402: Forced Intimacy

on August 11, 2009 in Book 14

In Which Barbarian Style Is All The Rage

After a build-up like that, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the whole thing had just broken down into a lot of awkward fumbling. Had it been left to me, it almost certainly would have. It was our good luck that I was the passive player in our little drama, though.

In the silence that followed our negotiation, I looked at Ian and felt I was really seeing him for the first time all night… while it was apparent that he had been seeing me the whole time.

He’d picked out the costume, and while the cape had made me feel a little more adequately dressed, he’d had the frontal view, which revealed me in little more than underwear.

Nothing more, honestly.

He’d been watching me the whole night, wanting me. Even as he shook his head at what a prickly, crabby bitch I could be, he still wanted me. Sometimes it was hard to tell that he liked me. Sometimes it was hard to tell that I liked him.

Then I looked at him, looking at me, and there it was… barely restrained, barely contained

This is what love is, I thought. Or lust… if there’s even a difference that you can see when you’re eighteen and neither of you is more than half-dressed and you’ve been dancing in a tower where people are having sex in the dark a floor above you. This is what it does, what it means… you can give someone who already has every reason to hate you even more ammunition, and he can still turn around and look at you like that.

And while I was getting all poetical in my head, Ian put himself into motion. His face changed, the restraint fell away… I want, I need became I take, I have. His hand came up, and it fell.

To say he slapped me made it sound like so much less than it was… to say he hit me made it sound worse.

He struck me.

That was it, that was the word… a bold word, an active word. You could be struck dumb, you could strike it big or strike it rich, you had to strike while the iron was hot. Ian was a striking young man.

He struck me, hard on the cheek. The sound was short and snappish in the small room… it was big enough to echo but had no where to go. It seemed I heard it before I felt it. My cheek went hot under his touch and then I felt the cold air and then I felt the tingle-tingle-sting, the realization of pain.

I let out a little a gasp. It seemed like he’d been waiting for that… or else it all happened in like less than a second… because no sooner had I done it than he backhanded me.

Maybe it’s hard to understand it, but it was like sex… it was sex. Like Ian had said, it was all tied up in my head, sex and violence and violence and sex. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pressure. His hand hit my face a third time and I staggered from the force of it, as much because my knees were weak as because he was strong.

I fell forward because it was better than falling backwards, my knees hitting the thick rug between the beds. Ian stood over me, looking down… his face a haloed shadow with the light globe behind it. I kind of expected his chest to be heaving or his body to be shaking, but he was actually very still. His time training as a gladiator hadn’t wrought any huge transformation, fortunately, but his stomach seemed a little tighter, a little harder.

Hard. Tight. Those were good thoughts.

How had I not noticed that before? He’d been shirtless all night… but then, I hadn’t really been looking at him, not like this. The changes were probably just beginning, but even so they wouldn’t have happened all at once. His arms looked stronger, too… they sure as hell felt stronger. I just hadn’t been paying attention. I didn’t care about the gladiator thing. I hadn’t stopped to think about the implications.

I was thinking about them now. I liked Ian strong… I needed him strong, and confident. It was the only way he could give me what I wanted, and it was the only way he could keep safe around me. As much as I disliked the thought of him as a warrior jock, how terrible could it be if this was the result?

I felt as turned on at the sight of him as I ever had, and I was getting hotter by the second. My cheeks burned from his touch… I burned, inside and out, above and below. My panties… the furry panties, that is… were soaking wet. I felt a surge of embarrassment, sickly and sweet and kind of arousing in and of itself, at the thought that they weren’t really mine to soak.

Maybe I should have worn my own underneath them, I thought, but I banished that thought. That would have been a great thing to think of before we came to this point, but there probably wasn’t a worse thing to think of at a time like that.

How many other girls have worn these for their boyfriends?

Okay, maybe there was a worse thing to think of.

Ian kept his own mind on the task at hand. He pulled down the pants, taking his underwear with them. The second thing I noticed was that his thighs had also toned up a little. I’d thought of as Ian as wiry before, but he was really starting to come together in a new way… it was like there were whole new layers of man wrapped tightly around the boy.

The first thing I noticed, of course, was his very erect penis, and it probably would have held my attention but the change, subtle as it was, was surprising enough to jump out in its own way.

His dick was the only thing that hadn’t shrunk. If anything, it seemed slightly bigger. Maybe that was just in comparison to the landscape around it, or maybe it was actually straining out of its skin… but it loomed huge in front of me.

I leaned forward, eager to do my part, but Ian wasn’t ready for that. I saw the whole shaft twitch upwards as he grabbed my hair and pulled my head up and forward, smashing my face with his knee. My nose flattened against my face and I saw darkness and stars. It was a practiced move, fluid and smooth.

He yanked me to my feet and threw me into the doorframe where it jutted out. Still reeling from the kick, I hit it face-first and bounced back. Ian caught me in his arms. He tore the fur-trimmed bra off me, or maybe it got torn off as he wrestled me around.

My vision was still fuzzy. My heartbeat and my breathing were in a competition to drive me permanently deaf. I could barely stand. The leading edge of pleasure was entering me like a knife, and then his closed fist hit my stomach.

There was no pain… none. What I felt was more like ecstasy, total sensory overload with nowhere for the new sensations to go but straight to pure bliss. It was like being bitten by Feejee, being stomped by Sooni… but better. They showed no restraint, they knew no restraint… Ian had plenty of restraint, and he was choosing not to use it and it was the closest thing to heaven that I could hope to see.

I willed for him to hit me again and again, willed it so strongly that I had no sense of him as a separate being as he did so. It was like a whole body fucking, his whole body pounding mine… thrusting, driving, owning every inch of me. The pleasure grew within me, and everything else inside me shrank to make room for it.

This was what I wanted. The words, the names he called me sometimes… they were wonderful but they were a poor substitute for this. I wanted to be beaten down, not figuratively but literally. I wanted to feel his body connecting with mine, again and again and again. Sex and violence, violence and sex… it did all get mixed up, and I was able to revel in it like no one else could.

My invulnerable body, my demon-tainted body… I couldn’t have experienced something like this without it. Neither one of us could. In that moment, I almost understood the abandon with which Amaranth treated her own immortal frame.

Either gravity had changed direction at some point, or else I ended up on my side on the floor. Individual actions had long since ceased to matter by that point. Ian was simply bringing me pain, giving it to me in one long endless stream of it. I didn’t know how much more I could take… my body would hold out forever, but I had a feeling my mind could only live inside one long orgasm for so long.

Timeout,” I tried to say. The first part might have come out really quiet and the second part might have sounded more like a scream, but Ian got the idea. He stopped himself, the sole of his boot about six inches above my face.

Oh, so that’s what he’d been doing, I thought. I was almost sorry I’d stopped him.

“If… if you keep doing this,” I panted, “I think I might pass out.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, keeping his balance remarkably well with his foot like that.”

“I… want you to use me,” I said.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah,” I said. I closed my eyes. “Go.”

His foot came down next to my head. My eyes opened. He stepped back, leaning over to grab me by my hair again. The panties were gone… I wasn’t sure when that had happened. He pulled me up onto my knees. My whole body was limp.

His wasn’t.

To judge from the way the head of his dick was glistening, he might have came himself and then managed to get it up again. I started once again to lean in… I didn’t care if I provoked another smashing blow to the face or not, either way I’d be getting a taste of something I desperately craved.

Ian seemed ready to move on, though. He didn’t relinquish control of my head, he just forced me into position. I expected him to guide me towards his balls, but he went straight for the prize, jamming his dick in my mouth like he was going to impale my head on a pike. He went all the way in, straight in, his head hitting the back of my mouth. As usual, he tried to keep going.

This time I didn’t care that it was uncomfortable, or that it was ridiculous for him to think he could get any further than all the way into my mouth… he was in charge, not me. I was his to use, even for ridiculous things. He strained and he strained and I resisted the urge to gag… I felt a moment of panic when, impossibly, his cockhead actually started to slip into my throat. The panic rose as I felt it stretching, filling up with him. What was he doing? I forced the panic down… there might have been a worse time to lose my shit than when my boyfriend had his thing in my mouth, but probably not much worse.

Once I got past the panic, I realized it wasn’t that bad… it was kind of like being penetrated anywhere. I just had to try to relax and open up more. He wasn’t going to damage me. It wasn’t even like I could choke to death.

If I had thought I’d taken Ian in all the way before, I got an education as he worked the tip of his dick down my throat as far as he could reach. I was kissing him, my lips wrapped around the base of his shaft and touching his groin above it and his sack below it. It was a new kind of intimacy… bizarre intimacy, but intimacy nonetheless. He was penetrating me, and I was swallowing him. There was a strange reciprocity there.

A new way of being taken, a new way in which Ian could claim me… he held me like that for probably shorter than it seemed, and then he really went to work.

I’d thought of previous blowjobs as face fucking, but he showed me how naive I’d been as he plunged his way in and out of my mouth, plumbing my throat with each stroke. It got easier as he went, but I also became more and more aware of just how thick he was. I had a big mouth… literally speaking… and I felt a perverse pride at being able to open it wide enough for him. How many other girls could do that, much less take him into their throat?

I wasn’t doing much more than trying to keep up with him, trying not to be overwhelmed. It tickled and not in a great way… it certainly wasn’t the same pleasure I got from being fucked more conventionally. I felt some tiny twinges down below on each stroke, probably more mental than anything. But I was his, his to use, and he was using me and the more I thought of that the more I enjoyed it.

Even if it was his second time that night, I knew he couldn’t keep plugging away at me forever… though in that moment I felt like I would have let him… and I wanted so badly to taste when he did. I wanted to be more involved in it than simply a receptacle. I wanted to use my lips and my tongue to help it along, and I wanted a chance to feel the results in my mouth.

I turned my eyes up towards him, pleading with them, trying to let him know what I wanted. He looked down at me, and I had the sense that he already knew… and then he plunged in deep, shoving his head down my throat and burying himself to the hilt as he came, grunting and straining. I felt his dick bucking with spasms until he was spent… my only taste of the salty-sweet reward coming when he pulled it out.

He looked down at me, and I just about came myself at the look.

Cunt,” he whispered… and that’s when I did, shuddering and falling to the floor.

Yeah. If anybody asked, it was good for me, too.

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5 Responses to “402: Forced Intimacy”

  1. Pamela says:

    Not too long ago, I discovered I enjoyed combining violence and sex in a (and I realize this is a strange choice of wording) non-traditional way. I didn’t like the thought of floggers and paddles. I wanted fists and knees. I wanted it to be mutual. I had a very difficult time with it. Fortunately, my husband had read ToMU before, so he was able to help me come to terms with it, while coming to terms with the mutual enjoyment himself. This story has been great for me.

    Current score: 6
    • Jechtael says:

      If you haven’t already, you might want to look into primal play. Not the animalistic aspect, but the fighting aspect- that even when there’s a pre-ordained “winner”, there’s a mutual back-and-forth to it. That could open up a lot of information on the subject to the two of you, if you’ve been avoiding “traditional” BDSM because it’s not your cup of tea (the two subjects often show up on the same websites, as it is covered under the D/s and the S/M in BDSM).

      Of course, if you HAVE looked into it already, this comment is thoroughly pointless.

      Current score: 7
      • Taleshunter says:

        No it’s not. It’s interresting for the rest of us 🙂

        Current score: 3
  2. BlackWizard says:

    Ok…This, was hot. I live in a very open community and have some pretty open and liberal friends. Having said that, I’ve always had a problem with bdsm. I had always thought, not so deep down, that it was a little misogynistic and degrading. Both to women and men. I’ve never held it against my friends that are into this lifestyle or judged them about it. This was just strictly how I felt about it for myself. So strictly for MYSELF I just wasn’t to into it. Having read this chapter though, I can now have a glimmer of what it might be like to be turned on by this kind of thing.

    Current score: 2
  3. JerK says:

    Ughhh… I kind of just skimmed this chapter and still. Yuck. Moving on.

    Current score: 3