Punishing Cindy

Mandy opened the door to her new apartment. She watched Cindy back toward the bed. When her calves hit the mattress, Mandy grabbed Cindy's jaw and kissed her deep. Cindy had come on false pretenses; the message had said graduation drinks. Now her shirt was lifted above the waist, and Mandy traced the shallow dip between her hips with the flat of her tongue. Mandy stripped her faster than she removed her own clothes. Cotton panties dropped to the floor between them. One light shove sent Cindy tumbling backward onto sheets already warmed by afternoon sun. Mandy climbed after her on all fours, spreading Cindy's knees wider with her palms until nothing remained hidden. Tongue, then two fingers, then spit dripped down the crack of Cindy's ass onto the bed beneath her. Every swipe drew a shaking gasp. Mandy reached beneath the mattress and drew out the heavy strap-on. Its silicone shaft was thicker than a man's fist, midnight-black, blunt as a weapon. She buckled it behind her hips, letting the weight of it hang between her thighs while she studied the fear and the hunger chasing across Cindy's face. The first breach took both of them by surprise. Cindy gritted her teeth; Mandy held still, feeling her own clit throb each time Cindy's walls fluttered around the blunt head. She sank deeper with deliberate force, rolling her hips in small half-circles, pressing until the flare of the toy touched bone and Cindy’s mouth opened on a silent cry. It continued longer than that initial scream. Mandy worked her whole body, bracing on arms corded from patience. Sweat slicked the groove of her spine, dripped off her nipples and landed on the stomach beneath her. She counted each thrust—until the sheets beneath Cindy turned dark with come and the headboard kept time against the wall—and she did not stop.