Slave Lover Read Free Page A

bitch, here it comes,” he yelled.
    And then pulled his four fingers out and bunched them into a fist and thrust the fist with all his force into the yielding, slick and spongy tissue of her cunt. She cried out with terrible pain. But he did not pause for a split second. The fist exploded inside her. She came to the very edge of passing out, but did not make it into unconsciousness. She hung there for a very long time, not knowing whether she would be able to breathe or not. He did not move. It was a moment of almost unbearable intimacy. He held her at the brink of death, it seemed, and so she was totally dependent on him, had to bear him good will, had to keep him in good spirits. And he was at a point of penetration that very few men ever experience with any woman. And she could not see him.
    When the vaginal walls began to recover from the immense trauma and started to relax, they stretched over his fist. The very tiny serrated opening of her cunt was stretched to an obscene width around his wrist. Without wanting it, she made a very tiny adjustment of her pelvis, tilting her cunt up toward him an infinitesimal fraction of an inch.
    “OK, baby,” the man said. “Now you get it good.”
    And with those words, he began to move his fist. First he twisted it around, and then he pulled it back an inch and pushed it forward. The sensations Constance felt were indescribable, far and beyond anything she had ever known in her life. It was as though an enormous cock was filling her entire body, going from her cunt to her brain. She swooned with the overwhelmingness of it.
    Then he began to punch-fuck her. He pounded his fist into her cervix hard enough to bruise it, but not hard enough to damage it. He drew his fist back until it filled the opening to her pussy, until that tiny hole stretched to its maximum width and left Constance in a profound flurry of surrender, and then crashed forward, the entire fist erupting inside her in a single violent thrust. He punched her again and again, a score of times, a hundred times, a thousand times, until her pussy was punch-drunk with pain and pleasure. At moments it felt as though he was inside her up to his forearm. At other times he seemed to be raging unrestrictedly, his fist twisting and turning inside her.
    She was long past the paltry experience known as orgasm. The man was taking her to a place which transcended all definitions. She had become pure, vibrant life, the electricity sizzling up and down her spine, exploding in her brain. Her legs and arms had become antennae sensitive to all the cosmic currents slicing through the illusion of solidity presented by the thing we call matter because our organs of perception are too gross to see the true energy dance beneath the appearance.
    It was beyond sex, beyond orgasm, beyond LSD, beyond any mystical experience she had ever known. It was the pure realization of naked life knowing itself as naked life, awesome, mysterious, and eternal.
    And at the very peak of that awareness, the man pulled his fist out with brutal abruptness. All at once she became a pit of empty despair, a black hole of infinite emptiness, howling its loneliness to the stars.
    “Ooohhhhhhhhh . . .” Constance wailed.
    Her cunt was a gaping wound, wide, red, pulsing wildly, like a ravenous, toothless mouth sucking for food, a blind fish’s mouth, or an infant’s mouth, or the mouth of a very old woman.
    “Ooohhhhhhhhhh . . .” she cried and her mournful cry seemed to reach to the very sky.
    “Man oh man, is she busted wide,” the man who had been fist-fucking her said.
    “Look at that,” another man added.
    “You could drive a truck through that cunt,” a third man chimed in.
    “Ohhh,” Constance moaned.
    “Want something, baby?” the first man sneered.
    “Gi . . . gi . . . giv . . . give . . . it . . . to . . . me . . .” she gasped.
    “Want my fist? Want my big fist up your juicy cunt?”
    Constance was in a decided dilemma. A few hours earlier