their levered hinge causes them to tighten when the chain is pulled and that their bite is the most brutal. Your fingers pinch my nipples harshly bringing a strangled cry from me. Then the sharper pinches of the clamps follow, bringing an aching throb to each nipple in moments.

You tug almost carelessly at the connecting chain to maneuver me around again, and groan in satisfaction at my distressed whine. Your movements are rougher than what's necessary to get me to comply, perhaps even deliberately so. You

want

me to feel taken and violated even though I'd gladly give to you. And I love

feeling

taken. Grasping my bound wrists, you sharply maneuver me to the edge of the couch's back and force me to bend over it by pulling my bound wrists up and away from my body.

My throbbing nipples meet with the sofa's firm back cushion much sooner then I expect.

Did you move the cushion... prop it up maybe?

Fiery pain courses through me, and tears spring to my eyes. You grind your erection into my skirt-covered cleft and leverage my chest more deeply into the cushion, causing a painful moan to shudder through me.

"Yes!" grates out from between your teeth, the 'y' sound drawn out; your other hand works my skirt up. When my satin-clad cheeks are exposed you give one an impossibly sharp slap. Both the sensation of the blow and the reverberating jolt in my tortured nipples bring a desperate cry. You don't seem to be interested in the resulting warmth or color.

Grasping the strip of fabric that covers my cleft and crotch, you bunch it together and tug it up sharply so that it cuts into my valley, tugging at it until I moan painfully. Then pulling it aside you release my wrists and seem to crouch behind me. I feel your hands grasp my cheeks painfully, your fingers digging in sharply and spreading them, and then I shriek as your teeth sink into the tender area just beside my anal opening. The shriek escalates into a stifled scream when I fear you'll actually take the flesh with you and my fingers tighten into impotent claws. I begin weeping and struggling to breathe when your jaw releases me.

Vaguely I'm aware of the sound of a zipper coming down. Then my cheeks are harshly spread again, the wet cord of my panties held aside with a thumb. Your pulsing erection slides once up along my cleft. Then you pull back and change the angle to slide it down along my partially exposed and dripping pussy.

Desperately I press back the little I can, trying to get you inside me. I hear your satisfied chuckle as you poke around teasingly at the slick entrance, but don't penetrate. Then suddenly the head of your cock is pressing at my anal opening, forcing its way in. My head snaps back at the painful intrusion. With one hand you reach forward and harshly grasp the knot of hair at the back of my head.

The pussy juice on your cock has already evaporated and your entry is dry. I try to relax but my senses are overwhelmed by pain and sensation and I can't focus. Your hand holds my head in place, pulling steadily as you push your cock slowly but forcefully into my rectum. My pain-filled, guttural groan only serves to encourage you.

Once you've fully penetrated you grate out, "Take me."

Obediently I bloom out my muscles and feel them settle and grasp your rigidity, pulling you in deeper. The path the ripple travels is tacky and the movement drags along the unlubricated flesh. You say nothing, but groan deeply and release my hair. Somehow your hands grasp my hips and spread my ass-cheeks at the same time, and before I've had a chance to adjust, you begin grinding deeply in my rectum. The waves of pain from the penetration are still radiating up my spine and around my ribcage, and I can barely breathe.

You do not intend to draw this out. Your grinding becomes more intense right away. Below the blindfold my cheek rubs against the upholstery of the cushion and my nipples scream at the fresh agitation. You adjust your angle and the abrasion at my opening becomes severe. The cool dampness makes me wonder if your bite drew blood, and if you are tasting it right now. The thought of my blood on your tongue sends a thrilled shiver through me.

Please taste me Love... every part of me, anything you wish. Just take... please take from me.

Your pubic hair chafes the bite-tenderized flesh and my groans and whimpers become a steady cadence with your grinding. Within minutes your balls empty their seed into my bowels.

Withdrawing your still tumescent member from my rectum you tug me up sharply and roughly knead my shoulders. I hadn't noticed how much they ached and I realize that I don't care. I don't want to be considered. I exist only for this moment and for you, for whatever you desire.

Backing me up and pressing my back to the wall, you remove the first clamp without ceremony. The frenzied cry that rises in my chest mutates into a hysterical scream when your mouth closes over the nipple, sucking and chewing on it painfully. My body convulses in response, not knowing whether to press into or pull away from its antagonist.

Now I realize why you put me against the wall... my reaction is uncontrollable. Sometimes you want me to "accept" the pain and move into it. Tonight you want my suffering... and you want me blitzed by it, unable to think. While still biting on that sensitive nub, the clamp on the other nipple is released. Another scream rises up as your teeth switch their torturous routine to the other breast. My body jerks around like a marionette puppet. My knees buckle and I begin sliding down the wall. That sadistic mouth follows me and strangled sounds of pain intermingle with snorted breaths; then finally your hot mouth leaves my nipple and you stand.

"Get up!" you order.

My wobbling legs struggle to help me stand. Without my arms to aid me, it's very difficult and you do not offer assistance. I feel your eyes on me as I struggle, leaning against the wall and pushing up. I know my struggle arouses you. I feel your saliva drying on my throbbing nipples, and the wetness from the tears that have escaped the blindfold on my face. I feel the tears that have trickled from my nose dripping off my chin. My chest heaves with the strain and my body is damp with sweat.

When I'm finally standing you turn me roughly around and push me against the wall. Individual cuffs are fastened around each wrist.

Why are you doing that?

When they're fastened, you pull me away from the wall and walk me to the kitchen doorway and release my wrists from the handcuffs.

"Reach up and hold the corners of the door molding." Your voice is devoid of emotion.

When I do, I feel you secure them to...

what?

You chuckle knowingly. "I installed these eyebolts today, Baby." Then you put my play collar on, fastening it snugly.

My ankles are cuffed apart on what is probably a spreader bar. You begin pinching at my swollen nipples again. I whimper and my body tries to arch away from your fingers but there's nowhere to go. The sharp pinch of the clamps follows but I don't hear any jingling chain. In moments I feel something cool pressing between my breasts and I think it must be the stretcher or "Tower of Pain" we'd often seen in the catalogs and mused about purchasing. Some insidious, sadistic person created a device to be used to tug at a victim's nipples while using their own body to brace against for tension. It's merely a narrow plate to brace against the breast-bone with an adjustable cross-shaped rod protruding out from its center. Two clover-clamps are fastened to either end of the cross piece and by turning the wing-nut at the top of the cross, the distance below the cross piece can be shortened or lengthened, adjusting the tension on the nipples.

The jostling of my breasts is excruciating as the clamps are fastened to the contraption and I feel the heavy flesh being pulled away from my body by their swollen tips. I start a long, low, drawn-out moan as the aching begins. You tighten it as much as is possible to still allow any movement of my body to cause painful bouncing. I feel your hands cup their fullness and lift them some. Then you release them quickly and seem to be satisfied at my alarmed squeak.

I'm left alone for a moment. The duct tape is beginning to peel; it can't adhere to the damp flesh of my face any longer. You've already noticed this because when you return I feel you peeling the tape off. Before it's removed you say, "Not a word, understood?"

When I don't respond immediately, you grasp my hair painfully and pull my head back. I feel your breath on my face as you repeat, "Understood?" with quiet danger.

Wincing, I nod yes as best I can.

You release me roughly and finish peeling the tape off. After the cloth is removed I feel the ring gag pressing against my lips. I don't wait for you to tell me to open my mouth; I just do it automatically.

At least I'll be able to breathe

, I think. You fasten it tightly and I'm left wondering what's next. Each breath reminds me of my tortured nipples so I try to breathe shallowly. I feel a tickle on my inner thigh and realize that my pussy has actually begun to trickle, or "drool" as you like to say, and that the wetness of your cum is working its way out of my sore opening.

I feel your warm hand on my ankle encouraging me to step back. When I've taken a few hobbled steps you press at my lower back indicating that you want me to bend at the waist. You work my skirt up even higher and step back. I hear a sharp slapping sound and wonder what you're using to make it.

CRACK! The sudden sharp sting across both buttocks takes my breath away.

The strap!

It's your leather strap. When I gasp the clamps tug painfully and the flesh bounces around from the blow.

Fuck, you really ARE a sadist!

The next minutes are a blur of heat, pain, and predicament. The hallway clock chimes eight times. Your blows never become regular enough for me to find pleasure in them. You return to the sweet spots over and over until they are on fire. The backs of my thighs are aflame as well. Your blows stop every now and then while you pinch and prod the scarlet welts you've created. The lewd stream of saliva I feel running from my chin and down my body is all but forgotten in the hailstorm of sensation. Each time any area begins to feel numb you move away from it to allow it to re-sensitize. Then you return several minutes later to elicit fresh howls of pain from me.

Eventually you get the crop and use it to torture the sweet spots even further, lifting each buttock for better access. You expand the spreader bar between my ankles and I feel you go down between my legs. Lying on your back on the floor, you crop the insides of my thighs, each blow causing my knees to turn-in in an effort to deflect it. Then taking hold of the crotch of the panties you finally tear them open. Now, lying on your back again, you tap at my swollen, wet pussy with the crop's tip, sending sharp jolts of sensation through me.

Putting it aside, you grasp my thighs and lift your mouth to my slit. Your tongue slides along its folds teasingly between the inner and outer pairs of lips, running from opening to clit on one side and then again on the other. My hips buck into you in frantic desperation. For just the briefest moment your tongue presses firmly on my clit and pleasure explodes in me, eliciting a deep moan. Then your mouth is gone and you are chuckling. Moments later your voice is in my ear.

"Tonight is about what

I

want Baby... and tonight I want you to hurt... and tonight I want you to suffer... and tonight, I want you to

want

." The last word rumbles out menacingly and sends a shudder down my spine.

"There's something else I want Baby," you say as you resume your position between my legs and begin tapping my clit rhythmically with the crop again. The tapping is almost gentle and I begin to wonder if I'll be able to cum as I roll my hips in time with it.

"You know what that is Baby?" Tap- tap- tap-

I moan softly as the pleasure takes me over again.

"It's more like something I

don't

want Baby." Tap- tap- tap-

A tickle of fear runs down my spine.

"I don't want you to

cum

Heather." Tap- tap- tap- "In fact Baby, I plan to keep you from cumming for days!" Crack! The crop lands harshly on my mound and I gasp and cry out. The blows get increasingly harder as my swollen clit exposes itself to the torture. I shriek and shudder; my entire body sweating and large drops of saliva plopping on the floor. You pause once to reposition the clamps and listen to my renewed cries of pain, talking softly about how much my suffering arouses you. Soon my screams become silent and my body shudders uncontrollably. Visible only to your eyes is my bruised and welted pussy, swollen obscenely. When it swells to the point where it seems to be protecting its charge, you reach up and tug it open to further expose my clit to the crop's vicious tip. You don't stop until I'm hanging limply and weeping silently.

You stand and go to the fridge and I hear you pouring a drink. Moments later you're removing the gag and holding a glass to my lips. As the cool water slides down my throat your other hand caresses my raw genitals, your fingers gently insinuating themselves into the tight seams between the puffy tissues. My wounded hiss interrupts my respite. The blindfold is tugged up a bit as you raise your fingers to my face, glistening and tinged slightly pink.