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"Spread 'em wider, Ella." He nudged my knees apart with his own. "Gonna make it good for you."
His hands were steady as he picked up the hook, fingers brushing against the small of my back in a silent promise. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat screaming a mix of dread and anticipation.
"Fuck, you’re brave," he muttered, almost to himself. There was respect there, and something akin to awe. "You trust me?"
"Oddly... yes," I admitted. My body was still humming from his touch, craving more despite the fear.
"Good." He exhaled, and the warmth of his breath fanned over my skin as he leaned closer. Cool lubricant coated the tip of the hook, and I tensed, waiting.
"Relax, sunshine. I’ll take care of you." His voice was a dark caress, and I melted under its weight, allowing myself to become pliant clay in his hands.
The pressure at my entrance was gentle, a slow intrusion that had my breath hitching. "Deep breaths, Ella. You got this."
I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, on the feel of his free hand stroking my spine, grounding me. He eased the hook in incrementally, watching my face for any sign of discomfort.
"Christ, you're doing so well," he praised, and I felt a swell of pride amidst the strangeness of the sensation.
"Feels... weird," I confessed, my voice tight.
"Give it a minute. It’s gonna feel fucking amazing." There was certainty there, a confidence I clung to.
Once in place, the weight of the hook was an anchor, a reminder of my submission and his control. I tried to shift, to test the limits of this new feeling, and a jolt of unexpected pleasure shot through me.
"Ah!" It was a startled cry, one that had Chris grinning, all devilish charm and satisfaction.
"Like that, huh?" His chuckle was low and dirty. He slid his fingers between my legs, finding the slick evidence of my arousal. "So wet. Fucking hell."
"Can't help it," I gasped as his fingers resumed their dance, circling and teasing my swollen clit. "You do things to me..."
"Only just begun, little ember, only just begun." He moved behind me, his tongue joining the play, hot and insistent as it lapped at my flesh.
"Fuck, oh my God..." My words dissolved into moans, each lap and flick of his tongue pushing me higher, the hook created a counterpoint that bordered on overwhelming.
"Cum for me, Ella. Wanna hear you scream again." His fingers surged inside me, matching the rhythm of his tongue, relentless in their pursuit of my unraveling.
"Chris!" I cried out, my body bowing under the onslaught, the pleasure sharp and bright, blinding me to anything but him, his touch, his command over me.
"Mine," he growled against my skin, the word vibrating through me, sealing my fate as surely as the hook that bound me to his will. Before I came undone, he stood, moving towards my face.
"I want you to taste me," he unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor. Of course, he was bare underneath. And huge. I guess I didn't have much in the way of experience. I'd certainly fucked a few guys, but this one seemed bigger than those. Were they small? And he was average? Goddamn, I have to get out of my head.
"Fuck..." I cursed under my breath as I watched him stroke himself as he grew bigger. He guided himself to my lips and instinctively, I opened for him. With his hand at the back of my head, he pushed forward, filling my mouth with his length. The taste of him overriding my intrusive thoughts.
"Christ," I whispered against his flesh, the word muffled, my mind foggy with lust.
"Take it all," he ordered, setting a pace that was both punishing and exhilarating. I tried, I really did, to take him all. But every time he hit the back of my throat, I gagged and pulled back.
I choked as he pushed and held my head flush against him, droplets of saliva escaping the corner of my mouth. He pulled me back, allowing me to breathe before starting again. Every thrust nudged the hook deeper, marrying pain with a perverse pleasure that had me almost ready to cum again.
"Chris... too much," I managed, my voice raw.
"Shh, baby, you can take it," he murmured, his tone a mix of coaxing and command.
"Feels... so good," I admitted, my resistance shattering like glass under a boot heel. My hands grasped at his thighs, seeking something solid in the whirlwind he'd stirred inside me.
"Good girl," he praised with a grunt, his grip on my hair tightening. "Fucking love your mouth."
His hips snapped forward, each movement a brand upon my flesh, claiming me. I surrendered to the rhythm, the ache, the dominance. Heat swirled low in my core, an ember stoked by every motion of the hook, by every inch of him that plundered my mouth.
