Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02

... pain. This is a scream of terror, so loud his neighbors must have heard, so fucking loud it hurts my throat and ears when it tears through me. He releases my waist, holding me almost off the ground by the hair, forcing me to stand on the tips of my toes, before his arm circles my waist so he can throw me onto his bed. He climbs on top of me, grabs me by the hair again, and uses his dominant hand to slap my face. Hard. I stare at him, in a state of shock. I feel the craziness, the wildness of shock and panic in how wide my eyes are and how hot my cheeks feel.

"I can't, I can't, please don't make me, please, it's too much, all those needles, please, please, no, no, please -" I'm stuttering and panicking. He's still on top of me, and his rock-hard cock is pressed between my legs. My fear and panic turn him on. That he's in control right now turns him on. Oh my god, what sort of monster had I fallen in love with? He winds a hand into my hair, and pulls up my head off the pillow.

"Don't you dare fucking drop on me now." He slaps my other cheek, and it winds me for a second.

My thudding heart slows, the pounding in my ears stills, and my fast, ragged breathing stabilizes. And the endorphin-releasing pain of his hand in my hair, the comforting, warm weight of his body covering most of mine... His eyes are boring into me, and I expect that icy sadistic look in them. He's studying me, not with anger but with gentleness. I nod slightly, answering the unasked question I see in ...

... his eyes: your violence broke through my panic. I need his control to calm the anxieties that don't allow me to be my best self, and his violence fills some need I didn't even know I had before. My breath slows, my heart stills, and I sigh heavily.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Jess, are you a pain slut who needs her holes pounded and her body tortured?"

"Yes, I'm a pain slut who needs her holes pounded and her body tortured." Oh. I feel the comfort washing over me. I'm nothing but his little whore. I'm so desperate for him that I'll do anything he asks. I have nothing else to think about but pleasing him, my only concern is not cracking under the pain of the needles. I'm a pain slut who needs her holes pounded and her body tortured. It's a meditation, with a sick, twisted mantra. It focuses my mind. So my mind stills, empty and calm. I exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"Well, kitten, I'll use those needles to remind you of what you are. Do you know what I'm going to do with those needles?"

"Besides stick them into me?"

"Yes, besides that," he laughs, touching his nose to mine.

"Nooooo"

"I picked out red and gold needles because I thought red and gold would lovely against your skin. And you always wear black...I'm curious about those bright colors because I think they'll be flattering against the golden undertones of your skin. And I was going to make a mandala on your back with them."

I sniffle. "That - that sounds really pretty, Sir. Thank you." There'd be ...