The List 11: Fingers are for massaging

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From part 10: She sighed and leaned back. “Good boy. I wonder how quickly that hair will grow back? In the mean time…”

She stood up and hauled him to his feet by his hair. He slid off the bed and stood hesitantly, testing his posture, checking carefully to see if his balls would be pulled painfully away from his body. She laughed and slapped his ass, falling face down on the bed. “Take the chopsticks off, and make with the massaging already. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

He spread his legs and carefully pulled the rubber bands off one end of the chopsticks, opening them like a pair of scissors and letting his balls fall back to their natural position. He sighed at the sudden relief of stretched skin returning to its normal state, and the cool air rushing over the hot flesh.

Assorted aches and pains radiated through the lower half of his body as he got the massage oil off the nightstand and smeared it on his hands. He shuffled up the bed, wincing as his weight came down on his knees, and settled his hands on her shoulders. They took three deep breaths together, then he began working his hands against her muscles.

Her muscles were hard knots under his hands, and he leaned forward and grunted. “Fuck, how do you get so tense?”

She turned her head and sighed. “Got lots of shit going down, yo.”

He leaned into her body and started working his hands down her back, trying to force her muscles from tight knots into looser strands. “I think you need less shit going down, yo.”

She closed her eyes and shrugged with her eyebrows. “No choice, yo.”

He sighed and let it go, working his way back up and back down her body, trying to force the tension out of her body with his hands. He shuffled down her body on his knees, letting out a small gasp as his shins reminded him of the abuse they had recently suffered.

She made a happy sound and wriggled, her thoughts wandering over what she had done to his body. He ran his hands over her ass, sliding off the bed and leaning over to bite her lightly on one cheek. She giggled and kicked him lightly, shimmying forward a little. “None of that, or someone will be getting me a gag.”

He grinned and started working his way back up her body his cock twitching at the sight of her naked body underneath him. His hands carefully kneaded skin and muscle until they reached her shoulders, then worked their way across her scalp. They sank into her hair and pulled, gently increasing the pressure until she let out a little moan of pleasure.

She moaned and her legs slid apart a little. Her limbs felt soft and lazy, and the bed was warm under her. The desire to slip into sleep competed with the desire to hurt him again, the gentle nap of peace and sleep struggling with the hard dance of violence and human wreckage. Her eyes felt heavier and heavier, until finally she forced them closed, then grinned.

“Fuck me, right now, but no coming. You come, you’re dead.”

His jaw clenched and he shoved an arm under her stomach, dragging her body up, lining his cock up with her cunt. His other hand stayed in her hair, pulling her neck backwards, increasing the pressure as his cock slid inside of her. Her thighs spasmed and she moaned as he started to fuck her, the feeling of his cock inside her and the pressure on his scalp awakening something deep inside her.

She let him fuck her, let him feed that feeling while making it hungrier, let his cock build up her desire. Her eyelids fluttered and she felt the sleepiness melting away, felt the hot aggression and desire to hurt something, to see it suffer for her pleasure. “Faster.”

His hips slapped against the back of her legs, and she imagined what it was doing to his damaged body, to be forced to perform like this for her. She moaned and forced her ass back against him, trying to drive him deeper into her body, grinding herself against his thighs.

She let the pleasure wash over her, directing him, telling him to fuck her faster or slower, pushing her towards orgasm then grinding her teeth and forcing herself to slow down, to let the pleasure build rather than exploding and fading. Finally, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she snarled at him. “Stop!”

He halted, panting, his hips mashed against her ass and his cock inside of her. He leaned forward slightly, then stepped back as she pushed herself up. She stood and turned to face him, and he slid backwards a step when he saw the look in her eyes.

She locked eyes with him, her chest heaving from her breaths, her face froze in an animal snarl. “Remind me, what are your hands for?”

His voice was a muted whimper. “For being restrained, ma’am.”

She nodded, and her lips curled into a rictus grin. “Then lets get some use out of them, shall we?”

Preview: Hands are for being restrained? Of course they are.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.