Page 40 of Wicked Games

Soon I felt something hard and rigid enter me. “What are you doing?”

Richard didn’t answer. The hard object pressed in deeper and deeper. It felt like the same width and length of a cock but was harder and more painful. It was only after he had pumped the object ruthlessly into my unwilling body several times that I realized it was the leather handle of his riding crop. A tremor ran over my limbs at the illicit thought. All of this was so wrong, I had no idea it was about to get far, far worse.

After he slipped the handle free, I then felt pressure at my back entrance.

“Now it’s time for your real punishment.”

“No! I’ve never done that! I don’t want to.”

“This isn’t about what you want, Elizabeth. This is about what you need.”

The pressure increased. I squeezed my anal muscles tight, trying to keep him out. He pushed on the handle that much harder till my body relented.

There was a sharp stabbing pain the moment the tip of the handle penetrated my ass.

“No! You can’t! It’s big. It hurts.”

I could feel him twist the handle as he pushed in another inch.

My body bowed, the movement tightening the cravat and cutting off my air supply. With a cry, I leaned back.

“Tell me what this feels like.”

“It hurts,” I whined.

“How does it hurt, my love.”

My stomach began to cramp as he pushed the handle in yet another inch. My inner muscles clenched and unclenched as my body adjusted to the sinful intrusion. I could feel everything right down to the sewn ridges of the leather handle.

“It feels like you are driving a pole into my organs.”

He twisted the handle.

I cried out. “No more! Stop.”

“Your body can endure more than you think. This little asshole has barely swallowed five inches, you still have another five to go.”

“No, no, no, no,” I whimpered.

My body jolted as if struck when he gave the handle a vicious thrust, pushing it in several inches at once. The pain was unbearable. The burning pain in my nipples was forgotten as the grasping, clawing agony of having my ass violated by this long, hard object began to take root.

“That’s it. Be a good girl and take the whole handle. You’re almost there.”

I felt a strange, twisted sense of pride at his words. As if allowing him to fuck my ass with the whole length of his riding crop handle was some sort of accomplishment on my part.

My stomach twisted as another cramp hit as he pressed in deep.

“Good girl. Your tiny ass swallowed the whole handle. I truly wish you could see what a magnificent sight you make with your legs spread like the wanton harlot you are. Your tiny bottom stretched obscenely wide from the black leather handle of my crop.”

I felt the caress of his fingertip against the puckered ridge of my entrance.

“Your soft pink skin turned a pale white as it stretches and strains to accommodate the width. It truly is a beautiful sight. Perhaps this will be the next portrait we have painted of you?”

I knew his question didn’t need a response just as surely as I knew if that was what he wanted then against my wishes sometime in the future I might find myself with this riding crop dangling from my ass as I posed for a complete stranger to paint me.

“Is it over now?” I asked weakly. I could feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back between my shoulders blades as my overly heated body strained to bear his punishment.

“Not even close. This is just stretching your ass. Now I need to fuck it with my crop.”

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