Take It

"Take it," he said, his voice almost a growl.  "You have to take it."

She was writhing under his touch, her little gasps of pleasure turning into whimpering cries of pain.  She arched her back, pressing her breasts up into the cruel handling.  She was not bound, not restrained, but she did not resist.

"You want the pleasure?  You have to take the pain."  he said, and for every moment of pure pleasure he granted her body, he tested her with moments of agony.

And, she couldn't help it.  She loved it.  She wanted to suffer for him as much as she wanted to feel the pleasure he offered.  She wanted him to want her to suffer, and to offer it as a gift, even as he tore the cries from her throat.  She wanted him to control her pleasure, to control her pain.  She wanted him to hurt her, so that her breasts ached hours later, so that she could feel the sensitivity in her nipples for days, always making her think of him.