Vignettes of Kink

She teases him. Plays hard to get. She knows what he’s after, but she wants him to work for it. For moments she thinks she has it under control, but she doesn’t. He reaches for her, pulls her close, kisses her hard and throws her on the bed. He grabs her feet, pulls until her bottom rests on the edge; enters her. Hard. Towers over her. Fucks her. It’s… kinky.

* * * * *

One of the first times she visits his home, he ties her to a chair, her legs spread wide. Easy access to her cunt. He finger-fucks her to several orgasms. Makes her beg for more. Fucks her with a condom-covered banana. She gives herself to him that night, unaware of the kinky adventures that will follow this first encounter.

* * * * *

hurt and painA chain runs from a hook in a beam up above to the steel rings on the cuffs around her wrists. A collar around her neck and her surrender of control speak of her submissive nature, but it will be years before she calls it that. She allows him to use nipple clamps on her, allows him to deny her an orgasm, to put clamps on her nether lips. Kinky stuff, she thinks, I like it. No, I want it.

* * * * *

Every time they fuck, he makes he come over and over again. Makes her beg for another finger. And another. Almost pushes his entire hand inside and makes her rub her clit until she cries out with her final orgasm. She likes it hard, harder even, and he likes to watch the pleasure and pain and passion dance across her face. Kinky, that seems to be their thing.

* * * * *

On her back in a sex swing, her head hanging over the edge on the one end, her bottom resting on the edge of the other. Between her legs a man is fucking her cunt, while she does her best to breathe and suck the other man. Thoughts of wanting her third hole filled flashes through her mind. The more she gets, the more she wants. Knot has become their game.

* * * * *

She closes her eyes when the man in front of her pulls the rope tight around her chest, loops it around her back and threads it around her breasts. A sigh escapes as the hug of the harness envelopes her chest. Her breasts are accentuated, her ribs feel the tight rope, and she wants more. She gets more. Rope around her hips. Some around her thighs. Her arms. Her shoulders. It’s everywhere. First he pulls one leg up, making her balance on one foot, then he allows her to lean into the rope supporting her chest. She flies; flies when her body is suspended in rope. She has never felt this light.

* * * * *

She moans as the whips lash across her buttocks. Moans because she doesn’t think she can handle it. The pain. Moans because she doesn’t want it to stop. The pain. It’s too much. It’s not enough. One, two, three, four… lashes rain on her bottom. Her mind transforms from feeling the pain to knowing it’s there but not feeling it. She’s adrift. Lost in her own mind. Deliciously lost in her pain. She wants more of this, a silly smile on her face when the men stop the whipping. She needs to return to this world from the one she’s in, but when she does, craves to be back in her world of bliss.

© Rebel’s Notes

Wicked Wednesday

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