Chapter 7: The Aftermath
Her words hung in the dark, a promise that tightened the air in Margot’s lungs. Fun part. The concept spiraled, unmoored from any normal context. Allison’s hands, still gentle from removing the blindfold, suddenly firmed on her shoulders.
“Down,” she said, the word leaving no room for interpretation.
Margot’s knees hit the hardwood floor, the impact a dull shock. The collar was still around her neck, a constant weight. She heard Allison move behind the frame, heard another soft click. Then a gentle, inescapable pressure on the back of the collar pulled her head forward and down. Her forehead met the cool, smooth wood of the frame’s vertical post. Another click. The D-ring on her collar was now locked to a fixed point low on the structure, forcing her into a profound, sustained bow.
“Beautiful,” Allison murmured, her footsteps circling back around. Margot’s world was the grain of the wood an inch from her eyes, the ache in her knees, the stretch in her shoulders.
Hands grasped her ankles, pulling them apart. The cuffs were still attached from before. Allison clipped each one to a new anchor point on the widened base of the frame, spreading Margot’s legs wide behind her. The geometry was ruthless. She was pinned at a sharp, vulnerable angle, her ass presented high, her face pressed down, her palms flat on the floor for the scant balance the collar’s tether allowed. Every muscle quivered with the strain of maintaining the position.
Allison’s shadow fell over her. A fingertip traced the damp, swollen folds between her legs, already leaking from the previous violation. “Look at this,” Allison cooed, her voice a mix of awe and possession. “Used already, and so ready for more. My perfect, greedy girl. You were made for this shape. Made to be filled.”
The touch withdrew. Margot heard the slick sound of Allison stroking herself, the low, hungry groan that followed. Then, without any further warning, the broad, insistent head of Allison’s cock pressed against her.
It was different this time. Deeper angle. More brutal leverage.
Allison didn’t push slowly. She sank in with one relentless, claiming thrust, burying herself to the hilt in a single, tearing motion.
Margot cried out, a sharp, muffled sound against the wood. The stretch was agonizing, exquisite. The frame creaked under the force.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Allison hissed, her hands clamping onto Margot’s hips, her thumbs digging into the soft flesh. She began to fuck her in hard, short, punishing strokes, each one jolting Margot’s entire body forward against the collar. “This is what you needed, wasn’t it? Couldn’t just be the pretty girl in the computer lab. Needed to be my fucking ragdoll. My flesh and bone toy.”
The words were gasoline on the fire in Margot’s core. She was powerless, reduced to a series of sensations: the slam of Allison’s pelvis against her ass, the burn of the stretch, the choke of the collar, the wet, slapping rhythm of skin on skin. The living room, their safe space, was now a theater for this raw, devouring hunger.
Allion leaned over her, her chest pressing against Margot’s back, her mouth at her ear. The thrusts became longer, deeper. “You feel that? You feel how deep I can get you like this? I’m touching your fucking soul, Margot. I’m in places no one else will ever reach.”
Her hand snaked around, fingers finding Margot’s clit, already hard and throbbing. She circled it, rough and fast, in time with her thrusts. The dual assault was overwhelming, a feedback loop of pleasure-pain that short-circuited thought.
The dual assault was overwhelming, a feedback loop of pleasure-pain that short-circuited thought. Allison’s fingers worked her clit with a brutal, pinpoint precision that felt less like touch and more like a direct wiring to the frantic nerve-center of her being. Each deep, grinding thrust of Allison’s cock seemed to push the circling fingers deeper inside her mind, erasing everything but the need to shatter.
Margot’s breathing hitched, became a ragged, open-mouthed pant against the wood. A high, thin whine escaped her throat, building pressure with every snap of Allison’s hips. Her body tightened, coiled like a spring, every muscle straining against the cuffs and the collar’s unforgiving hold.
The coil snapped.
Orgasm detonated through her, a seismic wave of pure, uncut sensation that ripped a ragged scream from her lungs. Her cunt clamped down in vicious, rhythmic spasms around the thick invasion, milking it, as her entire body convulsed in the restraints. The quaking was uncontrollable, a violent tremor that made the frame’s joints squeak in protest. Vision, even in the dark, whited out into static.
Allison rode it out, groaning as Margot’s internal muscles gripped her, but she didn’t stop. She fucked her straight through the cataclysm, prolonging the shocks until Margot’s screams dissolved into helpless, tear-choked sobs.
Then Allison pulled her hand away from Margot’s oversensitive clit.
The open palm connected with Margot’s ass cheek in a sharp, crisp crack that echoed in the quiet room. The sting was bright, shocking, a lightning bolt across the numbness of her release. Before Margot could even process it, another slap landed on the other cheek. Then another on the first.
Allison leaned down, her palm rubbing slow, firm circles over the heated, stinging skin. “Oh, I know I can get more out of you.” Her voice was a dark, amused purr. She drew back and delivered two more swift, stinging slaps to the same tender spots, the sound brutally loud. Her hand returned, rubbing the heat deep into the muscle in a possessive, soothing gesture that was somehow more intimate than the violence itself.
Her thrusts, which had never ceased, became harder, more deliberate. “Scream on my cock, my quiet girl.” She punctuated the command with a deep, wrenching drive that forced a broken cry from Margot’s raw throat. “Let me hear it. Every last bit.”
Allison’s rhythm became punitive, a relentless piston meant to draw out every residual tremor. She leaned close, her lips brushing the shell of Margot’s ear, her voice dropping to a conversational, curious rumble that vibrated through both their bodies. “After this,” she breathed, driving in hard on the word, “should I gag you with it, or stretch open your pretty, tight ass?”