I looked at her and smiled, “What do we handcuff you to?”
“I don’t know, something metal would be good.”
We both thought and I said, “How about the leg of the bed?”
“That would be fantastic,” said Billy Jean.
We went into the bedroom and I handcuffed her to the bed.
I inserted my dick into her and started pumping.
Then I pulled out and ate her out for a while.
I licked her asshole.
Getting her asshole touched always drove Billy Jean wild.
She had crazy asshole orgasms.
Billy Jean hooted and hollered, screamed bloody murder and came.
I inserted my dick back in her and pumped some more.
Her face was flushed and she looked like she was going to die.
I pulled out.
Crawled on top of her body and jacked off.
I shot my load all over her face.
It almost completely covered her.
Then I stood up and kicked her in the ribs.
She smiled.
I took the handcuffs off and she rubbed the cum all over her face while giggling and smiling.
I realized I had met a strange creature.
A human who enjoyed sex and no longer had any concern for inhibitions.
Billy Jean came to terms with her freedom.
She didn’t care about traditions or taboos.
And the ones her parents threw at her, she found silly.
Billy Jean was the antithesis to the American Dream.
I found that all very sexy.
We lived in Youngstown, Ohio too.
It was obvious from the government and economic conditions no one cared how we lived or what we did anyway.
So why should we care about our behavior.
*
One day I was lying on the couch.
I was watching television ladies ice-skating.
Billy Jean came into the room from the kitchen.
She was wearing tight blue jeans and a small black shirt.
She got onto the couch and crawled on her tummy over me.
Placed her ass on my lap.
Billy Jean pushed down her pants and said, “Slap it.”
I thought about it a second and decided.
SLAP!
“Again,” she said.
SLAP!
She made small noises every time I slapped her bottom.
SLAP!
Five seconds.
SLAP!
Five seconds.
SLAP!
Five seconds.
SLAP!
I did that a long time.
With each slap she made more and more noise.
I got a hard-on.
SLAP!
“Harder,” said Billy Jean.
SLAP!
“More at once,” said Billy Jean.
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
Her ass was red and sore.
“Now I want you to do me doggy style over the arm of the couch while hitting me with a belt,” Billy Jean said.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
She handed me a belt.
It was leather with little holes lined in metal.
Billy Jean took off her clothes and so did I.
She bent over the couch, spread her butt cheeks and I popped my dick in.
I began pumping her.
I held the belt in my hand.
I was not used to engaging in violence.
When my parents hit me it had always been with their fists, never an external object.
So I wasn’t sure how to create the effect Billy Jean wanted.
I folded the belt once, held both ends, and started wailing away on her ass and back.
SLAP on her ass!
SLAP on her back!
Still pumping.
SLAP on her ass.
SLAP on her back.
I brutally beat the fuck out of her ass and back.
It was gruesome.
Billy Jean had an orgasm and screamed.
Billy Jean began to cry.
It was real crying, forced out of pain.
It was loud and scary but she wanted more.
I slapped and slapped and slapped her with the belt.
Then I stopped and pulled out and just stood behind her.
Billy Jean hung over the arm of the couch like beef in a slaughterhouse freezer.
I sat down on the floor and looked at her.
She was crying.
She stood up and then lay down on the floor.
Her face had a look of serenity and peace.
It was weird.
She lay like that for ten minutes.
Not talking.
Just lying there still and relaxed.
She eventually came out of it.
Billy Jean said, “Pain is like a drug. It takes you away. It reminds you that you’re human, but at the same time makes you an object. No one can tell when you’re in pain either, you might be the one hitting me, and I’m making noise. But you don’t know if I’m in pain. Physical pain is a secret. You can only take someone else’s word on it. You can’t graph or do surveys on physical pain. It is the only thing that is left immeasurable. Physical pain also forces you to recognize that you exist. That you are on a rock, in an indifferent scary universe. And there is nothing metaphysical about that. It is real. When a person screams in pain, the actual pain is only half the noise they make. The other half is the terror at being forced to accept that they exist. All physical pain reminds a person of their own death also, they know even when they get a paper cut that someday some other part of their body is going to get hurt or give out like carburetors or axles do and their body and existence will come to a halting nothingness.”
Billy Jean was sexy.
That was for sure.
She looked at me and said, “Slap me in the face.”
I didn’t know about slapping her in the face. I was afraid I might hurt her.
“Please slap me in the face, hard, so I’ll cry. I wanna cry for like fifteen minutes.”
She lay on the floor and I got on top of her and inserted my dick.
I began pumping her.
I touched both sides of her face with my hands.
Caressed her cheeks and bit her lips.
Billy Jean closed her eyes.
I picked my right hand off her face and SLAP!
Her whole body shook.
I kept pumping her.
Slowly.
SLAP!
“Harder,” she said.
SLAP with the left hand!
“Harder!”
“SLAP!
She opened her mouth and screamed and cried.
She couldn’t speak in words anymore.
I could tell she didn’t want me to talk.
She wanted to pretend the pain was coming from nowhere.
That the pain was just there.
That it was just put into her.
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
Tears!
Screams!
Horror!
Fear!
Relentless, unbearable fear!
Screams!
Her whole body shaking!
Convulsing!
Horror!
Tears!
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
More tears!
Sobbing!
Howling!
Bawling!
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
Then I got the urge to spit on her face.
I don’t know why, maybe she would like it.
Maybe I wanted to play dirty white trash man.
Maybe that is what it was all about, pretending we were normal white trash.
I spit on her face.
She smiled through the tears and screams.
I spit again.
Then SLAP!
I spit.
Her face was soon red and covered with sweat, tears, slobber, and saliva.
I pulled out, crawled on top of her, and blew my load on her face.
Now it was covered with sweat, tears, saliva, and cum.
I lay beside her on the floor.
She rubbed it all together, all over her face.
It was like a Pollock painting of human excrement on her face. All she needed was piss, vomit, and some shit to make it complete.