Paying the Price

Paying the price -- part 2

(c) 2024, by P.D. Vile

Story tags: Mf, bdsm, teen, cons

NOTE: This story is

very

different from my usual stories. Many of my regular readers might not like it at all, because of the extreme content.

Yes, there is (sweet, consensual, and very loving) sex between a 18-year-old girl and an adult male. But the main focus of this story is on bdsm. Extreme bdsm, even, in my eyes -- although hardcore bdsm fanatics might disagree on that.

The focus of

part 1

is on the sub, the recipient of pain. In this part, we shift focus to the Dom, the one who dominates the submissive and may use pain, humiliation, and many other tools to assert their dominance over the sub.

NOTE: Before starting the story, I really must express my gratitude to "e". Just as part 1, this story would not exist without you, and after I wrote the first draft, you made it better, together with "a". I also want to thank other "a" and "d" for their proofreading of, and feedback on, the final draft. All four of you are awesome, and I am happy that you were or are in my life!

The night before

I wake up. As my consciousness returns to my brain, the first thing I notice is the terrible pain in my upper legs, that instantly reminds me of last night, when I had to endure seventeen hard strokes with a single tail whip.

And yet, despite that memory, despite the pain, I have a smug grin on my face. A grin that feels like it will never fade, imprinted on my face for forever.

And for good reason. I close my eyes and let my thoughts go back to last night. Not the pain, not the punishment, but to what came after that. After you applied salve to my wounds, after Master Jim ... no, it's now just Jim again for me ... so after Jim told me to "claim" my reward ... to claim you.

I could barely walk. Every movement hurt. And I was also tired, so incredibly tired. I just wanted to lie down and sleep. But you had different plans. After you helped me lie down on your bed, you kissed my lips, then whispered in my ear,

"Stay awake, 'Gramps' -- or you'll miss out."

I nodded and then closed my eyes anyway. But before I could even drift off, I felt the most wonderful sensation. My dick in a closed space, nice and warm, wet, cozy, feeling as if it was where it always had belonged, for the first time in my life. My eyes shot open, I looked down, and there you were, eyes sparkling, mouth smiling, but also filled with my cock, that immediately started to swell, to fill all available space.

You pulled up your head a bit, as my dick grew beyond what you could keep in your mouth. But not for long. You winked at me. And then you lowered your head, swallowing more and more of my length, making me shudder for joy as your lips brushed along the length of my cock, until I hit the back of your throat.

But you didn't stop there. I felt the pressure of your esophagus, felt it give way, and then my tip slipped in that narrow ring, and your head went further down, taking my dickhead in your throat, and you didn't stop until your lips touched the soft stubble of my pubic area.

Despite having shot a load just before, my dick was instantly rock hard again. And it grew even more when you started to bob your head up and down, fucking me with your throat, without ever coming up for air. The sensation was totally overwhelming, unlike anything I had ever felt before.

I got so excited that I forgot my pain, for a short while. But I also forgot about you. It was only when I noticed that your face was no longer deep red but actually already shifting towards crimson that I realized that you were choking yourself on my dick. A short moment of panic. I felt I had to do something. But I still didn't have enough strength to even lift my hands. Or ... Was it really a lack of strength? Was I simply enjoying this too much?

But then, when the crimson got even deeper, when I knew I really had to do something, you suddenly came up. A loud gasp for air, followed by heavy panting, Snot running from your nose, eyes watering, but a huge grin, almost splitting your face in two.

"Did you like that, P.D.?" you asked, once you were able to breathe normally again.

"Like? That was ... I mean ... oh shit, hell yes!"

"Good! I might do that some more then. Later. But for now, I just want you hard. I want you in me, P.D. I want to feel that old dick of yours deep inside my eightteen-year-old pussy. I want to fuck your brains out, until you pump those little baby-makers of yours deep inside my womb."

I moan as you move your body over mine. One knee to each side of my hips, your body now towering over me. You quickly look down to check you're not accidentally touching my legs.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, totally not. It's just the words you said. The prospect of fucking you. I have so long dreamed of fucking a girl your ..."

You didn't let me finish. Your right index finger touched my lips. Your left hand grabbed my pole and pointed it up, aiming it right at your tight entrance, as you lowered yourself. I watched in awe, as you lowered your perfect body. A sharp inhale of air from me, and a happy purr from you, at the first contact of the tip of my rod against your hot and wet labia.

You halted there for a short while. Winked at me, a teasing smile on your lips. But you didn't let me wait long. Just a short second, and then you already lowered yourself further. I closed my eyes, to savor the feeling of your tight cunny embracing my dick, then opened them again, because I wanted to see. And so I watched, with bated breath, how my hardness spread your lips, pried them open, until they gave way, and the purple head of my fuckrod disappeared in your love tunnel.

As my throat made uncontrollable grunting noises, you kept lowering yourself, taking in inch after inch of my length. My dick felt better than ever before, encapsulated in your warm wetness, squeezed to perfection by your tight cunt, as you kept going until I was all the way in. It was so incredibly hot, to see your small frame on top of me, your crotch touching mine, knowing you had taken all of me. And it felt so good, so much better than even my wildest imagination.

You held still for a short while, and I don't know what I enjoyed more: the feeling of enormous pleasure in my dick, or the intense look of happiness on your face.

You smiled again, making the world better than it already was. And then you started to move. Up, down, back up again. Slow motions, teasing, savoring the feelings, giving me the greatest sensations I could wish for. Speeding up a bit, then down again. You pushed yourself down to twist your hips, so that my dick moved around in your tight space. Some quick movements up and down, then a pause, where you just held still and whispered sweet words about how good this was for you. I wanted to reply, but did not find the words. And I knew I didn't need to. I knew the expression on my face spoke volumes.

You leaned forward, closed your hands in an embrace around my neck, as your lips met mine, and we kissed. Your body still moving up and down, sometimes fast and urgent but most of the time leisurely, slowly, enjoying every second.

I somehow found the strength to lift my arms, close them around your back. I stroked your soft skin, teased your buttocks, caressed your hair. And moaned in your mouth as I felt your body tense and shake in an orgasm. Not a big, crashing orgasm, but a nice and gentle one.

I don't know how long you kept fucking me like that. I don't know how many orgasms you had. But in the end, after an eternity of pleasure, you raised your upper body again, took my hands and pressed them against your boobs, used your other hand to support yourself a bit, and then started to ride me like crazy. Up and down, up and down again. Every downward motion was just you dropping your full weight, to impale yourself as deep as possible. Every upward motion was fast, eager for the next drop.

Your wild ride made my legs start to hurt again. Or hurt more. So much that the feeling, that I had forgotten about for a while, grabbed my attention again. But at the same time, the wonderful feeling of you fucking my hard dick as if your life depended on it got stronger. And as pain and pleasure mixed into a combination of sensations that my brain was unable to process, you started to orgasm. A big one this time. You screamed and shuddered, and your vagina contracted around my dick, grasped it, pulled it inside, and forced me over the tip. And so, as pain and pleasure shot through my body in equal amounts, I shot my thick sticky seed deep inside you.

The morning after

And now I lay here. On my back, in a comfortable bed. My legs still hurting. Not yesterday's unbearable burning pain, but a lingering sensation that will certainly haunt me for at least the next weeks. Even though the sheets are thin and soft, I have thrown them off because even that feeling against my skin hurt me.

But that pain doesn't matter. Because right there, to the left of me, is you. Sleeping. You are so beautiful in your sleep. Your naked body fully relaxed. Your eyes closed, your chest gently heaving and falling with your slow, relaxed breathing. Your mouth, your gorgeous lips, that suddenly form a slight smile. Are you having a nice dream?

I could lay here, just watching you, for hours. Not because you are so beautiful, even though you are. But because you are you. Because you seem happy and free of all sorrows. Because you are here with me. And because you are mine. Mine, not as a possession, but as a loved one, who wants to spend time with me, and whom I want to spend time with. I don't know yet what we will do this weekend. Perhaps we can go swimming together? Perhaps we can go see a movie? Or perhaps you'll just cuddle up to me on the couch, and we'll be silent together?

And yes, there will very likely also be more sex. But not now. Now, at this time, I just want to enjoy your company, your closeness, you.

You wake up. I hear your breathing speed up, see your eyes flutter. And then you open them, turn your head towards me, and smile. That smile that I love so much, that smile that instantly makes me forget my aching legs. Well, for a few seconds, at least.

You lean towards me, peck my bearded cheek, then cheerfully ask:

"Sex first or breakfast first?"

"Are those my only options?"

"Do you need more?"

I pause, pretend to think, then smile.

"No, I think those will do just fine."

"So? Which one first?"

The thought of food triggers a soft, grumbling sound from my belly. You laugh and get up from the bed, with an energy I myself certainly do not have after last night.

"Just stay here, old man. I need you to save your energy. For ... other things. So just lay here and wait, while I prepare breakfast."

And then you throw me a kiss, turn around, and wiggle your cute butt in a very exaggerated way as you walk out the door.

I just sigh, fold my hands behind my back, close my eyes, and relax.

Life is good.

A rasping sound startles me out of my relaxed state. It sounds like Jim clearing his throat. And indeed, as I open my eyes, I see him enter your room.

I briefly consider pulling the sheets over my body. But then I recall he saw it all yesterday already. And so I just remain as I am, as Jim grabs a chair and sits down next to the bed.

"I trust Christine made sure you had a good night?"

"She did," I smile, "way more than I could ever have hoped for."

"Good. I really hope that, after what you endured last night, you feel it was worth it."

"Just meeting her in person, just getting to know you and her, and talk over dinner yesterday. That alone is already enough to make it totally worth the price I paid. The rest is a bonus. A very nice bonus, that I am glad she wanted to give to me."

He smiles. But then gets serious.

"Good. But that is not what I came here to talk about."

I look up at him.

"You clearly love Christine."

A statement. Not a question. Yet I feel compelled to answer.

"Yes, sir. Very much. But you already know that. I would do anything for her."

"Would you really?"

"I ... I think I proved that yesterday?"

"Yes, you did. You proved it very clearly. To me."

He paused, and looked at me.

"But what about her?"

"Sir?"

He remains silent. Looks at me, as if he expects me to understand him. I don't. After what I went through yesterday, after the pain I took upon me to save her from it, how can he say this? Of course she knows how much I love her. I mean, she already knew, but after yesterday, there can be no doubt.

And yet, Jim looks at me. Expectantly. As if I should see something obvious, something I just fail to see. What else is there, besides my obvious love for Christine?

After a long, awkward silence, he finally speaks again.

"Mister Vile, how would you define love?"

"Oh, easy. You truly love someone when their happiness is more important to you than your own."

"Yes, indeed. Now think back of yesterday."

I actually start to get upset now.

"Well, but that's just what I did!"

I point at the purple marks on my legs

"If this does not prove that I put her happiness and well-being before mine, then what the hell does, Jim?"

He chuckles.

"It does prove your dedication. I already acknowledged that. It's solid proof, for you and me. But what does it tell her?"

"That I ..."

But then I interrupt myself. Because it finally starts to dawn on me.

"So you are saying ..."

My voice fades. Jim finishes my thought for me.

"She likes pain. Enjoys it. Needs it. And you took it from her. Because you cannot stand to see her suffer. Not even when she wants to suffer."

"I ... I guess I did."

"So in a way, you showed her that your feelings matter more than hers."

I lay in silence for a long time. Jim just sits on the chair and waits, until I have finally gathered my thoughts enough to speak.

"I guess I really fucked up. And now I don't know how to make it up for her."

To my surprise, Jim's response is a chuckle.

"What?"

"It's not

that

bad. She's not stupid, you know. She

knows

why you volunteered to take over her whipping. She knows you did it out of love, simply because enjoying pain is not part of your mindset."

"Well. Okay. Guess that makes sense. Good to know. But then, why do we even have this conversation?"

"Because I hope to convince you to do something for her that she will never expect, but really enjoy. And if you truly love her, then you will get over yourself and do this for her."

I hear the clunking sounds of plates and cutlery on a tray. Jim stops talking and signals me to shut up as well. So, we are both quiet as you enter the room, with a tray, loaded with toast, bacon, eggs, jam, coffee, orange juice, fruits, and all kinds of other food, that all looks great and smells even better.

"Hey, P.D., I made breakfast for us both. Do you want ..."

You stop talking as you see Jim. You just stand there, look at him, unsure what to do, now that he is here.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Very kind of you to make breakfast for Mister Vile and me. Leave it here on the table, then return to the kitchen. Mister Vile and I have things to discuss."

"Yes, Master," you reply meekly. Then you put down the tray, nod in Jim's direction, and leave the room, closing the door behind you.

Sugar on top

Half an hour later, Jim and I have finished the very excellent breakfast. Jim gets up, wishes me good luck, and leaves the room.

"Christine? Darling?" I hear him say, "we've finished our conversation. You can return to your room now and spend time with mister Vile."

Just a few seconds later, you run into the room. Your eyes find the empty tray.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast, P.D.?"

"Yes, very much. And so did Jim. You cook well. I hope you had not expected him to leave some for you?"

I pretend not to notice the slight look of disappointment on your face.

"No, P.D., I knew he would eat it all. I helped myself to some toast that was left over from yesterday."

"Good," I only say.

And then you crawl into the bed, and I smell your scent and feel your soft hands play with the little hairs on my chest. I nearly forget myself, nearly succumb.

"What shall we do now, P.D.? Do you want to start with a blowjob? Or do you want to try anal? No matter what you want, my body is ..."

Your voice fades as you look at my face. As you see me, looking sternly, one eyebrow raised, you stop talking. Then, after an awkward silence, you sink your head. No longer looking me in the face, you ask: "What is it, P.D.? Don't you want to have sex? We can do other things too?"

I pause. Wait until the silence is awkward, then wait a bit longer. When I finally speak, I force myself to speak in a soft voice, barely audible, and very slow.

"Sex? In this room? Look around."

I gesture at the tray with empty bowls, the plates that Jim and I left on the floor, my empty coffee mug next to it.

"It is a mess here. How can you expect me to focus on sex when the room is not proper?"

"Oh, of course. I understand." you whisper.

I doubt you really do. Your face tells me you don't. But you still get up from the bed, start to collect cutlery, plates, glasses, and mugs, put it all on the tray, and then leave the room with it. A minute or so later you return, with a cloth. You wipe the table and the dirty spots on the floor, then leave again. And then you return.

"There. All clean again. Sorry I did not ..."

"Where's my coffee?" I interrupt you brusquely.

"Your ... coffee?"

I sigh.

"Yes. My coffee. Brownish liquid. Hot, with a nice bitter taste. Energizing. Surely you have heard of it?"

I see your shoulders drop. A little.

"Oh, I am sorry. Sorry, sir. I did not know you wanted ... you didn't ask for ..."

I sigh again, loud enough to cut off your words.

"I thought you were smart. I had not expected that I need to spell out every little detail."

"I am sorry, sir. I will get your coffee right away."

I wait. Conflicting feelings rage in me. I do not like myself for treating you like this. But Jim was right. True love means putting your likes above mine. And strangely, totally unexpectedly, I feel what appears to be a kind of rush. The power I have over you. The way you do whatever I tell you to, take the blame even when it is not your fault at all. It should not feel good. It should not make me feel superior. And yet, I cannot deny that it does. That a small part of me actually enjoys this.

You return, holding a cup of coffee. You hand it to me. Then, when I don't extend a hand to accept it, you pull a small table close to the bed, and put the coffee cup on top of it.

I look at the coffee, in silence. I hear you swallow, but you say nothing.

"I don't see any sugar." I then say, with a disappointed voice.

"Sugar? I thought ... You asked for black coffee yesterday? I didn't know ..."

"So, you just assumed?" I now ask sharply, "and you thought it was okay to just assume? Take that with you!" I point at the coffee, with a disgusted face, "and come back

with

sugar. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" you quickly assure me, as you pick up the coffee and hasten out of the room.

I wait, until you return. Again with a cup of coffee, the stirring straw still in it.

"Here's your coffee, Sir," you proudly say, "with sugar this time."

"Good," I say.

I pick up the coffee. I then stir it with the straw, seemingly absentmindedly, as I talk.

"I wonder what came over you, just now. You know that my legs hurt. Very much. And all because of you. Because I took your punishment. And yet, you seem to think only of sex. You seem to think that I could put away the tray myself. That I could make my own coffee. Really, I had expected more gratitude, after my sacrifice."