"Nothing says 'I love you' like subcutaneous bruising" Part 2

We were staying at a friend's house, they'd lent us the place for the weekend, knowing how much it would mean to us to be able to spend the night together in someplace other than a hotel. Even better - they have their own dungeon, which for the price of our eternal gratitude, was ours to use exclusively for 24 hours. It gave us the space, and time, and freedom, to unleash and explore as fully as we wanted to.

I imagined we would drown in each other's skin as soon as we got through the door. We didn't - we were too awestruck. We explored the dungeon, the other rooms, with amazement and delight and slight trepidation. Some of it was so beautifully arranged and perfect we were afraid to touch it. He does like to slam me around the place rather, and we do get so carried away...I was a little scared we might end up trashing the room and oweing my friend a little more than just our gratitude...

I started making dinner - he stood behind me, slid his arms around me, mauled my tits, fingers squeezing on each half covered breast, digging in, crushing...his hands moved to my buttocks, rubbing against the satin, slipping and sliding the paper-thin fabric over my skin, soft and scented with vanilla as it always is when I prepare myself for him - but unlike normal, this time there were no knickers to interfere with his exploration of my body. Last week, I let him tell me what to wear on a date with him - something I have never let anyone, work, society, friend, family, lover or husband do. I even told him once, that this was a hard limit! And yet when he instructed me the other day that I must absolutely not wear any knickers for our mid-week date, and then told me he liked my outfit so much that he wanted me to wear the exact same thing, with the exact same lack of underwear, then I found myself not only wanting to do it for him, but delighted at an opportunity to show how well I could obey him, what a good girl I was.

He hitched up my skirt, which was tight and short, and left it around my waist, knicker-less, with only stockings and my heels, and my top with cut-out hole to show off my cleavage. All in black of course, except for my hair, which was blonde, purple, black and red, this time. He threw me in the bedroom and fucked me, until he was done, and I had my own cum dripping hot and sticky down my thighs.

We settled down on armchairs with a meal we could eat with fingers, tearing bread apart, feeling the little plum tomatoes slip, silky and plump, luscious, inside our mouths, while we watched a dvd from the more violent end of my porn collection. Finished with our food, it seemed natural to move closer and closer to each other as I pointed out my favourite bits, and explained the abusively incestuous plots I had grafted on in my head, to the relatively innocent vignettes.

During my all-time favourite scene in the porn, I was unable to resist for any longer and slipped to my knees to take him in my mouth. I love the texture and the taste of him, the scent of his balls - soap, with an underlying maleness, a musky fragrance of arousal. I love the way his cock caresses the inside of my mouth, the texture of his silky skin, and how he feels so huge against my tongue, my lips. I love the sense of safety I find in burying my lips against the base of his cock where it meets his balls, and in sucking and licking at the very tip, as if it were a sweetie given to me as a treat for being such a good girl.

We both resisted for as long as possible, but at some point we were overcome - suddenly I was half-way up the corridor being jerked along by my hair, thrown onto the bed, cuffed, and attached to the whipping bench with my arms spread almost painfully wide along the front.

It had been a while since he'd smashed me up with such intensity. He rained blows down on me like a fucking tropical thunderstorm. His energy seared me, his rage boiling over my body, the door opens, the blackness inside spills out, washes everything away in a flood of pure emotion, unspeakable, given voice in my cries and screams, something inky dark and stained, depraved and hidden, showing itself at last, made manifest by the sound of my begging and pleading.

I poured my sorrow out, tears and spit and drool soaking the bench in front of my mouth. I howled with pain, I screamed, I writhed. He hit me - over, and over, and over, and over again. My skin discoloured in front of his eyes, blemished, damaged, spoiled.

He ordered me to suck him, over and over again. I refused, I was so angry, furious. Even though the pain was ruining me, I. Would. Not. Submit.

The last torrent of blows cracked my will, cracked open my mind, and brought me into the place I needed to be, so very much. I wanted to say yes - I wanted to, but I couldn't, held back as I was by anger, pride, all the hundreds of layers of barriers I wrap around myself to keep myself safe. With those last strokes of the cane, he ripped a hole through those final defences, and, sobbing brokenly, crying so hard I could barely breath, I sucked him, choking with tears though I was, drooling as I breathed through my mouth; my face, nose, puffed up and reddened with crying.

He stepped away in disgust and angrily strode over to the door, turned the light off, and slammed the door behind him. The blackout curtains in the room meant I could see - ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I'm terrified of the dark - I used to sleep with a nightlight on in my room for years (he didn't know that - I'd never told him). It was pitch black, and I lasted seconds, which seemed like forever, before I panicked, and screamed. Just screamed - fucking WAILED - and then cut off abruptly as his hands lovingly wrapped around me from behind, where he'd been all along. He'd never left the room.

I thought I was alone in the dark. But I wasn't. I wasn't alone. I was safe all along. He was with me.

He untied me, stroked me softly, held me close, carried me to the bed and drew me in tight to him, where I was safe. He whispered soft things, rocked me and shushed me as my sobs tailed off. Then he fucked me, very deep, very hard, and I came, and came, and came. I was his prize, he had won me - I gave up everything to him. And he took me. He sprayed me with his cum, marking me as his. It dripped heavily into my open mouth, on my shoulders, my bruised tits, my hair, my neck...

It soaked my face.

I slept covered in him, and tucked in close to his body, safe inside his arms. I am always safe with him, even when he ruins me.