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Morning After

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I woke not to the sun, but to Masayoshi’s teeth grazing the back of my neck. Her arm was draped over mine, pinning it down as she stroked the thin, red cut that ran down the front of me, from sternum to navel. Dawn was rising pink on the horizon. I arced back into her embrace, and she tongued along the darkening bruise at the nape of my neck, where she had bit me full-mouthed. Now she sucked at it gently, with just the front of her teeth, bringing me sweet blooms of pain; she chuckled low against my skin as a moan escaped me.


I tilted my head back as far as I could, until her shorn hair brushed against my cheek. She got the message well enough and set to work deepening the next hickey. As she did so, the arm across me pressed down harder, the tips of her fingers digging in on either side of the scab.

Breathlessly, I said, “You don’t have to pin me, you know. I’ll be good.”

“You like it.”

I moaned my assent, and she held on to me even harder. The scab between her pressing fingers felt ready to break, and I managed to say, “Are you hungry again?”

A short pause as she finished working at another hickey. “… No.”

“Then this is quite the affectionate wake-up. Don’t tell me you’ve gone sof—”

Her other hand shot around my throat and squeezed. Holding it there, she rolled me upright just enough so my head rested comfortably against her shoulder, her elbow braced into the pillow. As the edges of my vision grew fuzzy, her grip slackened just enough to let me breathe, but not enough to speak.

“I woke up this morning, pipsqueak,” she said, trailing the pointer finger of the hand that had been pinning me down the long scab, “next to this pain-loving slut I know who can’t get enough of me. And I thought, ‘Fuck, she’ll let me do anything!’ So I started thinking.” The finger skimmed slowly past the scab and crossed my stomach until it reached my pubic hair, and then she dug her hand in and pulled. “Thinking about all the mean and nasty things I could do to a freak like her.”

My whine was stifled by another hard squeeze at my throat. Her thumb stroked the underside of my jaw.

“I bet that slut would just love it if I stroked her right here”—and she let go of my pubes to pinch my clit, hard— “with the flat of a knife, huh?” I squirmed with the electric pleasure, and she caught one of my legs between her own and pinned the other beneath them, so I could only buck my mound into her waiting hand. “And I’d trail that knife up and down her wet little cunt, press that cold steel against her skin, and if she squirms too much she might even get nicked. Maybe that’s the idea. Maybe she thinks if her slutty little clit bleeds I’ll eat her out. What do you think, pipsqueak?”

She released my throat just long enough for me to moan, “Yes, please,” before choking me again, twisting my aching clit between her fingers. A tide of pleasure was swelling inside of me, and in my throes, I wound one hand into her tank top while the other gripped her forearm. But just before the peak, she stopped twisting, and gave my throat space to pant for a few moments before pressing down once more.

“But that’s not nasty enough for this slut.” She pulled my head up by the neck so her lips were next to my ear, and growled, “Maybe I’ll get a big, thick, strap-on and fuck her up the ass. And every damn time she whimpers and cries about how it’s too big, I’ll fuck her harder.” She ground and thrusted against my ass, jeans scraping my skin, as if to demonstrate. “You been fucked up the ass, pipsqueak?”

This time, she didn’t loosen her grip at my throat, and I could only wheeze out, “No.”

“Scared?” she grinned against my ear. Her fingers pulled at my clit.


And I came, bucking into her grasping fingers. She held on with both hands until I was through, until the crashing waves of it had left me. When I could focus again, I was lying on my back, and she was beside me, propped up on one elbow, brows drawn together.

“You really do like it when I’m mean to you, huh?”

“N-not at first.” Still panting, I sat up, stretching out my shoulders. Her gaze lingered on the long cut down the front of me, and the one that cleaved my lower lip. She was quiet, so I added, “Took me a bit to realize this is just how you show affection.”

“Ugh. Fuck off.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Am I wrong?”

Her only answer was to push herself up and turn away, rummaging around in her bag before tossing me a sweatshirt. “Put some clothes on, slut. Time to get up.”

As we packed up camp, she kept her face turned away from me, as if she thought it would hide the flush of red across her cheeks.