Rule of Thumb Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Rule of Thumb Pt. 01

... slapping, now:No limits man, no limits. He really was free to do anything he wanted to this slut short of permanently marking her. It was a heady feeling. For a fleeting moment he worried about damaging her. It had never happened to him but in his relatively short time in the lifestyle he'd never encountered this kind of black-hole masochism.And Lester's giving her to me the next four days!

Jim watched as Claire wobbled slightly, her eyes closed, face tilted up waiting for another slap. When it didn't come, she opened her eye lids. Jim shivered at the thousand-yard stare he saw in her eyes. It was like she didn't even see him. Her eyes were focused somewhere out beyond the shower, empty of intelligence, utterly passive. He slid his belt from around his waist. The clinking of the buckle; the hiss of the leather sliding across the rough cotton of his shorts was unmistakable. Claire's eyes sharpened, slid to look toward him, locked in on his crotch as the belt slithered free of the loops. She straightened her posture, pushing her firm tits out and licked her lips.

"Lock hands behind your head Claire, elbows out. You say you want pain? Well good. I'm in a mood to offer it to you. I'm going to whip you with my belt until you cum or you can't stand anymore. So you see, it's really up to you how much you want to suffer before I fuck your face.

Claire did as instructed, slowly, as though even the act of translating what she'd heard into the actual movements came ...

... hard.

"And widen your stance a bit more slut. It won't be just your tits." Claire complied without thinking, without hesitation, making her cunt vulnerable to the thin leather belt she belatedly realized he meant to snake between her pink swollen lips. She shivered in anticipation.

Jim soaked in the vision of this slim young woman as she waited patiently for him to whip her. He swung the belt lightly as he looked at Claire, getting a sense of its weight; choosing where to land it first.Tits for sure, he thought. He could make out faint bruising but clearly they'd not been worked over recently. Her nipples were rigid.The cold water, or anticipation, he wondered? Whatever. They were luscious and silky looking with puffy areoles and hard eraser sized nipples that simply screamed to be abused.

For the hundredth time he wondered about the deep sadistic release he obtained from hurting women's breasts. Not just hurting them, but truly savaging them. He lived for that moment, that flicker of recognition: the look in a woman's eyes when she realized she would be tortured beyond anything she'd ever experienced. When she began to fear he would not simply "whip" her tits, or paddle them. No, there'd come a point when she'd see his intent: to take her beyond the capacity to scream or struggle, that her tender breast meat would likely bleed.

Most of his partners safe worded out. They would try to stay with him; feed off his arousal, but they simply couldn't sublimate the raw pain, or ...