Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection by Portia Da Costa Page B
Authors: Portia Da Costa
Tags: General Fiction
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right across the vent of my anus... something he does now, in two sharp blows.
I'm crying freely now. My bottom is incandescent, agonized. But within, I'm rippling lightly around the solid spheres inside me as if I'm having a delicate, unstoppable, ongoing orgasm, fired by the pain.
Not being allowed to rub my clit is far more taxing to me than any amount of blows to my bottom.
I gasp. I gulp. I whimper. I'm not doing very well. I should really take this quietly. Sebastian belabors the sides of my buttocks and my thighs, spreading the heat and pain around. I wriggle and jerk, making the love spheres dance and the nipple pendants swing.
Suddenly, it's too much. I lose my head, and any semblance of control over my own sexual response. With a garbled cry... his name, I think... I surrender to a huge orgasm, and unable to stop myself I reach down and start fondling my clitoris in rough, hard strokes, working myself through it.
"Oh baby," Sebastian gasps, and the switch hits the floor. A heartbeat later, I almost faint when he wrenches the balls out of me by their cord and after an instant or two of rustling and fumbling... I'm filled again.
Stuffed to the brim with his hot, hard, dearly beloved cock...
"My darling, my darling..." he sighs, almost sobs into the back of my neck as he throws himself over my back like cloak of grace in his big, dark coat.
Sebastian, my husband, jams himself into me, again and again, in long, staccato strokes. It hurts where he's hit me, but I barely notice it. I'm still coming and it's better, infinitely better, than before. Especially when he reaches around, knocks away my fingers, and takes over in the pleasuring of my clit. He rubs me, circling and teasing and loving, somehow managing to stay exquisitely on target while he's half out of his head, and fucking and slamming into me.
A typhoon of love like this can't last long, and after a few moments, he snarls and buries his face in the side of my neck. I think he bites me, but I'm so far out of it, and so full of sublime ecstasy myself, that I can't quantify a different kind of feeling.
All I register is joy, and the pulse and leap of his cock inside my body.
We lie there, sort of thrown over the low wall together, in a heap of thunderstruck sensation, for what must be several minutes. My nipples are pulsating and bottom feels like it's been roasted, but I don't care. I love the throbbing heat and the sensation of Sebastian's belly and his rumpled clothing shoved haphazardly against the site of his handiwork.
"That was sensational, love," he whispers, recovering first as he almost but not quite always does. I feel his mouth on my neck again, gently kissing this time, not biting, "You're a wonder." He's still inside me, albeit soft, and it's as if he doesn't want to part us. His hand is on my bare belly, fingers spread, just holding us together.
"I love you," I whisper. The words seem most apposite. Always true, and applicable in any situation where my husband is concerned.
We linger like that, murmuring sweet nothings, Sebastian adorably solicitous after what he did with the switch. He promises gentleness, a soothing bath with an expensive essence that always soothes in these cases, and decrees that we can fuck with me on top for the rest of the holiday.
This makes us giggle, and giggles start lighting fires again... but just as I feel him hardening inside me once more, there are shouts somewhere down the path, and the sound of tramping footsteps.
In a flash, Sebastian pulls out, hauls up my jeans and panties, and swathes his Belstaff around him. Then, he tugs my own coat closed, and hustles me to the back of the shelter where we plonk ourselves down upon the bench.
I grunt when my sore bum hits the seat. But by the time another couple, the argumentative pair from the room next door to us, stomp along the path, remonstrating loudly with each other, my husband and I are sitting together, primly bundled up in our coats and having a
I'm crying freely now. My bottom is incandescent, agonized. But within, I'm rippling lightly around the solid spheres inside me as if I'm having a delicate, unstoppable, ongoing orgasm, fired by the pain.
Not being allowed to rub my clit is far more taxing to me than any amount of blows to my bottom.
I gasp. I gulp. I whimper. I'm not doing very well. I should really take this quietly. Sebastian belabors the sides of my buttocks and my thighs, spreading the heat and pain around. I wriggle and jerk, making the love spheres dance and the nipple pendants swing.
Suddenly, it's too much. I lose my head, and any semblance of control over my own sexual response. With a garbled cry... his name, I think... I surrender to a huge orgasm, and unable to stop myself I reach down and start fondling my clitoris in rough, hard strokes, working myself through it.
"Oh baby," Sebastian gasps, and the switch hits the floor. A heartbeat later, I almost faint when he wrenches the balls out of me by their cord and after an instant or two of rustling and fumbling... I'm filled again.
Stuffed to the brim with his hot, hard, dearly beloved cock...
"My darling, my darling..." he sighs, almost sobs into the back of my neck as he throws himself over my back like cloak of grace in his big, dark coat.
Sebastian, my husband, jams himself into me, again and again, in long, staccato strokes. It hurts where he's hit me, but I barely notice it. I'm still coming and it's better, infinitely better, than before. Especially when he reaches around, knocks away my fingers, and takes over in the pleasuring of my clit. He rubs me, circling and teasing and loving, somehow managing to stay exquisitely on target while he's half out of his head, and fucking and slamming into me.
A typhoon of love like this can't last long, and after a few moments, he snarls and buries his face in the side of my neck. I think he bites me, but I'm so far out of it, and so full of sublime ecstasy myself, that I can't quantify a different kind of feeling.
All I register is joy, and the pulse and leap of his cock inside my body.
We lie there, sort of thrown over the low wall together, in a heap of thunderstruck sensation, for what must be several minutes. My nipples are pulsating and bottom feels like it's been roasted, but I don't care. I love the throbbing heat and the sensation of Sebastian's belly and his rumpled clothing shoved haphazardly against the site of his handiwork.
"That was sensational, love," he whispers, recovering first as he almost but not quite always does. I feel his mouth on my neck again, gently kissing this time, not biting, "You're a wonder." He's still inside me, albeit soft, and it's as if he doesn't want to part us. His hand is on my bare belly, fingers spread, just holding us together.
"I love you," I whisper. The words seem most apposite. Always true, and applicable in any situation where my husband is concerned.
We linger like that, murmuring sweet nothings, Sebastian adorably solicitous after what he did with the switch. He promises gentleness, a soothing bath with an expensive essence that always soothes in these cases, and decrees that we can fuck with me on top for the rest of the holiday.
This makes us giggle, and giggles start lighting fires again... but just as I feel him hardening inside me once more, there are shouts somewhere down the path, and the sound of tramping footsteps.
In a flash, Sebastian pulls out, hauls up my jeans and panties, and swathes his Belstaff around him. Then, he tugs my own coat closed, and hustles me to the back of the shelter where we plonk ourselves down upon the bench.
I grunt when my sore bum hits the seat. But by the time another couple, the argumentative pair from the room next door to us, stomp along the path, remonstrating loudly with each other, my husband and I are sitting together, primly bundled up in our coats and having a
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