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With a quick, steady motion he kneaded my swollen flesh roughly. So rough, in fact, my body couldn’t decide whether it felt good or hurt. My hips moved of their own accord, alternately thrusting against his wrist and pulling back as far as the wall would allow.
    “Don’t think about it,” he said. “Let your body decide what it likes.”
    I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. My body was aching for release, that much I knew. Justin seemed to realize that, because each time my body would tense for orgasm, he would pinch my clit that much harder.
    “Please,” I begged, though I could barely speak loud enough to hear myself. “I can’t take any more.”
    He chuckled softly and rolled my swollen clit. “You’ll be surprised how much you can take.”
    I shook my head, denying him – or denying myself? I couldn’t be sure.
    “You’re going to come on my hand,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You’re going to come and it’s going to be stronger and harder than anything you’ve ever experienced.”
    I kept shaking my head.
    “Yes, you are. And it’s going to hurt, which is going to confuse you more.” He pushed a finger in my drenched cunt, then slid another one in for good measure. “But you’re going to love it and you won’t want it to stop.”
    He was finger-fucking me now, hard. Hard enough to lift me up on my toes with each thrust of his hand. I whimpered and moaned, clutching at his shoulders with my hands, but not pushing him away.
    “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Feel it, feel everything. Come on my hand. Let your body have what it needs.”
    I was moaning now, almost screaming with the intensity of the sensations he was causing. I could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my hip bone as he angled his fingers higher into my cunt. He wanted me. He was giving me pleasure and hurting me at the same time and he wanted to fuck me. The fact that he wasn’t as distant as he sounded made me relax.
    “Come,” he said. And though his voice was as harsh and cold as his fingers in my cunt, I knew he was enjoying me.
    With his fingers driving into my cunt and my clit rubbing against his wrist, I came. I clung to him, whimpering and sobbing as I rode a powerful orgasm, his demanding cock bruising my hip, wanting me.
    “Yes,” he hissed, close to my ear. “It’s what you need. Show me what you need.”
    I sagged against him, no longer caring I was naked and vulnerable in my own office. All that mattered was the orgasm, the release. What he had given me, what he had taken from me. They were one and the same. I came and whimpered and said his name like a prayer.
    He lowered me to my knees, his hand cradling my head against his erection. The fabric of his pants was soft against my cheek and I nuzzled him, weak and satisfied and still craving more.
    He pressed my head against his cock, hard, then harder still, until I thought he might leave a mark on my skin from the zipper. I let him rub his crotch against my face, wanting only to please him.
    He gave my hair a tug, forcing me to look up at him. “What do you say?”
    My brain felt fuzzy, my speech slow and thick when it finally came. But I knew what he wanted. I knew it instinctively. “Thank you.”
    “Your pain arouses me,” he said, holding me against his cock as proof. “That’s the first lesson.”
    “Will there be more lessons?” I dared to ask, looking up at him. My heart was throbbing in my chest, afraid he was going to leave me now that he’d proven he could have me.
    He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “We’ve only just begun.”

At Midnight, in the Month of June
Kristina Wright
    She peered into the darkness through the streaked windshield. She should have waited until morning, but it seemed important to do it at night. The spring rains had made the dirt road soft, so she kept the tires in the well-worn ruts, driving past row upon row of corn, silent sentries in unwavering straight lines. These fields