What's Beyond Ouch

We were eating dinner on Friday night when we heard...thunder? Gunfire? Fireworks. The three of us took a walk outside to see what we could see, and found traffic piling up on the bridge over the dam where other people had found a good view. They were at least a town away, but possibly even more beautiful at that distance with the water framing the explosions from the bottom.

When the show was over, we walked back, and Shelby tried to pull off my panties from under my dress while I was walking. They got twisted up but didn't come off, and as I was trying to fix them so I could walk correctly, Aiden grabbed a handful and finished the job. I was talking non-stop about something - possibly the removal of my lacy underthings - and he wadded them up and stuffed them in my mouth. He left two fingers inside the wad of black silky fabric, using them to lead me like a bit. Shelby wondered aloud if the occupants of any passing cars might call the cops, as Aiden was holding my head at an odd angle that turned my walking stride into a following-along stumble. I tried to say that I was laughing too hard to cause anyone legitimate concern, but it came out, "Mmm hmmm mff!"

As soon as the front door closed behind us, Aiden shoved me into the dining alcove, placing my hands flat on the table and my head in between them. He pulled up my dress and proceeded to spank me, a couple of times lightly and then harder. His hand made a thorough journey over both of my cheeks and my thighs, hard enough that I stood up, protesting the pain.

"Excuse you!" he said indignantly, pausing to stare at me, and I put my elbows and face back on the table, awaiting my punishment. It would be worse now than if I had just stayed where I was. I tried to relax, knowing it would hurt more if I tensed up. Shelby, sitting in a chair to my right, reached under my chest and started pinching my nipples.

"You're being mean," she said to him as he worked low on my thighs, and I squeaked and scooted the table across the floor.

"I don't think she minds," he said.

"Oh, I didn't say to stop. I just said you're mean."

After he again worked over my thighs and ass, Aiden stopped for a moment and walked away. I heard the drawer of the freezer open in the kitchen. I think Shelby asked if I was ready for ice, and I tried to say I didn't have much of a choice, but I still couldn't talk. She reached over and pulled out my gag, and Aiden returned a moment later and iced me down, freezing the heat off my skin until cold water ran down my legs. I lost track of the ice cube when it touched my lips; he may have put it inside me, but I'm not sure. He definitely put his fingers in.

I moaned. The finger-fucking was a beautiful relief from the spanking, at least for a moment, until he added a fourth finger and then his thumb. I knew what I was in for when he said to Shelby, "She's fighting with the knuckles on my hand." I tried to relax, but I'm not sure how successful the effort was.

He grabbed my hip, or maybe it was my shoulder, and pulled me around. "Flip over." I felt like I'd been glued to the table; turning myself face-up was a struggle, made harder by Aiden's hand still inside me. "Up on the table."

My memory at this point becomes a bit blurry. There was the sound of the table objecting to unusually violent use. Me reaching over my head and putting my hands on the window. Shelby joking that he was going to put me through said window. Fighting the sensation that I was going to throw up by reminding myself that the violation in progress had nothing to do with my stomach no matter how it might feel. And lots and lots of pain.

I felt tears coming on, and I accepted it, but never quite made it to actually crying. I couldn't stop gasping long enough. At some point it occurred to me that I should have the safe word handy, but I couldn't think of what it was. I let it go and then circled back around to it. What the hell was it again? A sensation floated into my head that described a set of three, and after letting it sit for another moment, I remembered we have a three-part safe word: red light, yellow light, green light. Red was the one I was looking for, but I didn't use it, just let it float nearby in case I needed the life raft.

I have no idea how much time went by while Aiden worked me with his fist. I wanted it to be over, but not enough to actually end it. "I think I need to say 'yellow light' for her," Shelby said eventually, and everything stopped. I took a deep, shaky breath, hanging in the sudden void. The rest of the sensation in my body reappeared slowly, and I floated up to the sound of Aiden's voice.

"You did so well," he said, sounding like he was on the verge of giggles. "I didn't know I could do that to you!"

I wanted to ask what his new discovery was, but didn't have the words.

"Sit up," he told me.

"Why..."

"Come on. Come here, into my arms."

Shelby helped me upright, nuzzling her head into my side and putting her arm around my back. Aiden leaned over me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His smile was beautiful.

I was shaking and just trying to breathe, and realized that at some point I must have cried because my face was wet. I held onto both of their hugs like I was rediscovering life.

Eventually the promise of bed lured me off the table, and Shelby grinned at me when I walked into the circle of lamplight in the kitchen.

"You have the best battered-woman cry-eyes right now," she said, and I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture for my own inspection. I did indeed have huge black circles under my eyes.

"You have no idea," Aiden said to me the next day, "How much I loved those overwhelmed tears streaming down your face."

I had to agree; there's no reason I'd rather cry.