As I open the door of the room, you grab me by my hair, turn me around, and slam me against the wall, tits first. My cheek is pressed up against the wall as you deliberately lift my dress and reach down between my legs, leaning in to my ear, and whispering fiercely, “Why are you wearing underwear, slut?”

It’s a question I can easily answer. I know the rules. “So you can tear them open.”

You laugh in satisfaction, then use both hands to start tearing at the top of the back. The sound and sensation of the fabric ripping down my ass crack and between my legs makes me gasp. I pillow my forehead against my arms so I can steady myself on my shaking legs. “Don’t move,” you order.

I stand perfectly still, with my dress hiked up around my waist, my legs spread, ass out, and my pussy slightly swollen in anticipation. I can’t see you, but I hear you take a step back. I hear you take off your belt, and you laugh as you watch my pussy contract in response to the sound. I am well-conditioned, and you clank it a few more times just to watch. I think about the last time I stood like this, and how you beat me with the belt, then wrapped it around my crotch as leverage while you fucked me. Your cock is nowhere near me, but I can actually feel it get hard as you think about it too.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you say, stepping out of your pants and sticking the head of your cock into me.

“I’m not really thinking much,” I gasp.

You lean your whole body against me, your face again behind my ear. But your cock is still barely inside me. “I could just use your pussy while I jerked off,” you tease. You slide your hand up and down your cock, and it bangs against my pussy lips as you jerk yourself off into me. “Clench your pussy around my cock, slut,” you order. I do.

Instinctively, my whole crotch starts to lean back into you, but you cleverly pull back. You laugh. “You could,” I whimper, “but please fuck me.”

Instead, you pull your cock out of me and replace it with your finger, sliding it all the way inside of me. “Cum, slut,” you order.

“I can’t!” I wail.

“Why not?”

“I can’t cum standing up.”

“Then why do you want my cock inside you?” That question is also easy to answer. This is a ritual.

“Because when I can’t cum, I can feel every stroke of your cock going in and out of me. I can feel you getting harder inside me. I can feel your veins twitch when you cum. And when you pull out, your cum drips down my thighs and onto my feet.”

You laugh. “Later. I want your cum.”

You grab my hair again and pull me off the wall, yank my dress off, and throw me onto the bed on my back. Your cock is completely hard, but you still only slide one finger inside me.

“Cum, slut,” you order, as you fuck me gently with your single finger.

Obediently, I reach down to touch my clit, but you knock my hand away with your free hand. “If you touch yourself, I won’t fuck you.”

“I can’t cum from only one finger!” I gasp.

“You said before that you couldn’t cum standing up.”

“I can’t do that either… I need your cock.”

“What do you need it for?”

“So I can cum! You said you wanted you wanted my cum!” I’m pleading now. I deliberately clench my pussy around your fingers, wanting you to want to fuck me.

You lean over me, pinning my wrists to the bed. “I will make you cum with only one finger.” I moan and wriggle my crotch against the tip of your cock. You laugh as we both get harder from it. “But I might fuck you first. Will you promise not to touch yourself if I fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“Will you promise to cum from my cock?”

“Yes!”

“Will you tell me every time you cum?”

“I can cum more if I don’t have to tell you,” I say truthfully.

You laugh, still teasing me with the tip of your cock. “Then dig your nails into my shoulder every time you cum.” No longer able to think, I stare into your eyes and nod my agreement.

Eyes locked, you have mercy on me, sliding inside me, and my entire body shakes. I gasp and writhe against you, and cum, digging my nails into your shoulder. I never really stop cumming while you fuck me, but I feel us both peak when I actually feel your cock twitching inside me.

You pull out immediately, and I whimper. You reach behind my head, and pull me up by my hair. You stand just behind the foot of the bed, and force me to my knees, ordering me to spread my legs over your foot.

Your cock is still hard, and it’s wet with both of us.

I drag my dripping pussy lips across the top of your foot, leaving it wet. I start by gently licking our cum off your cock, but you grab the back of my head and thrust your cock down my throat. Every time you choke me, my pussy clenches. Every time you pull back, my pussy drips a little onto your foot. I can feel my knees getting slightly rugburnt, and I look up and notice that there are deep fingermarks in your shoulder from my orgasms. We have marked each other.
Eventually, you grow impatient, and throw me down onto the floor by my hair, my ass in the air, and my sore knees digging into the carpet. You wind my braid around your wrist, and yank my head back, staring into my upside down eyes.

“Does this hurt?” you ask, thrusting your cock inside me.

I make an inarticulate scream as you fuck me, my back mercilessly arched.

“Does this hurt?” you demand again, pounding into me.

“Yes,” I gasp weakly, and as you finally let my braid go, my head flops forward onto the floor. I feel your cock get harder inside me when I say that. When I start sobbing at the pain of your thrusts, I feel your cock get even harder inside me.

“Does this hurt?” you say again.

“Yes,” I say, tears streaming down my face that you can’t see. “Please don’t stop.” And I mean it.

You keep pounding into my pussy, and say, “You can’t cum from this, can you?”

“No,” I say. “But it feels better that way.” I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. “Please cum.”

“What was that?”

It’s really hard to talk. I mostly just want to scream. “I said please cum.”

“I didn’t understand what you said.”

“Please cum!” I wail, feeling my entire body shake with the not-quite-orgasm that wracks me when I can feel the tiniest subtle pleasures of your cock cumming in me.

My pussy is positively sodden as you pull out of me, and I turn over to face you.

“You are a very wet slut,” you inform me with satisfied amusement. I nod, wondering if my legs will ever work again. You slide your finger inside me again instead. “Cum,” you order me.

I laugh. “I’m far too wet and fucked to cum from just one finger.”

“Is that so?” With no warning, one finger becomes three, then four. Then you start adding fingers from your other hand, and in no time, you have eight fingers inside, both thumbs poised tantalizingly at my clit. “There’s room for my cock between my hands,” you say.

“You said you wanted to use me to jerk yourself off.”

You laugh. “I did, didn’t I?” You drag your dick along my clit between your thumbs, letting it get hard against my pussy until I am almost screaming to be able to cum. But you don’t make me cum. Instead, you shove your dick inside me, between your eight fingers.

I have no idea how there is room in my pussy for your large cock and so many fingers. I am so filled that it feels like I have no room to orgasm. Instinctively, I clench my pussy around them all, and you gasp. I do it again, and you gasp again. Your thumbs bump against my clit while you fuck me. As I squeeze again, I know that this hurts you too, and that pleases me. It takes only a few thrusts for me to cum. It feels strange, as if the orgasm is so deep inside me I’m not even sure it’s in my pussy any more. But it is deeply satisfying, as if you’ve just fucked my entire body, not just my pussy. You don’t stop fucking me after I cum, though. You keep fucking me, then pull your cock and your hands out at once, and shove your cock into my mouth.

I scream a little when you pull your hands out, because my pussy is so sore, but my screams are drowned out by your cum. When you take your cock out of my mouth, I whimper.

“You are such a tease!” I moan.

“How am I a tease?”

“You didn’t cum in me!”

“Yes, I did. I came in your mouth.”

“It’s not the same,” I say, hating the way I’m almost whining. “Not after you’ve fucked me.”

“But I like teasing you. And I like making you drink my cum.”

I make an inarticulate sound of desire and frustration, then stumble slightly from the floor to the bed, still feeling the aftershocks of orgasm—my own and yours–going through my body. You get up with me, laughing at my inability to stand properly as I flop helplessly onto the bed. My pussy is so sore, but that just makes me want to cum more. So I lay in a wet puddle, trembling and cumming while you grin evilly at me and occasionally stroke the lips of my wet cunt to encourage it.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and grab you by the hair and push your face into my pussy. I am so sore that it is almost embarrassingly easy to cum. A slight lick on my clit, a gentle thrust of your tongue into my pussy… I can no longer tell the difference between when I’m cumming and when I’m not, and you barely have to do more than breathe on my swollen clit to cause me to cum.

But as I’m still cumming, you pull your face away, and slide your finger inside me, your knuckle barely brushing against my clit. Your single finger hurts so much inside my overfucked pussy that I actually scream a little. I realize that you’ve been blowing on me to dry me out, and that you’ve restored sensation to me in the most excruciating way possible. It hurts so much it causes my pussy to clench in masochistic desire, which hurts more… and as your knuckles gently brush my clit, I cum on your single finger inside me.

“It hurts so much,” I moan.

“One finger? One finger hurts so much?”

“It hurts so much I came,” I confess.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cum on one finger?”

“I was wrong! I’m so sore! I could cum on anything right now.”

You lean in closer to me. “Are you saying that you cum harder when you’re sore?”

“Yes,” I whimper, still trembling slightly. “But I can’t take any more. Really.”

You laugh wickedly, haul me up by the hair, and pull me off the bed. You throw me over a couch arm with my legs straddled open, my clit rubbing against the cushions of the couch arm. You know I jerk off like that, and my traitorous clit responds impossibly by getting hard again.

“You can’t fuck me again,” I plead.

“You said you wanted my cum in your pussy.”

“I can’t—”

“You don’t have a choice.” And it’s true. As you thrust inside me, I scream, and it hurts so much I see stars. “Next time I tell you to cum with one finger, are you going to do it the first time?” you ask as you punish my pussy with your cock.

“No.”

“Good girl.” And I feel you cum inside me again.