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He steps his thigh further between my legs. His huge, muscular thigh grinds hard against my pussy. I try to stop myself rocking my hips against him.
I can’t.
Slowly, firmly, trembling, my wet mound scrapes and grinds against him. An evil chuckle rattles from his chest. I feel like he torched me, balled me up and lit me in a burst of cold fire.
He pins me with his thigh. Pushes it higher. Raises the friction through my soaking panties and drags hard against my lips.
The weight of his body leans forward, toward me, bending my back and crushing my breasts. My nipples burn, scraping inside my bra.
He grabs my ass and yanks me tighter against him.
The powerful hand seems big enough to hold the whole of my ass, like he can possess me with his fingers and his palm. My breath escapes. He could take anything he wants. Grab whatever he needs.
The fattening bulge in his pants zings with coursing blood. It buzzes hot. I feel it through my wet, flattened wings.
I hate myself for the filthy way I want this. And the guilt and shame make my need even hotter, make me want it even more.
A wolfish, guttural snarl rises in his throat like he knows can read my thoughts.
Another slap, right on the same spot, makes me jump.
“Such a bad girl.”
His thigh pushes harder against my wet, throbbing heat. I’m tense, clenching up and gripping tight with my thighs on his as he slides his hips tighter, making a moan rise inside me. I can’t hold it back.
Cold air fans my ass cheeks. The hand that gripped my ass slides my skirt all the way up. The hand moves away, then sharply back for another slap.
My eyes bulge at the sting. I’m gushing, helpless.
I love having all the choice taken away from me. Being taken. I get to have all the pleasure, and I can’t do anything about it. The scary costume adds an extra charge, the thrill that lets me keep up the image. I can feel all the danger and the pain, and be completely out of control.
His huge fingers shove and probe into my creases and crevices. Between the tops of my thighs, through my panties. Scraping my wet seams.
“Thats not the only way that you’ve been a bad, bad girl now, is it?” the voice says, “Now it’s time to confess your sins.”
The hem of my skirt is hitched way, way up at the back. I know what’s coming. Cool around the raw patch of sting air makes my cheeks tremble.
A sharp slap.
I can’t hold back the moan. Spirals of clenching need stir through me and make me spin inside. I’m on fire in my core.
Reaching from behind, he trills his fingers all the way forward to my opening, pressing up at the base of my clit. I moan. He laughs. Then his fingers circle. He knows exactly the spot.
He goes straight to my rhythm. I’m collapsing. His fingers make me shake. Trapped and bursting inside, all at once.
I squirm. Sensations flash though me in pulsing currents and bursts. His head tips back and I see his nostrils flare and a lascivious grin stretches his lips as I shudder and jolt.
His other hand plunges down and finds the tops of my panties at the front. He looks hard in my eyes as he slips his fingers down, inside my panties. Over my clit. Circling as his other hand slides up, tracing my folds, finding his way into my opening.
One hand plays on my mound, coaxing and teasing my clit, while from behind me, the huge, strong fingers his other hand push up, pushing and exploring through my walls. My knees buckle as my treacherous pussy flutters and hugs his fingers, pulling at him. Drawing him, urging him, sucking and swallowing him in deeper.
He looks in my eyes as he deliberately rips my blouse. I will not shout. I will not show him fear. Even though I can’t hold the ever-rising swirl of tension inside me, cables of fire that crackle through all my muscles, twanging between my core and my sore, stinging nipples.
He bites my lip, tugging. Pulling the inside of my lip.
His eyes flash as he seizes a cook’s knife from the block on the counter.
“We don’t need this.”
