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Then he stops playing.
He grabs my throat, clenching his fingers tighter and tighter, my lungs beginning to struggle for breath, the pulse in my neck seeming to beat stronger as the steady increase in pressure cramps its supply.
The world tilts on an axis. My eyes bulge, the tip of my tongue creeping out from behind my lips, swelling as I haul in a breath that makes a horrendous sound and barely delivers.
His other hand reaches between my legs, the thick fingers not caring if I’m still sensitive from yesterday as they delve inside my lips, shove inside me, making me wet through the roughness, the pure brutish force.
I wince and his smile grows.
“But it’s what you wanted,sweetheart,” he says, stealing the emphasis from me and delivering it in a mocking tone. “Didn’t you just beg for me to pay you attention? All the wrong kinds of attention for the dirty slut who can’t keep her legs closed. How many men do you open them for each week, hm? You should start charging like the filthy whore you are.”
He departs from the script, then circles back to it, mixing in things I don’t recognise but I imagine are from the lingering presence of his ex-wife.
The man I know floats in and out of Conner’s eyes, sometimes turning into a stranger, sometimes looking at me with eyes so dead he’s barely human.
“Are you going to give me what I want, princess?” He bends so his lips find my ear, sucking on my lobe before thrusting the wet muscle of his tongue farther inside, making me shudder.
My cheeks are hot, my ears pop, then fill with cotton wool. The last breath didn’t give me air, and now I can’t breathe at all. The thump of my heart grows so loud it rocks me. My lungs scream as they recycle the same oxygen over and over, diminishing with each beat until it can’t replenish my blood at all.
He lets go, sitting back, staring at his fingers moving in and out of my pussy as I gulp in one sweet lungful of air after another, my hands prodding at the tender parts of my throat, exacerbating the bruises left there earlier and deepening the ones left just now.
The sting from his bite is still sharp and I press my fingers there, too, drawing them away with a smudge of blood.
He pulls his fingers free of me, sucking on the tip of his forefinger, then shoving the whole digit into my mouth, making me gag. The moment he withdraws, he grabs my shoulders to flip me onto my front, and I stiffen, knowing what’s coming next. Anticipating the pain.
“Silly girl,” he mutters, the words muffled against my skin before he licks along my right shoulder blade. “You’d better relax, or you’ll be screaming soon. Better relax unless you want to bleed.”
The vibrations of his deep voice sink into my skin, pulsing out like an electric shock, sending me into a trance of dread and anticipation, tangled too tightly in his forcefield to move.
“Open your mouth.”
The words echo along the same aural memory as James’ phrase but this time they’re not frightening. This time my mouth sags open, already salivating, desperate to please. They cement themselves into my head in their new form. Not wiping away the past, not overwriting, but recording with such sensual accompaniments that they’ll be the treat my memory reaches for first. The one that satiates it until there’s no need to reach further back.
I stretch my jaw wide, and he shoves more than a finger inside. He shoves half his hand. “Get it wet, baby,” he mocks. “You can be your own lube.”
My gaze moves away, to the desk, and he follows the direction, withdrawing his hand from my mouth to grab the tube left there, squeezing a dollop straight onto my bare arse.
I gasp as it hits and Conner grabs my chin, twisting my head to the side to better see me. “You’re the one who wanted this. You begged me for it like the needy slut you are. Have you learned your lesson, yet?”
The slur still has barbs, but I let them hook into the meat of my brain, let them settle, trusting in Conner, trusting in me.
“You want it so bad you’re drooling, baby.” He wipes a hand across my mouth, smearing spit across my cheek, laughing at the sensation. “So greedy for such a tight little arse. And who’s the only one who can give you what you need?”
I gasp as he inserts his finger into me, pushing past the ring of muscle, sinking in to his second knuckle, then pausing, resting. “You are, sir.”
“Sir?” His voice turns mocking. “Sir, is it? We’re not in the classroom now, slut. When we’re in your bed and you’re begging for me to shove my thick cock into your tiny little arse, you don’t call mesir.You call me master or you shut your fucking mouth and say nothing at all.”
His finger withdraws and cold moisture replaces it as he squeezes more lube onto me, readying me for what comes next. Sparks fire in my vision, when I close my eyes it’s like looking at the afterimage of a pyrotechnic display.
I’m scared. My breath becomes so short I pant like a dog as he spreads the slippery substance over me, inside me, getting me wet, getting me ready.
Another finger probes inward, pushing, curling, teasing. The stretch fades quicker this time, growing used to the invasion.
But I know his cock is far bigger. It won’t be easy to adjust to. The burn will intensify. It might get too much for me.
For a second, I struggle. My choices are gone. I willingly handed them away. I don’t have a safe word. I’m completely under his control. Panic whites out my brain.
Then he caresses my shoulder, the gentleness at stark odds with the rest of his plans. It grounds me, and I reach out to cover his hand with mine, focused completely on that one simple touch, using it as a well to refill my strength before that same hand savagely encircles my throat, slamming me back against his body, his fingers tightening, loosening, tightening, then shoving deep into my mouth until I gag, spit pouring forth the same way wetness floods my pussy.
