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Trembling, I feared what would happen next, but he entered me slowly until only the first part of the head of his cock seemed inside me. The pain was there but I could stand it. With his palm on my lower stomach, he kept me in place and when I cringed, his hand slid lower, over my mons. Using one fingertip, he played with my clit, feather light, and in the tiniest of circles.
“There. Are you feeling that?” His cock sneaked in some more, the pressure widening me by increments. “You smell like a bitch in heat. Taste like one too. Damn, I could fuck you harder again. Next time I will.”
Talking in that dirty way and playing with me, it made me center on what he did, on his hold on me. On the sensations he was coaxing from my abused flesh. Now I knew he was satisfied. He’d dominated the fuck out of me, and if this was what he wanted, he would get it.
I breathed in, breathed erratically out. His other hand cupped my breast and toyed with my nipple.
My clit swelled under his tender ministrations. When I moaned, he clamped on finger and thumb and began a rhythm that would take me to climax.
More squeezing of my clit, more cock, more dirty words. Mouth parted, eyes rolling back, I was gasping, lost in that sexual haze, that eternal moment, seconds from coming.
“Oh. Oh.”
“There. Come for me, girl.”
He sucked on my neck, while his fingers kept working their magic and his cock penetrated me, all...the way...in.
Panting, straining onto his fingers, and aware of everywhere he touched me with mouth, fingers, and cock, and of everywhere I stung and ached, I soared into the climax.
When I was still shuddering through the aftershocks, he began to fuck my ass properly.
“You’re mine,” he said into my neck, “Mine,” as he bit me and thrust hard into his own climax. “Mine.”
No one had ever said that and meant it like he did, ever. No one.
I finally understood. I was. I was completely his. My world was him.
*****
“Do not touch the rifle, the knives, or any weapon from now until forever.”
That was his first command on arising the next morning.
As if I would forget. I bowed my head from where I kneeled on the floor. I’d slept curled on the floor all night. I had a blanket, but sleeping away from him was because I needed reminding when I woke up, that I’d done something bad.
I understood. It had been lonely on the floor, and my bruises hurt. Worst though, I craved him, his body, his pain, even his distorted love.
I should detest him. I knew this logically. But I didn’t.
I think I pouted, certainly I was looking miserable, because his mouth twitched and he beckoned. “Come here.”
Like I had the first time, I crawled up onto his lap, and I cried unashamedly as he rocked me and whispered sweet words.
“It’ll be better today. You just need to behave for me. In a minute I’ll check your marks, then we can have a swim, then breakfast.”
He put me back on the floor and clicked his fingers. A little déjà vu shock travelled through me. Gregor’s signal.
“You know what that means, girl.”
He wanted me to kneel?
I shuffled into position then peered up at him through the smudge of tears. Then it struck me, he wasn’t calling me meisie anymore. I felt the pang of loss, and how twisted was that?
Though it pained me, I said it. “Sir, may I ask a question?”
A pause, then he nodded. “Yes.”
God. Why had I wanted to say this? I shut my eyes for a second. Do it.
