Screw The Roses; Send Me The Thorns (Part Three)

Screw The Roses; Send Me The Thorns (Part Three) [part 3 of 3]
By: Cum Girl (cumgirl664807035@talktalk.net)

Screw The Roses; Send Me The Thorns (Part 3)

I love my bed. It is my escape, my refuge, my security blanket. I can sit on the side of it and swing my legs without my feet touching the floor. I can wriggle myself deep down beneath the duvet and hide from the world cosy and safe. It is king size, just large enough for a tiny 5ft 1" Cum Girl and it sits resplendent, dressed in white linen, dominating my bedroom.

Opposite the foot of the bed is a large built in wardrobe with mirrored doors; the mirrors that I inspected myself in last night, the mirrors that I am once again stood before. On either side of the bed are cabinets, their tops bulging with the ephemera of day to day life. Scattered about the room are clothes, shoes, towels, books, and CDs; this is my nesting place and I keep everything close to hand. My thorn stems sit proudly in their vase on the bedside cabinet, the rose petals atop them mocking me with their blood red hue.

I tried so hard last night to complete Master's instruction. I was a well-behaved, obedient Cum Girl and went to sleep bearing the myriad thorn marks proudly on my body, but when I awoke this morning they were gone. Frantically I searched my skin; probed and pulled flesh with my fingers and eventually found two fine lines to bear testament to my efforts; one on my right breast and another on the left side of my stomach just above my hip bone.

Now, 24 hours later, I am once again stood naked before those mirrors; this time at Inspection with Master hovering at my side.

My wonderful Master; in all my stories I have never taken the time to describe Him. He is a presence, an enigma, not fully fleshed out and that has been remiss of me. He is 43, eight years older than me, but has a boyish quality about Him that makes Him seem younger. He is about 5ft 9"; and when I am barefoot the top of my head nestles just beneath His chin; with heels on I look up to Him and when we kiss I must raise my head upwards as He looks down on me. He is slim built but with enough strength to pin and hold me when or if I struggle. Normally, He keeps His hair closely cropped giving His face a rounded aspect with just a hint of cheek bones to give it definition. A smallish mouth with full kissable lips and the eyes ... hidden behind rectangular, tortishell glasses, the eyes are what draw you in, hold you fixed, trembling, obedient, and submissive.

It is those eyes that are now appraising my naked and unmarked body.

Inspection; feet shoulder width apart, back straight, and head up, hands clasped together on the back of my skull; a position of pride, a position of absolute exposure. My eyes are fixed unseeingly ahead, my mouth a thin line of determination, my teeth worrying the inside of my bottom lip. If, I focus on the mirror before me, I will see Cum Girl displayed, nervous, expectant and Master clothed and prowling about my naked form. It is the lull before the storm, the moment of silence before the battle; the air bristles with sexual tension.

"You said there were marks, Cum Girl."

"Yes, Master, there are two."

"Where are they then? I cannot see them."

"There is one on the outside of my right breast, Master, and another on the left side of my stomach."

I want to move, to unclasp my hands, to point out their positions exactly, but I know better than to do such a thing. I have not been given permission and will stay fixed until told otherwise.

Master moves in closer, circles in front of me, places His cold hand on the centre of my stomach. I suck in breath; try to hold myself still, His touch an instant abuse, an instant pleasure. His fingers slide across my skin, find the pathetic symbol of my self abuse, follow its course with the tips of His fingers, He brings His other hand up and slides it outwards from my sternum, over my small right breast, rubbing across my stiff nipple till finally He arrives at the fine line my precious thorn created.

I am desperately trying to hold myself immobile beneath His examination but inside I am quivering. His fingers are tracking back and forth across the twin remnants of last night and with every touch my skin erupts in sensation. I am holding tight; I want to abandon my position, throw my arms around Him, push my slender naked body hard against His, feel His arms wrapped around me, have His hand entangled in my hair, His lips against mine, His tongue deep inside my mouth. I want to feel His groin pushed firmly against my pulsating pubis, His nails digging deep into the flesh of my arse dragging me up till my calves ache from the pressure of standing on tiptoe. I want ... I want ... I want ...

"You may cum, Cum Girl."

Discordant cacophony; Stravinsky slashed through with Linkin Park, volume set to 11 crashing through my head. My body buffeted like a dying leaf shivering before autumn's equinoctial gales. Command Orgasms are instant, exploding out of my lower stomach and shaking my entirety. There is no steady drip of pleasure, no gradual ascent of arousal, no standing palpitating awaiting your orgasms release; one moment I am stood happily dreaming of what might be and the next sensation rips through me. My thighs spread, my knees buckle under the added pressure, my pussy is aglow, alive, atremble as the orgasmic pulses thrust along the insides of my vaginal walls, my stomach and breasts heave to my orgasms asymmetrical rhythm, my arms hanging desperately onto the back of my head maintaining my obedience. I cum.

Master watches Cum Girl; watches as I perform my submissive duties, watches the pleasure displayed across my expressive visage, watches the explosion, the aftermath, the abatement, watches as my breathing returns to normal, as my eyelids flutter open and once again He can stare into my pupils and I can meet His gaze with pride.

"It doesn't look as if you tried very hard, Cum Girl."

For a moment I am lost to His meaning. For a moment I think that He is talking about the orgasm that continues to pulse deep within me. It takes a moment for my sensation addled mind to focus back onto the reason I am stood here before Him; thorns, self-abuse, marks.

"I tried my best, Master."

"Are you sure, Cum Girl; was this really the best you could do?"

I take a second; construct the answer in my mind before committing it to my mouth.

"I was scared, Master. I don't like pain and I was scared of hurting myself. I did try very hard to complete your instruction and when I went to bed last night my body was covered in thorn marks."

"Perhaps you were a bit soft on yourself, Cum Girl; a bit soft and a bit squeamish."

"Yes, Master, I think I was. I think that I should have used more force; certainly the thorn did not hurt as much as I expected but the results looked delightful and I believed that I had completed your instruction. If you had been here last night, Master, Cum Girl believes that you would have been impressed and admiring of her handiwork. Cum Girl thought that Master would be very pleased with her."

"We will have to try again, Cum Girl. We will have to see if we can do it properly this time."

"Yes, Master."

I reply in a barely audible murmur. His words have produced a throb in my vagina and caused another wave of cum to escape my parted lips and drip down onto my already soaked thighs.

"I want you on the bed, Cum Girl."

His hand is on my waist turning me, leading me the few steps to the bed. He turns me 90 degrees, pushes me till the back of my legs rest against the soft duvet. His hand presses between my breasts making me to sit, and then He lowers Himself before me, grasps my ankles, lifts and swings them around till I am lying prone before Him and as He spreads my thighs I reach above my head and grab hold of the wrought iron bedstead.

Cum Girl, stripped, naked, spread and exposed, sinking into her soft welcoming duvet awaiting her Master's desire. A moan of pleasure resonates through me.

Master is poised above me, thorny stem in hand. He is ready; ready to beat, to punish, to mark my ever so needy body. His hand descends and I feel petals, sepals, and leaves, stem and thorns strike into my flesh. Hand rises, hand falls; thorns rise, thorns fall; repeatedly striking my skin; my breasts, my stomach, my pubis, my thighs; random strokes, my body tense awaiting the next blow, my body cuming as it enjoys the stinging pain.

Use me, Master. Abuse me, Master. I am a wretched creature so undeserving of your attentions. You gave me a simple instruction and I failed you. Thrash me, beat me, flog me, make me feel that pain I so inadequately failed to inflict on myself, cover my flesh with welts, mark me so that my eyes will be filled with the knowledge that I am yours.

Hand rises, hand falls; thorns rise, thorns fall; buttocks rise, buttocks fall; stomach rises, stomach falls; breasts rise, breasts fall; pussy rises, pussy falls; my body rises to meet each blow, pushes itself upwards to receive its punishment, to feel the delicious sensation of thorn on flesh and with each prickly caress my pussy spasms as another wave of pleasure washes my undeserving body clean.

How can I possibly find the words to describe the endless ecstasy I experience at His hands? I am cuming; orgasm on top of orgasm. Constant pleasure; every thorn stroke reverberating through my soaking pussy, sensation magnified till all I am is never-ending pulses of joy.

Imagine being stood naked in a thunderstorm, fat raindrops pummelling your body in an ever ascending tempo. Can you feel it? Can you feel your skin enlivened, responding, meeting the rains irregular pulse with its own? Now imagine that sensation inside; imagine that pummelling happening inside with your body providing its own thunder and lightening.

I am soaked, dripping, panting, burning, breathless, and sodden. Everything that I am is fire, air and water. His hands are on my ankles, spreading my legs mid-air; wider and wider till my thighs scream their complaints and then I feel His hardness nestling betwixt my engorged pussy lips. He rests there erect, poised, commanding; my slick, shining wetness spread before Him subservient, obedient and eager.

Such joy, such pleasure; the steady slide of Him into me, the feel of flesh filling flesh, His heat scorching my vaginal walls and my pussy responding with its own flame, its own desire, its own need. Glorious penetration; owned and penetrated. Owned and fixed on His hard throbbing cock.

I am cuming without beginning, without ending. I cum as His pubic hair caresses my quivering clitoris, as His cock pushes into the inner depths of me, as I grasp hold of Him with my vaginal muscles, as He slides through my silken abyss. I cum as He presses a single thorn into my flesh, as He pierces my skin, tracks it across my torso leaving a fierce and angry welt in its wake. I cum as He slides it across my stomach, under my breasts, across my naked pubic mons, over the delicate mounds of my breasts, as it runs across my sensitised areolae and my pulsating nipples. And then finally, I cum as He thrusts deep within my wondrous flesh and releases His desire; coating my joyous pussy with His hot, sticky, precious cum.

Sated, spent, drained; sweat sheened flesh pressed hard together, redundant thorns captured between them, Master and Cum Girl arms wrapped around each other, their breath hot on each other's face, eyelids heavy with post-orgasmic bliss. Time slips by till eventually Master rouses and untangles Himself and stands looking down on my naked form.

"Get up, Cum Girl."

"Shut your eyes."

He leads me back and positions me once more before the mirrors, leaves me there momentarily and then I feel the soft leather and cold metal of my collar being fixed around my neck. He puts His hand under my chin, raises my head and holds me there.

"Eyes open, Cum Girl."

Scratched and abraded; a mess of angry red lines burning brightly across my pale luminescent skin and above it all my sleek neck framed with the dull black leather of my collar.

"You look beautiful, Cum Girl. You look perfect."

"Thank you, Master."

Screw the Roses; Send me the Thorns.

Screw the Roses; Screw me with Thorns.

Cum Girl x