200: Mutual Feelings

on April 21, 2008 in Book 8

In Which Ian Gets A Hand In

The air in the room was cold on my skin. The floor was colder. Ian’s dick looked so much bigger when it was right in front of my face.

Okay, to be fair, most things looked bigger right in front of your face, but this was different. It loomed larger than it should have, the way the moon did when it hovered oppressively low over the horizon. It grew in importance as well as size, until it filled up my mind and became the entirety of my world. I opened my mouth to receive it, because I could do nothing else.

It drew me in.

I mean… I leaned forward.

“Stop,” Ian commanded.

My eyes rolled upwards to look at him, who was looking down at me in turn. He stood impassive for a moment, simply gazing down into my upturned eyes. Ian above, me below.

Ian undressed was a thing of understated beauty. He didn’t have muscles stacked upon muscles like some barbarian from the cover of a romance novel, but you couldn’t miss the strength in his arms and chest when he had his shirt off. There was just enough hair to tell you he was no elfblood, but not enough to detract from the overall effect.

He was so close that I could smell him. The musky, delicious scent of man—in both senses of the word—clung to him, concentrated in the area around his dick and balls. It permeated the boxers, which he stepped out of… and then, as I stared up at him, dropped on my face.

His scent was overpowering, and I breathed deep, drinking him in until he saw fit to remove the undergarment from my face and let it fall to the floor.

He grabbed his cock and lifted it, bringing his balls forward.

“Lick,” he said, and I leaned forward, extending my tongue. The taste of his skin was addicting. There was no thought in my head of how ridiculous the act was, this time. I would have happily tongued his sack forever if he would let me. What more natural position could there be for a slut like me?

He let go of his dick and it smacked into my forehead as I continued to lick and kiss around his balls.

“Suck on them,” he said, and I opened my mouth a bit to first suck lightly on one of his balls through the skin of his sack, and then the other. Encouraged by the sounds of pleasure he made, I took them into my mouth, sucking with gentle restraint. I was overpowered by two equally all-encompassing awarenesses: the humiliating posture of kneeling with my mouth hanging open and somebody’s balls in it, and how damn good they tasted.

“That’s enough,” a strange voice said from somewhere very far away, and I whined and wrapped my lips around the treat in my mouth, understanding only that somebody wanted to take it away. “Stop!” the voice said sharply, and I stopped sucking, though I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth and relinquish the catch.

The sharp blow to the top of my head caught me by surprise, and brought me back to awareness of myself and my surroundings. I let Ian’s balls slide out of my mouth and looked up to see his hand descending swiftly for another powerful slap, which I accepted as my due.

“Slut!” Ian said. “Do as you’re told!”

I whimpered and nodded.

He grabbed his dick around the base.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

I complied, and he shoved himself between my eager lips.

“You’re nothing,” he said as his dick slid into my mouth. “A slut. A whore. A cock-sucking piece of shit.”

The last one was shocking in its open and very real sounding contempt, but that very shock did it for me, and I moaned around his meat. It was the next best thing to an actual slap in the face, and the closest Ian had ever come to the magically assisted effect of Steff’s voice.

Nothing. Piece of shit. I liked being nothing, but there was something to be said for being shit, or even lower than that. Two great flavors of degradation, together at last.

“Suck it, you worthless bitch,” Ian said. “Show me you’re good for something.”

I sucked hungrily on the meaty shaft, reveling in the taste of flesh as my head bobbed and Ian pumped back and forth. I had a moment where I fully realized the implications of this and stopped moving, throwing off our rhythm and gagging as Ian’s thick cock head seemed to almost push through the back of my throat. I pulled back, coughing and sputtering.

“Aw, fuck… are you okay, Mackenzie?” Ian asked. He started to stoop down in front of me. I held up my hands to stop him. To me, that would kill the moment past the point of resurrection. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” I said, coughing into my hand. “Sorry. I just… got distracted.”

I liked the way Ian tasted. I really liked it. His meat was not sustenance, but it was delicious in my mouth and would be pleasant in my stomach.

“I like to have a girl’s full attention when she’s sucking me off,” Ian said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I promise, it was you that was so distracting.”

“Ready to go again?”

The specific reasons why I enjoyed sucking him off weren’t a problem, I decided. There had been the humiliation, and the joy of giving pleasure to somebody I loved, and now I was coming to appreciate the taste of human flesh, as well.

It was so wrong that I enjoyed that taste, but there was nothing I could do to change it. The only alternative would be to give up human contact, to give up sex and Ian.

He was waiting for an answer.

I nodded.

He gave the base of his dick a squeeze, making the head and shaft bulge, and then stuck it in again, and I was in heaven, running my tongue along the underside of the shaft and around the ridged edge of his cock head, sucking with all I had to extract every last moan of pleasure from Ian and every drop of that intoxicating flavor from his dick. The salty sweetness oozing from the tip was like the subtlest of sauces, enhancing it.

So enraptured was I by my growing enjoyment of the taste of Ian that I failed to notice we were to a climax until he started to pull out. I whimpered and moved forward, sucking as hard as I could and tightening my lips around his shaft until he grabbed my hair and twisted it painfully. I cried out as his dick popped out and shot its load right between my eyes.

“Lick me hard again,” he said, and I fell to the task with a sheer and unadulterated joy. It was a privilege to taste his balls and his dick, and I would enjoy it every chance I got.

I cleaned the sticky residue from the slit in the front, relishing its flavor as it dissolved in my mouth, and then fell to his balls again, licking them for all I was worth while his half-hard dick throbbed and jerked against my forehead. I licked up and down the sides of his shaft, daring to take the tip into my mouth before a backhand across my temple reminded me that I hadn’t been told to.

Ian seemed a lot more comfortable being physical with me. Was it a coincidence that this was right after our admissions of love? Or was it just the benefit of experience, after Amaranth had been there to referee our first time? There was no way to know for sure, but I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

He seemed to enjoy it, too. Why not? I was invulnerable to harm, and he was calm and in control. He seemed to have taken Amaranth’s words about better reasons to hit somebody than anger to heart. His dick jumped when his fingers impacted my skull. He slapped me twice more. I made a little growl in my throat, and he slapped me harder.

It was kind of nice that we had a hobby we could share.

That thought made me giggle, and he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up and back so he could get a proper swing with his other hand and give me a particularly stinging blow to my cheek which left me tingling above and below. His dick throbbed its readiness.

Cunt,” he breathed, and I shivered in pleasure. “Don’t make me do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and he let go, then went to retrieve his jacket. My first reaction was a pang of loss, as I thought he was getting dressed to leave, but then I realized he was rummaging in an inner pocket. He came out with a roll of rings in little packets, from which he tore one off before putting the rest away. He opened the packet and removed the ring, letting the wrapper fall to the floor.

I looked at the tiny metal loop with more than a little trepidation. The last time I’d worn a ring of protection, the sensation Steff had described as something like “a cool mist” had felt more like being violated by a glacier.

“Give me your finger,” Ian said, holding it out.

I braced myself, and did so, crying out in anticipation even before he slipped the ring around it. The awful biting coldness penetrated me fore and aft, worse than I remembered. My legs straightened spasmodically, and I fell backwards, hitting my head on the tile.

The floor was freezing against my back, and my pussy and asshole both felt iced over. I could barely feel my legs. Ian was on top of me, fire made flesh. His hand was between my legs. I felt diffuse pressure against the numbness.

“Way too tight,” he said, sounding puzzled and annoyed. “Khersis fuck, Mackenzie, have you been masturbating with a glue stick?”

“R-ring,” I sputtered. It seemed incredible to me that I couldn’t see my breath in the air. I was so cold. My head felt like it was made out of lead. I couldn’t lift my arms.


I could feel his thumb working my clit… or rather, I could feel that his thumb was working my clit. I didn’t actually have any sensation beyond the touch.

“Ring,” I said again, as clearly as I could. My jaw seemed to be locking up.

“Hold on,” Ian said. “I think something’s wrong with the ring.”

He tried to lift my hand, but all of my joints were stiffening. My hands were involuntarily curled halfway into fists, and it took him considerable effort to get the ring off the tip of my finger. As soon as he did, sensation flooded painfully back into my extremities and I felt myself unclenching.

“It didn’t do that last time!” I said, propping myself up.

“I got the extra-strong kind,” he said. “In case we wanted to, you know, go longer sometimes.”

“I can’t believe those are legal to sell,” I said. “Do they even have a warning about causing freezing paralysis?”

“Um, I don’t think that’s normal,” Ian said. “I mean, in my experience, it isn’t. But… I haven’t used this brand before.”

I crawled over and picked up the discarded wrapper, flipped the torn part back in place, and smoothed it down to try to read it. There was nothing on there about paralysis, but it did contain a line which said, “Beings with vulnerabilities to elemental cold should not use.”

“Oh, fuck,” I said.

“What?” Ian asked, and I showed it to him. “Shit,” he said. “I don’t have the regular kind.”

“I’d bet they have the same warning,” I said, remembering my reaction. “But, I don’t mind the discomfort, as long as I can move.”

“You don’t have one, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Fuck!” he said. He kicked the leg of my bed, then yelped. He was barefoot, of course.

“I don’t think they have them at the corner store but they might at the book store,” I said. “They’ve got like basic hygiene stuff, I know.”

“Yeah, that’s where I got these,” Ian said. “We don’t really have time to run over before the pizza’s here, though.”

“No,” I agreed, shaking my head. Fuck!

Ian ran his hand through his hair and kicked more carefully at my desk. He took a big breath and then came to a decision.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “We can do other stuff that doesn’t take a ring.”

“Another blowjob?” I said. “Not that I mind… of course, it’s completely up to you.”

He shook his head.

“Come here,” he said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot beside himself. I came over, unsure what he had in mind, and sat down next to him. He climbed fully onto the bed and guided me around so that I was facing him, then pushed me back into a reclining position.

“Ian…” I said, wondering if he was going to try some variation of fucking me without a ring. He’d pulled out the “just the tip” line on me before.

“Shh,” he said. He was laying across me, overlapping me rather than between my legs.

His hand was rubbing the inside of my thigh, stroking up and down while drifting slowly upwards. He stopped and took me by the shoulders, rolling us over so that we were on our sides, facing each other, then took my hand and guided it to his still-swollen dick. He squeezed his hand around mine, and I stared at his face without comprehension for several seconds before I worked out what he wanted me to do.

Hey, I’d never given a hand job before, okay?

His dick was already a little slick, but it was drying quickly and there was plenty of resistance. I figured out pretty quickly that it wasn’t like working my lips over the shaft. He seemed to be really sensitive, but he also seemed to like the roughness a bit, though he breathed the word “careful” when his skin dragged a bit.

I loosened my grip and began to play lightly with my fingers up and down the length of his shaft instead of trying to simulate fucking so much.

Once I had got the hang of it a bit, he went to work himself. He started out by resting his hand on my mound. The folds of my pussy were hot and swollen, and I felt myself opening at his touch. He didn’t dive in, though. He forked his fingers and stroked teasingly around both sides of the slit a few times, then began to stroke the hooded nub of my clitoris.

The first firm touch of his fingers pressing down against my clit took me by surprise. It wasn’t painful, per se, but it was… much.

“Sorry,” he said when I cried out. “I wasn’t sure if you were still numb or not.”

He started again, reaching below my pussy proper and tickling the narrow line of skin between the tops of my legs, then petting upwards once again before he tried my clit again, much more gently this time. It was the merest suggestion of a touch, and it drew the suggestion of a purr from my throat. Encouraged, he repeated it, while I circled my fingers around the end of his shaft and played with the tip of his dick.

Using no more pressure, he continued to work my clit, building up a rhythm which I tried to match on his dick, pumping my circled fingers while my thumb worked around the end of his dick at the top of the stroke and played with the ridge of the head at the bottom. There was also a bit of a circular pivot to the whole thing. It seemed to work.

It was a little awkward to face each other on the narrow bed and have enough room to work, but I had the wall to my back and didn’t have to worry about falling at least.

Stereotypes aside, I came first, if only by seconds. Maybe it was the fact that he’d come once already or that I was having a hard time focusing and kept letting go. I felt the pressure building within me, growing steadily and in a straight line rather than the build-and-subside that Amaranth usually worked for. My legs went rigid and my feet fluttered as though I were swimming, and then I came screaming. My hand tightened momentarily, then slid right off Ian’s dick, which spasmed and then spewed its load.

Despite this obvious distraction, Ian continued to work me with his fingers, bringing me through the initial wave of orgasm and right on into another one like an accomplished tour guide. He didn’t stop at the second, but I was rapidly becoming too sensitive. Every movement of his strong, callused fingers felt like it was scraping me raw.

“Sorry,” he said, after I squirmed away and got my hands down between us.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I said. “You’re really good at that.”

“It’s just something I did a lot in high school, with the girls,” he said. “I mean, with my girlfriend.” He sighed. “It was all we did, actually.”

“Did you… did you have the same girlfriend all through high school?” I asked. I appreciated his unexpected honesty about his previous love life, and didn’t want to put him back on the defensive by saying “only one girlfriend.”

He nodded.

“At first, she only let us masturbate together,” Ian said. “After we’d been together a year, we started doing it to each other. That was her idea of a compromise, since I wanted to move on to other things.”

I didn’t say anything. He was in a mood for sharing, and I would let him say as much or as little as he wanted. I just reached out and put my hand gently on his dick. It was still not quite entirely flaccid, to my surprise, and I began to tug on it somewhat absently.

“I liked her okay,” Ian said. “And it was fun, what we did… but I couldn’t see the difference between it and real sex, if we used a ring.”

I nodded. I could certainly appreciate his ex-girlfriend’s point, though. I was quite naturally inclined to think of anything less than “the deed” as not being real sex, myself.

His dick was stiffening quite nicely in my hands. He was a real automaton, it seemed.

“She said if we did it ‘for real’, there’d be nothing left for later,” he said. “Though later never really seemed to come, you know? I tried to get her to do more ‘in-between’ stuff, but she made it really clear that she was a ‘good girl’, and ‘good girls don’t give head.'”

I stopped stroking.

“You believe that, don’t you?” I asked.

The question took him by surprise, but there was guilt in his eyes. Slowly, he nodded, and I started pulling on his dick again.

“I like you, Mackenzie,” he said. “I even love you, but… well, I wanted Karen to do it, and the more she said no, the more I wanted it… but…” He shrugged. “It’s messed up. Our break up was pretty bad, but it’s like she got inside me and now I can’t help but respect the hell out of her for saying no, and…”

“…and you can’t really respect a girl who eats dick,” I said. I said it without rancor, and without any real shame at being that girl. “No matter how much you love it.”

“You know I don’t really feel like that,” he said. “I do respect you, Mackenzie.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “Except for the parts of you that don’t.” He looked hurt, so I added, “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who’s profoundly conflicted about this stuff.” He was almost but not quite fully hard, and I began working the head again. He groaned.

“That feels so good,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said. “Anyway, like I said, it’s okay. There’s part of you that feels disdain for the fact that I give head, and there’s part of me that gets off on that. It works out. We work out. We go together.”

“I guess,” Ian said. He reached his hand down and pulled mine away.

“Don’t want to finish again before we go join the others?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “But since we’re on the subject, I’d rather do it in your mouth.”

I grinned.

“I love you, Ian.”

“I love you, too.”

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2 Responses to “200: Mutual Feelings”

  1. Mickey says:

    I really like seeing Mack come to terms with being “profoundly conflicted about this stuff”.

    Current score: 4
    • BlackWizard says:

      I’m glad that she realizes that she is conflicted and not just condemning herself as this ‘unclean’ person who deserves all the abuse that’s happening to her.

      Current score: 8