Mistress Talia: a sadistic domme

(continued from The Five Twenties - The Second Twenty)

After checking her hands and feet, I move back to the bottom of the table. Because she is still shuddering and sobbing, she doesn't really notice when I slip a disposable latex glove on my right hand, nor when I squirt half a tube of KY on it and spread it around.

She startles as I insert my index and middle finger to gauge how tight she is. Her cunt is relatively snug around my fingers, I guess having her pussy whipped got her pretty tense. But it's not so tight that I can't slip my ring finger in on the next stroke.

I work my three fingers in and out; on the third stroke, my thumb hits a welt on her mons and she cries out and I feel her muscles clench around my fingers. I continue finger-fucking her and feel her relax slightly on the fifth stroke, so on the sixth, I slip in my pinky as well.

Her eyes get big and she gets a hold of herself a bit, between sobs, she begs, "Please... I can't take it now, it already hurts, you're going to split me in half..."

I respond by pushing my my four fingers as deeply as possible on the next stroke, and then just hold them there. She cries out and I comfort her a bit, "Shhhhh... it's OK, you'll be OK, you're doing fine."

Through her tears, she begs, "I can't take more, not after that, please..."

"Hush now, it's OK." I keep my fingers deep inside her. At no point does her cunt relax at all, she is not wet, she is just scared. I continue making soothing noises and eventually notice her shoulders and hips relax a bit, and take that as my cue to move. I pull my fingers out to the second knuckle, fold my thumb in and use some force to manage to get my hand past her muscle, which tightens around my wrist as soon as I'm past.

I slowly curl my fingers into a fist and wait. She lifts her head as high as she can and looks down at me between her legs, making direct eye contact. She is past the previous pain now, filled with fear, and begging for mercy, "Please, you can't..."

I hold her gaze as I smile and respond, "Yes, I can."

After screaming through twenty strokes of me punching her cunt, I hold my hand still, unfold my fist, and begin pulling it out. She barely makes a peep as my hand forces her muscles open to withdraw my hand and as I look up at her face, I realize she is coughing, choking on the salty tears burning her throat.

I remove and discard the glove, walk to the head of the table, and wipe the snot off her face. I offer her a drink of water and as she sips through the straw, her gratitude shows through the brimming tears.

I brush her hair out of her face and smile, and as I turn away from her, she says, "Please, no more, it's enough, it's too much already..."

I turn back and smile at her and say, "No, it's only three twenties. Two more to go."

STORY INDEX
The Five Twenties - an introduction
The Five Twenties - The First Twenty
The Five Twenties - The Second Twenty
The Five Twenties - The Third Twenty
The Five Twenties - The Fourth Twenty
The Five Twenties - The Fifth Twenty
The Five Twenties - epilogue