Tsunami

by Lady J

We've come to the fair like we have every year: looking for a little fun, knowing we'll end up making our own before the day is through. Although it's mid afternoon, many people have already cleared out for the various parties around town.

We weave through the crowd easily, you only a step behind. Your leash is wrapped about my waist like a belt but I don't need it at the moment. The hunger that drives you is leash enough and you respond to me like you always do: hot and eager with the right amount of sass that I love. We pass an alley just off the main street and I stop. I turn and look at you over the rims of my glasses. Your breathing picks up and you lick your lips slightly, making them wet and that alone sends a jolt to my cunt. I look around then grab you by the hair. Immediately, your head tips back, your eyes close and your breath catches-oh yeah, you're more than ready to play with me.

"You wet, baby?" I ask, my lips pressed close to your ear. Your body shudders in response and I hear your answer even though I already know it

:

"Yes."

I twist my hand a little, bringing your face around so I can see your eyes. Lust wars with rebellion and I know you'll test me, see how far I'm willing to go to punish you before I give you what you really want. I grin, showing teeth and I can feel my beast rising.

"C'mon," I say, yanking you along behind me into the alley. There's a couple of men here and there but I really don't they'll care. I make sure we're not easily seen from the main street before I stop and push you against the wall. You rub your back against it, licking your lips, daring me to take you in such a public place. "I'm so hot for you," you say, keeping your eyes on me. "I've been dreaming about your fist in my cunt, fucking me till I scream, till I come all over your hand."

"Oh, yeah?"

You nod and your answer is practically a groan. "Yeah. I want your fist so bad I can taste it." I come up and press close to you, reaching down to bunch up your skirt so I can slip my hand into your panties. Damn, you're already wet; it's one of the many things I love about you and I have to stop myself from immediately shoving two or three fingers inside of you. That's the easy way out. I pull myself away from you and stand back.

"Open your shirt," I say. You give me the one look that you know sets me off: head bowed to one side, a look out of lowered lids, mouth slightly open as you unbutton your shirt. Once it's open, I step up to you again. Your nipples are such nice rosy targets, I can't help but grab one and twist it. You grit your teeth and push your head back into the wall as you absorb the pain. I twist it again, watching your face as you struggle not to scream. I'm in no mood for a slow build up; I want you hotter than you've been in a long time and I want it now.

I bring my hand to your other tit and start to squeeze it as I twist your nipple harder. Small moans fall from your lips as I press myself against you and shove my knee between your legs. Pushing your head to the side with my own, I lower my lips to your neck, taking the time to run my tongue over the soft skin where the neck and shoulder meet. Then I bite down, hard enough to leave a mark and to leave you gasping. I have both of your nipples now, rolling them between my fingers, keeping you my squirming captive against the hard wall at your back.

"You want more?" I ask, pulling your nipples away from your body. "You think you deserve more?" You can barely nod, it hurts so bad but I know that I stay at this long enough, you'll come from me torturing your tits alone.

And I'm not ready for you to come yet.

Stepping away again, I watch as you nearly slump to the ground from the loss of my touch but you quickly compose yourself. I love it when you're like this: so needy you'll do anything for me to touch you again. You look so fuckable, so wanton. I hear you gasp and your eyes are looking over my shoulder. That's when I turn to see we have an audience.

There's not many of them, maybe eight to ten men who decided to check out the action at the end of the alley. I wonder if they were surprised that we were girls. At that moment, I didn't give a fuck. They wanted to watch, they could watch. Maybe even learn something. I turn back to you, and I see the light in your eyes.

"Slut," I say, "you always wanted an audience." You nod and start to smile, licking your lips again and moving your hips ever so slowly. Enticing me with the movement.

I move toward you again, my eyes never leaving yours. "Any of you got any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them," I say over my shoulder. The gauntlet is thrown. I figure this could be an exercise in gender relations.

Your smile freezes when I grab you by the throat, digging in my nails just a little. "Turn around, take your shirt off and face the wall," I growl. "But..." you begin and squeeze your throat a little tighter. "Do it. Slut." I draw out the last word, its harsh tone like the bite of a whip. That does it for you. You shrug off the shirt, turn and rest your head on your forearms. I grab the hem of your skirt and drag it to your waist, so that all that's between you and the rest of the world are your wet panties. And those have to go.

I pull out my knife and flick it open, and I hear your breath catch again. Planting my hand in the small of your back, I run the blade up the backs of your legs, enjoying your trembling. "You know I'd never cut you, bitch," I say, running my fingers over the places the blade caressed you. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

I smack you on the ass. "Louder so our friends can hear you!"

"YES, I know you won't cut me," you shout. I smooth my hand over your ass. "Good, good. Now, move down and stick your ass out." When you're slow to comply, I smack your ass hard again. "Do it now, bitch." Slowly, you take a step or two back, then you put your hands back on the wall and thrust your ass out to me. My mouth waters at the sight of your luscious ass practically presented on a platter. I slide the blade up one seam and cut it then the other. When your panties come free, I pull them slowly over your cunt and you groan. That sound always gives me goose bumps; at that moment, I know you'll do anything for me to fuck you silly and it gives me a rush like you wouldn't believe. I pull the soaked panties from your crotch and lean forward.

"Give me your mouth," I say. You turn your head and I kiss you, sucking your tongue deep into my mouth. I break the kiss then stuff the panties into your mouth. "Don't drop them." You're eyes open wide and then your head drops down again. I move back to your ass and kiss each cheek lovingly. Then I bite them. You jump a little and your ass wiggles just so. I stand and look back at our audience. No one has said a word, but there's approving looks and a couple of grins.

I turn once more to you and I see that your ass is swaying back and forth just a little. I stop you, digging my nails in before delivering a stinging slap to your rear. I stand by your side, hook my left arm around your waist and spank you hard, leaving bright red hand prints all over your ass. You try to pull away from me but I just hang on tighter, slapping your ass harder until I hear you crying behind the gag. One last slap and I let go of you long enough to whisper, "Don't you dare fall."

I'm breathing hard, my heart is racing as I look at your bright red ass. My handprints are as clear as day, a testament to the punishment you take from me. Suddenly there's a tap on my shoulder and I turn with a snarl. It's one of the men. "Your hand's probably tired," he says to me. "Finish her with this." He holds out a short cat, not unlike the miniature one at your house. The leather tails are a little thicker but not much. This would definitely hurt. "Thanks," I say and he nods with a smile. "You're welcome."

Now the crowd presses in a little more, waiting for the conclusion to our little play. I feel them at my back, feeding me their power, which I take and focus into one perfect strike across your ass with the whip.

You scream behind the gag, nearly coming off the wall but there's no time for you to react as I strike you again and again, the whip marks covering my handprints. Ten strikes is all you're good for but it's enough. I move quickly, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you over to a nearby car. I push you on your back, grinning when you moan because your ass is plastered against the warm metal of the car. "Spread your legs now, cunt." The blood is roaring in my ears and I plant my left hand in the middle of your chest, the whip flowing down your front. I reach down and feel the hot, slick wetness of your cunt. Now, you're finally ready for me. I pull out your gag and your breath sounds harsh to my ears.

"Fuck me, please fuck me."

Your voice has taken on the tone of absolute desperation; the point at which you are so hot that the minute I'm in your cunt, your heat sears me. I slip the rings off the fingers of my right hand as I watch you writhe on the car hood and hand them to one of the men closest to me.

"You want me to fuck you?" I ask as I plunge two fingers deep within you.

"Yes, damn you! Do it, do it..." your voice trails off as I stroke in another finger. Your cunt expands to accommodate me, becoming even more impossibly wet as I set up a rhythm within you. We measured my fist once: about 6 inches across. When I younger, I was ashamed of having such big hands; they were bigger than most women's (and some men's) hands. You were the first to truly appreciate them.

A fourth finger and you're begging me in a steady stream of curses and taunts, the dirtiest language that I've ever heard from you. Just fuel for the fire. Finally, I tuck my thumb in my palm and push forward.

"You want it?"

A grunt from you then, "Fuck yeah."

"How bad?"

"Oh god, just do it, please. Give me your fist!"

It's at that moment, when my knuckles pass that ring of muscle that you are at your most vulnerable. It's at that moment that you are absolutely, and totally mine. My hand slides into a fist and you bite back a scream. I piston in and out of your cunt, pulling back enough to catch that bone with my knuckles, once, twice. It's your sweet spot, one that took us ten years to find and now that we know it's there I exploit it shamelessly. My slut, slave to my fist.

I can feel the heat radiating from your cunt, enveloping my hand and traveling up my forearm. My lips curl back from my teeth and I look down at you as you ride the wave with me. This is where absolute power lies, channeled from my soul through my fist and into you. I reach up and twist your nipple and you arch off the hood of the car, sliding on to my fist. I shove deeper into you and pump my hand, watching your head flail from side to side, your body writhing and out of control. I stroke your clit with my free hand and I feel the tremors begin; the ones that signal that you are going to come. "Come for me, bitch. Come on!" I tell you. You strain and try to hold back but it's too late. Your entire cunt spasms around my fist and you scream loud enough to wake the dead. I feel it all the way up my arm and into my heart and I give one last shove before relaxing my hand.

"No, no, please, don't..." you whimper as I begin to pull out. One hand reaches down to grab my forearm, slowing my withdrawal from your pulsing cunt. I watch as the tremors from your orgasm ripple through your body and I lean down to press a kiss to your stomach.

As you lay there recovering, I hold out my hand to your lips and you clean my fingers and my palm carefully. Then you turn my hand over and kiss my knuckles lovingly, reverently. I retrieve my rings and the gentleman who leant his whip hands me a bandanna to wipe my hands on. I give him back his whip.

"Thanks," I tell him.

He hooks the cat back on his belt and grins at me. "Not a problem. That was real nice."

I accept the compliment with a small smile. Someone else hands me your shirt and I help you sit up to put it on. Your knees are wobbly but you find your footing and stand tall by my side. I hook a finger in your collar and pull you in for a kiss and I feel your hands squeeze my ass lightly. It almost sets me off again. Our little audience drifts away and we follow them out of the alley.