index


Message-ID: <37716asstr$1028643002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: HammonWry@yahoo.com (Hammon Wry)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 06 Aug 2002 07:14:42 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} Catharsis (MF Dom/Humil Vag Fist Anal Safe)
Date: Tue,  6 Aug 2002 10:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Notice: The following is a work of erotica, and is meant for those of 
legal age and inclination in their jurisdicions.  If you are not of 
age, or if this is illegal where you are, please do not read any
further.

(C) E. Howe  2002
All rights reserved

Author's note:  Once again, Totten and Dr. Carter.  Yeah, yeah, I
know, I need to develop more characters...let me get used to writing
erotica with these two, first. Back story: for more insight on why
Totten is so tense, you may want to read the following 3 story
segments.  They begin here:  

http://members.cox.net/ehowe/lc1.html

For those of us who prefer to skip directly to the good parts (you can
tell those folks by the dog-ears in their books) here it is: 

Catharsis

She wanted a cigarette. She wanted to draw in the foul smoke, let it
curl around the inside of her lungs, expanding them out in a reverse
embrace. She wanted the acrid burn, anything to counter this rage,
this heat. She hadn't enjoyed the sex. She hadn't climaxed. She wanted
more. 

But she sat upright, hugging her knees and rocking slightly, as John
removed the used condom, and turned back to her. He had not come,
either. He tried to touch her, but she flinched. 

Hand in mid-air, he stopped. She looked askance at him, and then fixed
her eyes on the wall, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm still jumpy from
meeting Antony Scapaldi earlier." He made contact, and brushed her
hair away from her face. 

She flinched again. He ran his hand over her shoulder, gauging her
tension. She was as hard as a rock, a violin string too tightly tuned.
She twisted from his hand without thinking. She tried to breathe
slowly, but it wasn't working. 

"You need to fight." 
She looked at him sharply. 
He'd seen that look before. The hunter in him had seen it on the face
of a devilbunny, cornered, but not ready to give up. It knew it was
going to die, but wanted to fight its way out--out of the corner, or
out of this life. It didn't matter. It had wanted to fight. 

She said nothing. She stared at him, eyes haunted, face a mask. She
stared at him. 

"You need to fight me." 

She jerked her gaze away from him, hugged her knees and hid her face
on her arms. 
She was shaking. 
She knew he was right. 
She didn't want to fight. 
She did. 

He moved in front of her. 
She refused to look at him. 
He took her wrists, and grasping them, pulling them from around her
knees, spread her arms wide. 

She looked up at his face, and he looked at her. 

"Fight me, Wench. Come on. Fight me. You know you need to. You know it
will make you come so hard you will scream, don't you?" 
She ached. He was right. The son of a bitch was right. 
Anger flared. 

Snarling, she twisted her wrists out of his grasp, and shoved at him. 
He caught her wrists again, and laughed. 
"You call that fight? I've had better from tiny kits. Fight me, Wench.
Come on, fight me." 

He leared at her.  

"Or should I have you suck me till I get hard again, and lay you back
gently and do you like a fragile lady? You could close your eyes and
think of England and your babies." 

She snarled her distaste.  He grinned. 

"You need to dig your heels into the back of my legs, draw claw marks
down my back, don't you?  You need to try to scramble away from me on
all fours, know that I am going to catch you and bring you backwards
to me, hold you still while I fuck you from behind. You need me to
pull your head back by that hair of yours, Wench, the other arm around
your waist, and me behind and over you, mounting you like a mare,
biting your back and shoulders." 

His voice cut into her, drawing pictures on the inside of her eyelids.
He held her wrists together in front of her face. She panted. 

"Be glad it's me, and not Antony Scapaldi, Wench." 

She snapped. She roared. 

She broke free again with a ferocity that delighted him. Oh, yes, she
would fight. He was glad he would be along for the ride. 

He leered at her, taunting her. "What, I touched a nerve, Wench?
Perhaps I should place a call, and offer you to him? Nice little
insult to the bunny lover, offer you to him after I have you myself?
She lunged at him, and he side-stepped. 
He laughed at her effort. 

"Better, yes, a bit better, Wench. You are at least showing some
determination. Now, show me more. Because I intend to take you and
fuck you whether you want me to or not. If you don't put up a fight, I
will call Antony." 

He made a grab at her, catching her deftly. She curled into the fetal
position around his arm encircling her waist. He struggled to get it
free. He grasped her hair, and began pulling. She tightened her neck
muscles, and his hand slipped down the length of the hank without
moving her head back. He noted that as his hand came away, it was
partially filled with her hair. 

He shook his hand free of the red strands, and then maneuvered her ass
free, and slapped it, hard, his mouth set in a hard snarl. "Stubborn
Wench". *Slap!* She jerked, and he reached around front, and shoving,
pushed her legs down, releasing his arm. She shot away from him, and
he went after her. 

Her breasts and ass bounced with the effort. She left the room, naked,
and ran down the hall and the stairs. He followed. 

He cornered her in the exam room. She was panting, and the table was
between them. Her breasts heaved. Her hair, wild from earlier release,
was a mess around her face and shoulders. 

'Maybe you *should* call him, John. He's probably got more stamina
than you." It was his turn to become enraged. He leapt for her across
the table. He missed. 

She laughed as she slipped by him, and he snaked an arm around her
waist, picked her up and drew her back into the exam room. She
struggled, kicking. This time he grabbed her hair closer to her head,
a goodly fist full, and brought her head back, holding her from
behind. She moaned. 

He was hard again.  It was all he could do to restrain himself from
entering her right there. He had no condoms. He roared. He snaked his
hand down her belly to her groin, located her clit, and pinched it.
She struggled again, squirming away from his hand. He bit her
shoulder, and she pressed back against his erection, rubbing and
teasing it with her ass. 

He pressed her down over the end of the exam table, her hair still in
his fist. She lay face down. Her ass still showed the hand print, and
it was up and open wide, her cunt wet and fully visible. 

He groaned. Damn. He wanted to fist her. He wanted to fuck her ass
with his cock, and her cunt with his hand at the same time, but he
couldn't without lube at the very least. She knew it too, and she
mocked him. "You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't dare." 

He slapped her ass hard. She jerked, and cried out. He caught her
hands, and pulled them over her head. He looked around for something,
anything, to tie her with. Failing, he marched her back to his room,
her arm twisted up behind her and on tip-toe. 

He moved her to the end of the bed and stood behind her. He reached
around to her front, and grasped a nipple. He pinched it. She
shuddered, and moaned, leaned back against him. He pushed her away. 

"Too easy, Wench. You losing your fight? You'd take him now if I
called, wouldn't you? Let him mount you? Huh?" 

She stiffened. She pulled forward, away, and he let her slip from his
grasp. He laughed. Again she ran from him, to the far side of the bed,
and he was over it in a shot. But she surprised him by standing her
ground, and he found himself captured by a fist full of his hair. She
drew his head back. Her face moved down in front of his, and filled
his vision. Her eyes were hard, and the curve of her mouth reminded
him of a scimitar. Those lips parted, and he heard her say softly
"Once again, John, perhaps you *should* call him. I doubt he'd 
fuck around. He would mount me, at least, instead of these games.
Maybe I should tie you up, and call him myself, and make you watch
while I take him into me? Hmm? Bet that would make you furious at
first, watching me spread my legs for him, wriggling beneath him,
opening my cunt for him? But knowing you, Doctor, you'd enjoy it
eventually. Hell, you'd probably like to mount me between the two of
you, you in my ass, him in my cunt. That way you could fuck us both,
right? Wouldn't you?" 

He licked his lips, and said nothing. She was right. He nodded, once. 

Holding his head back, and with a savage snarl, she slapped his ass
several times in a row. Each one was white hot, blistering, and he
could feel it all the way through to his balls. He bounced, and then--


She let him go. His balls ached, his ass stung and burned. His cock
was  painfully erect, and he rolled over to release it from beneath
his body. He arched and moaned. She watched him from the side of the
bed. 

"Too easy, doc. You losing *your* fight? Because I *would* take him
now if he were here, use him up like a tissue and then crumple him and
toss him aside." 

The doctor listened, and smiled on his back on the bed. "But he's not
here, Wench, I am. You want to try that with me?" 

He was up and after her again, and when he caught her this time, she
screamed and kicked, but was held firmly by both wrists behind her. He
went to his closet, and withdrew a necktie, and used it to tie her
wrists together, and then forced her face down on the bed. Her face
was a mask of rage. Then he reached into the night stand, withdrew two
gloves, a condom, and the bottle of lube. He put both gloves on the
same hand one on top of the other, the condom, and as he spread lube
over his hand, told her to get her knees beneath her. She refused 
with a snarled "No! Make me!" He did so by putting his bare hand
beneath her hips, and heaving upwards, and then drawing her backwards
and onto her knees in front of his erection. Her cunt was swollen,
red, wet. She smelled of sex from the start of the evening, and it
filled his brain. His cock jerked, and with his lubed hand, he
captured it, pinching the crown, stopping from coming too soon.
Wisely, if she noticed, she said nothing. 

Gaining control of himself, he took the bottle of lube again, and this
time squeezed it onto her anus. He knew it had to be cold, and she
gasped as it trickled down. He caught it with a single finger before
it reached her cunt. He brought it up to her anus, rubbed it gently in
a circular motion, and while doing so put the bottle of lube on the
bed beside them. He reached for her hair. "You know what I am going to
do. I am going to do it whether you want it or not. So you might as
well bear down, and save yourself some tearing, yes?" 

He forced her head into a nod. He could feel her fright, and so took a
little longer to tease her ass. He circled it, watched it contract,
then deftly slipped one finger in. She didn't even have to bear down.
She was wide open to receive him. He smiled. "Good girl, Wench.
Remember your exam?" She nodded of her own accord this time. "Remember
my fingers in your cunt and your ass?" Again, she nodded, and her eyes
closed. Her lips parted, panting. Her ass contracted around his
finger. He moved in closer and then slipped his thumb into her cunt.
She sighed, and thrust back against his hand. He could feel her cunt
sucking at his finger. She was ready. 

He toyed with her a bit, played with her clit from beneath, and she
shuddered, close to orgasm. He stopped. He removed his fingers, and
watched her. She arched back, trying to find them again, but he
slapped her ass instead. His hand print burned bright red. She moaned,
and raised up, showing her cunt spasming. He smiled. He removed the
first glove, and tossed it away, not caring where it landed. He added
more lube to his cock and to her ass, then to the second glove.
Pressing her into position, he moved behind her, and placed 
the tip of his dick at her anus. She stiffened, fearful. He reached
beneath her again, and played with her clit, and then said "Bear down
when I stop." She nodded. 

He stopped, felt her ass open, and thrust in. He smiled. "Good girl."
He held still for a moment. She did too. Then he released her hands
from behind her back. Slowly, she pressed her shoulders up with her
aching arms. He stopped her with his bare hand pressed on her back,
keeping her hips and pelvis at the right angle for what he wanted to
do next. Reaching beneath his own cock and balls, he found the opening
to her cunt. He tugged at it with two fingers, downward toward her
clit and the mattress. She gaped open. He slid four fingers in, palm
up. She moaned, and again, thrust back against him. He could 
feel his cock filling her ass. Thrusting gently, he rubbed the length
of his cock, as much as he could. He began to thrust into her ass. She
moaned. 

She contracted around his hand, and around his cock. She screamed her
orgasm. He could feel her wetness gushing past his fingers and down
his wrist. It dripped to the sheets below. He'd heard of it, and
discounted it as a myth. But he could not deny it now. She had
ejaculated. Oddly, the doctor in him wished he could collect a sample
for analysis. He chuckled. 

"I hope you realize that you will be sleeping in the wet spot tonight,
Wench." 

She lay down on her breasts, ass still full of his cock, cunt still
full of his fingers. He reached around again, and toyed with her clit.
She reacted violently, shuddering another orgasm, this one less wet.
He thrust into her again, pounding in time to the contractions, and
soon joined her in orgasm. 

He withdrew carefully, holding the top of the prophylactic to ensure
that it was intact. Then, he told her to bear down, to press his hand
out from between her legs. She did so, and his gloved hand slid out,
and he stretched it. Amazing how strong those muscles are, 
he thought. 

She lay down on her side, her back to the doc, knees up. Her ass was a
long curve, the pudendum peaking from between the backs of her thighs.
He smiled. He drew off the condom, and then glove, being sure to catch
the condom inside the glove as he turned it inside out. This time he
aimed for the waste basket. He lay down behind her, and tucked her
body into the curve of his, after pulling the covers over the two of
them. She stretched her legs out and down, and he followed suit, a sow
tandem motion that pulled sore muscles and relived the last pockets of
stress in both of them. Doc rolled on his back, and the Wench turned
toward him. She slid along his length, and fitted herself beneath his
arm and against his ribs. 

                                           

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+