Fiction... Tell Me.

“Tell me!”

Ayva giggled and chewed nervously on her lip. She could tell from the heat of her skin that her face was five shades of red.

Dick's hand reached out across the console and tapped her on the knee. “You started this. You have to finish it.”

Ayva squirmed in her seat and looked out the passenger window. “It’s no big deal.”

“If it’s no big deal then tell me.”

Ayva knew that she had better tread carefully. If he even began to suspect that this was something she really wanted he probably would never do it. Dick had a talent for doing almost exactly the opposite of what she wanted. If she begged or complained it was a god damned guarantee she could kiss her wishes good bye.

It seemed like the more pissed she would get the happier he seemed. He would say with a huge grin, “You love it. Nothing makes you happier. Look, you say you are mad but look at your face, you never looked happier.”

It totally pissed Ayva off that he was right. She had such a kink for ass holes.

“Tell me.”

He could tell she was nervous. He was not going to let go of this as long as he had her squirming.

It had started innocently, a fun conversation, cum argument in the car on the long ride back home from the coast. She had no idea how the topic had spun around to fantasies.

God, if she told him would he do it? Or would he decide that she really did not want what she said she wanted. He had done that a thousand times before.

“Sometimes when... sometimes I like to think about...” Her voice was soft and distant, her eyes locked on the landscape as it slid by. This was probably the tenth time she had started and then stopped.

“And...”

“Spanking, I think about being spanked.”

She thought about a hell of a lot more than spanking. Hell, there was a whole fucking dungeon in her head, populated with the most inventive and sadistic of masters.

Like all her fantasies, it was long and complex. It was never Dick, sometimes it was Captain Picard, Sean Connery or maybe looking like that hot elf Elrond from the LoTR movie, yeah, that one played by Hugo Weaving. She had a picture of him on her desk top, anybody but Dick.

She would silently slip into the room and he would be there, disdainful, icily indifferent, reluctant to be disturbed. He would be busy, preoccupied, watching TV, or reading. He would look up and in an almost I'd rather not be bothered manner direct her to kneel before him.

She would know what he wanted; it was how he always made her wait. She would be wearing a long loose dress or night gown. She would kneel facing away from him and put her face on the floor, pull up the fabric of the dress to cover her head and expose her naked ass and pussy to him. She would stay like that, hidden yet exposed for what seemed an eternity waiting for his whim.

Finally she would her him, a sigh, a movement, a muttered comment under his breath. Whatever had been occupying him was finished. Perhaps he would notice her. In the same bored irritated voice he would tell her to scoot closer to him. She would creep back until he would tell her to stop.

She would kneel there, quivering in anticipation. Not of spanking, it would be something harsher, crueler and more demanding of her fear. A belt, a whip, a cane; it would be something dangerous.

She would have to beg for it. Each blow a gift. Each blow crueler that the last. She could stop any time, but there was the need to test her own limits, to take more than she thought she could.

She would reach up between her legs and stroke herself between blows, the excitement too much to ignore. She would beg, “Again please, again.” And then buck and scream as the searing agony would cut through her. Each time she would wonder if she could bear to ask again, choking down her sobs, rubbing frantically at her pussy to sooth her hysteria. And then she would beg again.

He would demur, suggest that she did not deserve this attention, but she knew that this was what he wanted and needed even more than her.

The fantasy would always end up with him grabbing her, tearing her clothing off and throwing her over the back of a piece of furniture, her ass up, her head down. He would force himself into her mouth and fuck her face, ramming his cock violently and endlessly down her throat ignoring her choking gagging protests.

Finally he would take her from behind, lunging abruptly into her pussy and humping her with an animal intensity that would shake her whole body, knocking the chair or whatever, across the room with the violence of his fucking.

Just as she was about to come he would deny her and pull away from her. Ignoring her pleas, he would force himself up her ass, as she screamed in pain and frustration, brutally slam into her. He would grab her already tortured ass cheeks and spread them cruelly apart, reveling in her howls of pain as he rutted and filled her with his come.

This fantasy was good for at least a half dozen orgasms start to finish. She was realistic enough to know that she would never really like a scene that rough. Hell the first ten minutes of kneeling would have her whining and complaining. She had never been hit with a cane, or even a belt. She would probably pussy out at the first smack. But it was fucking hot to think about.

Ayva knew if she told Dick all this he would either be horrified or make fun of her until the day she died, probably both. Even though he seemed to take pride in being a jerk, when it came down to doing what she wanted. He was a very physically gentle man. He would never be the man in her fantasy. Ayva was cool with that, but if he could maybe spank her, it would be a start.

She kept staring out the side window. “You know, like before we do it, you would spank me. I could lay across your lap or lean over in front of you.”

“Seriously? You want me to spank you?” He was getting that obnoxious little boy snide tone, and that maybe I will, most likely I won't grin on his face.

She cleared her throat nervously. “Like a game, just playing. It’s not all that big a deal. I just thought it might be fun to maybe try. We don't have to if you don't want to.” Her voice trailed off.

As she was unloading the car, carrying the bags and extra coats in from the day trip Dick struck for the first time, a sharp pop on her ass as she leaned over the car trunk. Ayva yelled and jumped, banging her head on the trunk lid. She whirled indignant, “Not like that, not when I am not expecting it. It’s for like foreplay or something.” Her voice becoming whiny.

He crowed with delight. “It’s more fun this way.” Ayva shut up, she saw the absolute joy in his face. If she told him now that she did not want him to spank her, it would be useless. This was one cat that was not going to get put back in the bag without a fight. Ayva looked at him warily, rubbing her head and her ass at the same time. Shit, how come he always could fuck things up so ingeniously.

After that things only got worse, he refused to spank her when she was cooperating, saying it wasn't fun that way. But he was always sneaking up on her and nailing her when she was not expecting it. His favorite was in socially inappropriate situations. She did not mind the grocery store so much but when he did it during a parent teacher conference she nearly lost it, and in front of her mother for god’s sake. Fucking was a nightmare. He was developing a talent for giving her a good hard smack right when she was just about to orgasm, effectively knocking the come right out of her.

For Dick it was not sex, it was one more way to keep her off balance, keep her pissed at him. He was never quite as happy as when she was sputtering angry at him. He would taunt, “You love it.” And it infuriated her that he was right. How come she loved assholes so much?