Whack!
“Ah! Fuck! Yes!”
The sting catches me by complete surprise, the pain coursing through my veins and right to the area below my belly. Heating it up, bursting me from within. Antonio keeps the momentum up until I sag with exhaustion. That last lick, the tenth one, was no punishment at all. No, that one was for me. And it certainly did teach me something about pain and pleasure.
“That’s my girl.” Antonio finally says, sliding his hand gently over my sensitive skin.
Then he lifts me up and lowers me onto the bed. I can’t help but let my limbs hang loosely. I’ve never ever had such a climax, and it drained me. Sighing from the exhaustion, I open my eyes to look at him, but after pulling the light blanket from the foot of the bed over my exposed body, he picks up his belt and quietly leaves the room.
Lying on my side to avoid anything touching my burning ass, I’m perplexed as to what the fuck just happened. It started out angry and rough. I genuinely thought he wanted to punish me. But in hindsight, I wonder if it even had anything to do with me. Antonio taught me something new, he showed me what pleasure can be. Hell, he gave me my first true orgasm! No self-pleasure could live up to what he just showed me. Yet, he enjoyed it in a whole different way. He enjoyed the power, and, eventually, he enjoyed pulling that pleasure from within me. I wonder if he left so quickly because he needed to deal with his own sexual need, or if he truly thought he’d punished me and that I wanted to be alone. I did, and I didn’t. I’m still angry about my whole situation, but after feeling his thick fingers in me and his forceful need to pleasure me, I feel closer to him, somehow.
It was angry, sensual, and intimate. I feel closer to him because no one else has ever touched me there. While he did it forcefully, angrily, and painfully, he was still gentle and caring. His caresses after each lick were caring, and his gift of that climax in the end, was even more so. He punished me, but he also gave me the best feeling I’ve ever felt before.
* * *
As morningtruly settles in and the sun starts to paint its rays against my walls, I may have only slept a couple of hours, but I don’t feel the exhaustion. The tiredness will probably find me later on in the day, crashing into me like a brick wall. I know that, but my mind refuses to let me rest. I realize I haven’t moved since Antonio left or noticed how parched my throat is. Carefully I pull my panties back on, flinching when the tender skin is touched. In the bathroom, I open the sink faucet and suck in the water, splash my face, and look at my reflection in the round mirror above the sink, unsure if I recognize the person I’ve become. The person that enjoyed her captors’ torture, who wants to feel more of it. Who waits for him to come back, to punish her again.
At the window, I look out as I have been for the last few days. I open it to get some fresh air, breathing in that unmistakable smell of recent rain. The way it makes tarmac and grass fragrant in the air is so particular, as is the way the same dampness enunciates the pungent smell of cigarette smoke. The men are back at it again, smoking, talking about the girls they fucked, the men they’ve hurt. Now and then they swear in Italian at one another, and gesture with their fingers pursed together.
Pigs, I think to myself, though I must reconsider my judgment because if they’re pigs, then I truly am a dog, because I can’t stop myself from staring at the door, waiting for Antonio to return, like a pet to its owner.
So, I wait, because that’s all I can do.