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  My breaths were ragged and pained. My nipples were so hard they hurt, dragging against the chair cushion beneath me. When he wrapped his thick, tattooed forearm around my face, I bit down without thinking. He groaned as though it was an exquisite pleasure.

  His cum was hot and heavy inside me and it dripped down my thigh. My orgasm continued though, until it was literally too painful to go on.

  He collapsed on top of me, supporting most of his weight on his elbows but still pinning me on top of the chair. He was breathing heavily, panting for air, his sweaty muscles surrounding me like a heavy blanket.

  “Alright, white lady, you got the hang of this,” he said. “You learnin’ how to do it right. I gonna give you as many freebies as you want.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gentle Blast Dungeon

  Calvert convinced me to go to a place called the Gentle Blast Dungeon, a sexy BDSM bar in Rockville. I had heard of it but only as a rumor — it wasn’t marked, just a hole in the wall with two burly white men outside as though planted to the ground.

  I thought I’d feel self-conscious about the way I looked in the skintight black leather outfit Calvert had helped me buy — he knew a woman who made leather suits by hand. But I calmed down once I arrived and said that everyone there looked as ridiculous as me. I was glad to see it wasn’t like it was in the movies, where everyone into BDSM had bodies that looked perfect in leather. They were much realer, with bits of saggy flesh, visible wrinkles and awkward laughs. It was maybe technically less sexy than I was expecting, but so much more comfortable that I was glad for it.

  Everybody seemed to know Calvert, who greeted them one by one as we marched through the bar. In the back was a large open area, filled with dozens more people in black leather milling about. A few couples were having sex and small crowds watched them.

  Black steel columns dotted the room. Calvert wasted little time in tying me to one, then he spread my legs. My outfit had a zipper strategically placed over my pussy, and he opened it with one hand while tightening the knots around my wrists with his other.

  A crowd gathered to watch, which made it sexier for me. A few weeks ago I could never have imagined having sex with an audience, much less in tight leather in front of a dozen strangers. They whispered approval to each other and occasionally shouted out to me, insults but in an encouraging tone. “Go on, slut, take that filthy dick!” they said, and I loved every word.

  I heard the flick of a lighter and looked behind me the best I could with his hand on my hair, his cock ramming into my pussy. He was lighting a straightened paper clip until it was scorching hot.

  He raised his eyebrows at me and I nodded. The swelling crowd roared in approval, and I saw a few men jacking themselves as they watched.

  He flicked the paperclip on the small of my back for just a half-second, barely long enough to feel it at all. But I did feel it, and it made me arch my back some more. It hurt but it felt good at the same time, and I begged for him to do it again.

  “More, longer,” I said.

  He did, pressing the tip into the flesh of my back. I screamed, pleasure overtaking me and gushing out my pussy and around his throbbing cock,

  He untied my hands, muttering that he wanted to try a different position. “Come on bitch, get down on me.” The audience started demanding different sex acts, most of which I had never heard of.

  But Calvert knew what he wanted. He kept his dick in my pussy and laid down on his back. I sprawled out over his giant torso, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders.

  He wrapped his arms and legs around me, pinning me to him as though we were wrestling. His muscles throbbed and flexed around me. I felt like his body was swallowing me up, like I was melting into him, beginning with my pussy. His dick sent a shiver of orgasm through me with every relentless slap of his body against me.

  The sounds of our flesh smacking against each other and my louder and louder moans attracted a bigger audience. Calvert was gyrating his hips upwards so violently I was launched in the air each time, most of his dick sliding out of me then ramming back in as gravity pulled me down.

  He stood, lifting me up with one smooth motion, keeping his cock still and hot inside me. I clutched his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips. I was forced down on his dick, swallowing it with my pussy down to its root. Just like last time, I bit uncontrollably, drawing blood from his chest, the sight and smell of which made the crowd grow wild. I saw more than a few onlookers, both sexes now, playing with themselves and even one couple getting ready to fuck as they watched.

  He leaned me against a wall lined with black leather and fucked me hard, suspended in the air. My plaintive orgasmic cries echoed in the room.

  He roared out his climax, which shook me to the core at the same time. His dick spurted inside me, hot and sticky and dripping out and into his pubic hair. He gently let me down to the ground, but my knees were so weak I almost collapsed.

  He caught me in his arms and we went down together, the clapping of the watchers fading into the background. I sat in his lap then, feeling our fluids commingle as we both rested.

  “Thanks for all this,” I said after finally catching my breath.

  Calvert scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re thanking me. You’re letting me fuck you. I should be thanking you,” he said.

  “No, no, no,” I said, “Not just the fucking… The way you do it. It’s complicated, but I felt like I was stuck in a rut before I met you, Calvert. I needed to try something new and you gave me the push I needed to do it.”

 

 

  Debbie Sizemore, A Leather Boot Kick Out of That Rut

 

 

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