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She comes to examine it herself. She’s breathing hard but glowing, her eyes lit with a triumphant light.
“I killed it.”
“You did.” I give her the Good girl signal, and she doesn’t frown at my fingers like she usually does.
She works to wrench the knife out, and as she does, I slip behind her, running my palm down her belly as I kiss her shoulder. “You did well.” I let my hand delve between her thighs, cupping her heat. “You get a reward.”
It only takes a few minutes to work her up with my fingers. I know just where to rub and press and tug. As her muscles tighten, I work a finger into her backside, letting her anus clench on my fingertip. Soon, I’ll introduce her to a plug. She’ll only be allowed to cum with something filling her rear until she associates anal with pleasure.
I worm my finger in deeper. She twists in my arms but ultimately settles, accepting the intrusion along with the clitoral stimulation. In no time, she’s gasping and shaking through her climax. I keep stroking her, stoking the pleasure higher, forcing her through another and another.
Finally, I take my hand away. She slumps forward, and all her weight falls into my arms, pulling me off balance. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough. Her feet find the ground, and she snaps up, her elbow coming toward my face. I turn at the last second and grapple with her, drawing her arm behind her, but she’s determined and falls to her knees. I fall with her, but she has enough of an advantage to scramble away from me. She looks feral on all fours, hair falling wild around her snarling face. She still has the knife.
I smile and crouch and signal her to Come.
She lunges, knife first, and I hit her wrist hard enough to make her drop it. From there, it’s easy to tug her shirt down and restrict her movements. She shucks it off and lets it drop, leaving her naked, which is fine by me.
I stalk towards her, and she turns to run, trying every locked door. Eventually, I corral her back into the living area. She races to the kitchen, probably to look for another weapon, and I lunge, using the advantage of my height and weight to bring her to the ground, face down on the rug, with her arms wrenched backward into my hold.
She yells into the rug, shaking with the force of it.
I lean down and murmur into her dark hair. “To the victor go the spoils.”
That earns me another shout of rage. I ease off her, and she pushes up, attacking me again with her nails stretched toward my eyes.
This time, I catch her wrists and slam her onto her back, pinning her wrists to either side of her head. With my weight half on her, I can keep her immobilized for hours or as long as it takes for her to regain some control of herself.
Slowly, the rage bleeds out of her dark eyes.
“Good work. You almost cut me. If we spar to first blood, that would be a win.”
She bares her teeth at me. “I want more than first blood.”
“We’ll have to practice then. I’ll reward you when you win. But since you lost. . .” I ease off and flip her over. She lands face down over my lap. I don’t have cuffs at hand, but it’s a pleasure to restrain her and watch her bottom and thigh muscles ripple as she struggles. I slap her ass, letting my broad palm catch as much of her rear as I can. She yelps, and I continue punishing her, hard and fast, while her shoulders and hips rock, and she tries to wriggle away. I drape a leg over hers, pinning them down. I spank her ass red until her hips are surging up and down, seeking stimulation.
I’ve trained her to crave pain. I raise a knee under her, letting her rub against my leg until she’s close, then flip her to her back with a hand at her throat. “Little savage. This isn’t for you.”
I swat at her hands and use my knees to spread her legs. After a minute of wrestling, I pin her again and open my pants. I have her where I want her: her arms overhead and breasts lifted, her legs wide, and my cock nudging her folds. “I won. Now I get my reward.”
Lula
Victor’s huge body blankets me, pressing me to the rug. My bottom is hot and swollen from my spanking, my core pulsing with need. His cock is at my entrance, and I’m wet enough for him to slide right in. But as soon as he tells me he’s won, I start fighting again.
I wriggle and try to ram him in the gut, aiming for the tender spot on his abdomen where my bullet went in. His jaw tightens—he’s so beautiful when he’s angry—and he drapes more of his weight on me, pinning me down.
I force him to tighten his grip until he’s hurting me. This isn’t some sweet lover’s tryst. Sure, he cooked me breakfast and introduced me to his favorite pastime, but we’re not sweethearts tangling on the floor, too overcome with lust to make it to the bedroom. He is my enemy, and I am his.
I cannot forget that. No matter how many orgasms he gives me.
His cock punches into me. My core clenches on that first blunt inch. He’s so big it always takes a few minutes to adjust to him. Today, he’s not giving me time.
“Let me in.” He emphasizes each word with a kick of his hips. He’s merciless in his invasion, and despite myself, my body softens and swallows him up. And, fates help me, it feels so damn good.
I widen my legs and arch off the floor. He lessens the amount of weight on my smaller frame. “That’s it. Good girl.”
“Fuck you.”
“With pleasure.” He rocks into me, and warmth rolls up my torso, blooming in my brain. He moves slowly, and I savor every drag of his long and thick rod. Lights spark behind my eyes.
