Page 147
“Please,” I sob. The word breaks me open. “I deserve it. I deserve lube.”
He stops, then withdraws entirely. Pain lingers in the emptiness he leaves behind.
His hand glides down my back with a gentleness that almost makes me come undone.
“Good girl,” he says softly.
A cold glob of lube lands on the top of my ass and runs down to my hole. He wastes no time pushing inside.
The thickness of his cock stretches my asshole more than the plug. My whines and intermittent shrieks don’t stop him. He moans his pleasure as I cry for him to slow down, but he takes what he wants, my asshole opening extra wide for him.
When he gets past the resistance, he shoves in deep, slowly taking every bit of air from my lungs until his balls press against my pussy. The sense of fullness is overwhelming. It unsettles me, but I can’t deny the tremor of pleasure that ripples through my body.
He moves like he wants it to hurt. Constant thrusts open me again and again until I’m shaking. Tears puddle on the padded vinyl beneath me.
Even through the pain, I don’t want him to stop.
When the choice is taken away, when the shame is no longer mine to carry alone, fear loosens its grip. I don’t have to decide whether I want this. I only have to endure it. The guilt fades under the intensity, replaced by sensation so consuming it drowns everything else out.
His hand reaches under me to rub my pussy. I can hear how soaked I am for him, just how he wanted me.
With his other hand, he opens a drawer in the table and takes out a long white tool with a bulbous head.
The click of a button makes it come alive in his grasp. A loud buzz rumbles from behind me, and I’m eager to know what it feels like.
It presses to my clit and my body seizes. The force of the vibration is far stronger than I expected. My back arches and a broken sound rips out of me.
Then he pulls it away.
I whine my frustration.
“You’re gonna wait for it,” he says.
Fingers knot in my hair and tug my head back. The slap of his body against mine punctuates my moans. His cock drives harder, deeper.
“You’re gonna hate me tomorrow,” he says close to my ear. “What’s coming will hurt far worse than this. I should be training you to take the pain.” His breath warms my shoulder. “But I’d rather watch you suffer through it.”
He’s trying to scare me, but a twisted thrill sparks in my chest.
“Good,” I breathe.
He stops, bottomed out in me, and pulls my head back farther so I have to look at him.
“Good?” he repeats. “You think you can handle it?”
The intoxicated smile that spreads across my face surprises even me, as if his torture is a drug.
“Make me.”
He bites into my shoulder, those long teeth reminding me who’s in control here. Lips follow, tracing the line of my neck, sending a shiver through me.
His hand reaches between us and finds my clit again, guiding my attention there. The pleasure is sudden and dizzying, making me moan for him.
Then it changes.
Two fingers pinch around it, increasing the pressure until I scream for him. My body jolts, hips moving on instinct, trying to escape and chase it at the same time.
He answers with force, his movements sharpening as they ruin me. My cries echo through the room.
