The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set)

by Tara Crescent

  The sight of her pink tongue desperately seeking the errant cum caused Benji’s jaw to clench. Watching her degrade herself in front of them all made him only want to push her more. Reaching down, he ran his fingers through the cum on her cheek and hair, not fazed at all that it was another man’s. He held his fingers just in front of her lips.

  “Lick.”

  She raised her eyes to his, and her wet tongue darted out once more, dragging across his fingertips. That first contact sent searing heat shooting from his digits, straight to his cock until it twitched painfully within the confines of his boxers. Slowly, he pulled his fingers just out of her reach, watching her tongue strain futilely.

  He was enjoying himself immensely.

  Scooping up the cum that had landed on her arm, he popped the fingers past her lips, depositing the sticky, thick fluid on the back of her tongue. Maggie coughed a little, before closing her lips tightly around his fingers and sucking hard. Ben growled out at her, his passion rising.

  “You’re a fucking little cum-whore, aren’t you Miggie?”

  She shuddered and her eyes closed briefly when he said her name, but she never stopped sucking - the wet surface of her tongue moved back and forth under the length of his fingers. He pulled out again, collected the cum from the bag of pegs and table, then stuck three fingers deep into her stretched mouth. Her eyes went wide as she felt him reach his fingers beyond her soft palate, towards the base of her tongue. Gags and chokes wracked her body, but Paul continued his hold on her neck so she couldn’t back away.

  “You’re a goddamn natural at this Benji,” Paul laughed, “look at that drool coming out of her.”

  He was right. As Ben finger-fucked her throat thick strings of saliva coursed down her chin, mixing with the cum that had dripped down her face.

  Ben smiled down at her - his eyes remaining cold and intent.

  “Such a sticky mess, you are… your cunt and your face.” He smiled at her. “It’s how you’re meant to be, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, his fingers still lodged in her mouth.

  “Say yes Benji.”

  “…eth, enhi…,” she sputtered out as best as she could.

  “Silly cunt.”

  Miggie groaned as her face flushed with shame.

  He tucked his pinky in, pushed forward, and watched as her lips stretched lewdly around his hand. All but his thumb stuffed her mouth - she breathed rapidly through her nose but was quiet otherwise. He kept his hand still, watching intently as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. He could have stayed there forever, studying her expression. It mystified him that she was so compliant in her own torture. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement between her legs, and suddenly she was gasping around his hand. Martin had dropped to his knees behind her, and had begun alternately licking and biting her ass cheeks. Shamelessly, Miggie spread her legs as wide as she could, until she was up on the balls of her feet and pushing herself against him.

  Paul teased, “Look at her, splitting her ass for you - she wants it bad, Martin.”

  Once again Miggie’s neck reddened, color slowly spreading up her cheek as she whimpered. He decided his hand had enjoyed her mouth long enough, pulled it out, and smeared the wetness down her face, then over her neck and shoulders.

  Paul reached for the bag of clothes pegs, emptying it entirely onto the table.

  “Cliff, get back here man - follow my lead.”

  The two men stood on either side of the table, opposite from one another. Paul placed two pegs on the soft sensitive flesh just under her upper arm, mid-way between elbow and armpit. Cliff followed suit on the other side.

  “Fuck!” Miggie cried out as her body jerked on the table.

  One by one in rapid succession the two men clamped her arms, down the sides of her chest and abdomen until reaching the points of her hips. Ten pegs adorned each side before they were done causing Miggie to twitch and shudder as her body alighted with pain.

  “Ahhh…,” she gasped, again and again between her pants.

  Martin, who by now had left no less than seven impressions of his teeth on the tender flesh of her ass, ran his tongue deep and hard through her pussy lips and ass crack, before getting almost under her to suck and bite on her clit. Ben knelt down to get a better view, watching on as her swollen clit became trapped between Martin’s teeth, where it was pulled and twisted until it sprang free - only to be clamped down upon again. His face and her thighs were covered in wetness - the smell of which filled the room with a thick, heady, intoxicating aroma that was driving Ben wild.

  Ben’s dick ached for her hot, wet mouth. In front of her again, he quickly released his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down until his cock bounced free. Wet eyes stared at the crimson shaft of her classmate - the shy sweet boy she always wondered about. It was long and somewhat thick - prominent veins pulsed under soft skin. The large crown glistened with the start of his precum.

  Ready to watch his girlfriend get face-fucked, Paul pulled her up onto the table completely, until her hips and thighs were supported. The movement resulted in a few of the pegs snapping off her skin, causing Miggie to scream out, but not loud enough that a neighbor would hear it above the music. Still on her belly, her breasts were mashed against the opposite edge of the table, her head hung over the side.

  “Fuck it, Benji,” Paul encouraged. “Fuck that slut throat.”

  Ben approached her, grabbed the ponytail to lift her head but hairs were slipping quickly from the hairband so he needed to find another way. Instead, he took hold of her head on both sides, just above and behind her ears, until he supported its full weight.

  “Eyes open and on me, Miggie.”

  He liked the way she grimaced with the use of her name - it was clearly too intimate for her. He decided to continue using it.

  Her hazel eyes shot daggers at him as he plunged his cock deep past her lips.

  Chapter Four

  Margaret rode the elevator up to her rented condo in the Pearl district. She’d chosen the area for its central location - her plan to get to know the city over time, then buy a house in another year or two. The revamped industrial area was now a mecca for restaurants, boutiques and galleries. Back in Austin, she’d only ever lived in apartments, but more and more she craved the extra space and solitude a house would afford her.

  She should have left Austin, and Jonathan, years ago. She knew it was her own selfishness that had led to her to staying with him for over seven years. How many women could say that not only did their boyfriends encourage them to fuck other men, but would take care of them afterwards, wounds and all?

  Just as planned after college, Margaret had left Maryland, and Paul, for New York and never looked back - well, almost never. During her first year at medical school, lonely in a new city, more than once Margaret would call him and he’d always come and give her what she needed. She’d return to class Monday morning bruised, bitten, and sated. He never called her though, and one day she made one last call to him, only to find out he was getting married.

  School and a part-time job at the book store kept her busy. With no taste for drama, she avoided the incestuous fuck-fest the rest of her classmates indulged in, choosing to meet men online. Some she met in chat rooms, others from online dating sites. Her friends thought her paranoid when she insisted they take down guys’ names and phone numbers before she left for dates - of course, she never told them the true nature of those dates. While most started at a coffee shop or cafe, they’d invariably end with her being bound and roughly used. A few ‘dates’ would cross the line, though, and she’d have to miss a day or two of class to allow facial bruises or chafed wrists to heal.

  During one such hook-up, Margaret had truly been scared for her safety. He’d ignored her safeword, caning her until blood trickled down her thighs, then refused to let her leave. She’d been able to sneak out when he fell asleep, but shortly after the stalking and threatening notes started. She’d had to file a
restraining order, move to an undisclosed location until she left for Austin two months later, and give up her online ‘dating’. She knew she’d pressed her luck for too long already.

  It was during her residency in Austin that she met Jonathan. He was one year ahead of her in his surgery residency, and the two became fast friends. He was sweet, sexy, and smart - but most of all, he made her laugh. They started as friends, become lovers, and within six months he’d given up his room in a group house to move in to her apartment.

  Their relationship was perfect in so many ways, so much so that initially she failed to care that he didn’t have a sadistic bone in his body. Over time though, she opened up to him about her cravings for pain and humiliation, assuring him that it wasn’t what she needed all the time, but perhaps they could experiment together some of the time. To his credit, he tried, but it just wasn’t him and she’d be left feeling guilty for pushing him to be someone he wasn’t.

  Margaret assured him that she wouldn’t leave him, but Jonathan had worried that her needs weren’t being met. It had been his idea that they have an open relationship so she could go fuck other men who could indulge her masochism. She’d turned him down outright - at first. As hard as she tried to erase the offer from her consciousness, images of canes, clamps, and floggers eventually won out. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t pursue sex with anyone else, and he never did.

  A new routine developed between them that she knew was fucked-up as hell. As she had back in New York, she met the men online, but this time around she’d give Jonathan their information, and more often than not he’d drop her off and pick her up. While the extra safety comforted her, it was disturbing that he’d expect her to relay every raw and dirty detail upon her return.

  Even more disconcerting was his developing role as her savior. He’d take her home, bruised and sometimes bleeding and lovingly nurse her wounds. He’d care for her tenderly at these times - the more damage incurred, the happier he seemed to be. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to know that he thrived on being needed. If more than a month between her hook-ups would come to pass, he’d less than subtly encourage her to get back online.

  Over the years, the entire dynamic of their relationship shifted. Jonathan became more and more fatherly towards her, slowly taking control of multiple aspects of her life. Every measure he took, whether it was managing her finances, scheduling her haircuts and pedicures, or even packing her lunches had certainly made her life easier - but with each loss of her autonomy, Margaret became more despondent. He rarely had sex with her anymore, choosing instead to masturbate as she retold what he thought of as her ‘best of’ scenes from her hook-ups. She felt sick at these times, but did it for him to diminish the guilt she felt - guilt that burned in her gut from the knowledge that it had been her actions that had driven him to this level of madness.

  Margaret knew she needed to leave him, but still felt love for him - for who they had been. She’d insisted on couples’ therapy, being frank and honest with the counselor about every detail of their relationship, but Jonathan refused to acknowledge that there was a problem. In fact, he felt they had an ideal relationship, even labeling it as ‘evolved’.

  It was the day that she’d had to run back home from the hospital to pick up her cell phone, about eight years into their relationship, that she’d found him jerking off to a voice recording of her detailing a violent hook-up - a recording she was not aware he had made - that she started exploring positions in other cities. When she’d found the opening in Portland, it was everything she’d hoped to find. The hospital excelled in her specialty, and the city itself would suit her active lifestyle perfectly.

  She hid her job search from Jonathan until it was secured. He was devastated - pleading to go back to counseling, to stop pressuring her to share about her hook-ups, but she was undeterred. He started hinting that he would reveal her secrets to her colleagues, but by that point Margaret didn’t care - she just wanted out. It shouldn’t have surprised her the night he attacked her, goading her that it was what she wanted… what she craved. Margaret had been able to fight him off, but not before he’d blackened her eye and left bruises on her neck. The neighbor in the adjoining apartment had heard the fight and broken down the door. Together they took pictures of her wounds, and Margaret calmly told Jonathan that she would not press charges or file a restraining order if he never contacted her again. Any leak of her lifestyle to anyone, and she’d report him.

  She moved to a friends that evening, and on to Portland two weeks later.

  Margaret let herself into the condo, immediately switching on the gas fireplace. The rain was coming down in sheets, pelting her large glass window. The space was sparse and contemporary, which suited her fine after the cluttered apartment she’d shared with Jonathan. She’d wondered whether the exposed concrete walls and bamboo floors would leave her feeling cold, but the small apartment was quite cozy, especially with the fire on.

  She made herself some tea, and settled down with her laptop on her beanbag, a relic from college that she’d refused to part from. A search for ‘Benjamin Lewis, MD’ quickly called up his work profile.

  Looks like Benji aged well.

  His broad chest and strong jaw conveyed controlled power, but dark wavy hair and warm brown eyes with the beginning of laugh lines softened his features. It was his lips, though, that held her gaze. They were sensuous, with just a hint of a smile. It wasn’t that they were particularly erotic, but her memories of them, of what they’d felt like on her body - kissing … licking … sucking - that sent a pleasurable shudder to pass down her spine.

  His biography listed his degrees, credentials, and awards - which were many. Like all of the other doctor profiles, it listed his personal interests - biking, camping, crossword puzzles. What it didn’t mention was family. Was he single? Was he married, but private about it?

  Why do you care, Margaret?

  Having Benji there, at Paul’s apartment, had been unsettling. It wasn’t just that he had been a classmate, which was something she’d never considered doing before - it was that it was him. It was all of those times in class that she’d watched him, sensing … something, that she couldn’t quite define. Something locked behind a calm, sweet facade. When he’d agreed to join them, she’d been fearful he’d be shocked - out of his element - but as the night progressed, it was Margaret who’d been overwhelmed by his passion, and his brutality.

  He knew damn well she didn’t want to hear her name that night - she’d always hated her family’s nickname for her. Miggie. He couldn’t have known that, but he seemed to pick up quickly that it was pissing her off, and added it to his arsenal of torture. Not even Paul, in the time that she’d known him, had figured that out.

  Another warm current shifted through her body, pulsing deep in her cunt, as she recalled the way he’d entered her mouth like he owned it. His eyes had been hard - his lips tight and thin - as he plunged in and fucked her hard. The head of his cock bounced against her throat repeatedly, forcefully… painfully. The clips no longer mattered, the wet fingers invading her dry ass - Paul? Martin? - barely registered. His grip on either side of her head was firm, and felt oddly comforting. Her body felt overwhelmed with sensation, so close to the crest of an orgasm that almost frightened her with its threatening intensity.

  With each thrust, involuntary sounds echoed from her throat, “G… Gah… Gu…”, until the moment that he rested the bulbous head just at the threshold of her throat for a moment, before pushing it slowly past her gags and chokes, until her nose was pressed into his dark pubic hairs. She couldn’t breathe - his cock so deep it obstructed her airway completely. Benji cocked his head, studying her intently. She almost couldn’t bear to look at him, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She hadn’t gotten a good breath in before he’d entered her throat, but she was determined not to panic. He was trying to mind-fuck her, and for some reason she was reticent to let him.

  But then a knowing, almost cruel smile had crossed his
lips.

  “What did you think of that last final, Miggie?”

  That was all it took. Margaret began to thrash and scream - Paul leapt towards Ben, pulling him off. Her pain, anger, and shame had vaulted her into a violent orgasm. Her spasms and jerks were causing clips to fly off of her, each one eliciting their own scream. As the other three men looked on in shock, Martin continued to aggressively finger fuck her ass with one hand while pinching her engorged clit with the other until she was crying out for him to stop.

  Paul ordered, “Lose the clips,” and Cliff rapidly removed the remaining stragglers. Miggie remained motionless on the table for a few moments, but eventually pushed herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the table. She grimaced in pain from the bite marks on her ass.

  Ben was watching her, his expression unreadable. Paul got between the two of them, looking from one to the other.

  “You okay with him, Mig?” He checked in. “Want him to go?”

  Margaret shook her head, then nodded.

  “Yes - I mean no. I’m good… I’m good. I want him to stay,” Margaret said softly.

  From behind them, they heard, “Say ‘please’, Miggie.”

  What the fuck?

  They all stared at Benji.

  Paul was becoming agitated, and despite his slightly shorter stature, got up into Benji’s face.

  “What did you just say, asshole?”

  Ben replied calmly, “If she wants me to stay, she needs to ask me politely.”

  Margaret couldn’t believe his arrogance, his cruelty. She wanted him there - needed him there.

  Just as Paul shoved both hands into Ben’s chest, causing him to stumble backwards, she uttered quietly, “Please.”