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“You can do it properly for me, later. Right now, I just want to test one. See if you meet my needs.”
And the fear comes stuttering out despite my best efforts to control it. I can’t stand to have his hands on me. I can’t face anything more. The rank taste of his cum still coats my mouth from last time. “Tomorrow, okay? I’ll test it t-tomorrow and send you a picture or a video or whatever you want, yeah?”
“Open your mouth.”
I whip my head in the opposite direction to his hand, but he easily captures my chin to hold me steady. “It’s for your benefit,” he mumbles, his excitement growing, pressing hard against my lower back. “You don’t want it to be cold when it goes in, do you?”
“No.” I continue to struggle, sucking in breath through my nose, clamping my lips shut, shaking my head to communicate.
“Your choice, then.”
He curls his foot to knock mine out from under me, forcing me face down on the bed. He kneels on my back, the pain immediate and immense.
It’s so much weight, I can’t breathe.
It’s so much weight, my spine contorts out of shape, screaming in nerve endings.
“You chose this,” he snaps when I let out a cry with the last of my breath. “You could just do what I asked you, but you fought me instead.” He grabs the lube, squeezing a long line onto the surface of the plug, smearing it with his fingers. “But that’s okay,” he mutters into my ear, biting the lobe hard enough for me to see white. “I like it rough.”
He jerks my underwear down, grabbing a cheek and squeezing it, moulding it like it’s clay in his hand.
“Scream and I’ll fucking kill you.”
He shifts, kneeling beside rather than on top of me. I gulp in a full breath, then he shoves my face into the covers. “Get on your knees,” he orders, manhandling me until I’m positioned the way he wants me. My lungs strain, trying to get enough air around the bedclothes, stars already in my vision.
Then I feel it against me, a gigantic slippery mound forcing its intrusion. My muscles expand, then are forced wider again, shrieking at the strain, like the worst type of cramp, getting bigger and bigger and deeper and deeper.
“Stop,” I try to say but the covers muffle me. I slap behind me and James laughs as one shot connects.
“Fuck me,” he says in a voice full of admiration. “This looks so good.”
The high-pitched ache eases a little, the bulb of the plug finally breaching its widest point, the forward passage becoming easier.
Then James pulls it backwards, reaching staining point again.
“This is what it’s going to feel like when I’m pumping into you,” he says, voice breathless with excitement. When I try to slap him again, he lets go of the plug, letting it settle deep inside me as he presses my hand against his erection, rubbing my fingers along its length. “You want me to do it now?”
He moves behind me, no longer shoving my head, enabling me to inhale a series of short, sharp breaths, stocking up oxygen while he lets me.
Each of his hands grips a hip, tugging me farther back. He rubs me against his crotch, and I lunge forward, my knees collapsing, trying to get away. A mindless bid for freedom.
His weight lands on me again, driving the air from my lungs, his hard cock grinding against me. Then his jerking motions cease, and he gives a groan before fully collapsing on top of me.
A minute passes while he catches his breath, fingers entwining in my hair, thumb stroking along my cheekbone.
It’s almost peaceful and I hate that—the idea that if he hurts me badly enough, I’ll be grateful for the momentary reprieve.
“I’d better get hold of some Viagra,” he says with a sickening chuckle. “Then, when I come back, I’ll be able to go for hours.” He snuggles closer and my stomach somersaults. “Would you like that? Me hard as a rock even when I’ve come, just fucking your hole until I don’t have another orgasm left in me.”
He rolls onto his back beside me, hands rubbing his chest with satisfaction.
“Don’t worry,” he says, cupping my face and bending his head close. “You put up a fight now, but you’ll soon grow to love it. You can be my little arse princess and who knows? If you do a good job, I might even buy you another treat.”
He walks into my bathroom to clean himself up and I roll on my side, everything hurting so badly I can’t even draw a full breath.
When he comes back into my room, he drags me upright, the plug catching me at such a bad angle that I groan, struggling to get away. But he gets me on my feet, walking me into the bathroom. He leans me against the vanity, rinsing out my washcloth before using it to wipe the tears of pain from my face.
He tilts my head back, examining the cut he inflicted underneath my chin, bending to run his tongue along its length, then wiping it clean with the cloth.
