STORY: Night Fever - M/f, BDSM
Joe Rossie
takes her down darker and darker paths of sexual submission.
There was a knock at the door. No, not a knock, not exactly. You know
what a knock sounds like. This was a fist punching the door: Once, then
a second time, then a third time, slow, strange, hard. The knock drew my
head around and I was instantly wary, as if sensing danger.
I stared at the door, then went to it and looked through the peep hole.
I actually had my hand on my gun. I gave a little start when I
recognized the face peering back at me, and my heartbeat picked up as my
chest tightened. I drew in a deep breath, surprised that it was shaky,
tried to brace myself, and unlocked the door.
"Hey," I said.
He was unshaven, his face square jawed and handsome, his dark hair
untidy, his eyes - dark, cool. I had a sudden wonder if he was some kind
of sociopath or something, for his eyes were so cold. He frightened me a
little, but also made my lower belly squirm and twist.
He reached forward and caught the front of my shirt, twisting his
fingers in the fabric, and yanked me forward, crushing my lips against
his. His other hand went behind me, to my head, holding me, controlling
me as his tongue pushed into my mouth.
Then he was pushing me forward, using the weight of his body to back me
into my own door. His tongue was twisting inside my mouth like a snake,
his lips bruising, his big chest crushing my breasts. Then his hands
went down onto my ass, squeezing and kneading, pulling me against him
for a moment before digging and lifting me up. He pulled me up and
tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and I felt a hot,
dark hunger sweeping through me as he closed and locked the door, then
carried me into the hall and down into my sunken living room.
There was a big, soft leather chair set apart from the sofa, and he set
me onto my feet in front of it, then sat down.
I stared at him a moment, then started to speak, but he made a gesture,
holding up his hand, as if to stop me.
"Take off your clothes."
And that voice of his, so soft, deep, with an indecipherable accent
seemed to pluck at the chords of my mind and body and set them humming.
I stared at him a long moment, breathless, then did as he ordered,
unbuttoning my blouse and opening it to bare my breasts, then undoing my
pants and skimming them down my legs and off, and finally stepping out
of my thong.
I felt - awkward - a little embarrassed, uncertain, but hot, excited,
filled with a sense of sexual anticipation.
"Get me a drink. Brandy neat."
He was so - insolent, so arrogant. I should have decked him and kicked
his ass out of my apartment. Instead, his arrogance aroused me further,
and I went to get his drink. I returned and he ignored me as I held it
out. Finally he turned his eyes to me, gave me a dark look, and accepted
the drink.
"Do you have a uniform?"
I blinked in surprise, then nodded.
"Go and put it on."
I felt my heartbeat quicken, but nodded I hurried to my bedroom and
dressed quickly. It had been a while since I’d worn it, and my hair had
grown longer. I pulled it back behind me and bound it in place, then put
on the hat. I put on the Sam Browne belt, hesitated, and emptied my gun
before putting it in the holster, then I returned to him.
He smiled darkly. "Let me have your handcuffs."
I sucked in a breath of air, then reached behind me and took them out of
the little leather sheath, handing them to him.
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
Again I obeyed, and soon felt the cold steel locking firmly around my
wrists. A moment later I was yanked backwards to lay sprawling across
his lap. His arms adjusted me in position so I was sort of sitting
across his lap, and he grinned and adjusted my hat, which had almost
fallen off.
"Have you ever been raped?" he asked, sliding his hand up and down my body.
"Y-yes," I said, my voice hot, breathless.
"Good," he said.
His hand found my breast, and his finger found my sore nipple, then the
barbell piercing it. He tucked and twisted it so that I winced and
gasped in pain.
He put his hand behind my head and pulled my face to his, kissing me
again, his tongue sliding along my lower lip, then twisting together
with my own tongue. His hand slid down my body and unbuttoned my belt,
then opened my uniform trousers and slid inside.
I moaned and squirmed helplessly as he found my shaved slit, his fingers
expertly working my clit until I thought I would go insane from the
sexual hunger and need within me.
"Fuck!" I gasped, arching my back. "Oh Fuck! Fuck! Oh! Yes!"
He jerked my trousers down and palmed my bare sex, then tugged them off
completely and removed my shoes. But he pulled over the Sam Browne belt
and took the nightclub from it, holding it up and examining it as he
held me in his arms.
"I bet you’ve used this before," he said.
He pushed the end against my mouth, then into it. I gasped, resisting my
initial instinct to try to twist away. Instead, my eyes locked to his, I
licked at it, and sucked it as he pumped it slowly in and out. He pushed
it deep enough to make me gag several times, then pulled it out and slid
it down between my legs.
"Spread your legs," he ordered.
I moaned and obeyed, and felt the hardness of my nightstick pushing
against my swollen sex lips, pushing them in and forcing them back,
sliding upwards through the soft pink folds of my pussy, twisting,
aching, driving deeper until the end hit the back wall of my canal. He
pushed harder and I gasped in pain, my hips jerking. He pushed harder
again, and again I gasped and twisted and jerked. Still he thrust it
into me, and I let out a soft cry of pain, clenching my teeth, arching
my back.
Again he thrust it into me, painfully. Again, Again.
"P-Please!" I gasped, the pain finally forcing the submission from me.
He drew the long, thick nightstick back and I could see how the wood
glistened with my juices. He pulled it free, and again pushed it against
my mouth, rubbing it against my lips. I licked at it, moaning, and took
it into my mouth again, tasting my own juices.
He pulled my head back, gripping the mass of hair I had done up behind
me. My hat fell off, and then he slowly pushed the nightstick forward. I
gagged and choked. The stick was not as thick as some of the cocks I had
swallowed, but it was hard and it ached as he slid it down my throat.
One inch, two, five, ten, fourteen. The baton was twenty-three inches
long, and he kept pushing, sliding the baton deeper until I had all
twenty three inches down my throat, down in my chest, my stomach. He
held the very end of the handle just inside my mouth.
"Close your teeth on it," he ordered.
I did, shuddering, moaning, gasping. In the years since Evans had first
choked me on his big cock I’d learned how to breath around a cock
filling my throat. I could breath now, the air hissing hollowly around
the baton as he let his hands slide back between my legs.
I felt the sex-heat building as his talented fingers worked me over,
stroking and massaging my pussy lips and clit, pumping lightly inside my
pussy. Then he unbuttoned my blouse and examined my breasts, fingering
the little barbells piercing my nipples. I moaned around the nightstick
as he pinched and twisted them.
He undid the little barbells and removed them, then did something I
couldn’t see. My head was tilted back upside down, the nightstick
clutched between my teeth. I felt his fingers at my nipple, felt cold
steel sliding through the hole, then heavy metal pressed against the
centre of my breast. He reached down past where my head hung and picked
up my hat. And a moment later I felt cold steel at my other breast.
His fingers slid between my parted teeth and caught at the handle of the
baton, and he eased it slowly up and out of my chest and throat, pulling
it free. I gasped as it left my mouth, gulping in air even as I felt it
prodding at my pussy again.
He thrust it into me, deep, and began jabbing at the back wall of my
cunt. I gasped repeatedly, groaning as he bruised my insides. The pain -
twisted inside me. I hated it and loved it. I moaned and gasped and
cried out softly as he thrust the nightstick into me, using it like a
weapon, spearing me, impaling me.
"Please!" I cried.
He halted, leaving it buried inside me. He gripped the back of my head
and lifted my head up and forward, and now I could see he had removed
the my police badge from both my uniform and hat, and slipped the pins
into my nipples so they hung there at the centre of each breast.
I stared at them in wonder for a moment, and then saw my gun in his
hand. He rubbed the barrel against my face, against my cheeks, then slid
it into my mouth. Groaning, I sucked at it, licked at it. He pumped it
slowly in and out, eyes boring into me as I performed oral sex on my
gun. He pushed it against the inside of my cheeks, then thrust it deep,
so the trigger guard was pressed against my lower lip and I was fighting
to keep from gagging.
He suddenly thrust it forward, forcing my head back, the trigger guard
jamming against my lower lip painfully, and pulled the trigger. The
sound and feel of the hammer made me jerk violently and caused my heart
to skip a beat.
He drew the gun barrel slowly back up and out and put it down beside me.
Smiling, he lifted my head up again, and reached into his blazer. He
drew out a long barrelled forty four revolver, and rubbed the barrel
along my cheeks.
Heart fluttering, I licked at it tentatively, then more strongly, eyes
locked to his at first, then looking at the gun. I ran my tongue around
the hole as he turned it and pushed it into my mouth, and moaned as it
slid across my tongue, the cold steel tasting of gun oil as it probed
the inside of my cheeks. Was it unloaded? I didn’t know, and my pulse
was racing with anxiety, and something else, a kind of morbid excitement.
He pumped it slowly in and out as I licked and sucked on it.
"You’re going to make it come," he whispered.
And I knew what he meant, and imagined it going off, imagined the bullet
blasting up into my mouth, the biggest and last come I would ever swallow.
And it scared me more, and it turned me on more.
Now as he pushed it deeper and I gagged, I saw the bullets resting
snugly in the chambers on either side of the barrel. It was loaded, but
was it fully loaded? Was there a bullet in the chamber or was that one
empty? Did he think it was empty, but make a mistake? He pumped it
deeper, and it entered my throat, bruising me.
He pulled back, then began to pump more rapidly, in and out.
"Suck," he whispered. "Suck. Make it come."
I saw the hammer pulling back, and felt my heart pound, but my pussy was
flooding with juices around the thick baton. I imagined myself dead,
badges pinned to my nipples, the baton up my pussy, the gun buried in my
throat. I was frightened, starting to sweat with fear, and yet I was
intensely aroused, wild, feverish with hunger as I sucked and licked at
the barrel. My wide eyes watched the hammer go back further and further,
watched it seemingly tremble.
Then it came forward and the loud, metallic click it made almost caused
my heart to stop.
He pulled it out, smiling coldly
He threw me onto the floor on my knees, yanked back on my hair, and
pulled the baton from my pussy. Then he roughly mounted me, driving his
long, thick prick deep into my aching pussy and riding me hard and fast.
My hair had come loose now, and he used it, pulling and twisting it to
force my head up and back, to force my body back against him as he drove
his cock into my hot, steaming belly.
My pent up hunger and need began to swirl and churn my insides as his
big cock pumped inside me. His hips slammed into my buttocks with
bruising force, and his fist jerked back cruelly, roughly on my hair to
make me cry out in pain. But the sex heat flooded through my nervous
system, through my bones and muscles and veins, until I was trembling
and shaking with the passion and need, until I could think of nothing
else, care about nothing else.
The orgasm was massive, and I screamed as it tore through me. I screamed
long and loud, insane, wild-eyed, the climax shredding my mind with its
strength and power. I screamed again and again, howling at the intensity
of the orgasm, the wonder, the ecstasy filling my sweating, aching body.
I had never screamed before. I came hard, and often, but I always
controlled myself. I liked it best when the guy never knew I had come. I
didn’t like the smug look they got when they knew they’d ridden me to a
come. But now I was helpless, out of control, and my body and mind were
shattered by the impact of the massive climax.
Afterwards I was limp, dazed, barely conscious, moaning, chest heaving,
totally fucked out, feeling a soft, languorous afterglow as he undid my
handcuffs and pulled away.
I didn’t know if he’d come. I didn’t care if he’d come. I didn’t care
about much of anything.
I was peripherally aware he was pulling off my shirt, drawing my arms
together before me, handcuffing me again. I didn’t care, though.
I had a lot of plants in my apartment, including several heavy potted
plants. He removed one, and then returned to where I lay. I gasped and
cried out as he filled his fist with my hair and dragged me to my knees,
then my feet. He led me beneath the hook which hung from a chain
attached to the ceiling, and raised my arms. The narrow link between the
handcuffs slipped easily over the hook and rested there.
I could have lifted it off again. I didn’t.
He knelt before me, and licked his way slowly up and down my right leg,
then undid his belt and wrapped it around my ankle. He yanked the loop
tight and pulled the belt out to the left, spreading my leg wide. He
lifted the heavy leather sofa with one arm, no easy feat, and slipped
the buckle beneath the leg, then let the leg slam down.
Then he reached for the belt I’d had in my uniform trousers and looped
it around my right ankle. Again he yanked it wide, and I cried out as he
spread my legs well apart. For I was now dropped lower, and the
handcuffs pulled taut against the hook overhead.
He wedged the buckle of that belt behind the radiator and then knelt in
front of me. His hands caressed my legs, my thighs, my hips, kneaded my
buttocks. His tongue trailed slowly up and down my inner thighs. I
moaned, feeling the sex heat igniting again.
My breasts were taut and straining because of the way my arms were
lifted. The two police badges sat perfectly in the center of each, their
weight heavy as they pulled against my nipples. My nipples ached and
stung. Every time I moved the badges jerked on them painfully.
His tongue traced the line of my sex, then pushed within. His fingers
spread my sex lips as his mouth and lips massaged them inside and out.
He circled my clit, avoiding it, then drove his tongue into my pussy
hole, twisting and curling it around, drinking my honey.
By the time he got to my clit my hips were grinding helplessly, and I
was moaning and gasping for breath. The rush of sensations when he
finally began to lick at my clit was intense, raw, overpowering, and my
hips began to grind and buck wildly as the power surged up inside me.
He paused, stood, and removed his shirt. I inhaled at the sight of his
powerful body, longing to get my hands and tongue on it.
He bent and undid his shoes, then pulled off his socks. He straightened,
and gripped my hair, forcing my head back. I cried out in pain, and he
shoved one of his socks into my mouth, then tied the other around my
head to hold it in place.
He smiled and walked out of the room. My eyes followed his naked body
until it disappeared, and then I looked down at my own naked body, at my
taut breasts, my heaving chest, my narrow, flat belly.
He returned, holding one of my belts, a long, thin leather belt, doubled
in his hand. His eyes were cold again and he smiled at me as he moved
before me. He showed me the doubled belt, rubbing it against my breasts
and belly.
"I’m going to beat you," he said in a soft, toneless voice.
He knelt, and his tongue began to drive me insane. Beat me? What did he
mean? I didn’t care. I shuddered as wave after wave of sensual pleasure
rolled over my body.
Then he stood up and moved behind me. And began to beat me.
The belt cracked against my back just below my shoulder blades, the
force of the blow hurling me forward against the limits of his
improvised bondage. My back arched and then fell back, and a line of
pain and heat raced across my back even as my nipples burned to the
bouncing of the badges.
My cry of pain was muffled by the socks filling my mouth, as was the
next as the belt descended again, this time cracking across my bottom.
My hips bucked forward as another line of heat and pain ran across my
skin, the first one still throbbing powerfully. Another blow sliced into
the soft flesh of my thighs just beneath my buttocks even as I was
recovering from the second.
I pulled and twisted helplessly against the handcuffs, against the belts
holding my legs apart. Another blow slashed across my lower back, and
another struck my upper buttocks. The next sliced into my shoulder
blades, and the one which followed cut into the flesh just below,
crossing the very first line of pain, which was still hot and throbbing.
Another blow. Another. Another. Five more. Ten. My back was on fire, my
bottom aflame, my upper thighs searing. Tears filled my eyes, helpless
tears, pain tears, tears of frustration, fear, anger. And yet - and yet
my lower belly was hot, moist, pulsing with hunger and need and desire.
A part of me, a strong, eager part of me, revelled in the beating, and
every time the belt struck I felt, just beyond the pain, a rush of eager
delight, of masochistic satisfaction. One after another the throbbing
lines of pain rose across my body, joining, merging together. And still
the belt slashed down.
And then he moved in front of me. Gasping, moaning, drooling around the
socks, I stared at him through my tears and watched the belt fly forward
and slash across my lower breasts. I screamed out in pain and denial,
arching my back as the belt cut into my belly.
His arm rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell, the belt cracking
down across my breasts and belly and abdomen until I felt as though I
were wrapped in a hot blanket of pain. I could actually see the red
welts rising on my breasts and belly, and knew there were even more
across my back and buttocks and thighs.
And yet, the pain seemed to diminish even as the welts grew in number. I
was thrown back against my wrists again and again, so that they were
bruised and aching. I was sweating, gasping for breath, sniffling and
sobbing. Pain was everywhere.
And I felt a bizarre, dazed sense of euphoria curling around my body and
mind. The pain eased, was pushed aside by the pleasure, and more and
more of my mind stared eagerly at the belt, waiting the next blow,
rocking to the force of the pleasure as the belt connected.
His cock was stiff, red, purplish, the veins standing out as it bounced.
He lowered the belt and moved behind me, then slashed it across my
buttocks again before pressing his body in against me. I felt his hard,
thick cock pressed in between my buttocks as his arms went around me and
his hands roughly cupped my breasts.
He licked and bit and sucked on the nape of my neck as his fingers
kneaded my breasts, then he drew his hands back and his hips pulled
away. He crossed behind me and went up the two stairs to the hall, then
into the kitchen. He returned, but I wasn’t looking, my chin hanging on
my chest, my eyes slits.
He moved behind me again, and now I felt something else. I felt his
tongue tracing the lines of pain, the welts, across my back. His tongue
slid lower, moved across my buttocks, and then his hands pressed up
against the underside of my buttocks, spreading them wider. I felt his
tongue circling my rectum, and I jerked and moaned. His tongue caressed
my wrinkled little anal opening, and dipped lightly inside.
It felt bizarre, and ticklish at first, but then my anus felt strangely
relaxed, open, pleasant. I felt his lips against my buttocks as his
tongue pushed deeper, and I shuddered at the moist silky heat of it as
it twisted and curled. It drew back, and I felt his fingers against me,
two of them, but they were covered in something cold and slippery and thick.
His fingers rubbed against my relaxed anus, then slid into me. I saw a
tub of margarine on the floor, and moaned as his fingers easily pushed
up to the knuckles inside my rectum, then twisted and turned and prodded
at the inside of my belly. They pulled back, and now a third finger
joined them, pumping in and out. A fourth stretched my anal opening.
He stood, and I felt his cock pressing against my rectum, then pushing
up with more and more force.
He slid up into me, and it hurt a little, but I didn’t care. I moaned
and jammed myself back, taking his cock deeper, ignoring the ache inside
as he returned both hands to my breasts and worked them roughly.
He lunged and I rocked to the pumping of his slick, slippery cock as he
drove his steely prick deeper into my ass, twisting his hips around,
grinding against me, and then pushing still deeper.
Cramps tore at my insides as he jammed his big cock up into my belly,
and finally I felt the crinkle pubic hair which surrounded the base of
his prick pressing against the undersides of my buttocks. Still a little
more to go, and then I was full, aching, moaning as he ground his hips
against me and twisted his cock around in my vitals.
He shifted his mouth to the other side of my neck, chewing on my
earlobe, then biting along the nape of my neck, sucking, licking. His
hips began to work in and out in shallow strokes, just an inch, at
first. Then as he battered my numbed anal muscles into submission, he
thrust harder, faster, using a longer and longer stroke.
His cock was slick, and moved on a layer of slippery margarine. I could
hear a sort of wet, slurping sound every time it thrust up high into my gut.
Then one of his hands dropped to my groin and his fingers began to
roughly stroke across my clit.
Rapture.
That was the only way to describe it. I was seized by a terrible,
wonderful sense of wild, perfect pleasure, ecstasy flooding my mind and
body as he rammed his prick up my ass, ground his fingers across my
swollen clit, and bit painfully hard into the nape of my neck.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the book: Night Fever, by Argus
Argus erotic books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon,
Star, Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available at
http://www.ebookblue.com
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