30 - Whats Good for the Goose. #3
My bra fell away, and he gasped with delight.
His fingers sank into my soft, supple flesh.
I shuddered with pleasure as the heat sang through me, and my small nipples were two sharp points.
He kissed me all over and fell to his knees.
His hand reached around the back of my head and grabbed a fistful of hair, arching my body back, accentuating the natural curves of my body.
My freckled skin became flushed, and sweat tingled on the surface.
Errant moans traveled on the gasps of my desire.
His grip tightened and pain flooded through my body, but there was something so freeing about this pain, something so wonderful. Somewhere along the way, it had blurred into pleasure, the kind of pleasure that I had never known, the kind of pleasure that only Ron could teach me.
“I think it’s time we took some pictures and videos for Owen,” he said, going to fetch his camera. That wasn’t the only thing he brought back either. I smiled as I saw the handcuffs and blindfold.
“No gag?” I asked.
He smirked. “I have other plans for your mouth.
Without asking, he grabbed my wrists and put them behind my back, clasping them together.
I struggled to test their strength and found that I could not break free.
Part of me wondered what would happen if he lost the key.
Maybe I would be forced to stay here forever as his sex slave.
I did not find the idea entirely unappealing.
He then kissed me again and ran his fingers around my mouth, teasing my lips as I tried to catch his fingers in order to suck them. I was desperate to suck something.
But then he placed the blindfold around my head, shrouding me in darkness. I wasn’t even going to be able to see the pictures he took.
He told me how to pose again. I tried my best, despite the fact that I was handcuffed and blindfolded.
I was still waiting to see what he had in store for my mouth.
I let it hang open, showing him that I was ready and waiting for him.
I imagined Owen would enjoy seeing how much of a slut I was being for Ron, as well.
I loved being able to please both of them at the same time like this, in entirely different ways.
It made the warm arousal simmer inside me and grow in this eternal blaze that I knew could not be stopped.
It pulsed within me, and I could feel it aching to break free.
It was only matter of time.
He grabbed my hair again. I had no idea if he was still filming or not, but I assumed he was.
I felt him grab my head with his other hand, his strong fingers clamped around my scalp.
I felt so tiny compared to him. Then the air became warm, and I felt something hot and smooth slide against my cheek.
I groaned as I turned to find it, searching through the darkness, and then my lips slipped around it.
I was filled with the taste of him. It slammed against my tongue and hit the back of my throat.
I had given blow jobs before, but never like this, because it wasn’t me who was in control. Ron was just using my mouth as though I was the sex toy.
At first, he held my head in place, and I could do nothing but simply take it.
He pounded my mouth without any reluctance or hesitation.
Saliva drizzled out of me as I gasped for breath, wanting to prove to him that I could take it, that I could be the best slut he had ever had.
My jaw began to ache, and the grip on my head did not cease, and I felt a simmering warmth twitching in the molten core of my body.
Then Ron switched it up. Instead of thrusting into my mouth, he took hold of my head and brought it back and forth. I slid up and down his cock, which was now drenched in my saliva. The world was a blur, and in the darkness, I was even more confused than before.
My lips were scorched with his heat, and my mouth felt absolutely ruined.
He was so thick and long that he filled me up entirely, and he just would not stop.
I was breathless and delirious and a complete mess.
I could feel the warm spit dribbling down my mouth, and then, like a battering ram, he came inside me.
Then he threw me down, and I landed on my back. I rolled to the side, my body burning, my skin aching. I gasped for breath and was intoxicated by the pain radiating through my body. It was a kind of blissfulness that I had never experienced before, though.
“You’re looking so good, Jo. I’m sure Owen is going to be a happy man. Almost as happy as I am,” Ron said.
I laughed deliriously, feeling my mind spool away as though I was losing all sense of who I was. Then I felt a cold sensation on my breasts. I wasn’t sure what it was, and Ron wouldn’t tell me. I was going to have to wait to find out.
His hands traveled down my body then, gripping my thighs.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp crack against my skin and knew he was using the whip.
It seemed like cruel torture to use this when I was blindfolded, as I had no way to brace myself against the pain, but I was too busy moaning to protest. Pain flared all over my body, and then it seemed as though Ron was done torturing me with pain.
It was time to torture me with pleasure.
I felt a buzzing sensation against my slick thigh as he raised a vibrator to my most intimate area.
I struggled to break free of the handcuffs, now so frustrated that I couldn’t touch him or myself.
I gasped and moaned, the sensations made even more intense by the fact that I had been deprived of my sight.
He teased me by taking it away then pressing it even harder against me, driving it deep inside the wetness of my body.
The rhythm of vibrations changed, as well, sending me reeling with every shifting motion.
Then he tossed that away and thrust his fingers inside me.
Feeling the intimate touch of him was more arousing than anything else, and I felt something burst within me.
The next thing I knew, his fingers were in my mouth.
I sucked on them hard, tasting my own sweet juices that had all poured out of me.
He dragged his hand down my body, leaving a glistening trail of pleasure, and then he ripped off my blindfold.
I gazed and blinked, feeling dizzy. I stared at him in his naked glory, murmuring my delight at the sight of his huge erection.
Everything about him screamed manliness.
Then I looked down at my breasts. The cool sensation I had felt was him writing on my body.
“Slut” and “whore” were marked in thick, black ink.
Yes, I thought, those were apt words and there was nothing else I wanted to be.
He seemed to read my mind.
“Tell Owen you’re my slut now. You can be his boyfriend, his lover, his wife, but you can never be his whore and his slut,” Ron ordered.
I did as he obeyed, knowing that Owen would enjoy the message.
Then Ron clamped his hand around my neck and pushed me halfway over the bed so that I was hanging off.
I groaned as I felt him plunge into me, reaching deeper than any other man had.
I thought he was going to break me in two. Part of me wanted him to.