Se7en

by Sky Corgan

  If he's about to come, he's giving me no sign. He moans from time to time—looks at me appreciatively—but no matter how much I suck, I don't feel any closer to getting him off. It's almost infuriating that he can make me orgasm with just a few touches, and yet I'm giving him everything I have, and nothing.

  As if sensing my struggle, Chandler takes my hands and wraps them around the base of his shaft, circling his balls with my fingers. I cup him as I suck him off, trying to give his balls equal attention by fondling them. He tangles his hand in my hair, moving my head for me, and I wince from the mild burning sensation at my scalp.

  “That's a good girl.” He bucks his hips. “Suck my cock like you mean it. All the way down.”

  I do mean it. I've meant it for the past five minutes. Hearing him call me his good girl does turn me on, though.

  “Yeah, let me fuck your pretty little face.” He pushes me balls deep again, holding me in place until I choke. He definitely seems to be enjoying this. I wonder if he had been looking forward to today most of all. I also wonder what else he can possibly have planned for me. The week is almost halfway over, and his desires are becoming more and more twisted and bizarre as the days pass.

  Chandler finally allows me a break, and I pant for breath, sitting back on my calves. He stands, urging me around him. I go to sit on the chair, but he plants a hand on my shoulder, keeping me on the floor. It's my back he wants against the chair, I realize. He doesn't want me to have any room to escape him.

  With a hand in my hair, he slides his slick glans across my lips. My throat still hasn't recovered, but I know I have no choice but to give him everything he wants. I open for him, and I learn the true meaning of face fucking.

  He's not gentle. Not in the slightest. There are times I think I might suffocate. Times I think my throat will be sore for days from having his thick helmet spearing into it. Every few strokes, he pulls me off of him to catch a gulp of breath, but it's merely a tease. A mix of saliva and pre-seed is smeared across my lips and dribbling down my chin. There's no way he could paint this without it looking crude and tasteless. What exactly is he trying to accomplish?

  “Spit,” he tells me. “You're making a mess.” As if it's my fault.

  I do what I'm told, feeling like I'm drowning in buckets of both him and me. My dress is wet and sticky and uncomfortable. He directs me down to suck on his balls. It's a welcome reprieve from having my throat spread. But much like when he allows me to come up for air, it's short-lived.

  I bob on his cock a few more times, feeling like a sex doll, my holes the only things he cares about. And then finally there's a break in the clouds, and he moves away from me, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of nipple clamps with a chain connecting them. I suck in an apprehensive breath as he approaches me with them. This is going to hurt, too.

  This room is deceptive. Seemingly innocent. What else is hidden in the drawers and closet, I wonder.

  “Off with the dress.” Chandler unhooks the leash from my collar so that I can pull my dress over my head. When I look around for where to put it, he takes it from me, balls it in his fist, and tosses it across the room. Then he cups one of my breasts, holding it up to slowly put the clamp on my nipple.

  I whimper from the pain. Holy hell. The burning from the crushing of sensitive nerves is almost unbearable. Thankfully, my body seems to adapt quickly. Or it goes numb. I can't really tell. All I know is that the worst part is when he lets the clamps bite into my tender flesh. At least, I think that's the worst part until Chandler tugs on the chain. Everything goes red as pain shoots through my nipples. It's so intense that I cry out.

  He smirks sadistically. “Oh no, we'll have none of that.”

  He picks up the ball gag from where he laid it on the chair earlier and lifts it to my mouth, urging me to open. I give him a pleading look but obey. My anxiety level is slowly rising. I'm bordering on fearful of what he's going to do to me next.

  Just bear this. One scene, and you won't have to do it again.

  He slips the ball gag into my mouth and fastens it around my head. A familiar aching assaults my jaw. Haven't I had my mouth open long enough? It's apparent that Chandler does not care about my comfort in here. Would he have made me wear the gag again if I hadn't cried out? This feels like a punishment.

  With the gag in place, he grabs the chain connecting my nipples again. “Up,” he tells me as he gives it a gentle tug. Pain shoots through me again, and I don't bother trying to mask my vocalizations. He can't shush me any more than he already has.

  I stand, and he leads me over to the chaise by my leash and the chain between my breasts. I try my best to keep up with him so that the pulling on my nipples is less. Knowing what I'll feel if I don't is good motivation to stay right on his heels.

  “Can you do the splits?” he asks.

  It seems like an odd question. I nod, wondering what he expects from me now. Whatever the case, it looks like my short stint in gymnastics is going to be paying off yet again.

  “I want you to do the splits...on that.” He points to the chaise.

  I give it a queer look. There's nothing spectacular about the piece of furniture. It's just wood and padding with a slight dip in the center. I can already tell this is going to be uncomfortable, but I do as I'm told anyway.

  Chandler leaves me to go to the chest of drawers, opening up another drawer and pulling out some leather straps. When he returns, he fastens one around each thigh and the chaise to keep me in place. I lean forward, my arms hanging off the edge and my elbows digging into the padding to keep me upright. If not for the straps around my thighs, I feel like I could fall at any moment.

  Chandler takes off his shirt, tossing it aside. Then he returns to the chest of drawers, pulling open yet another drawer and extracting a flogger. There's no doubt in my mind now that there's something kinky in every one of those drawers.

  I brace myself as he stands behind me, giving the flogger a few cursory swings before it finally makes contact. I expect it to hurt, but he uses very little pressure. It feels like a thousand bunched up leather tongues licking at my back. There's the tiniest sting, but I find it oddly satisfying, like a distraction from everything else I'm feeling: the soreness of my throat, the straining of my thigh muscles. I've never hurt in more places at the same time.

  My thighs quiver as I fight to keep my ass on the chaise. I can feel my body sliding, and my fear of falling steals my attention, making me fight extra hard to maintain my position.

  Halfway through the flogging, Chandler takes a break to rip off my underwear. I would be upset if they weren't a cheap pair. I didn't go out of my way to wear something sexy today, knowing he probably wouldn't give them half a glance before asking me to take them off.

  “Put your ass in the air for me,” he tells me.

  There's no way to do that in my current position, so I wiggle until my knees are planted on the chaise and arch my back, hoping I won't earn a punishment for coming out of the splits. My thighs rejoice from not being spread so awkwardly. There's no doubt my entire body is going to be sore tomorrow from all of this.

  Chandler uses more pressure on my ass, and I close my eyes, finding that I actually enjoy it. It's like a soothing spanking, cooler than a hand, though the coolness of the lashes is offset by the heat of the sting they cause.

  The chaise is so short widthwise that I'm always falling off of it in some way. With my knees bent on top of it, there's no room for my upper torso, so I end up leaning over it until I have to place my palms on the floor to keep stabilized. It doesn't seem like Chandler planned this part very well. Or maybe he didn't care what I'd have to go through to please him. At least he doesn't seem upset by all of my wiggling.

  My body jolts as the flogger changes positions and I feel a light slap against my pussy. “Oh God,” I moan around the gag, tasting the first real pleasure since I entered this room. The lashes are like little tongues, each licking at me in a different spot, each trying to tap at my clit and ca
use a surge of mini-contractions.

  Chandler uses just the right amount of pressure, dialing it down to the point that the sting only adds to my enjoyment of the act. I want him to do it faster so that I can come, but he seems content with keeping me tortuously on the edge.

  “Please, more, sir,” I mumble, hoping he'll get the queue. He picks up the pace ever so slightly, but it just drives me crazy; it doesn't do the job.

  “You look like you need something more,” he teases. I can't see his face, but I can hear the smirk in his voice.

  Chandler tosses the flogger aside. Then he gives my pussy a gentle slap before stepping up behind me. For a moment, I think he's going to switch to spanking my cunt, but then I feel his tip pressing between my folds. I suck in a breath as he slowly enters me, moaning as I drown in the sensation of being filled by him.

  This is what I had really been waiting for. The best part of being in this room with him.

  He thrusts a few times before stopping. “You know, I've done a lot of work in here today. I think you should take over for a while.”

  I can only guess at what he wants, so I try moving my hips back to take him in. My thighs burn from the effort, and I bitterly think that he's not the one who gave a ten-minute blowjob a little while ago.

  “That's a good girl. You've got this. Take all of me in.” He hisses when I slide back on him.

  Thankfully, he doesn't let me have control for long. He places a foot on the chaise next to me and pushes in balls deep. I groan around the ball gag, thinking about how much better it feels when he does all the work. He pistons into me at a slow, steady pace. All the way out. All the way in. Filling me to the hilt with each thrust. I move my hips in time with him, though the effort is minimal. He rewards me with a soft slap on the ass before clutching onto my waist and driving into me so hard that I whimper.

  “Oh yes. Oh shit.” I sink my teeth into the ball gag, feeling my first orgasm overwhelming me. My clit throbs, my pussy moving back to suck him all in as my muscles clench around him.

  “Jesus Christ, Emma, you're so fucking hot when you come.” His fingers dig into my flesh as he pulls us so tightly together that my cunt hurts from it. It's the good kind of hurt, though. The hurt of being so deliciously full of his big cock.

  “You seem to enjoy being my little fuck toy.” Chandler places his palm on the small of my back.

  I blush as there's a new sensation, his thumb pushing at my pucker. Anal has never been something I've wanted to try. I've always thought it was gross. Just the fact that he's touching me back there makes me feel dirty. I want to press my hips away from him, but then I remember that I left my consent at the door. In here, it's anything he wants.

  You only live once, Emma. Just go with it.

  My breath hitches as he pushes his thumb into me. All the while, he never stops thrusting. I clench my eyes shut as he fingers my ass, moving from his thumb to his forefinger, probing gently. It's not the worst thing I've ever felt. It's just...strange, like I know his digits don't belong there.

  Every time he sticks one in, I feel extra full. I actually kind of like that it makes his dick feel even bigger. Not that he needs extra girth. It's really the only pleasurable thing I garner from having his fingers in my ass, though, so I just focus on what feels good to get through the experience.

  “How about we make you more comfortable?” Chandler pulls out of me, leaving all my holes except for my mouth empty.

  He unfastens the straps keeping me bound to the chaise, and my body practically slides off of it onto the floor. I feel like melted wax. My muscles don't even want to work anymore.

  “Up.” He places his fingertip under my chin, urging me to stand. I'm more than grateful that he doesn't go for the chain attached to the nipple clamps. My nipples went numb a long time ago, but I'm pretty sure that a good tug on that chain would bring them back to life in all the worst ways.

  As if reading my mind, Chandler grabs one of the clamps. I give him a pleading look, muttering, “Please,” around the ball gag.

  His expression is absolutely wicked. “You want to be more comfortable, don't you?”

  “Please, sir,” I start to say, but before I can even finish getting the words out, he jerks the clamp off of my nipple, sending hellfire through my chest.

  “One more to go,” he says, pulling the other off midway through my scream. I choke on my own breath as a second scream tries to follow the first before it's finished.

  That hurt way more than putting them on. Way more than the tugging on the chain. For a while, all I feel is fire across my chest. There seems to be no way to quench it. All I can do is wait until it starts to fade, breathing heavily as tears stream down my cheeks.

  “There now. Isn't that better?” Chandler sets the nipple clamps on the chest of drawers before coming back to me to unfasten the ball gag from around my head.

  “You're evil,” I tell him as soon as I'm able to speak again.

  “Do you really want to backtalk me right now?” He caresses my cheek, making me shudder internally from the intensely sensual gaze he's giving me. “This can go back on, you know.” He holds the ball gag up to me. “Now are you going to be my good girl?”

  I stare at the ball gag, hating it. My jaw aches so badly that I don't think I could handle having it back in my mouth. “Yes, sir. I'll be your good girl.” I nod, never taking my eyes off of the gag, praying it just disappears.

  “That's good.” Chandler bends to kiss me on the forehead. “Now go lie on the bed on your back with your legs spread.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wait until he's walked around me before I head to the bed to take my position. It is definitely tons more comfortable on the bed not having to worry about falling off. Tons more comfortable without the nipple clamps making me worry that if I move wrong pain is going to surge through me. Tons more comfortable not having my mouth stretched open to the max. I never knew how much I could appreciate just lying on a bed, even if it is in an awkward spread eagle position.

  Chandler returns to me with two pairs of cuffs in his hands. My position is made a lot less comfortable when he cuffs each wrist to each ankle, forcing my legs to strain open once more. Oh well. It's a small discomfort compared to everything else we were doing.

  He grabs my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the bed. My ass is practically hanging off, and once more I worry that I might fall.

  “Are you ready for a little reward?” Chandler asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He places two fingers between my pussy lips and starts vibrating them, teasing my clit until I come. My God, is he ever good with his hands. He's good with his everything. I whimper and breathe as the orgasm swirls through me, my toes curling.

  Reward is good. I like reward. And while I'm not sure what I did to earn it, I want more.

  “And now for my reward.” Chandler lines up his cock, pushing into my spread pussy.

  I groan as I take him in, thinking about how incredible it feels. He reaches forward to grope my breasts, not being very gentle about it, but I don't care. I'm still stuck in reward mode. This is a reward to me, too, having his hands on me, his thick dick inside of me.

  “And now for something more.” He pulls out, sliding his glans between my pussy and my asshole before resting it against my pucker.

  My body instantly tenses, my asshole clamping shut to the best of its ability. “Please, don't.”

  “Ball gag?” He glances back at the chest of drawers. Those two words shut me up. “Try to relax, and it won't hurt as much. If you fight me, I might make you bleed.”

  I'm worried he's going to make me bleed anyway, he's so damn big.

  I want to rest my head back, but I also want to see what he's doing. Craning my neck to watch ends up winning. No matter how much he tells me to relax, it's not going to happen. This is never something I wanted. The fact that I'm letting him do it definitely means that I'm going all the way with him. In one week, I've allowed him to violate all my holes. He better feel
pretty damn special.

  “Stop fighting me,” he tells me as he starts to push forward.

  My head falls back as my body starts to give way. Discomfort is an understatement for what I feel. And what follows is a stretching sensation that threatens to rip me in two.

  Chandler stops pressing forward and pulls back instead, though he doesn't come all the way out.

  “Fuck.” I bite the inside of my mouth, trying to breathe past the burning sensation.

  He begins moving again, thrusting slowly. Whatever lubrication our bodies provide helps to ease the pain a bit, but it doesn't completely go away. Oddly, I feel fuller now than when he was in my pussy. A pressing fullness that I can't decide if I like or not, but I'm teetering towards the not side.

  “Your ass is so tight,” Chandler hisses, staring at our joined parts. He pushes all the way in, and I whimper. Too deep. Way too deep.

  “I don't think I can handle much more of this,” I confess.

  “Just a little more. Handle it a little longer...for me.” His eyes meet mine, and I can't possibly say no. Because there's not just lust behind his eyes; there's affection. There are things I've seen throughout the week that make me want to believe he cares about me. That make me want to believe that after this is all over, he's not just going to kick me to the curb. I have to believe that to get through this, even if it's a lie.

  “Just a little more.” I surrender, hoping that he'll stay true to his word. Anal is definitely not my thing.

  “Let's make this a little better for you.” His hand returns to my clit, pinching it gently to redirect my focus. Locking my gaze with his keeps me stabilized as he continues to fuck my ass, picking up the pace. His thumb toys with my clit, giving it a deep massage. I somehow find a happy place with the combined stimulation. The pain melts away into a deep pressure that's tolerable, though not quite enjoyable.

  “Please make me come, sir.”

  Challenge accepted. His fingers move over my clit with the same speed that he pumps into me. I feel full and overwhelmed, my pleasure ebbing and flowing from the conflicting physical stimulus. He cups my breast, tweaking my erect nipple to add the last extra bit that I need to reach the summit of bliss.