June 17, 2009

The Price of Words

Posted in stories at 2:10 am by littlesubmissions

The sounds falling out his mouth changed from pleading words to strangled animal sounds of pain and back again.

She snorted and put a foot between his shoulder blades, shoving him down on all fours. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I haven’t even started on your ass yet. I know you can take more than that.” She sat down in front of him, grabbed his jaw in one hand and squeezed. “Stick out your tongue.” She stared at his eyes, smirking at the mixture of bliss and pain as she let clothes pegs clamp down on the spit soaked meat. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.” More clothes pegs biting his lips, hanging off his flesh and pulling his mouth into twisted caricature shapes.

Drool had started to trace down the wooden pegs, rolling around the springs and pooling on the end when she walked back behind him. He heard the swish of air and she started to work on his ass.

His body rocked back and forth, jumbled words coming out as he rolled forward with the pain and turning into whimpers as he rocked back for the next blow. Wood clicking off teeth as he tried to form words around the clothes pegs distorting his lips. He was watching the line of spit on the floor formed by his droll and still listening to his own words when she walked past him shaking her head.

She came back with a roll of plastic wrap from the kitchen, started pulling clothes pegs off his lips and tongue and throwing them on the floor. “For fuck’s sake, I feel like you’re patronizing me.” His lips and tongue were still aching from the rush of returning blood when she pushed his mouth shut. The plastic wrap went around his head from top to bottom, holding his jaw shut, then changed direction ninety degrees, wrapping around his mouth in a tight, clear bandage. Drool was smeared across his face, shining liquid lines under the plastic and harsh breaths came out of his nostrils.

She ripped the roll of plastic off, poked him in the nose with the end. “If you want to eat my pussy, say ‘Sally sells seashells by the seashore.”‘

Faint, mumbled, inarticulate sounds came out of the layers of plastic as he tried to work his immobile jaw.

She nodded, and tossed the rest of the plastic wrap aside. “Guess not. Now, your safe word is three loud grunts in a row. Do it for me as practice.”

He breathed in deep through his nose, made three loud grunting sounds from deep in his chest. Satisfied she could hear him she picked up the crop and walked back behind him, checking the red lines on his body to see where she had stopped beating him. “Don’t worry boy, I’ll take it off before we’re done. The only difference is that then when you’re begging me to stop, I’ll know you really mean it.”

She paused while the crack thunder of leather hitting flesh faded. Harsh breathing was the only sound in the room, her rapid lust filled and shallow and his long, deep, and suffering.

She planted her feet carefully, and rolled her shoulder back. “I actually like your begging, but you’re going to earn it. So before you start pissing and moaning over a few love taps, I want you to stop and think, and remember just how much those words mean to me.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

1 Comment »

  1. Ferns said,

    Where are you V? I miss you.


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