Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02

... mindset, and I want to know how deep her submission to me goes. I have the feeling that there's almost nothing she wouldn't do if I asked. It's so depraved and twisted. God, what a rush, I feel so absolutely powerful, watching her, this small, strong-willed woman bending so instinctively to me. I feel demonic, to use her romantic language.

"Yes, good kitten," I smile down at her, showing her that I'm pleased, and she smiles back. I put my hand on her lower back. The pressure makes her arch, forcing her to present her little dripping pussy and shapely ass to me. Her smell makes my cock twitch to hardness again. I look down at her humbled, absolutely wrecked body. Her ass is heavily striped with bruised lines that have started turning purple, with the stripes tapering off half-way down her thighs. I've broken the skin on the center of her ass, a little reminder to her of my power and control over her everytime she sits down.

I kneel in front of her, and she's still lower than me. I cup her breasts - those tits on that small frame - and press down on the cuts I've left there. And the smell of her wet pussy. I'm conditioning her to respond to my domination and sadism. I'm Pavlov's dog, conditioned to arousal when I smell her. It's just...I can't put into words how wild her smell makes me, how it arouses me as a man, and how that arousal makes me more cruel. Maybe once or twice in my life I've met a woman with whom I have this type of chemistry. Never have I met one with ...

... whom I have this level of chemistry and compatibility, both in kink and in life, that I have with her. Never have I had one that responds to my cruelty with both the eager excitement and gentle love that she does. Other times, when I'm done hurting someone, when the power trip subsides, a wave of guilt hits, and I'll feel that it's entirely messed up to enjoy giving pain. I'd start questioning whether I'm a sociopath, and throw myself harder into work to justify my nature and tendencies. And the worst was when some women backed away from me, fear in their eyes or in their last words to me. It makes me feel like an abuser, a sociopath...my sadist's guilt would settle in, and I'd isolate myself...

But she's different. She sees my cruelty and loves me for it. With her intensity, her perspective that my pain is a gift of euphoric, meditative feelings, that it takes courage and bravery to go as hard as I go, with her showing it in her reactions now...everything feels fine. More than fine. I give into my desires instead of fighting them. I've never met someone who loves it all so much, whose love for it all drives me to go harder and be more cruel. In her, there's no attention-seeking, no duality of both loving and hating her masochism...it's all love and so much enthusiasm. I had bruised and opened the skin on those fragile breasts, and she looked at me starry-eyed and glazed with subspace while I did it. Nor can I put into words how controlled and powerful I feel when she reacts ...