Page 24 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
I feel certain I’m ready now. My wetness drips shamelessly down my thighs, and I’m so aroused even Brian’s cock doesn’t feel like too much. It’s been a while since I experienced him like that, and I was sore for days afterward. Sinking down on his erection rode the hard edge between pleasure and pain, but still,I couldn’t get enough. And as large as what he’s about to stick inside me is, it’s really no comparison for the real thing.
“Stand up,” he orders.
I stand and spread my legs for him so he can smooth the arousal cream on my pussy. He massages a healthy amount into and around my clit, my labia, even dipping inside. It takes about fifteen minutes to take effect, and then I’ll feel like an animal in heat for about an hour, unless he chooses to apply more and torment me longer.
I gasp as he helps me into the chastity belt, and the phallus sinks deeply within me. He locks it with a key from his pocket.
“Go lie down on the bed.”
I do, grateful I’ll be lying down when this cream really hits. I was already so turned on, it seems impossible to me it could get worse, but I know from personal experience that it can.
Brian undresses and gets into the bed beside me, spooning his body around mine. He kisses the side of my throat and strokes every bared inch of me.
I start to moan and whimper and beg when the cream kicks in. “Please, Master. Please, I’ll do anything.”
He only chuckles. We both know he’s the one with the power now. It seems to slide and flow without any effort between the two of us, a true exchange. Not a singular power hand off as it was when he first bought me. Though that was more him taking power, I didn’t exactly flutter with excitement and say: “Here, take all my power away.” Not that I’d had any back then.
His fingertips trail slowly up my thigh, pausing at the chastity belt. Then he presses his hand hard between my legs which shifts the belt the tiniest fraction of an inch, moving the phallus inside me that same tiny amount. He could do this all day and all it would do is drive me crazier. I can’t come this way, and he knows it.
“Master… please…” There is no part of me willing to defy him right now. He holds the power of my next orgasm, and I won’t risk that he’ll torment me like this for days. Maybe he isn’t a cruel sadist with me, but there are different kinds of sadism, and I’m sure Brian can figure out ways to genuinely torture me without harming me.
“You’ve been such a bad girl,” he purrs in my ear, as he strokes me.
“Please,” I whisper. I want to promise I’ll be so much better, but… the truth is, I probably won’t be. And we both know it.
I wish I was one of those rare women who could have an orgasm by her thoughts alone. It would be the one way to override his scheme and get the upper hand. The cream is driving me crazy. All that seems to exist right now is my pussy and the clawing need being created by the combination of the arousal cream and a phallus that refuses to fuck me.
“Shhhh.” He presses kisses over my throat and collar bone.
We lay together in the darkness of the room, him holding me and stroking me, comforting me through the punishment he initiated. Finally the cream wears off, I get used to the feeling of fullness between my legs, and I drift off to sleep.
When I wake from my nap, Brian is unlocking the chastity belt. He smacks me on the ass.
“Go use the bathroom. I have further plans for you.”
Of course he does.
Brian helps me out of the chastity belt. I feel bereft and empty now that nothing fills me, and I hope he fixes that with his cock very soon. Right now I’m completely removed from the woman who killed two men, but I’m also completely removed from the woman who came to the house so broken and fragile.
Instead, now I am what I wanted to become originally when I took the first faltering steps into trying to fulfill my needs and desires, when I went to the first man I wrongly trusted with mybody and my heart. The first abusive dom. It’s so beyond fucked up that all the men who parroted “safe, sane, and consensual” were coercive, abusive monsters with me, and yet a real monster, a true killer understands how to handle me in a way I won’t break.
So men know. They understand what they’re doing to you. They just don’t care. Nothing reigns more supreme than the selfish greed for their own orgasm. At any cost.
I’m aware on a certain level that Brian is the very worst sort of man to trust with these things. Sociopath is the most polite word that could be used to describe what this man is. And yet I eagerly open my legs for him every time he demands it, and he has yet to disappoint me.
He guides me to a chair and orders me to sit in it and spread my legs. I do as he asks. The chair faces the large antique full-length mirror in our room. He binds my legs to the chair and my hands behind my back.
“Look at yourself,” he orders.
I look at myself in the mirror.
“No.Look.”
He takes my chin in his hand and directs my gaze downward. “Look at your pussy.”
I’m sitting so close to the mirror, and Brian has turned on all the lights in the room. I’ve never felt this fully exposed, not ever. Not even before Brian and the house. It occurs to me in this moment that I have never once done this. Despite all the twisted kinky games I’ve played with other men, and despite the things Brian and I have done.
Yes, I’ve seen my own pussy. I’ve seen it on video, but this is so much different, so much more intimate. There’s distance with film or with a photograph. Here there is no distance. It’s just the raw physical moment. It’s weird to think you lack intimacy with yourself… the person you’re always with. How can I carrythis body around for so long and hide so much from my own experience of myself?
