Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.anal

From: an129811@anon.penet.fi

Subject: Story: Damage Inspired II



Collected by: wodan@drakar.stack.urc.tue.nl



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			Damage Inspired II

			   by Laurel              

=============================================================================



	Rage kissed me softly at first. . .his lower lip gently nuzzling

mine.  His arms were around me, nearly holding me up.  I could not stop

staring at him.  He started to kiss me harder and harder, eventually 

undoing the buttons on my blouse.  Then, to my complete surprise, he tore

my shirt off my body in two jerking motions.  Buttons flew in several 

directions and his face was a sight to behold-- animal, intense, impatient.

I whimpered for the first time, but my eyes didn't fall.  He unbuttoned

my shorts and dropped them to the floor.  "Step out of them," he said.

	I stepped out of them and he motioned for me to take off my 

shoes and socks, which I did.  He was now sitting on the couch staring

hard at me, like he might advance upon me and crush me at any moment.

I remember shivering for a moment and then kneeling before him in nothing

but the gold necklace chain I was wearing and a pair of panties.  He

stared into my face for a few moments and then lifted the chain into my

mouth as if it were a bit.  I left it there even when he stood and walked

to the bedroom.  "Crawl," he ordered.

	I remember crawling very deliberately with the chain/bit dangling

from my mouth.  I wasn't trying to be slow; I was trying to crawl 

perfectly.  I wanted to please my master so badly.  Eventually I reached

the side of the bed where Rage was.  He was on his back -- naked and 

hard.  "Put your collar on and don't stand," he said.  I carefully put

the chain on the dresser and reached up to the hook where my collar was.

I crawled back to the side of the bed and put my collar around my neck

while staring straight at him.  I wondered if he could hear inside my

head as I laced the collar through the clasp.  I was shouting inside 

that I was his, his, his.

	When the collar was clasped, he reached over, looped his fingers

under the collar, and pulled me into his kiss.  I couldn't stifle the 

moan.  Rage helped me crawl up onto the bed and then instructed me to

lick him from his ankles up.  I lowered down on my hands and knees like

a heated animal. . .staring at him. . . trying to control the growly

noises in my chest.  I remember arching my back and then licking his

legs inch by inch by inch.  I loved the texture, the smell, and feel of

him.  Rage finally positioned me facing the foot of the bed.

	I found myself facing a large mirror at the end of our bed.  

My face was red and my eyes were so wide and open that I was nearly

entranced by the image.  I could see the curve of my back as I arched

my ass upwards.  I could also see him caressing my hips and staring 

into my eyes in the mirror.  Rage then began to scratch me -- not just 

soft tantalizing scratches, but deep burning scratches that should have

made me scream.  Instead I was silent and passive.  Again, I felt the

pain.  However, it was as if I wasn't inside myself.  It was as if I

had literally turned over my body to my master and was a bystander to

the event.  He continued to scratch. . .marking my back and neck and chest.

My only reaction was to arch more heatedly and grip the sheets of the 

bed.

	Rage got up and reached for a condom by the side of the bed.  

I realized with some happy amazement that this would be the first time

we would be safe to procede without them (as I had just started the pill).

I told him that he didn't need the condom. . .and a sort of wild excitement

passed between us in excess of what we already felt.  He began to rub 

something cold and sticky on my thighs.  I looked in the mirror and saw he

was lubricating me.  I felt very much like his instrument, his property, his

object that he was readying for use.  I growled low.  Rage's finger slipped

into my ass, then two fingers, then three.  I believe he was as amazed as

I was.  Somehow, I had relaxed so completely that not even the 

fourth finger caused me pain (just some uncomfortable pressure).  My body

had yielded utterly to him.  He slid into me bare and I could see him fucking 

my ass in the mirror.  It was a hot and naughty image.  Especially nasty

looking was the wild way I pushed back to him.

	I became rabidly excited.  I felt my clitoris throbbing and I

couldn't control the steady moans.  I closed my eyes so as not to see 

the sexy reflection in the mirror (it was too overwhelming to watch).  For

the first time ever, Rage was able to pull completely out of me and push

back into me without a hesitation or barrier.  I remember him asking me 

how I felt, what was making me hot.  "Knowing that you're fucking my ass 

as easily as if it were my cunt, master," I told him through clenched 

teeth.

	"Easier," he said-- and I nearly cried out.  When I could hear

the slapping noises between grunts and groans. . .Rage began to orgasm.  His

breath caught, and a nearly pained cry escaped him.  I love the way Rage

sounds when he cums.  The sounds of him made me scream.  I could feel him 

twitching, pulsing, and spurting inside me.  I felt crazed.  I squeezed him with my muscles.

When his motions slowed and he regained his breath, he pulled out of me.  He

stared at me and growled.  "There's something you're going to see, and then

I'm going to watch you make yourself cum," he said.

	He got up and got the mirror from the wall, carrying it behind me.

I was still on my hands and knees -- arched, moaning, soaking wet.  I looked

over my shoulder and saw my ass cheeks spread and glistening while a large

puddle of white cum oozed out of my anus.  I don't think I've ever seen 

a nastier vision in my life.  I lowered to my stomach and put my hand 

under me while Rage stood by the side of the bed watching me.  "Cum for 

me you slut," he said.

	I was rubbing and moaning and writhing on the bed now.  I asked

permission to turn onto my back and Rage gave it.  At the foot of the

bed I spread my legs and rubbed my pussy while cum leaked out of me.

"Do you realize what I just did to you?" Rage asked.  I couldn't answer.

"I just drove you home so I could fuck you, ripped your clothes off of you

and fucked you until I came in your ass. . .how do you feel?"

	"Like your whore," was the last thing I remember saying.  Rage's 

fingers went to my nipples and squeezed.  I came as soon as he did this.

I was loud and the window was open and I didn't care.  Rage was upon me

as I writhed. . .kissing my face and stroking my neck.  

	"You're so beautiful. . . I love you so much. . ." he said as he 

kissed me and held me and rocked me slightly in his arms.  I tried to 

catch my breath but melted into his arms. . . in awe.  "If this isn't 

making love, I don't know what is," Rage told me.  I could only smile

and put a hand to his face, clinging to him.

	As I felt Rage's arms wrap around me he seemed to wash my body

in soft warmth.  I felt the tingling sting of the scratches and the

small aches of some pulled muscles.  I knew what he meant about love-making,

however, as I came out of my fog of deep submission.  What we had just done

seemed to be a bit of a miracle of human interraction.  To trust someone

that much was a nearly religious leap of faith.  I trust Rage with my

thoughts, my feelings, my emotions and my secrets.  I also trust him with

a part inside me that I hardly know myself.  The need to submit and be

that base is, in my opinion, a dark secret that is not easily parted with.

That he allowed me to express it so strongly and safely was an act of love

equal to any of the gentle soft vanilla actions of lovers all over the world.

	I remember later that I could see the marks on me in the mirror,

and was happy for them.  In fact, we were both full of enough joy that 

we felt the need to share.  I felt so brimming with happiness and 

fulfilment that telling someone else is just like the act of spilling over.