As an unrelated thought, how much better would fiction be if everything included spanking? Romeo & Juliet, with spanking. Ouch! That hurteth.
She struggles to get a word out, any noise at this point would be a small victory, but she comes up with only more telling silence. He knows he is close to breaking her, but the battle isn't over yet. Still panting, even her failing strength motivates her body to continue to fight against him.
He moves her arms over her head and she feels the cool leather of his belt slip around her wrists. In one quick motion, he tears her shirt from her back and tosses it into a heap on the other side of the room. Pulling out his cold steel, he cuts her bra away and leaves a slight trail of crimson behind where the blade had been less than careful. She should have been worrying about her clothes, they had cost her a fortune, but her mind fixated on the tiny sting. She knew that her heaving breaths had something to do with the cut, but she couldn't fail to look past what that would mean to things to come. His bloodlust was strong and even the scent of her coppery lifefluid in the air would intensify his need.
As predicted, his breaths grew heavier and more animalistic. He began nipping at her ears and licked the wound on her back clean. He hovered over her like some sort of sadistic vulture, waiting for the killing stroke. She could feel his aura slide over hers, their cells locked in a wrestling match for dominance. Even though she knew this was a game she would never win, she still had to try.
"Get. The fuck. Off of me" she said, her voice barely a whisper and nearly impossible to hear over his breathing.
"You knew this was coming. You know better than to question me. I always get my way. You're mine. All it would take for this to be over is for you to say so."
And, with that announcement, he plunged his teeth into her pale neck. Her body shook with the shock the pain delivered, then she lay still. She expected him to pull back with chunks of her flesh but, as he pulled away, she saw from the corner of her eye that only blood dripped from his mouth. Before the small relief that knowledge afforded was able to wash over her, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. The red stain spilled onto their cream colored sheets as she wondered what was in store for her next.
Removing the belt from her wrists and replacing it with a dark colored, rough, woven cord, he leaned back onto his elbows and gazed at her.
"I'm going to put you over my knee now. I'm going to hit you with this belt until your ass is raw and red, until your body looks like artwork. Nothing you say will make this any better. It is going to hurt. But if you fight me, I can find ways to make it hurt even more and for a longer period of time. Do we understand each other?"
She met his cold gaze, trying to erase the obvious fear in her eyes, and nodded as a tear escaped. He wiped it up with his thumb, smearing her own blood onto her face. He slid her jeans and panties down and off, leaving her lying there wearing only her own blood and knee-high argyle heather grey socks.
Hauling her over his knee, the girl braces herself for the belt. This isn't her first time, and it wouldn't be her last. She hadn't been able to embrace the pain yet, however, and wasn't able to rise above it. Every strike still hurt worst than the first, with no relief to come.
Even though she had prepared herself, the first strike still stung like lightening. There was a satisfactory echoed slap* to it, and he smiled with pleasure. Her skin began to welt immediately, raising hot red edges against the imprint of the belt. He ran his thumb over it gently, as if admiring his work. Tears dripped silently from her eyes onto the floor, a mixture of salt and copper. He raised the belt again and grinned a cold grin at the flinch of her skin before the belt connected.
Over and over the belt fell and, although random grunts attributed her lack of pain control manifested themselves, she was mostly silent. This wasn't her time to fight and she was silent under his sadism. Secrectly, she noticed herself beginning to grow wet with every stroke. She wouldn't let him win that easily though and she hoped he wouldn't notice...
*Thanks to Eala for being my subject for the exact assignment of the noise a belt makes as it hits flesh. Oh darling, you please me so.
He moves her arms over her head and she feels the cool leather of his belt slip around her wrists. In one quick motion, he tears her shirt from her back and tosses it into a heap on the other side of the room. Pulling out his cold steel, he cuts her bra away and leaves a slight trail of crimson behind where the blade had been less than careful. She should have been worrying about her clothes, they had cost her a fortune, but her mind fixated on the tiny sting. She knew that her heaving breaths had something to do with the cut, but she couldn't fail to look past what that would mean to things to come. His bloodlust was strong and even the scent of her coppery lifefluid in the air would intensify his need.
As predicted, his breaths grew heavier and more animalistic. He began nipping at her ears and licked the wound on her back clean. He hovered over her like some sort of sadistic vulture, waiting for the killing stroke. She could feel his aura slide over hers, their cells locked in a wrestling match for dominance. Even though she knew this was a game she would never win, she still had to try.
"Get. The fuck. Off of me" she said, her voice barely a whisper and nearly impossible to hear over his breathing.
"You knew this was coming. You know better than to question me. I always get my way. You're mine. All it would take for this to be over is for you to say so."
And, with that announcement, he plunged his teeth into her pale neck. Her body shook with the shock the pain delivered, then she lay still. She expected him to pull back with chunks of her flesh but, as he pulled away, she saw from the corner of her eye that only blood dripped from his mouth. Before the small relief that knowledge afforded was able to wash over her, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. The red stain spilled onto their cream colored sheets as she wondered what was in store for her next.
Removing the belt from her wrists and replacing it with a dark colored, rough, woven cord, he leaned back onto his elbows and gazed at her.
"I'm going to put you over my knee now. I'm going to hit you with this belt until your ass is raw and red, until your body looks like artwork. Nothing you say will make this any better. It is going to hurt. But if you fight me, I can find ways to make it hurt even more and for a longer period of time. Do we understand each other?"
She met his cold gaze, trying to erase the obvious fear in her eyes, and nodded as a tear escaped. He wiped it up with his thumb, smearing her own blood onto her face. He slid her jeans and panties down and off, leaving her lying there wearing only her own blood and knee-high argyle heather grey socks.
Hauling her over his knee, the girl braces herself for the belt. This isn't her first time, and it wouldn't be her last. She hadn't been able to embrace the pain yet, however, and wasn't able to rise above it. Every strike still hurt worst than the first, with no relief to come.
Even though she had prepared herself, the first strike still stung like lightening. There was a satisfactory echoed slap* to it, and he smiled with pleasure. Her skin began to welt immediately, raising hot red edges against the imprint of the belt. He ran his thumb over it gently, as if admiring his work. Tears dripped silently from her eyes onto the floor, a mixture of salt and copper. He raised the belt again and grinned a cold grin at the flinch of her skin before the belt connected.
Over and over the belt fell and, although random grunts attributed her lack of pain control manifested themselves, she was mostly silent. This wasn't her time to fight and she was silent under his sadism. Secrectly, she noticed herself beginning to grow wet with every stroke. She wouldn't let him win that easily though and she hoped he wouldn't notice...
*Thanks to Eala for being my subject for the exact assignment of the noise a belt makes as it hits flesh. Oh darling, you please me so.
This entry was posted by Mellie, on
Tuesday, February 28, 2006.
