“I’m not quite finished with you.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks as I drag my mouth away. “You going to bully me some more?”
There’s no sadness now in her voice. She looks just as excited as I feel.
Maybe if replacing the bad pain with the good pain works, so will replacing the old bullying with a new kind of bullying. One where I remind her, every second that I’m tormenting her, how much I love her.
“Has anyone ever washed your face with snow?”
“Quill!” she giggles. “Are you serious?”
Instead of answering, I grab two fistfuls of snow and bring them down on either side of her face, rubbing her cheeks till they’ve turned splotchier than I’ve ever seen them before. She wriggles underneath me, trying to get away from the coldness, but I’m forceful as I slide the snow down to her neck, burningher where I’d previously choked her.
She’s gasping so hard she doesn’t even register it when I whip her coat back open, tug up her shirt, and take one nipple in my mouth, then the other, rolling them in my mouth until I’m satisfied their stiffness comes from arousal and not cold. Then I work my way down, licking at the trails left by the snow on her stomach.
“Hold your legs up,” I tell her.
“Quill, you arenotputting me in that embarrassing diaper position again—”
I don’t let her finish her sentence, instead forcing her legs up. And though she’s verbally resisting, she clearly has no problem doing what she’s told, especially when she feels my hot breath against her pussy. She hooks her arms under her knees and waits, shivering in a way that Iknowis not just from the cold.
But I decide to tease her a little longer when my eyes once more take in the red stripes from the switching that are laid bare in this very revealing position. My tongue heads further south, and she cries out in surprise and discomfort when she feels it dart over her crack, right over the angriest of the stripes.
“Quill! What are you doing? Stop that!”
Again, I hesitate, because I’m worried she really means it this time. But even if she does, didn’t she tell me shewantedme to go too far? If I stay in her comfort zone, will she ever get the feeling she craves—true helplessness?
So, giving way to my urges, I land another long lick on her crack, then bury my tongue up her ass. Not that I ever particularly wanted to taste my own cum, but now it’s inside her, and I want to taste all ofher.
Apparently though, getting her ass eaten out is a sensation that really takes Piper by surprise. She lets go of her legs, and one of them accidentally jerks up, kicking my chin. Then she takes advantage of my slightly dazed state to flip to her stomach andtry to scramble away.
She doesn’t get too far before I grab her ankle and hoist her right back, disregarding her desperate struggling. “I prefer you in this position anyway,” I growl, tugging the rest of her jeans off. I lean against the trunk of the nearest tree, bringing her to me in a semi-wheelbarrow position, her legs on either side of me. Then I bury my face once more in her bottom.
“Quill, it’s so weird! Oh my gosh, it’s so weird!”
She’s doing her best to resist me, but there isn’t much she can do in this upside-down position, with her arms pushing against the ground to keep her head from touching the snow. The more she struggles, the more uncomfortable she looks, the more the dark urges in me want to keep her in that state, my tongue forcefully invading her crack and hole. But at last, I take pity on her—well, some sort of distorted form of pity—and reward her with a lick to her pussy.
“Oh, Qui-i-ill,” she moans, shuddering.
But I’m not quite ready to pleasure her. Another lick, and I’m back to torturing her backside as she whines in need. I keep up that rhythm for a while, alternating between her pussy and her ass, my cock growing harder by the second. The realization that I’m about to cream my own pants from the enjoyment I take in seeing just how frustrated and helpless she is, has me going back to her pussy for good. I drive my tongue into her more forcefully and suck on her clit until she comes, her arousal spraying over my face.
Then she’s back to sagging on the ground, breathing hard.
Unable to wait a moment longer, I push her off of me, quickly unzip my fly, and a few pumps are all that are necessary before I’m coming for the second time, decorating her ass with my seed.
“Fuck, cricket,” I groan, landing on my knees beside her.
I grab one last fistful of snow, but this time, it’s only to clean her bottom. Then I drag her to my lap, doing my best to warmher.
We stay huddled together for a long time, both of us trying to regain our breath.
“How’d you like getting your face washed with snow?” I tease, at last breaking the peaceful silence.
I don’t let on how relieved I am to hear her mumble into my chest, “Let’s do it… again…”
Then she falls into a deep sleep, the way she always does after an intense session.
Chapter 30
