Free Beautiful Agony (A Tale Of Savage Love, Part I) by Dominique D. DuBois Page B

supple and so dense , I knew they had to have cost a fortune.  Even so, they were giving me burns clearly indicative of someone having been fucked on their hands and knees.  And with that, I felt guilt.  Why was I doing this?  What had made me so sick, so disgusting that I needed to have the darkness beat right out of me?  Thwack , thwack , thwack .
    The next one caught me lower, right against my delicate lips.  I heard the wet ness there, realized how viscously the tissues were swelling.  Everything down there was so damn hot, my m uscles were clenching, my inner walls fervent ly clamping down in eager anticipation .  He smacked me again and I grunted like an animal.  There was nothing lady-like about me any longer.  I was naught but a savage whore.
    Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  The rhythmic thudding was burning and stinging more and more.  “Fuck you,” I gasped out, suddenly furious.  I shook my head against his hand, trying to wrench his cruel, iron grip loose.  B ut he just tightened his fingers, clenching my hair even more sternly as he whacked.  Swea t was dripping off my brow and o nto the sheets.  I growled.  He laughed.
    Now each time he smacked me , I felt my rage growing; flowering, blooming, coming to ripe, bloody fruition.  I wanted to turn around and rip his throat out.  The frustration was nearly overwhelming.  I couldn’t take it anymore.
    Just when I thought I was done, just when I figured I would reach back and snatch his hand out of my hair (even if it pulled some out by the roots), and then whip myself around and smack him right across his calculating, callous and despicable face, his hard, rough fingers once agai n came down and caught my pussy.  T his time they lashed right up against my throbbing cli t.  I was swept away in another tide of sensation and emotion, this one so fierce, so sharp; it almost made me come right then and there.
    “Ah, God, oh God…” I shrieked.  “Ple ase, please , please! ”  I was begging , frantic…desperate .  Without warning, tears began streaming down my face.   His hand at the back of my head had become unexpectedly comforting; quite odd because it was still causing a great deal of pain.
    “What do you want, Ruby?” he asked , aloofly ruthless .
    “Please,” I whimpered, “please.”
    “Tell me what you fucking want.”   Cold.  Arrogant.
    “ I, I, I ,” I kept stammering.
    “What?” he bellowed, his free hand smacking right into the heart of my pussy again.  My thighs began shuddering, stomach tightening, clit oris twitching and spasming helplessly.   The need was immense.
    “I want it, please.  P lease give it to me,” I begged brokenly , totally at the end of my rope.
    With each slap against my sore, flayed cheeks , my nipples scraped back and forth, back and forth.  Even that small sensation was driving me mad.  Every single cell in my body had come alive, each atom was awoken, each tiny tissue was aflame.   My poor, aching ass was in acute distress , the skin there raw and practically blistered.  The spanking had gone from merely difficult and uncomfortable, to agonizingly excruciating .  Yet all I could think about was having him inside me.
    I knew I could let go of the rails, turn around, and then try to appeal for some sort of blessed release from him .  But I was also aware that to do so would undoubtedly result in my loss in the end .  The only way to accomplish anything was to follow his rules, play his game, submit to his will.   And even so, even though I was in abject misery, I also realized instinctively that every single blow I endured now, would somehow, someway, banish a tiny piece of my ever-present grief and sorrow forever.  How could I change it , then ?  How could I ever ask him to stop?
    Rather abruptly , h e stopped spanking me and pulled back on my hair, wrenching my head up off the bed and shattering my thoughts into splintered shards .  I opened my eyes and saw the wall, fuzzy and dim.