A rough day today at work. There was so much to get done and so little time in which to do it all, I felt the knot in my shoulders start while I was eating lunch in front of the computer, tightening like a screw into the back of my neck, a knife-pain stabbing down my sides by 5:30 when I had to stop working. My desk was a mess, papers piled everywhere, and I just left it. I couldn't stand to be there another minute. Just like I left home and came here this morning because I couldn't stand to be at home another minute. Somewhere, this has to stop.
The gas light came on in my car halfway home. I'd have to stop, I wouldn't make it all the way. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station in a part of town I rarely stopped in--a neighborhood little different from my own, but not my own. I almost felt like crying. Thoughts of Greg had been tickling in the back of my head all day, pushed away with work and threatening to surface. But I couldn't let them. I couldn't. I just needed a good fuck, I needed a good thrashing, someone to pound the hell out of me and pound Greg out of me. I needed to forget myself for just a little while so that when I remembered again, I'd remember all of me, I'd reclaim the parts Greg took away.
At the gas station I opened my tank and put the mid-grade nozzle in. Across from me, on the other side of the pump, was a gorgeous man, short, built, black hair, green eyes. My breath caught when I saw him. If only he could do it, I thought, if only he could tie me down and beat Greg out of me... he caught my eye. Shit, I thought, and dropped my gaze, then looked back at him. He was sizing me up. A thrill went through my thighs and up into my stomach. Maybe he could. I dropped my eyes, let him look me over, unable to believe my luck. I glanced back up to see what he thought. He gave me a barely readable nod. My gut lurched. Oh God, I thought. Can I really do this? I can do this. I need this. I need this so bad.
I put the nozzle back in the pump and took my receipt, got back into my car. I was scared. I couldn't let him see I was scared. What if he hurt me too bad? What if I wanted him to stop and he wouldn't? What if he was a psycho and he'd kill me and put me in his basement? I didn't care. I didn't care. I couldn't keep going like this, something had to snap. I'd let him snap me. Things couldn't get worse.
I followed him back to his house. We parked, and went inside, to the kitchen. I kept my eyes down, not looking around me at the inside of his house, though it had smelled good when we came in, springy, fresh. He walked over to me and raised his hand to touch me. I nearly stopped breathing. I knew nothing about him. And I wanted him so bad to do whatever he wanted to me. I wanted him to break me. He laced his fingers through my hair and I screamed in my head for him to hit me, to hurt me, to do something to demean me--and he must have heard it, because he twisted his fingers through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I moaned in pleasure and my cock instantly hardened, and he slapped me across the face. "Shh," he said. I swallowed the sting on my skin and nodded.
"Tell me your name," he said.
"Mark," I answered. He repeated my name as if he were tasting it, then said, "All right, Mark, are you ready to play?"
I could barely get the word "yes" out I wanted it so bad. He told me he was going to test me and brought me into a cold empty bedroom. I hoped he couldn't see my hands shaking. Come on come on come on, I kept repeating in my head, what can I do to make you hit me again, I fucking loved it... I could still feel the shape of his fingers on my face. The light in the room was dim, almost creepy. "Strip," he said. I paused. I had to do this, I told myself. "Now," he said, "or you can leave. Your choice."
I started undoing my tie. I glanced at him, at his body, not looking at his face as I undid my buttons. I could see his cock through his pants, could tell he needed to adjust it. I dropped my tie, finished with the buttons, dropped the white shirt and peeled my t-shirt off. His eyes licked at my skin, at the results of all this time spent skipping dinner because I couldn't eat it and swimming off my stress in the gym's pool. He wanted me. But I wanted him to hurt me. Bad.
"Stop," he said when I reached for my belt. "Walk over here." I did, stood in front of him not looking at his face although it was hell not to, to read his eyes and see what he was thinking as his eyes practically raped me. He reached up and touched me, turned me around with a nudge, ran his fingers over my spine. I thought I'd crack right then and start begging him to fuck me but I held it together. He was teasing me. Good. I turned back toward him and he ran his fingers up my stomach, latched onto my left nipple and pinched and twisted. Sparks of red pain shot through my vision and I held my breath, feeling myself getting harder and harder as he twisted. Finally I couldn't take keeping my face straight through the pain in my nipple, and my features twisted and I gasped. He gave an extra hard twist and shoved me back. "Pants now," he said.
I immediately did as he requested, stripping naked. I felt his eyes on my cock, which was so hard it was hugging my torso. "Get out of those ridiculous socks." He said. I did. He told me to turn slowly so he could see everything. I felt degraded, being made to parade in front of him like this while he stood there with all his clothes on. And I loved it. I just wanted to be a sex doll for him. I didn't want to be a human. I wanted to be nothing. He unzipped and adjusted his cock. I'd hoped it would be slightly bigger. It was large, but it wouldn't hurt me. I wanted pain. I looked at him, begging him with my eyes to let me take it into my mouth, the sweet tang of his lust sweat shoved into my throat. He shook his head. "You've left your clothes in a heap on the floor," he said. "I took you for someone who'd know better." I bent down quickly to pick them up. "It's too late now, Mark," he said. "The damage is done. Bring me your belt."
Oh God, I thought, and froze. It was going to happen. He was going to hurt me. I hesitated too long, and he took a step to me and slapped me, harder than he had done in the kitchen. I nearly cried with relief. He told me to respond more quickly. I nodded, reached down and groped around until I found my belt. I couldn't open my eyes. This was so good. I handed him my belt and he told me to shove the shirts in the closet aside and hold onto the hanger bar. My knuckles turned white I grasped it so hard. My cock was screaming at me to do something to give it relief. I felt something warm on my naked ass. His fingers. He was kneading my ass. Squeezing it. I didn't think I could get harder but I did. Come on, I thought, bury your cock in my ass, you know you want to. I felt him put it in the crack of my ass, then withdraw it and I heard the swish of leather through the air and an agonizing crack as my belt met my skin. A sound came from my throat and my cock spasmed. Yes, I thought, thank you, yes. He hit me over and over, harder each time, my ass, the backs of my thighs, sending streaks through my vision, sending blood pulsing through my cock, bringing me almost to orgasm with the strength of his whipping, my knees weak, my jaw clasped shut hard to keep the sounds inside me. I gasped and he stopped. I stood shaking, sweating, trying to catch my breath. God don't stop, I thought. I'd almost come. I'd almost gotten to the point of feeling the pain turn to fire and pleasure, almost lost it and screamed into an orgasm. But he didn't want that to happen yet. "Now pick up your clothes and fold them neatly. You can leave them in a stack by the door."
I did so. My hands, when I pried them off the bar, were stuck in a curled shape from gripping it so hard, and it was difficult to fold my clothes. When I'd done, I reached for the bar in the closet again, praying silently that he'd whip me more until I came and then whip me past that, into some sort of nirvana where I'd forget everything. But he said "Come here, look at me."
I met his eyes. I tried to tell him without words how much I needed this, how god-like he was to know my need and to deliver on it, how I wanted to worship him and thank him. "You did well with the belt," he said. "Now this is important, I want to be sure you understand. I'm going to hurt you more before I fuck you. And I'm going to hurt you while I fuck you. And then when I'm finished fucking you, I may hurt you some more. Are you with me?"
I nodded. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly moved it up and down while he kept talking to me. He explained about safe words, red, yellow, green, while I tried not to fall onto the carpet and beg him to hit me, break me, make me scream. It was hard to concentrate on his words, I could feel my heart beating and blood flowing through every vein of my body with need. He explained he'd walk me back into green if something was too much to handle, asked me if I understood. I nodded. "Good. Tell me where you are now," he said.
"Green," I answered. "Green like your gorgeous eyes." I waited for him to slap me again but he didn't, and the lack of it was like dying of thirst. He stared me down as I burned with shame for doing this, with pleasure in my shame. "On your knees," he said. "Facing way from me. Hands in your lap."
So military, I thought, doing as he said. I heard him open the nightstand. Please be getting something out of there that's going to hurt me so bad I come and come and come, I thought. Please. After a moment I felt him slipping something over my eyes. A blindfold. My cock grew harder, having relaxed a few moments while I waited. Excellent. The pain would come as a surprise. I felt him tracing something warm over my lips. Was it his cock, or his fingertips? I was so hard, so hard I had to do something about it, I had to get relief. I traced my fingers over the tight skin of the head of my cock and then felt agonizing pain as he twisted my arm around behind my back to stop me. I cried out, again nearly coming with the streaks of light the pain shot through me. He left me for a moment and I heard him at the nightstand. My hand, still aching from where he'd twisted it, went back to my cock as if of its own accord, and suddenly a shocking, searing jolt went across the side of my face and I felt myself moving through the air to meet the floor. He'd hit me so hard I'd fallen over. I couldn't stop this. I needed to come, so fucking bad I could hear my neurons firing with it. I writhed around, trying to find him, to hook myself onto his body and rub my cock against him, against anything, to let out the cum that was threatening to explode onto both of us. He struggled me into wrist restraints while I fought him, trying to get my cock to touch any surface, anything, my soul would come screaming out of it the instant I reached something with it. Finally he twisted me so that I was belly-down on the carpet and I lay there gasping silently for a moment. He opened the nightstand again and I writhed against the floor, trying to make myself come, moaning, so close I could hardly breathe I needed this so bad. He shoved me over onto my back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mark?" he asked. Something snaked around my neck: a collar. Oh God, Jesus, I thought. You don't know what you're doing to me. You don't know and I can't explain to you what's happening, I can't explain I'm being taken over, I need this, this is what I need...in the darkness I felt something touch my cock and my balls tightened. I was going to come fuck I was going to come--but the touch stopped and my lips were smeared with something wet. My pre-cum. He was smearing my lips with my pre-cum. I liked at it, reached my face up when he took his hand away. "Please," I whispered. He yanked my collar and pulled me onto my side. "Please what, Mark?" he asked.
"Oh God please touch me again," I moaned. Please, please, it echoed in my head until I thought I'd cry. Please.
"Mark, Mark, surely you don't expect something for nothing." He dropped my collar and I fell away, unsure of where the floor was beneath me, scared to death and more turned on than I'd ever been in my life. I struggled against the restraints he'd wrestled me into and felt him do something to my collar. A leash. He tugged me up and led me by the neck, out of the room where he'd stripped me of my clothing and my dignity. I followed, trusting that he'd give me the release I needed.
Comments? Suggestions? Please email me at stake_a_claim@yahoo.com. All text copyright i_wonder, 2005.