Rule of Thumb Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Rule of Thumb Pt. 01

... fluids sent by her body to cushion the trauma of the beating she'd been taking.

Claire ran her tongue tip across her lips to moisten their dryness, unconsciously keeping them receptive for Jim's cock. She took a deep breath and looked up into Jim's eyes. Again, she found reflected in them her own erotic ache and hunger. Her skin rippled with goose flesh and she shivered. His blue eyes consumed her, clinically appraised her tortured flesh. She shivered more as she imagined him cataloging the welts he'd inflicted, and she was sure, mapping out targets he intended to hit next. She kept still, reveling in her vulnerability; her submission to his sadism absolute. She felt her surrender seeping deep into her belly, her soul. Her clit was hard, the promise of more pain renewing the primacy of lust over self-protection, her craving for more intensity overwhelming all other considerations, just as it always did.

God help me but I crave the craving: feeling the need in my belly every morning, every night. To be made into meat, used, my body sacrificed for a man's amusement, his pleasure, his need. For Claire it was not just the getting off, her clit licked or stroked, her cunt fucked. Yes, she did crave being dominated, penetrated, her whole body consumed in the act of torture and consummation. But she'd always wanted first for hungry eyes towatch her, as much as she wanted their stiff cocks to need her. Very few men actually took the time to flay her visually. The feeling of ...

... their eyes lingering on her flesh, appraising her hunger, letting her know thatthey knew. Knew just what she was, what she wanted, what sheneeded to be for them. Most men were content with access to her flesh. Few also demanded her raw emotional exposure as the price for her gratification.

"Hurt me more, Sir" Claire whimpered. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her face reflecting her inner turmoil: craving the abuse that she also feared; feared for its intensity, the raw anguish about to consume her and fearful - perhaps ashamed - of how it could be; what it meant that she had come to need the pain so desperately; was actually, genuinely begging to be physically tortured. "Please whip my wet cunt so it can cum for you." Claire wriggled on the floor without releasing her ankles, thrusting her hips and her pink, open cunt forward and up, plainly offering it for more punishment. "And thank you Sir for waiting to fuck my face. I want your cock in my mouth, Sir, your cum on my tongue, but it's been so long since anyone hurt me. I need to hurt, Sir. I need to cum from pain." Claire's voice was husky from need.

Jim watched Claire writhe on the floor, beggin

g for the whipping he was about to unleash on her. The previous guarding and hesitation had vanished; whatever hesitation had gripped her earlier was now gone. Her raised cunt glistened, the outer lips swollen deliciously, obscenely. But despite their engorgement, the delicate inner petals were still spread open, ...