Page 74 of Bloody Savage God
There are about another fifteen clothespins left for me to use, and it seems only fair I make use of Mikhail’s cock. His impressive length juts out at me when I open his fly, just as arrogant as the man who wields it.
“Too busy to put on underwear this morning?”
“I had other things on my mind,” he says, his eyes following my movements as I pull his pants down and then grab the first clothespin.
With a wicked grin, I clamp it on his foreskin.
The pained huff of air makes my pussy clench with need, but that needy part of me has to wait. I want to play a little first.
“You’re vicious,” Mikhail growls, and my answering laughter is a stark reminder that I’ve had little chance to be happy lately. Right now, though? I’m actually happy.
Mikhail’s restraint is impressive as he only hisses through his teeth while I decorate his cock and balls with the pins. He’s got to hurt really badly, and the knowledge that he’s taking it anyway makes my ego soar.
“Do I look like a fucking Christmas tree?” Mikhail growls when the last pin clamps down on the sensitive skin right between his balls.
Itsk, tsk, in mock disappointment. “You don’t like it? Ah well, I guess I’ll take them off again.”
His suspicious look is enough to make me want to laugh again, but I’m too eager to get to this next part.
My hand raises high, poised to strike. Mikhail’s eyebrows shoot up and he actually tugs on the restraints that hold him against the St. Andrew’s cross. In vain, of course.
“The fuck?” he calls, but I don’t answer.
Need hums through me and the air crackles with anticipation as my palm connects with Mikhail’s waiting flesh, leaving a resounding impact. Two of the cloth pins fly off his cock as it bounces away from the impact of my palm.
This time, Mikhail bellows out a cry of pain, but his erection doesn’t diminish. In anything, I can see his cock pulse with need. The thrill of the moment courses through both of us, an exchange of pain and pleasure that makes us the perfect fit.
Again and again, my strikes fall upon his bare skin, alternating between soft caresses and stinging blows that, one by one, make the clothespins fly off his shaft, balls, and nipples. The room fills with the intoxicating symphony of gasps, moans, and the rhythmic cadence of our desires. Mikhail’s body responds to each stroke and assault, his moans making my pussy contract with need. The pain fuels his arousal, heightening his senses and pushing him closer to the edge of his endurance. The whole thing feeds my dominance like an intoxicating elixir.
When the last pin has clattered to the ground, Mikhail is panting.
“Can you stand when I loosen the restraints?” I ask, knowing it will tick him off.
“If you loosen these restraints, you better be prepared to have me ram my cock into you,” Mikhail growls, causing a tingling sensation to spread through me as I open the Velcro straps.
He jumps forward, pushing me back until my legs hit the spanking bench. On the ground, I see my stiletto and knife that have fallen to the ground when I slapped the clothespins of his nipples.
Twisting under Mikhail’s arm, I duck down and grab my knife, bringing it to his throat.
Once more, his pupils dilate and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to mount him right then and there.
Which is exactly what I do, after pushing him down onto the bench.
My knees on either side of his body, I position myself over his hard shaft and sink down. The smooth skin of his cock is red and abused, making him hiss as I slide down his length, enveloping him in my wet heat.
The stretching sensation is bliss, only increased by Mikhail’s hands on my breasts, teasing and kneading.
I ride him in a slow rhythm, using the tip of my knife to trace the fading letter on his chest. “Looks like I need to renew this.”
Mikhail groans. “Fuck. Carve your name into me, Gianna. Fucking do it.”
I clench around his cock as Mikhail’s skin stretches and then opens under the pressure of my blade. Carefully I slice through his skin, following the faint white scar of the letter G while moving my pussy up and down over his cock, the feeling all-consuming.
When I finish, I throw the knife to the side, tracing the trail of blood left on his chest with my finger before bringing it to my mouth, sucking and tasting the salty liquid.
Mikhail goes rigid for a second, then he grasps my hips and starts hammering into me. I tip forward, crashing my lips against his.
Our bodies move in synchrony, his gasps and moans harmonizing with my own. As the tension builds, the dungeon becomes an arena of sensations. We dance on the precipice of pleasure and release, surrendering to the primal rhythm of our desires.
