Craze

by Andi Jaxon

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I wet?

  "Four."

  “Spread your legs wider,” he orders, I’m confused but comply. I barely have time to think of what he could do next when I feel and hear the wet *smack* ring out and feel the fire, burn, and the sting of the slap that pushes me into the most intense orgasm of my life.

  The orgasm makes my knees give out, so he carefully lowers me to the cold floor. He positions me, so I'm on my side. My butt and thighs pressed against the tile on the wall. The cold tile feels amazingly good, soothing the angry heat of the welts. He finally sits and puts my head in his lap, the wool of his pants scratchy against my face. He runs his fingers through my hair and whispers things like “You’ve made me so proud,” and “Such a good girl,” over and over while I calm down.

  “Annabelle.” I’ve calmed down and am now ready to fall asleep. His voice surprises a jump from me. I turn my head to look up at him, “Yes?”

  “When we are done here, you will need to drink a lot of water and take some ibuprofen. Ice will be your friend for the next few days, then use heat to sooth the muscles. For now, get on your knees and rest your forearms on the tile. I have some arnica gel to apply to the welts. It will help with the pain and swelling.” His voice is calm, controlled, and commanding. I have no choice but to do what he’s telling me.

  Rolling onto my stomach, I do as he has instructed, hissing as I force the skin and muscles in my ass to move. Psycho moves around behind me, “Oh Annabelle, you wear my marks so well.” I feel his breath on my skin then a very gentle kiss on one of the welts.

  Very gently I feel him apply the gel to my skin, it smarts but it’s comforting, and I can feel myself drenching the inside of my thighs.

  Why am I wet? What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I hear him growl behind me before I feel his hand on my swollen, bruised, aroused pussy lips. I moan at the gentle pressure of his hand on my skin and rotate my hips to increase the contact.

  “You want more Kitten? I think you’ve earned another orgasm or two.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. “I won’t be gentle. If at any point it gets too be too much, you can say ‘red’ and everything stops. But be warned, everything stops, and we’re done today if you say it. Tell me you understand.”

  “Please,” I whimper, needing more contact, craving his touch on my pussy, his dick inside of me. “Yes, fine, whatever. Red and it stops. Please just fuck me.” I can hear the desperation in my voice, but I’m too turned on to care.

  “That’s my dirty slut. Cum on my fingers Kitten, let me hear how much you need me.” He increases the pressure on my clit, and it takes no time for me to cum.

  “Oh God. YES!” My entire body convulses, my head drops down onto my arms, and my breathing is ragged, but he’s not done with me yet.

  He kneels between my legs and widens my stance with his knees, aligning his cock with my opening.

  “Hold tight, Kitten. It’s about to get better.”

  He shoves his cock all the way in, my ass comes into contact with his abs and hips, it hurts, but it’s oh so good. His hands are on my hips. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t give me a chance to adjust, and just fucks me. I can feel the hoop from his piercing rubbing my G-spot, his tip hitting my cervix, his hips hitting my welts, then his hand on my clit again. I’m lost in stimulation, in sensation.

  I’m a ball of nerves ready to burst, so when he says, “Cum on my cock you dirty whore,” that’s all I need to dive head first over the edge of bliss.

  As I come down from the high of my orgasm, I feel him pull out and cum on my ass, hot streams streak my skin and drip down my ass crack to fall onto the floor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PURSUER

  Who would have known my little Kitten was such a pain slut? I'm getting hard again just thinking about those red and purple welts all over her beautiful ass as my cum dripped between her ass cheeks. Thank fuck I took a picture! I’m going to make good use of this later.

  ELLIOT

  As I wait for AB to come back from the ladies’ room, I catch a glimpse of someone who looks like Jared turning the corner to head down the stairs. I start to head after him, but AB comes out the bathroom.

  “AB, are you all alright?” I say as I hurry toward her.

  “Fuck, I didn't mean to make you cry. I just want what is best for you.” Trying to bring her some comfort, I rub her arms with my hands.

  “I didn’t do anything to him I swear. Ask him! I’ll help find out who did, just please stop crying.”

  Fuck I can’t handle her tears. Her makeup is ruined, black rings around her eyes and streaking down her cheeks, and lipstick that was obviously chewed off her lips that are now bright red and angry.

  “You could go out with me sometime.”

  Annabelle jerks back out of my hands, “What?!? Have you lost your mind? Why would I go out with you?!?”

  “Wow, Annabelle way to let a guy down easy.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I attempt to put some space between us, knowing she’s just getting started. I have no idea why, but her reaction hurt. I mean can't she see me as anyone other than her best friend?

  “You know what, you make a great friend, but that's it.”

  She starts to turn away from me but stops and faces me again.

  “Wait, is this why you scare off any man who dares to look at me? You wanted me for yourself but didn't have the balls to say anything? Elliot, you are such a damn coward! Grow a pair and just ask a girl out when you like her. We are not in high school anymore!”

  She turns on her heel and starts to storm off but doesn’t make it far before I’m snapping back at her.

  My anger is raging now!

  “If you weren’t such a whore...” I couldn't even finish my sentence before she’s standing in front of me and slaps me hard across the face.

  “You know what? Stay the fuck away from me!”

  She looks at someone over my shoulder and storms off.

  ANNABELLE

  I couldn’t take being at work any longer. I told my boss that I wasn’t feeling well. I must have looked a wreck since he told me to go home.

  I'm standing in my shower with my butt against the cool tile, letting the burning water beat down on my too sensitive skin.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Who gets off on someone beating them with a ruler?

  Just thinking about it makes my clit tingle. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the marks when I was getting in the shower, feeling them was bad enough. Raised bands, rough in a few spots from scabs, insanely sensitive. I’ve already inhaled two bottles of water and some ibuprofen. Walking is a challenge and sitting is excruciating.

  God dammit.

  I don’t have the brainpower to think about Elliot asking me out.

  Seriously, Elliot?

  Fuck it. I just don’t care right now. I’ll feel bad about my reaction later. Tonight, I’m going to sleep in nothing but an old t-shirt with ice packs on my ass. Probably cry myself to sleep.

  How could he just leave me after he fucked me? He's supposed to know me better than anyone else!

  After the spanking he was there, he soothed me, let me fall apart then he just fucked me and left. Wham bam thank you ma’am style.

  Who does that?

  Turning off the shower and stepping out to grab a towel, I see the edge of my bruises. I gasp with a hand on my mouth then freeze in shock.

  No wonder it hurts so much to sit down. Holy Fuck!

  Inch thick welts that are purple and bright red, broken capillaries, scabs, and the skin around the marks are pink like sunburn. Seeing them makes them hurt worse, it’s so much worse than I thought it would be.

  I slowly make my way to my bed on autopilot, pull the blankets down and climb in still damp from the shower and naked. Lying on my side with my arms and legs wrapped around a body pillow, I stare out my window until my eyes shut, and I fall asleep.

  PURSUER

  Can’t stay here. Can’t stay here.


  Think

  Think

  THINK ASSHOLE!!!

  The anger inside me is raging. I am past the point where I can’t control it. HOW DARE SHE DEFY ME! I know he was following my Kitten. He can't have her. She is mine and mine alone.

  Apparently breaking a few heads against the pavement is in order. The last one just broke some fingers. I need more.

  Can't get caught.

  Can’t get caught.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELLIOT

  I stop at the closest bar on my way home from work.

  AB will forgive me, won’t she?

  She always does, we are the dynamic duo. I’ve called and texted a million times with no answer. I will try again tomorrow, but tonight I’m going to drink myself stupid, find some hottie to stick my dick in, and hopefully wake up in the morning with an idea of how to apologize to her.

  I walk into the bar and grab the closest stool.

  “Whatever you have on draft and keep it coming,” I say to the bartender, not bothering to look up from my phone.

  “You got it, but you’re not from around here, are you?” The sexy female voice and unexpected question shake me from my moping.

  I look up and see the half-naked bartender covered in leather from head to toe. Her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, golden curls rioting around her shoulders, creamy skin gleaming in the bright lights. The brown vest leaves her arms bare and hugging her tits, pushing them up for my viewing pleasure in the deep V, ties down the front securing her in the warm leather. Smooth, supple leather cupping her ass, thighs, making them shine

  “Do you want this beer or are you just gonna stare at my tits?” The sassy bartender says with a hand on her hip.

  “Why can’t I do both,” I give her a wink before taking a swig of my beer.

  After a few rounds I’m starting to feel those beers, I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Yea?” I look up and see one sexy bartender looking at me with desire in her eyes.

  “After you finish that beer, I'll be on my break. Maybe we can go somewhere and have a little fun?”

  The bartender leans across the bar and pulls my ear into her mouth. It takes every ounce of the control I still have not to fall off my stool. She moans like a wanton whore as she slowly releases it.

  “So, what do you say? Wanna get out of here?” She asks.

  I drop back onto my stool, shake my head to clear the fog and slur, “Heeeellllll yeah! I’ll go…*burp*… with you as long as my dick goes down your…urm…throat.”

  Maybe, I can fuck the image of Annabelle’s tears out of my brain.

  She hops over the bar and yells down to her partner.

  “Let’s go handsome.”

  She grabs my hand, and I stumble as my foot gets stuck in the rung of the stool. She wraps her arm around my waist, and we walk toward the door. We don’t even make it outside before she has me pushed up against the door, my arms reach out to try to catch myself as the door opens before my feet are steady, and her hand is in my jeans rubbing my dick.

  Fuck that feels good.

  I push my way through the door and come face to face with someone’s fist.

  Fuck that hurt!

  I have pain radiating from my jaw, and it’s helping to clear some of the alcohol from my brain. When I reach up to touch my lip, I pull my hand back covered in blood.

  “How dare you touch my woman!” The mountain with iron fists shouts at me with a finger in my face, at least I think it’s just one finger. After a moment he turns to the girl who still has a hold on my dick.

  “What the fuck Erin, we have a fight, and then I catch you sucking face with this prep school reject? What, did you think he could be your sugar daddy or something?”

  She finally removes her hand from my pants, and the movement causes a moan to leave my mouth.

  “I wasn’t…doing…the touching…She was doing the...uh...touching!”

  This dude is pissed. He charges at me, I try to move out of the way but fall instead. Luckily, it trips him up, so he lands on his face. I scramble to my feet, and the world isn’t spinning as fast anymore. I stand over him and kick him directly in the kneecap. He howls in pain and crumples to the grown. I stomp on his leg. *CRACK*.

  I hear the sirens before I feel a sharp pain, across the back of my head. I turn around to see Erin holding a shipping crate.

  “You bitch…” before everything goes black.

  ANNABELLE

  The sun shining happily through my window wakes me early. I slept like the dead after everything that happened yesterday. I’m not surprised. I stretch and hiss as my legs move. It looks like more meds are needed. Maybe an Epsom salt bath will help too.

  Heading to the bathroom, slowly and carefully, I pop some more meds and start the bath. Adding oils to calm my torn soul and soothe my angry skin, and salts to relax the muscles.

  When I get out of the bath, I feel better. I need coffee and my warm snuggly robe to keep me comfortable today. While the coffee pot is percolating, I search for my phone since it’s not plugged into the charger on the counter. It’s probably dead from Elliot blowing it up.

  I find it in my purse which I dropped right inside the door last night, along with my coat and shoes. I plug it in, the screen turns on, and the notifications start going crazy. All I can do is stare at it in shock as the missed calls, voicemails, and text messages add up. Thirty-one missed calls, twelve voicemails, and fifty-seven text messages.

  I haven’t had enough caffeine to deal with this mess yet, not enough fucks to give. I know I have to talk to Elliot, but I don’t know what to say. I’m sure I hurt his feelings yesterday and embarrassed him by screaming my rejection while in the middle of the office. In my defense, I was in a lot of pain, confused, so when he asked me out, I snapped. It was the straw the broke the camel's back.

  Half an hour later, I’m tits deep in voicemails. All of them are from Elliot. Some are begging me to talk to him, some are him apologizing, some of them are telling me it was just a joke, and then yelling, some are telling me not to be a bitch, and finally, from the county jail.

  What the hell did he do?

  ELLIOT

  I have no idea where the fuck I am or what the fuck happened, but it smells like piss. The last thing I remember is baiting the shit out of that dude in front of the bar and that bitch Erin hitting me over the head with a damn shipping crate.

  Feeling around to make sure all my parts are still connected, I make sure that the blood on my clothes is not mine. Good.

  Now, figure out where you are, dumbass.

  I sit up and look around.

  Ain’t this peachy?

  It looks like I have landed myself in lock up.

  Since I have no idea how I got here, I should still be entitled to my one God damn phone call. I get up off the bench I have been laying on and fall directly on my ass. Ouch.

  “Hey...Hey! Anyone out there?”

  I wait a little while to see if anyone answers me before I start over again. It seems like hours before someone even comes to see if I am dead or not.

  “Lookie here fellas, drunkie is finally awake,” the officer says.

  “Officer, can you tell me what the hell happened? I am sure since I was unconscious when I was brought in, I didn’t get my phone call. I need to call someone to come pick me up.” I tell him.

  “Yup you sure were. You got your ass kicked by a chick. Very manly of you. You came to while the paramedics were checking you out, but were too drunk to let. You couldn’t even walk straight, so into the drunk tank you went. I would stay away from that bar if I were you, just a word of advice.” He can barely contain his laughter.

  Well, no shit!

  “Thanks for the advice. I can guarantee I won’t be drinking like that again in the future. I’m sure you have heard the sob stories before, they always go back to a damn girl.”

  “Oh, that would explain all the damn blubbering on the phone every time we let you m
ake a call to some chick named Annabelle. That must be some damn good pussy for you to be begging like that.”

  “Yea, she's important to me. Is it possible for me to give her one more call, officer?” I plead with the officer.

  “Well, your sorry ass is in luck! Not only are you getting out of here, but she must really love your ass because she just spent hours filling out paperwork to get your ass out. You have a lot of pussy to eat to make up for that shit.”

  Oh, this motherfucker has no idea. No idea at all. I am in so much trouble.

  ANNABELLE

  Two hours of paperwork later, I’m standing out front of the jail in my comfy clothes, a maxi skirt, and hoodie, waiting for Elliot’s dumbass to be released. After some time in the drunk tank maybe he chilled the hell out, probably not, but here’s hoping.

  Elliot stalks out of jail, wearing the clothes he had on at work yesterday, but now with what I assume is blood. He was arrested for assault after getting into a bar fight, what he was doing at a biker bar is beyond me.

  Fists clenched, head down like he’s stalking prey, he comes straight at me.

  “Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?” He damn near shouts at me.

  I gawk up at him.

  “Are you kidding me? I come all the way down here when I’m feeling like shit, bail you out, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” I say incredulously.

  “What do you mean you feel like shit? What’s wrong?” He straightens up and looks me over, head to toe.

  “I just...I...I just don’t feel well Elliot!”

  Throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation, I am not about to try to explain my ass bruises to him.

  Elliot reaches out and holds my cheeks in his hands, studying me intently. I close my eyes, trying to hide the turmoil that’s going on inside of me. I can’t explain it to myself, much less to anyone else.