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Dominance and submissive sadism sexstories
"Pull the car over."

She had reflexively started to speak. Not exactly a protest, but a suggestion that perhaps they should drive back out to the main road and into Desert Hot Springs; the closest small town. For, she had this impression that he simply needed to relive himself. They had been driving for a few hours without a break really. She was going to need to stop somewhere soon, so she had assumed.

She stopped the car, the tires slowing to a crunchy stop along the isolated gravel road. They had driven a significant way from the highway, considering the severity of the area. It was deceiving, really. It felt like one wasn't that far from 'civilization', yet the extreme heat and harsh surroundings were, as she knew, anything but civilized. That's why she loved it. First glance suggested, a closer look seduced. At least it did her and she had long ago stopped wondering why. She knew. She knew very well why.

She inhaled and opened her mouth to speak but something instinctual stopped her. Whatever his reason for stopping her didn't matter. He simply told her to stop. Silently, he opened his door and got out. She watched the little waves of heat rise off the gravel in front of her. Perhaps all of fifteen seconds passed but it was enough for her to sort of smile to herself. To some it might seem trivial. Some wouldn't even notice or take the time to even appreciate something so small. But she did. She did because it didn't happen every day and when she was able to be...she savored even the tiniest details. She noted them and tucked them away to replay over and over and over during the times when her memories and her dreams and her anticipations of the next time. Yes, little things like that instinctual little 'catch' brought her happiness.

She was 'aware' of him before she saw him standing beside her door. She looked up and he didn't even smile. "Get out." That's when they started. The slumbering butterflies fluttered their wings in her belly and began to swirl about slowly. She looked into his eyes and they took flight in earnest. His eyes were bearing down on her like two dark predators. She didn't even have time to get out of the car. His hand suddenly snatched her by the hair and she felt the sting as he pulled.

Outside, the heat wrapped around her like a shroud but it wasn't oppressive to her. No. For this was the place of her favorite fantasies. In the dark of night in her bed alone she could feel it when she closed her eyes and remembered. It was heat, yes...but it was passion to her. She felt it's tentacles wrap around her. She felt the sun beat down on her skin and the grit under her feet. Beyond, in the distance, the immense windmills turned silently in the wind. Graceful. Sexual. Watching. She felt her flesh begin to crawl as every nerve in her body began to pulse. She knew this man, she knew that look.

Without ceremony, he pulled her and then she stumbled as he pushed her against the car. The metal was hot against her hands and she could feel her own perspiration rise to the surface and instantly dry in the hot wind, making her skin salty. Salty and sweet underneath those shorts she wore as she felt her own wetness boil inside her and start to slither between her lips like a dirty little serpent. Her own naughty evil desires all welling up inside. Dirty little thoughts that she had in the night, in the daylight...whenever she could. She had come here before, just to feel it. It hadn't really mattered that she was alone...well, it had but she loved it anyway because she knew in her soul that someday, somehow...it would come to pass.

And now it was going to.

She had no indication he had stowed anything out of the ordinary in that backpack. But..then again...what was 'ordinary' for him? Oh but he had. He slid that cold steel in front of her and he couldn't see her eyes grow huge.

She trusted him with more than any other human on the planet...yet that knife made her breath come in little gasps as he slid it over her skin. It was like the sharpest of needles and she truly thought it had opened her skin. He could... He could slice her throat open with less effort than opening a pickle jar with that knife. He'd used it before to get her attention and this time had no less effect. He wouldn't fillet her...but she'd often wondered when he would cut her with it..because she knew he would. She knew and he undoubtedly knew she did. But he also knew she'd simply hold still and feel her own blood slither down her skin and get wet from the very idea of suffering for him.

Suffering for him. From the very first time she had, she knew a truth she'd never known in all of her years. He had growled and the look on his face was the personification of arousal. That reaction in him was more powerful than kerosene on a prairie fire to her because it enflamed her perhaps even more. More than the curious way the pain made her feel wet and wanton...the fact that it pleased and aroused him just about drove her insane. That little voice of protest inside her just retreated without further fight. What was the point? She was a masochist. It was true. She'd secretly wondered in her belly as she heard herself say countless times how pain wasn't something she was interested in. Perhaps those days were the real birth of the dirty little alleycat inside her because that was when the tail started to flicker slowly, the throaty purr began and the dirty little cat inside just smirked patiently like a inmate x'ing off days left in confinement.

He spoke to her, wrapping himself around her there against the car as he ran that knife up one arm, down the other. He reached and she whimpered...but she really wanted to beg him...as he yanked off her shorts and the lace panties that had clung to her sex. Later, things would blur somewhat in her memory because what happened next was something she never would have suspected in a million lifetimes.

"Don't move." He warned. There were times she still stumbled and asked why or what for. This wasn't one of them. She was so focused on him that she could have stood still for just however long he demanded right then. Yes, her knees felt they'd give way any second, but she wasn't moving.

Only once before had she felt the sting of that whip. Once, and the better part of a year had passed since. But the instant the leather cut the air, nanoseconds before it landed like a fiery feather on her skin, she knew. Her toes curled underneath her and her sex clenched as if it were searching for something. Well...it was.

She cried out and she flinched and he cautioned her again. Down. She was going down. Not down to the ground or down and out...down...down to that sweet soft place she craved in the night because of how she felt there. Warm and home and surrounded by this undeniable sense of --right-. She couldn't see him and she dared not turn but she could remember his image in the mirror from before as if it were suddenly just yesterday. And it made her even wetter.

But sometimes the body has a way of not remembering exactly just how painful something is. How very kind that little flaw of memory can be. One after another, those blows landed on her bare bottom. Right there, in the middle of the desert. Anyone could happen upon them...or not. He could whittle away at her until she dropped, a quivering, babbling heap. They were like knives of fire landing on her skin and she shook. She cried out and she clenched. "CRACK" The leather split the air again and the instant blow to her skin made her knees into jelly.

Oh god She thought. She tuned in. She rode it. She felt the heat and the wind and she saw his piercing eyes in her mind's eye. She even felt his heat wrapped around her and she drew from that strength. It was what she had craved and more. It was harsh and it was painful and it was frightening and it was absolutely driving her insane.

CRACK It came again and she didn't know how she'd bear much more. And he'd really hardly started on her. She wanted to take everything he would demand and she would but her breath came in gasps and she somehow kept herself still.

He had mercy on her. He saw her struggling there, exposed and afraid. But he pushed her as far as he could safely push her, explaining how 'lucky' she was that afternoon as the wind made things difficult for him. She never knew, he landed one blow after another again and again.

Just when she feared the next would send her to her knees, he stopped.

Interesting, really. For, secretly and almost impossible to imagine, let lone admit to herself...but she sometimes craved such harshness that she would actually collapse. Hurt me when you choose To be harshly beaten until she could literally stand no more and simply collapsed. Toss me like a rag doll. To be taken to the edge and then pushed over, not softly...but with the force she knew he harbored. Make me forget my name. Harsh and hard and painful and emotionally. Devour me. She feared it and craved it with the same intensity and that inner conflict in and of itself aroused her. It aroused her because it struck deep inside and brought forth things that made her tingle and feel most alive. It forced her to look at who she was and that she reveled in some of the dirtiest, most unspeakable things. To her; it was beauty...a song. ...I'll cry you a river of gratitude.

Like being bent then and taken in that heat. Bent over, his hand upon her neck and feeling her flesh stretch around him as he pushed himself inside while he told her all the things she knew in her bones. That all that pain had done nothing but make her want with everything she possessed. That she was, indeed, a dirty little slut for wanting his cock jammed painfully inside her now right out there in that harsh wilderness where anyone could come along and watch. And both of them knew that, should that happen, she'd stay bent right over there while he satisfied himself, should he desire her to.

Because she'd do anything he desired.

She whimpered that her bladder was full and she apologized. No issue. He stopped. He pointed to a spot beside the road and told her to squat and relieve herself. He knew what he was demanding. He knew her to be shy about such things. She whimpered again, but she squatted under his gaze that was just as powerful as the sun beating down on them. She couldn't. He told her she could. And as she bore the humiliation of his watching the pale yellow stream splash between her legs right there like an animal before him, she felt herself clench again. Nothing was hidden from him. Nothing. She had no privacy, nor did she want it. That conflict again. Dancing lewdly sandwiched between the complete embarrassment of such a perfunctory, private act and the surrender of everything she had. Yes, even that humiliating little act made her softer and more alive.

He pushed her back against the car again and she yelped when he pushed himself inside her. The wind was evaporating her wetness but he kept right on filling her up, and he lubricated her himself. She clenched around him, babbling her gratitude for gifting her with his cock. Her thighs strained as he burrowed further inside her and she saw stars when he hammered with all that strength so deeply that she felt him slam up against her cervix and her entire womb jolted inside her belly. He growled and claimed her as his body shook and she heard him grant her permission to fall.

It was as if the lights went out. She felt herself launch off that cliff at the sound of just three syllables. Like a switch had been flipped and the dam burst. Her knees went weak as her spasms clamped down around him chaotically. Her chest heaved and her knees felt like jelly and yet he banged into her thighs while her wet, burning flesh wrapped round and clung to him.

He came at her with even more force, pushing her against the car, nearly lifting her off her feet as he hammered away at her and she could vaguely hear the feral sounds rolling out of her own throat. She purred and hissed when she felt him grow stiff and his warmth sprayed deep inside her and then boiled over to spill out and drip down her thighs.

She felt softer than silk at that moment. His reward spilling down her thighs, marking her...she loved it when he marked her.

"Pull your panties on. Let that drip all over them, alleycat. Ride all the way home in that mess just knowing how dirty you are and how you enjoyed that." She nodded, purring softly as the wetness slid over the tender welts on her bottom, making them sting. She purred louder. ...and again every time she secretly wiggled, making it all slide and sting again as they drove home.

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