Sexy as Hell Box Set (90 page)

She cackled. “It’s the same size as yours, Virgin, and I take your big dick up my arse, my cunt and in my mouth
, so why should you be allowed a little bitty one?”

“It’s not that, it’s…argh, fucking hell!”

She’d slapped my arse, hard. The pain was blinding, a white-hot heat of intensity. I jerked forwards, released my cock and dropped to my elbows.

“Stop whining. You have a safe word that you know how to use. If you can’t cope then say it, otherwise…” When she spoke again her tone was softer. “Look, just close your eyes and enjoy. Let your fears and inhibitions float away on that canal out there. I’ll look after you.” She dipped her finger to my
anus, stroked over it. “The way you always look after me when I’m scared.”

I did. Good. “Ah, oh, Jesus…” My words trailed off as she entered my
back
passage, one gloved finger popping in on a long slide until her knuckles touched my bum cheeks.

“I love your arse, Victor. I love playing with it, kissing it, licking it, flogging it, and putting a butt plug inside you. Remember that first time, on your sofa. I sucked you off to take your mind
away from any pain.”

“Yes, Mistress, I remember. Oh…”

She’d curled her fingers forward, stroked over my prostate. A dense, black longing burst in my balls and they retracted, the sudden lust for more as acute as it was delicious.

“Ah, yes, there it is, just enjoy, Victor, you know you want to. Don’t think about what’s coming, just live in this moment.”

I did as she’d asked, folded in on myself. Didn’t think about what I looked like, whipped arse in the air, a beautiful woman fingering my hole. I just let that dark need spread within me.

The stretch in my
rear increased. She’d added another finger. I groaned, but it was pleasure that rumbled up from my chest, not discomfort.

“So fucking hot to see you like this,” she said, kissing my sore patches of skin. “To have you trusting me like this.”

“Yes, Mistress. I do trust you, Mistress.”

“My cock wants you, but not yet. We have further to go before you’re ready.”

Again, the nip of expansion, this time accompanied with cool balm.

“That’s it,” she said, “can you feel me building you up, getting you used to the stretch? Does it feel good?” She pulled what must be three fingers almost out and then tunnelled back in, sweeping over my greedy hot spot.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” I pushed back, jerked forward, pushed back again. It felt bloody divine.

“I want you at my mercy, sub. I want you to know only I can give you this, take you to these
greedy places that exist inside you, Victor.”

She was fucking me with her fingers, pummelling into me, the quiet click of the lube filling my ears as she stabbed in and out
of my arsehole in the most maddeningly divine rhythm.

“Yes, it’s only you.” I was panting now, my cock full, my balls packing up tight, an orgasm swirling within them, tension rising.

“You’re ready,” she said, withdrawing.

A cry of loss escaped my lips
, and I grabbed my cock, set up a fast pace.

She laughed. “Yes, you do that, you’ll need the distraction while my cock breaches your tight little pucker this first time. After that I can guarantee you’ll be bending over and begging for it at every opportunity.”

“Yes, Mistress, begging for it.” Damn, it felt like I was begging now. I wanted—no
needed
—that anal stimulation. She was right, she’d built me up and now only that would do. I could wank off, yes, but it was that nub inside me that was in a tailspin, demanding more. “Please, oh, yeah, fuck me.”

“Good boy, that’s it,” she said soothingly.

I heard the snap of latex, saw the glove fly off to the side, and then, nudging at my arsehole was the wide, smooth expanse of the cockhead.

I gasped. It wasn’t like the plugs that had been pointy-tipped and tapered. This just felt ridiculously wide. It would never work.

Fuck, what was I doing?

I went to rise up from my elbows, to my hands, intent on moving, turning, twisting.

“No, stay down like that, it’s the best angle.” She pressed her hand in the centre of my back, forced me forward again.

“Oh, but…”

“But it feels big, of course it does. Where would the fun in it be if my cock was a tiddler?”

“I know, but…”

“Enough of the buts, play with your cock again, Victor, you have my permission to.”

I resumed wanking, dropped my forehead onto the covers and gritted my teeth.

“And relax. Come on, you’re not a complete novice.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I concentrated on stopping the quiver in my
arse, hoped to hell my galloping heart would cope with being taken up the jacksie by Zara’s big cock.

“Ah, that’s it,” she soothed, rubbing a circle on my back. “You’re opening up for me.”

“Yes, oh…” I was being buggered; it was in slow motion, but the smooth head was easing in, spreading me wide as my hole yielded to the invasion.

“Fucking hell, Victor, that’s so sexy, you’re so giving, that’s it, you’re doing it.”

The excitement in Zara’s voice had me moaning into the covers. It was too much, it wasn’t enough. God, she was just burying in, filling me up. I opened my mouth, bit the sheets, fisted my cock in frantic movements.

“I’m going right in,” she said, moving her hands so she held me by the hips—the way I did her when I took her from behind. “You can take me, I know you can.”

“Ah…ah…” I panted and then cried out. I was too full, and what was that? Fuck, did I need to
go
? Not now, surely, how embarrassing.

“Calm down,” she said, stilling. “I’m in all the way, it’s only the cock you feel, nothing else, let the sensation pass.”

I tried to let the renewed pressure on my prostate send shockwaves of delight to my balls and cock.

“It’s
changing, isn’t it,” she said.

“Yes, it’s fading
, that feeling.”

“Good.” She pulled almost out, the smooth surface riding blissfully over my insides.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, releasing the covers. “Ah, yeah, give it to me again, deep, fuck yeah.”

She laughed, in a strained kind of way. “Oh, I knew it wouldn’t be long, Victor, until you were begging for it. You’re an anal whore
. Just like me, you fucking love it.”

An anal whore. Yes, I supposed I was. I couldn’t get enough of it—giving or receiving. I got a primal feeling with it, where everything was raw and so fucking naughty.

I let my cock go, not wanting to come just yet. “Push it in slowly. But don’t be gentle. Just push it right the way in until your cunt hairs touch my skin, Mistress.”

“God, Victor, you
do
like dirty talk, don’t you. My, my…”

I sensed her smiling, that she was feeling all kinds of wonderful that she’d found yet another thing I couldn’t get enough of. That she’d not only literally pegged me, but also had me pegged. Again. She knew my desires all right, knew every damn one, and any that were hiding, well, she’d seek them, find them, and bring them out from the darkness and into the stark, burning sunlight.

“Yeah,” I said. “Slowly for now, so I can feel that burn and…ah…drown in it.”

“There’s so much more for you to
drown in, Virgin. We’ve only just touched the surface.”

I could well imagine we had. Once we’d broken through the outer shell, who knew how many hidden desires we’d find inside ourselves? A whole cauldron of the buggers, all shouting to be picked, to be tried out first. I’d be like a kid in a sweet shop.

As Zara surged in and my arse rim stretched to the point I didn’t think it could be stretched any more, I thought about all the filthy things we would be doing in our future. How many acts was I still unaware of? And were there any I’d refuse to try? At one time I thought I’d have flat-out refused to do
this
—having a thick, fake cock up my arse had never entered my head before I’d met this wickedly wanton woman—but now? Christ, now I thought I’d try at least everything once.

“Tell me what they are,” I said, wanting to match them to the antics going on inside my head, of her introducing other things to my backside, in it and on it.

“That would just spoil the fun,” she said, sliding the cock out then easing it back in. “And,” she added, “we wouldn’t want
that
”—she shunted in a bit more—“would we.”

Her cunt hairs did indeed touch my skin. They tickled, crinkled against my flesh, adding to the sensation of total and utter rudeness. What we were doing…wow, some people would term it disgusting, so revolting they couldn’t even begin to entertain it, but to me it was beautiful. Something we both loved couldn’t ever be ugly, could it?

She did a swift set of solid pumping that had me holding my breath, closing my eyes tight and panting through the burn. I was glad she’d chosen the length of cock she had. Any longer and I’d have been hard pressed to take it comfortably. Any thicker and I would have been screaming.

“Ah,” I panted out, then bit my bottom lip as searing pleasure-pain ripped through my rim. It was so strong, so
there
, all-consuming, vibrant and in my bloody face that I was on the verge of coming. “Christ, Mistress. This is too much.”

“If you need to me stop, you know exactly what you have to say, Victor.”

If she expected me to say my safe word she’d better think again.

“No, I don’t mean that,” I said. “I mean the other…kind of…too much. Oh, God, that’s so…damn…good.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.
That
kind. Well, let’s ramp it up a bit then, shall we? Make it better than good.”

I wasn’t sure if I could take her type of ramping up. She enjoyed pushing me to my limits, until I thought I wouldn’t be able to take any more. She loved to test me, to teach me to test myself, to endure something I never thought I could and get through it, come—literally—on the other side a winner.

She dug her fingers into my hips even more, and I felt every crescent of those nails as a brand, hoping they marked me for long enough that I’d have little red curves there for days to come. Then they’d go purple, fading to a greeny yellow, and disappear altogether until she repeated her actions and marked me again.

The sensation went straight to my cock and bollocks as though any form of sharp, biting agony knew its destination was there. The added pleasure-pain heightened absolutely everything. I heard her breathing—ragged and short. I sensed her excitement—just as much as mine, that cunt smell of hers swirling around me, attempting to drive me insane. I felt her determination to make me come—torrid and unrelenting, a storm that had begun to rage but hadn’t hit its zenith or intended target yet. Me, a man
bent over the end of a four-poster bed, taking it up the arse, teetering on the edge of a cliff where one shove from her would send me toppling, hurtling through the air, unable to break my fall, and I wouldn’t give a fiddler’s fuck where I landed or how hurt I’d be when I got there.

But the after effects weren’t for thinking about now—now was only the journey, the storm following me, and me goading it on to chase me all the more. Yes, my little tornado was enjoying this as much as I was, high, I suspected, on endorphins laced with the power that was undoubtedly surging through her body. I was at her mercy yet again, and there was no place else I’d rather be.

“Faster,” I said. “And harder. Please, Mistress.”

“As you wish, sub. Fuck, yes, as you wish.”

She plundered me, a fast in-and-out set that made my arse throb, my prostate pulse and my balls shrink up so high that no amount of fondling them on her part if she chose to do so would coax them down. I was too far gone for that.

“Oh, I fucking wish all right,” I breathed out. “This is…this is sublime, so unlike anything—oh, fuck, yes, give it to me just like that, yes—I’ve ever felt before.”

“And you’ll say this about the next thing we try. And the next, and the one after that.” She laughed, full and throaty, as though high as a kite on watching and hearing my reactions. “A lifetime of fucking in every way imaginable. Is that what you want, Virgin? Is that”—she pushed in so hard and fast—“what you”—she pulled out then rammed back in, stealing my breath—“what you damn well want?”

“Fuck, yeah. But only with you, Mistress. No one else can
make me feel the way you do. Ah, that’s right, just there, make it rub just
there,
my God that’s it, that’sitmyGodthat’sit.”

“I don’t believe anyone else can,” she said. “There’s something between us, isn’t there. Something we wouldn’t get with anyone else no matter how hard we tr
ied.”

What she’d said made a bubble of
rightness
burst inside me.
Yes!
She’d finally got it, seemed to have finally accepted that we were made for each other, two souls bound by depravity, by our need to get the ultimate sexual high. No other would understand our aching, pressing needs. No other would be willing to go to the extreme, our very limits, just to see if something suited us or not. Fear of the unknown with regard to sexual relations didn’t seem to play a part with Zara and, if I admitted it, it didn’t seem to do so anymore with me either. So long as she was my storm, my anchor, my caretaker and caregiver, I couldn’t go wrong.