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“Oh, you’d harm me. Just maybe not–” I swallow, “–in that way.”
“It’s true that I like to make it ache sometimes.” His hand spreads over my neck, taking control of my intake of air. A question hits me that I’ve never asked myself before, not until I saw him wearing all black today, weapons strapped to him–how many lives has that hand taken?
“I enjoyed impaling you on my cock and watching you choke on it. Do you remember it as vividly as I do, Justine?” His lips brush the side of my cheek before they move on to my earlobe, and gingerly bite it. “Do you remember how you came all over my face while trying to claw yourself away from me on those stairs?”
He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, releasing a satisfied sound that runs all the way down to my clit. Like a man taking his first bite of a delicious meal after he’s been starving for days. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, fighting against the urge to lean into him. His grip on my neck tightens, strengthening his stake of ownership, while his other hand travels down to cup my pussy through the apron. It’s not a controlled gesture, one meant to please or even to tease. There’s an urgency to it that speaks of need, of a caveman cornering a female in the woods.
“Are you going to deny that this pussy has been missing me?” God, that low, rich baritone. The deep need vibrating in it.
But Sade is a weapon forged for mass destruction, his needs ranging from bloodlust to violent domination. I struggle against him with the last ounce of resistance my body would give me, but his arms tighten on me like pythons.
“You liked it when I fucked your mouth in your friend’s attic. What’s the problem with me deep-throating you in front of a camera?”
My thighs squirm, and I’m pretty sure my panties are wet. No, I can’t sink this deep. Sade’s arms, when he’s being emotionally and psychologically sadistic can’t be where I find my solace. My eyes dart around, desperate to distract myself, and him.
“You want to do it right here, right now? Give that evil bitch you call your fiancee what she wants straight away?”
“Oh, she’ll get what she wants.” He licks my face from jaw to ear before he whispers in it, “What she deserves.”
Those thighs with blades strapped to them push into the backs of mine, reminding me there’s a killer behind me.
“I like this uniform on you.”
“You mean the scenario it takes you to–duke fucks maid in the garden, while a party rages at his mansion.”
“Hmm, that’s not a bad one. Even though I had more like psycho fucks clueless girl in the bushes.”
No, it can’t be pleasure that his words send coursing through my limbs. His hand slips under my uniform, his fingers like weapons grazing my panties.
“Hmm, your body betrays you, pretty poet. Your thighs clench around my wrist to keep me there.”
“You’re going to take what you want from me anyway,” I say breathlessly, only a hint of defiance left in my tone.
“Then maybe you should just stop struggling. It’s a waste of energy that could be put into sucking my dick good.”
He has complete and utter control over my body, with one hand around my throat and one cupping my pussy. I’m trapped against him. If I move, it’s only going to be under his control.
Holding me plastered to him, he pushes his hips against my buttocks. I gasp when I feel the full thickness of him pressing against my crack.
“Ah, I can’t wait to stick my dick into this ass. I’ve been dreaming about it ever since I finger-fucked it at the party.”
He grinds against me, my skirt riding up in the process and exposing my half-naked buttocks to the rough fabric of his pants. I bite hard into my lower my lip to keep some measure of control over my body and stop myself from grinding back into him.
“You don’t seem very much opposed to that idea,” he croons, and I think I can hear a smile in it.
“I thought we established that you were going to take what you wanted from me anyway.”
“Oh, I am. I also promised that I’d be coming after your ass. Shall this be the day when I fuck it?”
I stiffen against him, my skirt now over my ass and my buttocks completely exposed. I’m not wearing a full-on thong, since the maids’ uniform still includes black garter stockings and a skirt, but I do have Brazillian panties. Half of my ass is peeking out, and the fabric threatens to rip any second from the friction with his pants.
“You’re scared that it’s going to hurt, pretty poet? Don’t be. I’m gonna prepare you well. You’ll drown in shame for how much you enjoy getting fucked in the ass.” His voice as he says that, like the night itself embodied in a man, gets to my head.
I breathe out a moan, pushing myself against him, and shame already starts to kick in. But it’s not unpleasant. If anything, it’s freeing. I lick my lips, my eyes hooded as I feel my way up his length with my ass. He chuckles against my ear before he bites it gently.
“Are you trying to take me between your ass cheeks, Justine?” He’s somewhere between playful and threatening as he says that, but I’m beyond caring. I just grind while seeking his fingers with my pussy.
“If you want me to finger fuck you, you’re gonna have to ask nicely.” With that, his fingers disappear, and I’m left seeking friction against the air.
