The Dawn of Darkness (Part 7)

I ran her a bath, adding the scented oil that I found in the cabinet below the bathroom sink and told her to get in. I'd allowed her to rest after our encounter, made her sit on the edge of the tub and finger herself to orgasm while I flipped through a magazine and pretended as if I could've given a damn. Once the water was filled to the brim of the tub, I ordered her to get in and began to scoop water over her head. I washed her hair, gently massaging in the shampoo. I rinsed the suds from her mane and started to glide the washcloth over her body. She closed her eyes and fell silent. I washed her slowly, observing the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Once I was finished, I ordered her out and grabbed a thick white towel from the linen closet, then vigorously rubbed her body dry. I led her around the house, into the homeowners' bedroom where I found a pair of stiletto heels and strapped them to her feet. I had her parade around the house for me in nothing but those shoes. She prepared dinner for me in front of the stove, completely nude. I grabbed a long handled spoon from one of the kitchen drawers and slid it in and out of her ass as she stirred my meal in its pot.

I made her sit on the floor by my feet as I ate, forcing myself not to look down at her. She wrapped her arms around my leg and lowered her head to rest on my foot. She planted kisses on the top of my shoe and stayed silent until I was done eating, then gathered up my dishes and washed them in the sink. I stood behind her while she worked and cupped her breasts. I bit her on her shoulders and neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on her flesh.

When that was through, I collected her books and started the tutoring again. I lounged in a recliner while she sat on the floor and obediently answered all of my questions. Her eyes were beginning to droop. I reached forward and grabbed her by the chin. "No sleep for you," I scolded. "Go make yourself some coffee." As she was preparing the coffee maker, I placed my hands behind my head and sighed. This was something that I could get very used to.

The coffee brewed, I allowed her to only drink it black, and forced her to gulp down 3 steaming mugs of it before returning to the living room. I had her start a fire in the fireplace and then instructed her to lay on her back on the floor in front of it. I retreated to the kitchen and began to root around, looking for more available toys. I gathered up a carrot, a cucumber, a spatula and a pair of BBQ tongs, then returned to the living room.

Her eyes widened slightly as I approached, my hands cluttered with objects. She rolled her head to the side and swallowed hard. "Get on your hands and knees," I told her and she folded her body into position. Her ass swayed at me. I hunkered down and stroked it with both hands. I placed my face against it and licked the length of its curve, biting down in the middle of the cheek. She whimpered softly.

I licked the end of the carrot and then inserted it in her ass, fucking it in and out of her for a couple of minutes and watching her ass cheeks clench and relax. I pushed it up as far as it would allow and then left it there, halfway protruding out of her. I ran the cucumber up and down her slit, jamming it against her swollen clit before inserting it into her pussy. I fucked her with it with one hand and then began to fuck the carrot in and out of her ass again with the other hand. She moaned softly and I watched as the cucumber became more and more glossy. I stopped with both of the vegetables planted deeply inside her orifices.

I raised the spatula to her ass and smacked her with it, watching her flesh quiver under the blow. Her head was dropping forward, her hair blocking my view of her face. I lifted the curtain of curls with the spatula and caught a glimpse of the flushed color of her cheeks. I lowered the hair and then began to deliver blows to her thighs, calves and bottoms of her feet. I circled around her and smacked her back and upper arms. Her elbows dipped. I grabbed the tongs and lowered myself onto my back, sliding under her like a mechanic under a car. Her pendulous breasts swayed beneath her. I nipped at them with the tongs, pinching small bits of her skin between them and twisting. The utensil left red dots in their wake. I caught one of her nipples between the metal and clamped down. She uttered a small cry and then her body convulsed.

I pushed her over onto her back. She was panting heavily and flushed from the roots of her hair down to her belly. I stood in a lightning fast motion and ran into the kitchen. I threw open cabinets until I found the cooking oil. Returning to her, I opened th bottle and poured it over her chest. I quickly undid my fly and took off my pants, then straddled her. My cock stood out before me, the head bright pink and ready to explode. I grabbed her tits and crushed them together. I rammed my cock between them and pumped my hips, fucking them with glorious ease, aided by the oil. I managed to pinch her nipples between my fingers and looked down to see them turn cherry red in color. Her mouth was hanging open, her tongue was extended, trying to touch the tip of my cock as it would dart up close and then retract. On the last stroke, it connected with my tip and my cum shot out, spurting into her mouth. It dribbled out over the corners and down the sides of her cheeks, into her hair.

She licked at my spilt cum, attempting to catch what she could. I sat back onto her hips and held my softening dick in my hand. It had nearly killed me earlier to discontinue fucking her and pull out, not allowing myself to orgasm. Now, all of that pent up fury had escaped me, and it felt as if it was more than just my erection that was fading. I dismounted her and stood, then removed my shirt. I'd been sweating profusely for so long, I could no longer bear the feel of the fabric clinging to my tacky skin. I'd completely lost track of where I was as I inhaled deeply and tried to mentally assist my body in cooling down.

Then I heard her gasp.

She was looking up at me with her eyes wide, her pupils dilated into a pinpoint. As I regained my senses and looked down, I realized what she was looking at. My torso was covered in jagged scars, starting at the breastbone and working their way down to my hips. Some were more pronounced than others, some were mere whispers of a mark. They crisscrossed in some sections, but none surpassed the affect the main one did. She rose to her knees and extended a hand to touch the line on my right side, ruby in color and raised like an embossed curve on a fancy invitation.

I jumped back before she could run her fingers over it and grabbed my side protectively. Her mouth quivered in unasked questions, her hand still lingered in the air. She looked up at me with wet eyes.

My mouth was sapped of all its moisture, and as I tried to swallow, my throat felt as if it was filled with sand. I'd managed to keep my shirt on in every other sexual situation that I'd been in, save the one time with my second girlfriend, but it had been dark and we'd been drunk. This was the first time someone had seen my scars in the light. Someone other than another male in a locker room. Men don't ask questions. Men don't care to hear ugly answers. Men just leave well enough alone.

But not women. And from the the look of it, this one wasn't about to either.