Free Comfort Food by Kitty Thomas

at the sensation. Now she was just glad to be getting sensation at all, even if it hurt. His mouth latched onto her breast, and her breathing deepened as he swirled his tongue over her flesh, soothing where he’d just hurt her.
    She gripped his shoulders as he stripped the sweatpants from her body. She never wanted to wear these clothes again. He pushed her to her knees; she fumbled with the fly of his pants. Then she was sucking him, desperately seeking to please him enough that he would forgive her for her former sins.
    He stroked his fingers through her hair, comforting her, urging her onward, and then he pulled out of her.
    “Did I do something wrong?”
    In response, he positioned her on the concrete floor on her hands and knees facing away from him, spreading her legs slightly. She could hear him rifling through his pants on the floor, and then he was on his knees behind her.
    His fingers found her clit, and he stroked her. She moved back, trying to grind harder into him. It had been so long since he’d touched her like this. She was willing to do anything to make sure he never stopped for so long again. She panted, and a moan escaped her throat.
    “Please . . . yes . . . ” she whimpered.
    He kept going until she came and screamed out her release, sobbing with relief that he was finally touching her again. Then she turned to see him squirting something out of a tube.
    Lubricant.
    She started to crawl away from him, back into her corner. “No, Master, please.”
    He shrugged, then stood and moved toward the door again. He refused to give her the peace of doing anything without her permission, no matter what a joke it was. She panicked.
    “Don’t leave me here again. I can’t take it. I can’t take anymore of this. I’ve been here two weeks, please.”
    He turned back to her and held up the lube, a question in his eyes.
    She nodded and moved back into the position he’d placed her in. She still wasn’t sure this would earn her a ticket out of the cell, especially since she’d fought him.
    She couldn’t help tensing when he approached her. He stroked her back over and over, his fingertips playing lightly over her skin. “Shhhh,” he soothed. “Shhhh.”
    She began to calm. He’d refused for weeks to speak to her, and although this wasn’t exactly speech, it was communication. It was sound. She began to cry over the tiny crumb he gave her and relaxed further.
    He prodded her entrance with one lubed finger, as he continued to stroke her back with his other hand. She didn’t resist. She cried out as the finger eased inside her, and he went more slowly, more gently.
    She found she was grateful for that. It was small, but it was something. He continued with the one finger until her body got used to the sensation, and the burning pain ebbed away. Then he repeated the process with two fingers while her fear mounted higher.
    “Shhhh,” he soothed again, when she started to cry, his free hand rubbing her back.
    When her body had gotten used to fingers he withdrew them and slowly eased his cock into her. She let out a hiss, but soon the pain passed, and he urged her to start moving. Slowly, she fucked herself on him as he panted behind her. Then his fingers returned to her clit, and she began the climb toward her second orgasm.
    When she came it felt like a shot of electricity zipping up her spine. He pulled out of her and cradled her in his arms, stroking his fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head while she cried. More from relief than anything else . . .

SIX

    He didn’t take me to the good cell. Instead, he led me to another room, one I’d never been to. When he removed the blindfold, my mouth fell open.
    Too many things to look at. There were chains on the wall and a metal table with cuffs on it. There were whips and canes and other various implements of pain that I didn’t exactly know the names of. There was a giant, round bed with a red velvet comforter pressed against one wall,