Pleasure Through Pain

февраля 23, 2021

Count. Breathe. These are his words. Words which I so desperately want to follow. His hand, warm, firm on my soft belly. I hear the tick tick of the kitchen timer and sometimes, his voice telling to count, to breathe, to settle my soul.

I asked for this challenge - well, not this PARTICULAR challenge, but I asked to BE challenged. This was His design. My nipples are ridiculously sensitive and so He chose a true challenge. Clothespins. For fifteen minutes. Fifteen. Full. Minutes. Naturally, I could put a stop to this with just one word, but then how much worth would this challenge have?

I WANT this challenge. More, I NEED it!

I must keep my eyes closed.

I must not move.

I must not speak (except, of course, for a safeword!)

I must not moan.

I must embrace the sensation, breath through the pain to find the pleasure. Once, this was easy for me. Since we have been apart for almost a year, though - thank you Covid! I'm dreadfully out of practice!

I must breathe only through my nose - my mouth must remain closed. If I open it, he will fill it with a gag, which he doesn't want to do. He wants the only sensations I feel to be his hand on my belly and the harsh, tight clothespins.

I asked for this. I will meet his challenge. I will ignore the tear I cannot stop from escaping and forging a watery path down my face. I will make him, and more importantly, myself proud.

I will breathe. I will count. I will find the light of pleasure within the darkness of the pain.

Breathe. Count. Focus.

Embrace the pain. Embrace the release. My body is suddenly floating lightly, free of all sensation except for a strong tingling from my nipples straight down to my clit.

Then, his voice.

"You did it," he says.

I blink my eyes open. Smile. He leans down. Kisses my mouth before he straddles me.

Breathe. Focus. No need for counting to 10 over and over now. My eyes drink in his body. His strong, muscular chest, his biceps, naturally rounded and firm from his work rather than a gym, his rugged face, his shocking ice-blue eyes, his cock. Dear Saints above, his cock. Velvet covered length steel with the girth of my fist.

"Trust me."

I nod. Always I trust him. Always I'm ready for him. One look into his eyes, one whisper of his breathe on my skin, one word, and I'm ready for him.

Without preamble, he thrusts inside of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. My nipples are seared. I thought the pain from the clothespins was intense. Nothing could have prepared me for the sudden blood rushing back to the hard nubs. Nothing, except the entry of his sword into my honeyed sheath.

Nothing on this world or any other could have stemmed the orgasm that obliterated every cell in my body. Nothing could have kept my mind glued into place. My back arched so high only my feet, and the back of my head still touched the bed.

Somewhere, far away, I heard his voice. Anchoring me, calling me back to the new sensation of the tender, delicious ache in my nipples combined with the stretching completeness of my cunt.

Nothing in the world or any other could possibly compare to the love I give this man.

"Good. You're primed now. Clean me."

Without thought, I scamper around on the bed. His dripping cock is dangling between his legs as he kneels upright. I slid my head between his knees. I expect him to lower himself to me, but no. This is my challenge. I lift up and capture his deliciousness. Now that he has cum, I taste our combined flavors and my blood surges. I reach down to touch myself, but he slaps my swollen puss. Hard.

I squeal, but stay focused on my task. He's right. It's his pussy, not mine. Thankfully, he knows my need and sees to it. While I suck him clean, he pinches my clit. My hips fly upward again.

"No. Stay in position," he warns.

I force my hips back down. He plunges two fingers inside of me and I have to force myself to count again. My neck hurts from lifting it to suck on him, making sure to lick his balls every time my mouth gets close.

Three fingers. Four fingers. He's fucking me with all four fingers. I'm stretched to heaven and I can't stop. Fire consumes me as I come all over those clever fingers. Luckily, he uses his other hand to help hold my head in place, my lips pressed against his balls.

"You ready for the final challenge?"

I can't answer, so I nod and hop he can feel it.

His thumb slides in and I know I'm going to split in two. Slowly, diligently, he continues to push. I scream around his cock.

His entire fist is inside of me now. Never before, despite my begging to try this, has he allowed such bliss. He sits up higher and his cock comes out of my mouth.

"Speak." he commands.

"Clinton! It hurts so much!"

"Yes, but is there pleasure?"

"So, so much pleasure. I can't. I can't. stop. coming!"

"Good. Keep it up, babe. I'll stop only when you do."

Later, as I lay in his arms, my nipples so tender the silk sheet brushing them is enough for them to pebble, my pussy so tender I jump whenever he brushes a fingertip over it, I smile and look up at him.

"Clinton?"

"hmm?" he answers sleepily.

"Thank you."

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