If you’d rather listen…


He pulled over at the head of the trail and told me to take off all of my clothes. Looking at him with incredulity, I opened my mouth to argue…but thought better of it. This was a punishment, and it was meant to be as uncomfortable as he could make it.

Naked, and highly aware of it, I opened the truck door and stepped down on to the damp fall leaves. They created a sort of rust and gold carpet leading all the way to the gate at the end of the path.

We’d been here just a few days ago, exploring and taking photos. The gate opened to a pathway that led to an old graveyard…creepy and completely intriguing all at the same time. Namely, we’d taken shots of headstones that we took back home to do some research on; the photos had been amazing, especially in black and white. We even planned to enter a few in an upcoming competition.

Our little photography forays led us to a lot of interesting, out of the way places. And it was obvious, our first time here, that we had been the only ones to visit in some time.

Maybe that’s why he had tucked it away in his mind as a place for just this kind of thing.

From the cab of the truck, he watched me pad my way slowly and carefully toward the iron gate. Blocked by a thick canopy of trees–still in the process of losing their leaves, the sun was beginning to fade. It wasn’t dark yet, but the atmosphere was shadowed and a bit gloomy, scary even…the kind of evening light that makes everything look colorless and hazy.

A breeze teased my skin to goose-flesh and my nipples became erect, which caused my clit to twitch in response. Every hair in every pore stood on end, and I shivered as I reached out and took hold of the iron gate. Glancing back, I saw him crouched in the middle of the path, camera blocking his features.

“Right there, Madison. Stay put.”

I held the pose, trying not to shake, but the breeze was turning to wind, shaking more leaves from the branches above. They rained down on me, softly crackling at my feet as the touched the ground.

A shiver made its way up my spine, causing everything sensitive to clench.

“Now walk through.”

I followed his directive, opening the gate and slipping through. I wrapped my arms around myself in search of warmth, hunching and folding inward.

“Stand straight, Maddy. Hands at your side.”

He followed me, the static kiss of his camera echoing in the closed space. I walked toward one of the headstones we’d photographed earlier in the week.

“Bend over it.”

I whipped around to face him, my features bunched up in horrified question.

“What the fuck?! You want me bent over a head stone? Isn’t that a little disrespectful?”

“Isn’t forgetting to fill the gas tank like I expect a little disrespectful? And what else did you forget this week?”

“To shave…but I was so busy at work…” my pitch was turning to a whine.

“Just do what I told you to do, Maddy.”

His voice had taken on a I’m-not-fucking-around quality, and so I inhaled deeply and walked up to the stone marker. James Barker 1841-1897 Husband, Father, Son. I wondered what Mr. Barker would think of me bent over his remains, desecrating his final resting place.

The stone was icy against my lower belly and thighs, causing me to breathe in sharply and hold my breath.

“Bend all the way over it, Maddy. And spread your legs.”

I did as he said, the ragged edges of the stone digging into my skin.

I heard the camera, several quick clicks, and felt the wind brushing against my exposed cunt.

A tickling sensation on the inside of my ankle nearly sent me running…a spider?!…but I held my composure. The tickling moved up the inside of my leg, and my brain registered that it must be Chris with a stick. He pressed it harder into my flesh, scratching it up the inside of my thigh, and I squealed in response.

Then…whack! A searing pain blossomed on the back of my right thigh. And my left. And then my right cheek…and my left. I grabbed the sides of the tombstone to hold myself steady and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

The crunching of leaves behind me told me he was moving, and his boots came into my peripheral vision as he walked around me.

“You’re a beauty, Maddy…that white skin, u glowing in the haze of oncoming night. Like a ghost you are, hugging that stone.”

The camera clicked and clicked…as if tsk-tsk-ing my bad behavior…as if shaking its head at my foolishness. Judging me. Mocking me. And I shivered, my breathing labored as I hung upside down over the stone, its cold edges digging into my flesh, nudging my ribs, pressing against the underside of my hanging breasts. The tips of my hair danced across the leaves, and I began to feel light-headed.

“Chris, I can’t breathe…”

I was pleading. But he was having none of it. I felt his hands on my ass cheeks, spreading them, and then his hot breath against my now exposed asshole. His tongue flicked it and I lurched, uncomfortable and humiliated. But he kept on, his tongue licking, his mouth kissing my tight hole, pushing into me, his hands spreading me as wide as he could. And then I felt his cold fingers against my clit, sliding back to my opening cunt, their insertion made simple by my wetness. Closing my eyes, I felt my body give way to him and felt all the more humiliated by its betrayal. My body wanted this, all of it…my backside wriggled and my cunt clenched…begging. A slow heat began to build in my core, as if my insides were melted butter, and I automatically lifted my pelvis, my cunt and ass open to him like a flower to the sun. His hot breath tickled as he exhaled slowly from the top of my crack to my pulsing anus. I felt the wet warmth of his mouth on my skin, and then, without warning, his teeth biting into my flesh…hard…unrelenting…and deep.

I screamed.

I couldn’t help it. The pain was searing.

Standing quickly, he slammed himself against my backside, reaching his hand down and into my hair, yanking me upward by a fistful at the base of my neck.

He spoke through his teeth, an ominous whisper in my ear.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Maddy.”

“But…”

“No.”

He pulled away and the warmth was gone. I was shivering and bewildered.

“Follow me.”

The crunch of leaves under his boots quieted as he walked further and further away. Rubbing the places where the stone had dug into my ribs and belly, I turned and watched as he reached the gate, opened it and walked through, without looking back.

Tears threatened the corners of my eyes as I ran to catch up.

In the truck, he told me to put on my bra and panties but to leave the rest of my clothes on the floor.

“You won’t need them tonight.”

On the seat between us, I noticed a rather wicked looking stick. He noticed me noticing and nodded slowly, as his lips spread to show his teeth. A type of smile I’d not seen him display in a long time.

“Yep. That’s for you, little girl.”

I bit my bottom lip and almost came in delicious relief when the heat turned on, blowing warm air across my nearly frozen feet.

I was disappointed in myself for disappointing him. But, honestly, it was hard not to let my heart race at the anticipation of what might be next…the anxiety…the fear. It acted as a bizarre catalyst for my quiet desire.

I’d messed up, and yet, the punishment was turning me on.

No…it wasn’t so much the punishment as it was the punisher.

Seeing him like this.

That was the thing that made me hold my breath. Just feeling the strength of him beside me made me want to reach between my legs and relieve the pressure that he’d built. But I knew if I even tried, there would be hell to pay.

Beautiful, delicious hell to pay.


Photo courtesy of Purple’s Gem via Masturbation Monday.

18 Replies to “Hell to Pay”

  1. mmm this definitely stirred the desire in me to be punished, not because of the punishment, but indeed, because of him, because of the way he is when he punishes me. Delicious story!

    Rebel xox

  2. This was eerily sexy. The idea of draping myself naked over a cold headstone sends shivers down my spine. The idea of being naked and exposed while being teased out in the open also sends shivers down my spine. Two very different sensations.

  3. Oh graveyards are so my thing and being punished in one is well quite a delicious thought. I so wanted him to fuck her though but that is because I would want to get fucked in that situation

    Mollyx

  4. I love graveyards. I love fucking in graveyards. They’re such beautiful, peaceful places, and it seems like a very life-infusing thing to do there.

    Anyhow, really enjoyed this story. Hot, complex, and unexpected. Great stuff.

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