Breaking Catherine
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The sun was slipping toward the western horizon by the time we made it to the cottage. Our route had taken us a long way out of the city, along winding country roads, up into the wild hills. From there, we had reached the single-track road which followed the shores of the lake for a further dozen miles, before it turned into an almost-impassable track. Half a mile of thick forest rolled past, until the ancient, wooden cottage came into sight. It's broad, heavy eaves seemed to press the entire construction into the soft earth. I pulled up next to the aged porch, and turned off the ignition.
Catherine was my first true slave, a gorgeous nineteen-year-old brunette with delectable rosebud lips and a curvy, wanton figure that would make any sane man look twice. She was married to a dumbass former jock who had left his popularity behind in high school and tried to replace it with cheap booze and cheaper hookers. I'd been fucking her on and off for a couple of months, following a chance meeting in my local branch of Starbucks and a long, hot afternoon of passionate sex in my apartment. Since that first "date", we had met up at least once a week for a session of hot, illicit sex - sex which I found not only exciting, but dangerously addictive.
This weekend, however, was different to our usual routine. Catherine's loser husband was away on "business" - actually, I knew from a mutual friend that he was holed up in a seedy motel with a pair of hookers called Chantelle and Chardonnay, but who was I to judge? - and Catherine had agreed to a romantic getaway at my secluded cottage, high up in the hills. We left early on the Saturday morning, enjoyed a long, leisurely lunch at a roadside cafe, and drove up into the mountains accompanied by a selection of Catherine's favourite CDs.
Catherine leaped out of the car and ran up the gravel path to the front door as I wrestled our pair of large bags from the back seat and followed after her. Reaching the weathered wooden porch, I dropped the bags, fished the key from my pocket, and unlocked the door. Eagerly, Catherine pushed past me, only to stop dead in the doorway as she beheld the room beyond. It had taken me two weeks of concerted effort to get the cottage the way I wanted it. Gone was the rural, folksy decor - in its place was a large circular bed, right in the center of the room. Behind it, dimly illuminated in the late afternoon sun, was a large mahogany rack holding a large number of strange and terrible devices, none of which, I was sure, Catherine would recognise. The windows were heavily curtained in black and blood-red material, giving the once-rustic cabin the appearance of a brooding satanic chapel.
"Danny? What the hell...?" she asked, taking a little half-step backwards.
"Oh, didn't I mention it, sweetie?" I asked with a cruel smile. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you this weekend. I'm going to ruin you for that limp-dick husband of yours. You're going to walk out of here a cum-sucking slut - or you're not going to walk out at all." She blinked at me, not certain whether to believe me or not. "Get the fuck inside," I snarled, grabbing her arm forcefully. "I didn't take you up here to stand out in the fucking forest."
"Why are you doing this?" Catherine asked, her lower lip trembling.
I made a show of considering her question. "Why? I'm doing this because it's time you surrendered to your true nature, Catherine. It's time you learned to obey your man, your master; it's time you learned that you are nothing more than a dirty little slut."
"Stop calling me that!" Catherine protested.
I grinned, and my hands closed around her upper arms. I've always been a big guy, and regular trips to a expensive uptown gym kept me in fighting trim. Catherine - tiny, delicate Catherine - was no match for me. I half-pushed, half-carried her through the door, into the cottage's gloomy interior, kicking the door closed behind me. The bags could wait on the porch until we were ready to leave, for all I cared - I had more important things to attend to. In the almost-total darkness, I pulled Catherine hard against my body and kissed her. She responded eagerly, her tongue slipping into my mouth, hot and insistent. After a moment, I broke the kiss, and regarded her coolly. "You're obviously ready for some fun." I ran my fingertips along her jawline, down her throat, and hooked two fingers into the top of her V-necked T-shirt. Without warning, I grinned and tore the fabric from her body, drawing an alarmed gasp from her - a gasp which stalled on her lips when she saw my expression. Without a word, I threw the tattered rag of her T-shirt on the floor, then slipped my fingers into the straps of her bra and, with a savage twist on my wrists, tore it from her body, leaving red, angry marks across her shoulder. Her smooth, unblemished skin of her beautiful C-cup breasts gleamed in the half-light. I dropped my head to them immediately, sucking the bullet-hard buds of her nipples into my mouth, nibbling and lashing them with my tongue. My hands worked on her tits, squeezing the hot, heavy flesh, until she moaned sexily. I straightened, and looked at her coldly, as if she had done something terribly wrong.
"Take off your wedding ring," I ordered her.
"Oh, Danny, you know I can't just -"
"Take it off," I repeated darkly. "It symbolises your bond to that useless fuck-wit you married. That bond no longer exists. I have a new ring for you."
"You do?" she said, her eyes bright. Catherine had always loved jewellery, and the thought of a gift was enough to make her pull off the cheap gold band her husband had slipped on her finger the year before. "Are you happy now?" she replied impudently, then stepped backward as I snarled at her.
"You'll know when I'm happy, slut. Close your eyes," I said, pulling a slender package from my pocket.
She obeyed, extending her hand in an elegant gesture. I opened the package and withdrew a delicate silver cylinder, a fragile and ingenious mechanism I had purchased over the internet from a specialist company in Japan. The inside of the cylinder was lined with tiny, jagged teeth, each so small that they were difficult o see with the naked eye. A tiny screw on the side of the cylinder controlled how extended the teeth were - for the moment, then were almost perfectly flat against the cold silver surface. I leaned forward, grasping Catherine's right tit, and slipped the ring over the nipple. She opened her eyes, obviously wondering what the hell I was doing, but I twisted the screw, causing the tiny silver teeth to bite into her hard nipple. She cried out in pain and surprise, and tried to step back, but I simply tightened my grip on her beast. "You belong to me, now. If you take the ring off without my permission, I'll give you another one to wear on your clit. Are we clear?"
"Danny, I don't like this!" Catherine protested, gritting her teeth at the sharp pain.
"You don't like it? What makes you think I give a fuck what you like, you worthless little cum-slut?"
She bit her lip and shook her head, wisely choosing not to reply to my challenge. I gripped her wrists and pulled her over toward the bed. She didn't struggle as I unbuttoned her tight blue jeans and pulled the down over her thighs, nor when I pushed her onto the bed and tugged the jeans off completely, leaving her only in a pair of black, lacy hotpants so tight that the lips of her pussy were clearly defined. Deciding, for the moment, to leave the panties in place, I dragged Catherine back to the edge of the bed, and bent her over, her legs splayed wide, her feet on the floor, her toes curling in the thick, luxurious rug.
"Such a nice ass," I said softly, moving around behind her and running my fingers roughly over her body. "Such a smackable, fuckable little ass. It gets you a lot of attention, doesn't it?" Catherine shook her head, but a sharp slap to her pert cheeks changed her mind. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded. "I'll bet it does. And you love it, don't you slut, you love the attention? You love flaunting your body at men, making them want you, driving them crazy?" Helpless and humiliated, Catherine nodded reluctantly. "You were born a slut," I say, walking around your vulnerable, trembling body. "I bet you were sucking cocks all day long at school, weren't you? All the boys - the teachers too, I bet. You sucked them, didn't you, slut? You begged them to dribble their sticky cum on your lips, didn't you? Didn't you, slut?"
"No!" Catherine gasped in shame, but I responded with another stinging slap to her ass.
"You did," I reply. "I know you better than you know yourself. You got on your knees and begged like a spoiled little kid. What did you say, you little slut? What did you say to make your teachers stick their fat, wrinkled cocks in your hot little mouth?" Catherine shook her head, and I slapped her again. Beneath the tight, sexy lace of her black panties, her flesh was red and angry. "What did you say?" I insisted. "Tell me, or I'll make you fucking bleed."
"I begged them," she whispered, her voice harsh with shame and fear. "I begged them."
"What did you beg them for, slut?"
"Their cum," she whispered. "I begged them to cum in my mouth."
"You begged? What kind of slut begs for a man to fuck her mouth?" I teased. She lowered her head, refusing to answer, but a pair of savage slaps made her arch her back in pain and frustration.
"What kind of slut?" I demanded.
"A dirty little fucking slut," she hissed. "I begged them to fuck my face with their dirty, nasty dicks, and I sucked down their cum like it was milkshake."
"I know you did. You were a little whore, Catherine. But now you're mine." I rested the flat of my hand on my ass and stroked the burning skin. "You belong to me, don't you?"
"Danny, I -"
I slapped her, the hardest yet, and she sobbed in pain at the unexpected assault. "You belong to me," I repeated coldly. "Don't you?"
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, I belong to you."
"Good," I say brightly, and turn away. On the rack by the bed was my pride and joy, a coiled leather whip with a cruel silver barb at the end in the shape of a dragon's tooth. I ran my hands over it lovingly, then climbed off the bed and silently uncoiled it. Whether she was trying to ignore me, or simply fearful of the consequences of angering me, Catherine remained perfectly still. I run the whip through my hands, feeling it's powerful weight. "I am going to whip you now," I said casually, letting the barb trace a thin red line down Catherine's back. "I'm going to whip you three times. Each time, I'll ask you a question. You will answer my questions honestly, or I will make you pay."
I stretched casually, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was in no hurry. Catherine's fear was almost palpable, and it tasted sweet. I could keep her like this for as long as I wanted. The power was intoxicating, the certainty of my sexual dominance over her was a rush unlike any I had ever experienced. I savoured it for a long moment, then lashed the whip. The barbed end left a streak of blood across her pink bottom, tearing a neat slice through the black lace of her panties. "That's one," I said casually. "Are you my slut, Catherine?"
"Yes," she moaned softly, her face pressed into a pillow.
I lashed out with the whip a second time, the silver tooth tearing open a needle-thin gash across her beautiful ass. "That's two. Are you my whore?" I asked, my tone colder and harder than before.
"Yes, yes," Catherine replied, her voice thick with pain and humiliation.
I raised the whip again, swung it around my head, and brought the solid silver tip down onto her yielding skin. The blood blossomed forth, and she cried out in sweet agony. "That's three," I observed. "Are you my big-titted, cum-sucking worthless little fuck-toy?"
"Yes, Danny," she hissed without hesitation. "I'm your slut, I'm your fucking slut."
"Good girl," I whispered, and dropped the whip onto the bed. I pressed my hand down firmly on the back of her neck until her pert ass was high in the air, vulnerable and exposed. The tattered, blood-smeared remains of her black lace panties hung around her hips. The sight ignited a dark fire in me, an overwhelming desire to break this bitch, to make her scream my name even as I robbed her of her last shreds of dignity and self-respect. I had intended to fuck her, perhaps deposit my sticky wad of jizz into her tight, virgin asshole, but looking at her beautiful, bloody ass, I knew I would not let her off so lightly. I needed something... special. I walked around the rack, considering my options. Finally, my gaze settled on a double-ended rubber dildo with a grotesquely exaggerated, and luridly detailed, glans. I grasped it firmly, my fingers barely reaching around its thick shaft.
I knelt behind Catherine on the bed, carefully keeping the dildo out of her line of sight, and began to tease her moist snatch with on end. She sighed in pleasure as the blunt head slapped against her labia, but she was completely unprepared for the size of the obscene tool. I placed it gently at the entrance to her slick hole, then, with a cruel grin, fucked it into her gaping pussy. The fist-sized head of the dildo tore a startled cry from Catherine's trembling body as it plunged deeper and deeper into her tight snatch, pressing hard against her cervix. "Be silent, slut," I told her in a flat, emotionless tone. "The next sound you make will be the sound of you cumming like my dirty little fuck-toy, or I will whip you again until you understand your place."
She opened her mouth to reply, then simply nodded. I grasped the shaft of the dildo firmly, and twisted it, rotating it inside her, working it even deeper into her body, every motion making her body quake in pleasure or pain or both. I took the other end of the flexible dildo and began to run it up and down the inside of her thighs, tracing patterns on the moist skin, dragging the bulbous head over Catherine's proud clitoris, then all the way around her stretched pussy to her tiny puckered asshole. Wet with her juices, the head seemed to seek her unfucked hole by itself. With a deliberate, cruel insistence, the broad, bulbous tip of the dildo pushed past her tight sphincter and into her virginal ass. Six thick inches of ribbed shaft followed slowly, until the dildo was stretched tightly from her pussy to her ass, leaving barely three inches of slick rubber cock exposed. Catherine was almost perfectly motionless, the only sign of life the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she panted for breath and tried to deal with the violation of her body.
"So big..." she moaned indistinctly. "So fucking big..."
Leaving the dildo inside her grossly stretched holes, I ran my hand up her hips, round to her shoulder blades, and back down her spine to her bottom. A pair of sharp slaps, one on each cheek, was enough to force a sob from her lips. I realised that the spanking was causing the dildo to shift inside her ass, which, in turn, was sending tremors through her stuffed pussy. I raised my hand again, and again, each ringing slap causing her body to buck uncontrollably as the dildo throbbed and shifted inside her. Another slap, and the tremor became quake, the muffled sobs replaced by a full-bodied cry of agony and desire. Again and again I spanked her, each harder than the last, until her body moved as if in spasm, her limbs twitching and flailing uncontrollably, hot tears of lust and shame rolling down her face, her generous rosebud lips pressed together in an expression of deep joy...
The titanic rush of her orgasm tore through her helpless, abused body. Writhing and trembling, her teeth clenched, her fingers clawing at the bed-sheets, her viciously distended pussy flexed and pulsed around the wrist-thick rubber shaft, her thick, clear juices tricking from her lips and running down her thighs, her clitoris erect and proud like a tiny penis. I groaned in pleasure, intoxicated with the sight of my slut straining and groaning with lust and desire, and gripped my cock, pumping it slowly as Catherine's climax ripped through her, leaving her weak and whimpering.
After an impossibly long time, the last echo of her orgasm shuddered through her body, and she collapsed onto the bed, the large dildo jutting obscenely from her violated holes. I reached out with my left hand, my right still busy on my cock, and slowly - so slowly - pulled the enormous double shaft out of her. With a vulgar pop, the swollen head emerged from her ass, leaving the hole to gape hungrily; a moment later, the other end slipped from her well-fucked snatch, releasing a thin trickle of Catherine's juices to run down her thighs. I gently laid the dildo on the bed, and knelt next to her head. She was perfectly still save for her slow, regular breathing.
"Are you alright, Catherine?" I asked, gently stroking her hair. Perhaps, I though with a rush of anxiety, I had gone too far. She had suffered so much - had I misjudged her? "Catherine?" I asked, and she looked up at me.
"Don't call me Catherine," she hissed at me, her eyes dark and filled with a profound desire. "Don't ever call me fucking Catherine."
"What should I call you, then?" I asked, my anxiety vanishing, running my hands over her bruised and bloody flesh. She grinned, an expression of pure malice, and lowered her head toward my groin.
"Call me... call me your fucking slut," she whispered, and hungrily wrapped her scarlet lips around my prick.
And from that moment on, I did.
Catherine was my first true slave, a gorgeous nineteen-year-old brunette with delectable rosebud lips and a curvy, wanton figure that would make any sane man look twice. She was married to a dumbass former jock who had left his popularity behind in high school and tried to replace it with cheap booze and cheaper hookers. I'd been fucking her on and off for a couple of months, following a chance meeting in my local branch of Starbucks and a long, hot afternoon of passionate sex in my apartment. Since that first "date", we had met up at least once a week for a session of hot, illicit sex - sex which I found not only exciting, but dangerously addictive.
This weekend, however, was different to our usual routine. Catherine's loser husband was away on "business" - actually, I knew from a mutual friend that he was holed up in a seedy motel with a pair of hookers called Chantelle and Chardonnay, but who was I to judge? - and Catherine had agreed to a romantic getaway at my secluded cottage, high up in the hills. We left early on the Saturday morning, enjoyed a long, leisurely lunch at a roadside cafe, and drove up into the mountains accompanied by a selection of Catherine's favourite CDs.
Catherine leaped out of the car and ran up the gravel path to the front door as I wrestled our pair of large bags from the back seat and followed after her. Reaching the weathered wooden porch, I dropped the bags, fished the key from my pocket, and unlocked the door. Eagerly, Catherine pushed past me, only to stop dead in the doorway as she beheld the room beyond. It had taken me two weeks of concerted effort to get the cottage the way I wanted it. Gone was the rural, folksy decor - in its place was a large circular bed, right in the center of the room. Behind it, dimly illuminated in the late afternoon sun, was a large mahogany rack holding a large number of strange and terrible devices, none of which, I was sure, Catherine would recognise. The windows were heavily curtained in black and blood-red material, giving the once-rustic cabin the appearance of a brooding satanic chapel.
"Danny? What the hell...?" she asked, taking a little half-step backwards.
"Oh, didn't I mention it, sweetie?" I asked with a cruel smile. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you this weekend. I'm going to ruin you for that limp-dick husband of yours. You're going to walk out of here a cum-sucking slut - or you're not going to walk out at all." She blinked at me, not certain whether to believe me or not. "Get the fuck inside," I snarled, grabbing her arm forcefully. "I didn't take you up here to stand out in the fucking forest."
"Why are you doing this?" Catherine asked, her lower lip trembling.
I made a show of considering her question. "Why? I'm doing this because it's time you surrendered to your true nature, Catherine. It's time you learned to obey your man, your master; it's time you learned that you are nothing more than a dirty little slut."
"Stop calling me that!" Catherine protested.
I grinned, and my hands closed around her upper arms. I've always been a big guy, and regular trips to a expensive uptown gym kept me in fighting trim. Catherine - tiny, delicate Catherine - was no match for me. I half-pushed, half-carried her through the door, into the cottage's gloomy interior, kicking the door closed behind me. The bags could wait on the porch until we were ready to leave, for all I cared - I had more important things to attend to. In the almost-total darkness, I pulled Catherine hard against my body and kissed her. She responded eagerly, her tongue slipping into my mouth, hot and insistent. After a moment, I broke the kiss, and regarded her coolly. "You're obviously ready for some fun." I ran my fingertips along her jawline, down her throat, and hooked two fingers into the top of her V-necked T-shirt. Without warning, I grinned and tore the fabric from her body, drawing an alarmed gasp from her - a gasp which stalled on her lips when she saw my expression. Without a word, I threw the tattered rag of her T-shirt on the floor, then slipped my fingers into the straps of her bra and, with a savage twist on my wrists, tore it from her body, leaving red, angry marks across her shoulder. Her smooth, unblemished skin of her beautiful C-cup breasts gleamed in the half-light. I dropped my head to them immediately, sucking the bullet-hard buds of her nipples into my mouth, nibbling and lashing them with my tongue. My hands worked on her tits, squeezing the hot, heavy flesh, until she moaned sexily. I straightened, and looked at her coldly, as if she had done something terribly wrong.
"Take off your wedding ring," I ordered her.
"Oh, Danny, you know I can't just -"
"Take it off," I repeated darkly. "It symbolises your bond to that useless fuck-wit you married. That bond no longer exists. I have a new ring for you."
"You do?" she said, her eyes bright. Catherine had always loved jewellery, and the thought of a gift was enough to make her pull off the cheap gold band her husband had slipped on her finger the year before. "Are you happy now?" she replied impudently, then stepped backward as I snarled at her.
"You'll know when I'm happy, slut. Close your eyes," I said, pulling a slender package from my pocket.
She obeyed, extending her hand in an elegant gesture. I opened the package and withdrew a delicate silver cylinder, a fragile and ingenious mechanism I had purchased over the internet from a specialist company in Japan. The inside of the cylinder was lined with tiny, jagged teeth, each so small that they were difficult o see with the naked eye. A tiny screw on the side of the cylinder controlled how extended the teeth were - for the moment, then were almost perfectly flat against the cold silver surface. I leaned forward, grasping Catherine's right tit, and slipped the ring over the nipple. She opened her eyes, obviously wondering what the hell I was doing, but I twisted the screw, causing the tiny silver teeth to bite into her hard nipple. She cried out in pain and surprise, and tried to step back, but I simply tightened my grip on her beast. "You belong to me, now. If you take the ring off without my permission, I'll give you another one to wear on your clit. Are we clear?"
"Danny, I don't like this!" Catherine protested, gritting her teeth at the sharp pain.
"You don't like it? What makes you think I give a fuck what you like, you worthless little cum-slut?"
She bit her lip and shook her head, wisely choosing not to reply to my challenge. I gripped her wrists and pulled her over toward the bed. She didn't struggle as I unbuttoned her tight blue jeans and pulled the down over her thighs, nor when I pushed her onto the bed and tugged the jeans off completely, leaving her only in a pair of black, lacy hotpants so tight that the lips of her pussy were clearly defined. Deciding, for the moment, to leave the panties in place, I dragged Catherine back to the edge of the bed, and bent her over, her legs splayed wide, her feet on the floor, her toes curling in the thick, luxurious rug.
"Such a nice ass," I said softly, moving around behind her and running my fingers roughly over her body. "Such a smackable, fuckable little ass. It gets you a lot of attention, doesn't it?" Catherine shook her head, but a sharp slap to her pert cheeks changed her mind. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded. "I'll bet it does. And you love it, don't you slut, you love the attention? You love flaunting your body at men, making them want you, driving them crazy?" Helpless and humiliated, Catherine nodded reluctantly. "You were born a slut," I say, walking around your vulnerable, trembling body. "I bet you were sucking cocks all day long at school, weren't you? All the boys - the teachers too, I bet. You sucked them, didn't you, slut? You begged them to dribble their sticky cum on your lips, didn't you? Didn't you, slut?"
"No!" Catherine gasped in shame, but I responded with another stinging slap to her ass.
"You did," I reply. "I know you better than you know yourself. You got on your knees and begged like a spoiled little kid. What did you say, you little slut? What did you say to make your teachers stick their fat, wrinkled cocks in your hot little mouth?" Catherine shook her head, and I slapped her again. Beneath the tight, sexy lace of her black panties, her flesh was red and angry. "What did you say?" I insisted. "Tell me, or I'll make you fucking bleed."
"I begged them," she whispered, her voice harsh with shame and fear. "I begged them."
"What did you beg them for, slut?"
"Their cum," she whispered. "I begged them to cum in my mouth."
"You begged? What kind of slut begs for a man to fuck her mouth?" I teased. She lowered her head, refusing to answer, but a pair of savage slaps made her arch her back in pain and frustration.
"What kind of slut?" I demanded.
"A dirty little fucking slut," she hissed. "I begged them to fuck my face with their dirty, nasty dicks, and I sucked down their cum like it was milkshake."
"I know you did. You were a little whore, Catherine. But now you're mine." I rested the flat of my hand on my ass and stroked the burning skin. "You belong to me, don't you?"
"Danny, I -"
I slapped her, the hardest yet, and she sobbed in pain at the unexpected assault. "You belong to me," I repeated coldly. "Don't you?"
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, I belong to you."
"Good," I say brightly, and turn away. On the rack by the bed was my pride and joy, a coiled leather whip with a cruel silver barb at the end in the shape of a dragon's tooth. I ran my hands over it lovingly, then climbed off the bed and silently uncoiled it. Whether she was trying to ignore me, or simply fearful of the consequences of angering me, Catherine remained perfectly still. I run the whip through my hands, feeling it's powerful weight. "I am going to whip you now," I said casually, letting the barb trace a thin red line down Catherine's back. "I'm going to whip you three times. Each time, I'll ask you a question. You will answer my questions honestly, or I will make you pay."
I stretched casually, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was in no hurry. Catherine's fear was almost palpable, and it tasted sweet. I could keep her like this for as long as I wanted. The power was intoxicating, the certainty of my sexual dominance over her was a rush unlike any I had ever experienced. I savoured it for a long moment, then lashed the whip. The barbed end left a streak of blood across her pink bottom, tearing a neat slice through the black lace of her panties. "That's one," I said casually. "Are you my slut, Catherine?"
"Yes," she moaned softly, her face pressed into a pillow.
I lashed out with the whip a second time, the silver tooth tearing open a needle-thin gash across her beautiful ass. "That's two. Are you my whore?" I asked, my tone colder and harder than before.
"Yes, yes," Catherine replied, her voice thick with pain and humiliation.
I raised the whip again, swung it around my head, and brought the solid silver tip down onto her yielding skin. The blood blossomed forth, and she cried out in sweet agony. "That's three," I observed. "Are you my big-titted, cum-sucking worthless little fuck-toy?"
"Yes, Danny," she hissed without hesitation. "I'm your slut, I'm your fucking slut."
"Good girl," I whispered, and dropped the whip onto the bed. I pressed my hand down firmly on the back of her neck until her pert ass was high in the air, vulnerable and exposed. The tattered, blood-smeared remains of her black lace panties hung around her hips. The sight ignited a dark fire in me, an overwhelming desire to break this bitch, to make her scream my name even as I robbed her of her last shreds of dignity and self-respect. I had intended to fuck her, perhaps deposit my sticky wad of jizz into her tight, virgin asshole, but looking at her beautiful, bloody ass, I knew I would not let her off so lightly. I needed something... special. I walked around the rack, considering my options. Finally, my gaze settled on a double-ended rubber dildo with a grotesquely exaggerated, and luridly detailed, glans. I grasped it firmly, my fingers barely reaching around its thick shaft.
I knelt behind Catherine on the bed, carefully keeping the dildo out of her line of sight, and began to tease her moist snatch with on end. She sighed in pleasure as the blunt head slapped against her labia, but she was completely unprepared for the size of the obscene tool. I placed it gently at the entrance to her slick hole, then, with a cruel grin, fucked it into her gaping pussy. The fist-sized head of the dildo tore a startled cry from Catherine's trembling body as it plunged deeper and deeper into her tight snatch, pressing hard against her cervix. "Be silent, slut," I told her in a flat, emotionless tone. "The next sound you make will be the sound of you cumming like my dirty little fuck-toy, or I will whip you again until you understand your place."
She opened her mouth to reply, then simply nodded. I grasped the shaft of the dildo firmly, and twisted it, rotating it inside her, working it even deeper into her body, every motion making her body quake in pleasure or pain or both. I took the other end of the flexible dildo and began to run it up and down the inside of her thighs, tracing patterns on the moist skin, dragging the bulbous head over Catherine's proud clitoris, then all the way around her stretched pussy to her tiny puckered asshole. Wet with her juices, the head seemed to seek her unfucked hole by itself. With a deliberate, cruel insistence, the broad, bulbous tip of the dildo pushed past her tight sphincter and into her virginal ass. Six thick inches of ribbed shaft followed slowly, until the dildo was stretched tightly from her pussy to her ass, leaving barely three inches of slick rubber cock exposed. Catherine was almost perfectly motionless, the only sign of life the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she panted for breath and tried to deal with the violation of her body.
"So big..." she moaned indistinctly. "So fucking big..."
Leaving the dildo inside her grossly stretched holes, I ran my hand up her hips, round to her shoulder blades, and back down her spine to her bottom. A pair of sharp slaps, one on each cheek, was enough to force a sob from her lips. I realised that the spanking was causing the dildo to shift inside her ass, which, in turn, was sending tremors through her stuffed pussy. I raised my hand again, and again, each ringing slap causing her body to buck uncontrollably as the dildo throbbed and shifted inside her. Another slap, and the tremor became quake, the muffled sobs replaced by a full-bodied cry of agony and desire. Again and again I spanked her, each harder than the last, until her body moved as if in spasm, her limbs twitching and flailing uncontrollably, hot tears of lust and shame rolling down her face, her generous rosebud lips pressed together in an expression of deep joy...
The titanic rush of her orgasm tore through her helpless, abused body. Writhing and trembling, her teeth clenched, her fingers clawing at the bed-sheets, her viciously distended pussy flexed and pulsed around the wrist-thick rubber shaft, her thick, clear juices tricking from her lips and running down her thighs, her clitoris erect and proud like a tiny penis. I groaned in pleasure, intoxicated with the sight of my slut straining and groaning with lust and desire, and gripped my cock, pumping it slowly as Catherine's climax ripped through her, leaving her weak and whimpering.
After an impossibly long time, the last echo of her orgasm shuddered through her body, and she collapsed onto the bed, the large dildo jutting obscenely from her violated holes. I reached out with my left hand, my right still busy on my cock, and slowly - so slowly - pulled the enormous double shaft out of her. With a vulgar pop, the swollen head emerged from her ass, leaving the hole to gape hungrily; a moment later, the other end slipped from her well-fucked snatch, releasing a thin trickle of Catherine's juices to run down her thighs. I gently laid the dildo on the bed, and knelt next to her head. She was perfectly still save for her slow, regular breathing.
"Are you alright, Catherine?" I asked, gently stroking her hair. Perhaps, I though with a rush of anxiety, I had gone too far. She had suffered so much - had I misjudged her? "Catherine?" I asked, and she looked up at me.
"Don't call me Catherine," she hissed at me, her eyes dark and filled with a profound desire. "Don't ever call me fucking Catherine."
"What should I call you, then?" I asked, my anxiety vanishing, running my hands over her bruised and bloody flesh. She grinned, an expression of pure malice, and lowered her head toward my groin.
"Call me... call me your fucking slut," she whispered, and hungrily wrapped her scarlet lips around my prick.
And from that moment on, I did.
Geraldine
- 05.06.2021
- 20
- 0
- Category:
- BDSM
