Rooming with Roseann

Rooming With RoseAnn

Wgaius

Chapter 19

RoseAnn's new fetish is getting serious.

I woke and tried to get out of bed, but RoseAnn lay an arm across my chest and held me down. I craned my neck and looked at the clock. It was nine.

"I should fix your breakfast," I said.

"Did you like me using my mouth on you?"

I took her in my arms. "How could I not like that?"

"It's more exciting than I ever imagined. My ex never asked. He just shoved it down my throat. I couldn't stand that. But when I'm in control...well, maybe you can expect more of it in future."

I'd been uncomfortably aware that she'd planned to whip me about now, but it seemed she'd forgotten. That was fine with me. I could gladly wait until some undefined future time.

She swung out of bed. "I'm going to take my tampon out now. I'll be dry, so you'll have to use a little oil."

My cock swelled at the prospect of yet another orgasm. Was this a temporary thing, or a change in RoseAnn's needs?

She returned with a towel and a damp washcloth, spread the towel on the bed, and climbed back in. I kneeled between her legs and put oil on myself and on the lips of her pussy. I put the tip of my cock against her lower lips and gently pushed. With the help of the oil, I slipped past the token resistance into the gentle grasp of her flesh.

"Oh, Jesus," I breathed. "That's wonderful. It feels amazing."

"Better than my mouth?"

"Not better. Different. At least, this way I can kiss you." To demonstrate, I stretched myself across her longer body. But I could only reach her throat.

"Tell me how this feels," she said, and her vagina suddenly contracted around my cock, like a hot, silken glove.

I gasped in surprise. I'd never felt anything like it before. I lay on her with my mouth open, breathing hard. "What did you just do?"

"That's my pelvic muscle. I do kegels along with my other exercises. When that muscle is strong, the effect on a man is pretty intense. I've been working on that muscle since before you came to stay. I'll bet I can get you off with that muscle, without moving any other part of me."

"I dare you," I said, breathlessly.

She giggled in my ear. "Try and stop me." Immediately, the rhythmic contractions began, and my eyes crossed, and I babbled words in a forgotten language, and I rocketed toward climax on some physiological roller coaster, and my orgasm hit me from behind like a truck, sooner than I wanted, and the muscles in her pelvis continued to milk me until I was dry. The whole thing must have taken less than twenty seconds.

I mopped up the blood that decorated both of us, and rolled onto my back. "That was beautiful."

"Now go get my breakfast."

"Wait a minute. Something's wrong. You always want to come right after I do. Did you just come when I did?"

"I didn't come, and nothing's wrong. It excites me to feel you come. I can wait a little while, but right now, I'm satiated with sex and I'm hungry."

After she'd eaten and dressed in shorts and tee shirt, she moved to the living room with her cup of coffee, and sat with her feet curled under her. "Now you can get going on your chores."

I started the wash, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the carpet, all without a stitch of clothing on, as she required. I expected her to watch TV or read her book, but I felt her eyes on me as I worked, so that I soon began to grow erect again. As she watched, her eyelids grew dark and her eyes wet. A hand unconsciously reached to the hem of her shorts and stroked her thigh.

"Hey," I said, pointing to the errant hand. "You have a slave for that."

She drew her hand back. "So I do. But watching you do housework for me in your birthday suit gets me all wet."

"It excites me, too," I said, pointing to my cock, "but you can see that for yourself."

"Why don't you go get the ropes from the drawer and lie down on the press bench?"

My stomach contracted into a tight ball of fear, but my perverse cock grew even stiffer. "Yes, RoseAnn." I went into the back bedroom and put the two short ropes next to the press bench, and then reclined to wait.

For several minutes, I lay there, dreading and welcoming the punishment to come. More than once, I heard her coffee cup clink on the saucer. She was making me wait, which only added to the torment. What an instinct for cruelty the woman had!

At last, I heard her in her bedroom, opening the drawer where she kept the whip. The closet door slid in its track. Some minutes later, I heard the click of heels in the uncarpeted hall, heading my way. When she came to the door, I saw that she'd stripped and put on a scanty black lace vest that came to her navel, a black garter belt with dark nylons, and tall black heels. Her hair hadn't been brushed today, and rolled in chaotic waves over her shoulders.

She twirled for me, resting the whip on her shoulder. "Like it? I don't like being called a dominatrix, but I thought it would be fun to dress the part, at least for today."

I gazed obsessively at the luxurious breasts, emphasized rather than concealed by the lace. If I were standing while she wore those heels, my lips would be about level with those sweet nipples. I breathed, "You are so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, it almost hurts my eyes to look at you."

"I told you my period makes me extra horny. Now why don't you tie your own feet to the bench. There's no reason I should do more work than I have to."

It was awkward, but I figured out a way. I tied the rope to a bench leg and wound it around one leg, and then passed the rope under and did the same on the other side. When I was done, my legs were held firmly in place.

"I can't tie my own hands," I said.

She sighed extravagantly, as if weary of all the work she was forced to do. "Then you'll have to beg me to do it."

"Please tie my hands, RoseAnn."

"You call that begging?"

I thought a minute. "Please, I need to feel your whip. Please tie my hands so I can't get free, and then hurt me as much as it pleases you."

"Oh, very well." With an air of strained patience, she got to her knees and tied my wrists together and ran the rope over the end of the padding, so that I was stretched the length of the press bench. As much as she tried to look blasé, her breath was coming quickly and her eyes were dark and moist.

She leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Today, I want you to be brave for me. I'm going to give you a chance to compose yourself each time before I hit you, so you won't scream. You can be a man for me, can't you? I know you can."

She picked up the whip from the bed as she stood up. She shook it and swished it through the air a few times, loosening the leather and making me tremble. Finally, she laid the heavy strands gently on my belly, right over my navel.

"If you only knew how excited I am right now," she said. "Remember, no screaming." I clamped my jaw shut. I concentrated on her dark eyes. The whip suddenly whistled over her shoulder and landed on my belly with a

crack

.

My body reacted instantly, arching and twisting with the terrible burning. I exhaled sharply with a faint squeak from the back of my throat, and panted loudly, each breath a short grunt. Finally, I made a long sigh as the flames spread over my belly and my eyes squeezed shut. I opened them and looked into her dark gaze as she draped the whip once more on my belly.

"That's my brave man. I knew you could be strong for me. And look how hard you are! But let's see if you can keep it hard for nineteen more strokes. Now look in my eyes!" I did, and the whip whistled once more. After the third stroke, I began to cry, but she continued to lash my belly with the same vigor.

I stood it for twelve strokes, and sobbed, "Please stop." Tears ran down to my ears.

She kneeled beside me and put her lips close to my ear. "Oh, Barry! I can't tell you how exciting this is for me. I love the look in your eyes just as the whip hits. You should see the marks it left." She moved down and softly kissed my belly. No matter how soft her lips, and how delicate her touch, the welts burned. I writhed and moaned with the pain. She moved up and wiped the tears from my face. "You have eight more to go. Can you still be my brave man?"

I couldn't speak, but I nodded yes.

She stood up and draped the whip on my thighs now. "You legs are still nice and white and untouched. I wonder if it will hurt more or less than your belly?"

The whip leaped again, cracking against my thighs. My back arched, raising my ass clear of the bench. My legs churned against the rope in a futile attempt to escape the intense burning. But I barely made a sound, only a stifled whimper. On the next stroke, the tears continued to flow freely, though quietly. I clamped my jaw shut so only a murmur came out as the whip fell.

After the nineteenth stroke, the whole front of my body was on fire. She bent over me and stroked my hair. "I love you so much, Barry. You're willing to sacrifice so much to make me happy. But I'm going to lay this last one across your nipples. I want it to hurt badly. You must know by now I'm a sick, sick person. I'm amazed that you can love me the way you do."

I managed to choke out, "I'll always love you, RoseAnn," but she was already straightening up. She dragged the whip across my chest. The heavy leather strands chafed at my nipples, making my already rigid cock swell further.

The whip whistled again, louder than before. The pain was sudden, white-hot, and furious. I screamed aloud, all resistance gone. I yelped and sobbed and cried as the flames licked at my chest and nipples. I thrashed uselessly against the bonds. My eyes shut and I couldn't open them again.

I felt her lips at my ear, and her breath whirled in the ear canal, sending pleasurable shivers that blended with the torches still burning at my nipples. She whispered, "Thank you so much, my lover. No one can understand my needs the way you can." The tip of her tongue touched the inside of my ear. Her fingers briefly stroked my cock. "I'm amazed you could stay hard through all that."

I tried to speak, choked, and tried again. "I love you."

"I hope so, but I'm very excited. I've got to come now. You're sure you don't mind, with my period and all?" She giggled. "Actually, you're all tied up. It wouldn't matter whether you minded or not."

"Untie my hands so I can help."

As she straddled me, I was thrilled beyond any self-control by the dark nylon that sheathed her legs and the garter belt that framed her dark pussy. Her breasts swayed under the black lace. She had to kick off her heels in order to crouch awkwardly over me, lying on the press bench. I pressed my palms against her buttocks to support some of her weight as she settled into place.

Her tampon was in, and she'd probably washed, since the taste of her was weaker than I liked. But it didn't matter. She was wild, and violent, and utterly selfish, wanting nothing but the most intense pleasure my tongue could give her. She came in only a few seconds, moaning aloud and bucking fiercely until she collapsed and folded over me, gasping for breath. I lay smothering for half a minute until I realized she was oblivious to my distress. I lifted her onto my chest and at last sucked air into my lungs.

She stretched out atop my body, and for a time, embraced me there and kissed me. Her breath was soft and warm on my face and neck, and I felt her heartbeat.

At last, she whispered, "Your chores aren't finished. You should take care of them now."

"Can I rub your feet, please?"

"When you're finished with your chores. Not until then. And then you'll have to beg me."

"I love your."