Knocking on Heaven’s Door

Two-thirty in the morning.  The dead end of a dead end road.  Tangled woods on the one hand: twisted, overgrown, blanketed in shadow; farmers’ fields on the other: tall wispy winter wheat glistening with frost and half-shrouded in ground fog.  A little gravel circle, just enough room to turn a car around: empty beer bottles and fast food containers littering the verge.

He killed the engine and cut the headlights.  The only light came from the nearly-full moon, waxing gibbous, floating ghostly just above the trees.  The pale blue light fell in long stark shadows, giving the landscape a creepy, film-noire chiaroscuro feeling.

“Are you nervous?”

“No.” he lied

“Don’t be,” I said, “We’re both grownups.  Come on, let’s do it!”

“Get out of the car.” he said.

It was freezing cold outside.  The frigid night air burned my exposed skin, and I shivered spasmodically.  The cold leached through my purple knit sweater and found its way around my ankles and up my pant legs.  For a moment I thought about reaching back inside the car and grabbing my jacket out of the passenger seat.

“Bend over the hood” he told me, and I did.  The metal, still warm from an hour-long drive, felt good against my chest.  His presence, his crotch, in close proximity to my ass, felt even better.  “Hands behind your back.”

I complied, and heard a slight jingle as he fished out the handcuffs.  One at a time he secured my wrists behind my back.  Each time the mechanism *clicked* and the cool smooth metal ratcheted down against my flesh, my clit twitched and my cunt drooled with lustful anticipation.

“Stand up and turn around.”

It was hard to feel very intimidated by him.  He was about my height, maybe an inch taller; skinny dude, pale skin.  Should get out more often.  He had shortish dark hair that was cutely disheveled like he’d just gotten out of bed, and one lazy eye that I found alternately endearing, distracting, or disturbing.  We stood, facing each other, our breath made visible in little puffs of white.

“Go ahead,” I told him, egging him on, encouraging him.

He seemed to dither for a long moment of indecision, and then, making up his mind, he slapped me across the face.

It was almost comical, a movie-slap.  My cheek stung a little bit.  Not the effect I was going for at all.

“No.” I said, “Harder.  Like we talked about before.  Come on, I’m not made of porcelain.  You’re not going to break me.”

He hit me again, hard, an open-handed blow to the face that rattled the teeth in my jaw and sent me reeling onto the frozen gravel at his feet.  The pain exploded from within me, hot and sharp, making my head spin and my parts throb.  I’d have a fat lip for sure.  I spit ineffectually, wondering if I were spitting up blood.

He was squatting next to me as I lay on the ground next to the front tire of the car.  The shock of the blow and the rush of pain gave me a sense of hyper-awareness.  With fumbling fingers he started unbuttoning my jeans, tugging them down.  I wiggled my jaw experimentally left to right.  It didn’t seem to be broken, no teeth missing.  Far, far above us, in the clear black sky, a million stars twinkled like fierce bright knives.

*Smack* He started beating my naked ass with the flat of his hand.  Smack! Smack! Smack!  I lost track after ten.  It hurt, a lot, he wasn’t holding anything back now, and tears ran freely down my face, leaving cold salty trails that threatened to freeze into rime ice. Smack! Smack! Smack!

“On your knees!” He grabbed me cruelly by the tits and hauled me up into a kneeling position.  Somewhere in the night a hunting owl hooted.  A dog barked.  Far away across the field, a pair of headlights traced their way along a country road.  Did the cops ever make it out here, looking for partiers, underage drinkers, teenage couples making out?

He had taken his dick out of his pants and was pointing it in my direction.  It stood up proudly, arcing slightly up.  The head was big and juicy-red and swollen, oozing pre-come.  Obediently I took it in my mouth, sucking it, lavishing it with my tongue, taking my pleasure in pleasuring him.  He held my head in both hands, forcing me up and down on his cock, fucking my bruised face without mercy.  I loved having him like that.  I wanted to taste him, I wanted him to use me, to come in my mouth.  I wanted to eat him like that forever.

He withdrew his hard wet cock from my hungry mouth. As I looked longingly at it, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me bodily into the backseat of his car.  I caught a quick glimpse of myself under the dome light as he tugged my jeans and wet panties all the way down around my ankles.  I was a mess.  Dirty, bloody, little chunks of gravel still imbedded in my knees and stuck to my thighs.

He forced my legs up in the air and started licking me.  I don’t know if I’ve ever been so wet before in my life.  My cunt felt huge and swollen, my clit throbbed, I felt like I way lying in a puddle of joy juice.  I wanted him to pull my pants off, spread my legs wide, and shove his fist up me; but my ankles were bound together by the crumpled-up pants and all he did was lick.

His tongue traced a wet path from my asshole up to my clitoris, and back down again, slurping like a thirsty dog attacking a water bowl.  Pleasure shook through me in waves.  Fingers penetrated my ass, my cunt, and his tongue flicked like a hummingbird against my clit and I exploded, crying, weeping, shaking, grinding back against him.

He pulled my sweater up and tore my bra off, ripping the black stretchy fabric.  He climbed onto the back seat, straddling my chest, his balls resting on my tits, his cock, that beautiful big hard cock that belonged inside me, pointed at my mouth.  I felt a pang of jealousy so strong it hurt for his girlfriend, his wife, whatever she was.  He was stroking his cock in one hand, pumping purposefully, urgently.  I licked the underside, tongued the head, savoring him, savoring the sensation, the taste.  My cunt was still leaking freely, my clit still twitching from that last orgasm.

Silently, he came.  Squirt after squirt of salty, sticky, bitter semen squirted into my open mouth.  I was amazed how much came out, how hard he shot off, and still more oozed out.  I drank it all, teasing the last drops from his winking pee-hole until he became too sensitive and yanked my toy away from me.

Back on the thruway, by the glow of the dashboard and the glare of the occasional oncoming headlight, I looked myself over.  My wrists were an ugly mass of red and purple bruises and abrasions, and I had skinned one elbow real good; the entire left side of my face was swollen, and I had split my lower lip.  There was a trickle of red blood drying at the corner of my mouth.  What excuse could I use Monday at the office and not sound like an assault victim in denial?  I had fallen down playing pick-up street hockey?  That didn’t sound too far out of character.

By the time he dropped me off in front of my building, the sky was turning pale and grey, like weak coffee.

“Same time next week?”

“Sure thing.” he nodded, “…you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I smiled, a twisted, wry smile, “Never better.”

I got out of the car and headed up the steps of my stoop.  When I reached the front door, I turned and looked back, but he was already pulling away.



  1. Grendel said

    Wow. Very nice. I love it when the writing makes it clear that there is no beginning and no end to the story … there is just the point where the author starts observing the characters and the point where the writing stops … the story existed before then and continues after then … besides this is also incredibly hot … thank you.

  2. You … damn it why do your stories always leave me wihtout a word to say. I am bothered, and …. bothered.

    • elsiewrites said

      Bothered in a good way, I sincerely hope? As usual, I was trying to push boundaries and comfort zones with this one, but I hope that it was also hot.

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