Chapter 3
Diane had the sexiest ass.
As she climbed up the spiral staircase above me, I fantasized about ramming my cock inside her ass.
I would do it, too, I was determined.
The spiral staircase was pretty intense.
It reminded me of a medieval dungeon—only we were climbing up into God-knows-what, rather than downstairs into the depths.
We passed one floor, but Diane kept climbing.
"That floor sucks," she said as she hurried on up. "Be patient."
But as we passed that floor, I couldn't help but notice something strange.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man entering a door.
The guy was wearing a dark suit.
He had a blonde head of hair and a blonde moustache, and through the wave of hair that came off his forehead, he had this white streak of silver.
I recognized him.
I couldn't figure out from where.
Hell, my mind was on other things at that moment—like my rigid cock and Diane's hot body.
But that white a streak through the blonde hair—it wasn't something you see everyday—not even in New York—and it bothered me for a second where I had seen that guy before.
I let the thought pass, though, when Diane got off the staircase at the second landing.
On the second floor, the walls were faced to look like stone.
Diane led me through a narrow corridor to a room.
She knocked on the rather imposing looking door.
The door looked more like the door to a bank vault than anything else.
When she heard no answer, she took the room to be empty.
"In here," she said to me, and I followed her in.
Bare walls.
Bare floor.
Hanging on the walls were a series of rather bizarre-looking torture devices.
Straw mat on the floor.
To be perfectly honest—as much as my hard cock was aching to let me hurt her and as much as I wanted to experiment with the whole range of bizarre and wonderful sensations that a little S-and-M could provide, I was nervous.
But Diane had a way of knowing how to make me relax.
She kicked the door shut with a good healthy kick—one that showed me the power that her legs could muster.
It closed, with an appropriately heavy noise.
We were alone.
She leaned against the wall and popped a joint into her mouth from out of nowhere.
And she lit it.
As the smoke poured forth from her nostrils, I was entranced by the raw sexual presence that this woman had.
I stepped toward her and took the joint.
I toked.
Deep.
It was good shit.
Really good shit.
Really good shit indeed.
"Cock nice and hard?"
"Hard as a rock," I told her, eyeing her tits.
I finished the joint.
My head was swimming from the reefer.
So was hers.
I could tell when she was feeling loose and uninhibited.
She was turned on as I was.
I poked one finger through the ring tab at the top of the zipper that ran down the front of her leather jacket.
And I pulled it.
Slowly.
All the way down.
Her leather jacket was open all the way.
I eyed the crucifix that hung poised between her breasts.
I picked the cross up off her hot skin between my fingers, and tugged gently on it.
Her neck and head came forward with the pull, and her lips fell flush on mine.
She moaned a welcome purr of sweet comfort as we kissed.
I felt her tongue again.
I had spent the whole week missing that tongue inside my mouth—wondering when I would taste it next.
I wrapped my arms around Diane's torso inside her leather jacket.
I ground my body into hers, taking advantage of the fact that she was backed into the stone wall.
She felt my hard cock press against her clit.
I know she did.
I heard her squeal, even as I was Frenching the back of her throat with my tongue.
Eventually, our kiss broke.
I pushed the sides of her leather jacket open and grabbed her tits.
"I got a chip on my shoulder with your name on it," she said.
She started unbuttoning my shirt.
My shirt fell open and she ran her hands up and down my pecs, teasing my nipples, smoothing her delicate touch through my chest hair.
She was seductive and ruthless, this chick.
For, even as she kept rubbing my hot skin with her sexy touch, one of her hands reached up behind her and grabbed one of those interesting devices from its resting hook on the wall.
Before I knew it, she had snapped something onto my nipple.
I almost laughed. It didn't hurt—at first.
"Try and move," she said.
"Yeeaaaargh!" I cried as I felt my little titty-head ravaged by the vice like grip that this device promulgated upon its victim when mobile.
She led me around by the hand until my back was to the wall.
She clamped my other nipple with a similar device.
I was strapped to the wall by the tits.
I didn't dare move—otherwise the pain would be staggering.
Something about the position I was in really turned me on.
Being helpless.
Helpless before the taunting humiliation of this sexy hot bitch who ruled my libido.
Diane laughed evil giggles as she buckled my wrists together behind my back.
The business of shackling my hands like that required me to twist and turn—still pinioned by the nipples.
The agony.
It seared through my tits down to my bulls and flushed me with a sense of being a little sexual slave—a maggot in the dirt of this woman's lust.
She stepped closer to me.
She was inches away.
She grasped the lapels of her open leather jacket.
She pulled them back and thrust out her tits, letting her head nestle in her arched shoulders.
"Want 'em?"
Instinctively, I moved forward to suck those nipples.
When the pain hit.
"Auugh!" I grunted, and she laughed.
Laughed; throwing her head back, still jiggling her tits in front of me.
I watched her nipples grow erect.
Not just twin tips of red.
But full, ripe, rich cones of pink flesh.
I begged her to bring her tits closer to me.
Closer to my face so that I could lick them.
Suck them.
Rub my face in them.
"Here," she said.
And she kicked a footstool in front of her. Shit, I hadn't even noticed the little stool was even in the room".
She stood on the footstool until her nipples were within inches of my mouth.
My cock ached with hardness.
She reached down and unzipped my fly.
Nice of her.
"Suck me," she said.
I was completely at her mercy.
Her tits danced before me.
She shook them.
I watched her crucifix bounce back and forth between those lobes of woman-flesh.
"Suck my tits. Come on, before I lose interest."
The bitch.
I craned my neck forward.
The pain on my own nipples pinched.
Then seared.
But I wanted to suck her tits so bad.
I leaned foreword, and the shrill shock of the clamps on my tender flesh bit into me, ravaging my body and brain with the agony of an infestation of locusts.
And she stepped back, out of range.
"Aaaaa! Ah, Jesus," I wailed, tears streaming from my cheeks.
"Aw," she taunted me.
She grabbed my naked cock, which had been hanging out of my open trousers.
She held it gently.
And she got back up on the footstool.
"Here. This'll make you feel better."
She rammed her tit into my slobbering lips, like a mother offering suck to a baby.
And, like the helpless baby that I was, I sucked her tit.
It was so thrilling, so gratifying to feel the erect cone of nipple between my lips.
I slurped around it, drawing it into my wet mouth, lapping it from all sides with the tip of my tongue.
I knew at that moment that sexual pleasure is all the more intense if you've had to suffer for it.
Suffer.
The key word.
I lulled her into a sense of well-being by sucking her nipple as only I knew how.
I watched her melt.
She loved the way my tongue danced over the small red button.
The way my wet and drooling lips puckered over and over her mound of breast.
"Nnnngh," she allowed herself to grunt.
I knew she was in an erotic torpor.
I opened a little wider, and then held the nipple between my teeth.
"Oh," was the only sound that escaped her throat.
Hah.
Now I was in command.
She who had degraded me into an infantile state of blue-balled hard-onned submission would now herself be subjected to my cruel will.
With a simple bite of her nipple.
Her tit.
Her beautiful, beautiful tit.
"Sssss!" she hissed as the pain of my teeth on her tit shot through her like the cannons at the end of the 1812 Overture.
With my teeth clenched firmly on her tit-button, I still managed to speak—albeit a slightly muffled speech.
"Now ... let ... me ... out ... of ... these ... clamps ... bitch ...!"
"No."
I bit so hard I thought I would rend her flesh.
"Ack!" she gutturally grunted.
"Now!"
"Ok—ok, just, please ... ease up ... "
"No."
I felt the thrilling, almost orgasmic relief when the clasps fell from my nipples and I was free from my little prison.
I held out my hands.
She undid the buckle, and looked at me.
She batted her eyes and her lips pouted.
"You hurt me, bitch."
"I—I know."
"You're going to have to be punished."
"I know. Punish me, Mark. Make me feel the agony you felt."
"You'll feel more than the agony I felt, Diane."
I walked slowly toward her, menacing her.
I pulled my hand back and slapped her across the face.
My hard-on thundered.
I pulled my pants clean off and I stood before her naked.
We were into this dance of S-and-M.
I was finding out more about Diane—and more about myself as well.
I saw thee object I needed on the opposite wall.
"Come here, Diane. You have to be taught your lesson."
She walked casually over to where I was standing, and pulled another joint out of her pants pocket.
She lit the joint and took a puff as I slapped the iron slave collar around her pretty neck.
The iron slave collar was chained to the wall.
I grabbed the reefer from her and inhaled it deep, deep into my lungs.
I was higher than a kite.
I was Mark no longer. Now I was free and unfettered, a powerful naked paragon of sexual power.
Power.
The kind you can hurt women with.
And make them love you at the same time.
I grabbed her wrists and held them together behind her back.
Within a minute her wrists were bound behind her back.
Even as mine had been just minutes before.
With my other hand I reached for yet another marvelous device that hung conveniently on the wall.
A paddle.
Not just any paddle.
This thing was a solid piece of wood with a good sturdy leather handle.
It weighed about six or seven pounds.
Around the broad flat of the paddle was a sewn-in facing of leather.
The leather facing was dotted liberally with metal studs.
The kind men like.
I showed it to her.
I passed her the joint before it sputtered out its last few tokes.
She knelt before me.
"Do it to me, Mark."
I could smell her pussy juicing.
Sure enough, when I forced her pants open and pulled them off, the crotch was stained dark with her juices.
The scent was overpowering.
This chick was more turned on than she had ever been in her life.
She knelt in supplication before me.
My thundering hard-on dripped its drops of pre-cum right in front of her face.
"Lap them up," I commanded her.
She stared at the little gob of goo that had fallen to the cold marble floor.
"Lick it! Lick it, bitch!" I screamed, and drew my arm high up in the air.
I remember how stiff my boner was that she stared at.
All the way down came the paddle.
BAM!
I felt her flesh ache and give as the metal-studded paddle hit her ass.
It hit her buttocks and caused her deep pain.
Her mouth fell open and her eyes shut.
"Oh, Jesus, yes ... " she moaned.
Again I hit her.
And again.
Each thud that the paddle made in her soft, delicious ass-cheeks was more and more of a raw sexual thrill for my hot balls and her juicy cunt.
Soon her knees weakened, and she was a helpless gurgling child rolling at my feet on the floor.
But I would not let up.
I was relentless.
I knew she wanted it.
WHAP!
I watched her ass grow bright red.
The metal studs left their impression in the soft flesh of her butt.
She rolled over on her back.
The iron chain from the slave collar snaked its winding way along the floor next to her.
Her cross lay casually across her breast.
Tears of hot joy streamed down her cheeks.
"Oh, God I'm cumming," she breathed.
And I watched her cum.
"Fuck me. Please Mark, I'm cumming. Please fuck me?"
I tossed the paddle aside.
Her hands were still cuffed in the leather buckle. I brought them around from her back, though, to the front of her.
She lay on the floor, her wrists together as if in some obscene Satanist prayer.
I watched juice drip from her cunt as she came.
I got down on top of her.
I jammed my penis inside her.
"Ohh, GOD!" she cried as I fucked her with my hard cock.
Her pussy was a lot more wet than the first time I had fucked her.
This time my cock slid in and out and in and out almost effortlessly-^-almost with no friction whatsoever.
The only resistance was the undulation of her pussy walls.
With every onward thrust, she tightened her pussy just enough.
I felt her cunt massage my cock.
"Uhhh, GOD! OH JESUS!"
She was beginning to scream senselessly.
Her hands still bound, she-raised her arms above her head.
I pulled my cock out of her cunt before I came—because I wanted to tit-fuck her.
When I yanked my dork out of her beaver, it was dripping wet.
I looked at my hard-on.
It was bright red and the skin was stretched really tight.
It glistened with a thick coating of shiny, slippery pussy juice.
Some of the juice dripped off and landed in smattering splats on her belly.
I threw her goddamn crucifix on the floor, where it clinked its metallic sound.
The silver chain it was on fell in a straight line across her throat.
I slapped my prick down right between her tits.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned, my helpless captive.
I liked the feeling of my wet frictionless boner greasing up her cleavage with her own pussy juice.
I had to slide my knees up a bit to get the proper leverage.
For, I wanted to free my hands from their resting position on the floor. Why?
So I could squeeze her tits around my cock, that's why!
I pressed her tits together really tight—completely aware of the pain I was causing her tender body.
And completely aware of how much she reveled in the pain—how much she loved every thrilling, degenerate second.
I sat on her, bouncing my ass up and down on her pelvis.
I made her sore ass-cheeks bounce on the cold marble floor.
Then I paused.
"Ok, Diane."
"Anything."
I undid her hands from their buckle.
"Jerk me off until I cum all over your face."
She smiled.
"You're fantastic," she said to me, looking me straight in the eye with the honest and soulful look of a woman telling the naked truth.
She held my slippery penis in her hands.
"It's so hard," she said, admiring the way my crown hung on the end of my shaft like a red round doorknob of illicit love.
She wrapped her fingers around it with both hands and gave it a jerk in the downward direction.
Her grasp was tight.
Like a pussy with fingers.
Then she loosened her grip on the upstroke and lightly rubbed my erect boner back and forth and back and forth.
She stared at my hard cock with an almost religious gaze.
More and more she rubbed.
I felt the intensity of our experience beginning to climax for me in an all-encompassing male orgasm.
She grasped my balls in one hand and rolled them around and around in her fingers.
Even as I began to lose my grip on things, my head about to burst in the climactic moment of complete sexual gratification, she rubbed my balls against my thigh.
Her hands were wet with the juices that had soaked my boner.
The sensation of my balls being jerked and rolled in the wet grasp of hot love—even as she rubbed my cock with her fingers and palm—was beyond description.
Then she held me fast—and time stopped.
She released.
Just let go.
And she lay there, arms at her sides, while I shot cum all over her.
She let me shoot hot cum all over her naked body.
My penis jerked up and down like a fire hose at full blast with nobody to control it.
I forced my eyes to stay open as I had my orgasm.
I watched a thick blast of white jizz spurt from my cock and land right on her face.
It landed on the side of her nose, running into the corner of her mouth.
She licked and lapped it up, savoring the taste.
Another gob of cum landed right on her chin, dripping down the side of her tender, sweet neck.
More thick cream spit from my hose and spattered her tits.
I saw one drop clinging to her erect nipple.
The last few blurts of wad were the thickest, but the slowest to fall from my dripping cock.
They fell on her stomach.
I shook out the final drippings of my semen.
My erection began to fade as one drop clung by a strand to the end of my dick, and then fell with an imperceptible "plop" onto Diane's body.