My phone buzzed.
Wear a skirt tonight.
Just reading the words on the screen sent little shivers of pleasure crawling down my spine.
And wear your hair down. Leave your panties at home, you won’t need them.
I looked at my work computer, it was twenty to five. Which was exactly twenty minutes too long. Fuck, I needed to see him. Yes, Sir, I texted back.
Good girl. Let yourself in, I’ll be in the office.
The gravel crunched under my tires a hour later, and I killed the engine. His house was dark. And without the glow of the dashboard, the darkness seemed almost palpable; a thing unto itself. I moved through it, dressed in a denim mini skirt and cursing the biting winter wind. I hesitated on the porch as my hand hovered over the door handle. A tiny drip of fear slid down my breast, to pool above my pussy.
Why was I afraid?
My breath caught, I didn’t know. Just one of those feelings.
My cunt clenched; my body liked being afraid. I could feel the gloss of moisture between my legs already.
On a whim, I kicked my shoes off. The ancient wood porch was cold under my bare feet, as I pushed the door open and stepped inside his kitchen.
The only light was from the dim orange glow of the wall heater, futile against the sucking, tangible darkness of the house. I shivered, even in the relative warmth. Again, something in the pit of my stomach pinged as another wave of fear washed over me.
Where did he say he was going to be? The office. In the back of the house.
No reason to be afraid. You know how to get to his office.
But it was so dark.
I took one step away from the door when I felt a hand clamp around my wrist. Every muscle in my body went rigid; I couldn’t even think to scream as panic flooded my veins.
He was so quick, twisting my arm behind my back and pushing me up against the wall. The texture abraded my cheek, as I struggled uselessly against the weight of him. His grip was immovable, and the pain in my shoulder blossomed as he wrenched my hand up.
“Hello, darling.” His breath was hot against my ear, a tease compared to the heated line of his body.
He brought my wrist up higher, and I moaned. Images of a dislocated joint raced through my mind. “Please,” I whispered. “You’re hurting me.”
“Am I?” He raised my hand higher.
I hissed in pain. “Please.”
I felt his teeth graze my collar bone. “Show me that ass.” He didn’t let me go, but bit down into my muscle.
Delicious spirals of pain cascaded down my body. My back bowed, and I pressed my ass back against him. “No.”
I don’t what possessed me.
He bit down harder, and I screamed. I knew he was going to leave a bruise there.
I wanted him to leave a bruise there; I wanted him to leave bruises all over my body.
He let go of my collarbone, but his hand around my wrist tightened. “I won’t ask you again.” His voice was a beautiful threat, full of painful promise.
Fuck, I needed it. “Make me.”
My shoulder howled in agony as he brought it impossibly higher.
I waited to hear the pop of my joint, as my breath came in short, hurried gasps. With his free hand, I felt him pull my tiny skirt up to my waist and dig his fingers into my flesh of my bare ass. It hurt, and I leaned into it.
“Filthy slut,” he said. “You like when I abuse you?” He let go, only to bring his palm crashing down against my ass cheek.
He knew this answer, of course.
Again, and again, and again; the burning fire built in my skin. Coupled with the pain in my shoulder, every slap swirled a new eddy of torment in my mind. He kicked my feet apart; the leather of his dress shoes felt cool against the sides of my bare feet. The slipperiness between my legs dripped down my thighs.
“Where are your shoes?” I could hear the growl in his voice.
“Left them… outside,” I told him, in between anguished breaths.
Time and darkness and pain blended together.
“Outside,” I heard him say. “I should make you leave all your clothes out there.”
I moaned. “Please…” I wanted to believe I was asking him to let me go, to finally release my aching shoulder, but I knew that wasn’t true.
I heard him laugh, and the sound of it skittered across my body. “Maybe next time. If you’re good.”
“What makes… you think I’m going… to be good?” My sentence was punctuated with my staccato breathing.
He let go of my wrist, but my relief was short as he grabbed both of my hands and brought them over my head. His other hand snaked around my throat, pulling my head back and bending my spine further.
“I don’t.” He dragged his teeth down my neck.
I was starting to feel dizzy, and my pussy clenched.
“Maybe I’ll make you beg to stand on my porch, naked.” He bit down on my neck, hard, and I shuddered in his hands.
Bruise me. Leave your marks all over me.
I felt my muscles go limp at the same time he let me go, and my knees crumpled. Time seemed to slow as I listened to the rush of blood in my ears and the floor came up to meet me.
Some feeling, something deep inside me panicked. Something about the dark, about my thready breath, about the slowness of my muscles. I could feel the presence of him, the heat of him, a threat all in itself.
My fear coalesced into a burning, aching need, as I felt his hand thread through my hair and squeeze. I tried to pull back, but it was like pulling against a brick wall. “Please…” I begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”
He dragged me onto my back by my hair, and I felt his weight settle on top of me. As he held my head still, he rested his palm against my cheek.
I knew what was going to happen, and I struggled underneath him.
His fingers caressed my cheekbone. “Shh, now. What am I going to find between your legs? A soaking wet pussy,” he said. “So don’t pretend you don’t love this.”
The first slap twisted my face to the side, as a new pain spread from my ear to my lip. The second and third multiplied the throbbing into something awful and inescapable.
“Beg me,” he said. “Tell me how much you need this.”
Every breath was an effort with him on top of me, and I could feel my lip starting to swell.
I closed my eyes — not that it made much difference in the darkness — and rubbed my legs together. They were slick and ready for him.
He dragged his hand down over my tits, down my stomach, to rest his fingers against my overheated pussy. I squirmed, trying to get them inside. I needed him inside of me.
He nipped at my earlobe. “Tell me what a filthy little pain slut you are. Tell me how wet and needy this makes you.”
I shook my head, even though he was right.
I didn’t want to be good. My pussy clenched. I wanted him to take me, use me, fill me up. Choke me just to see how wet I’d really get for him. Leave bruises all over me and his cum leaking out of every hole.
I shook my head.
Even in the dark, I could hear the grin on his face. “Okay, I’ll make you scream it, instead.”
Photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash