Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Please, don’t,” I said, but at the same time, those alternating forces were working on me. Fear, need. Breathlessness, bliss.
“You’re mine,” he said in response. “I can do what I want to you.”
You’re mine. I was thinking how weirdly happy and euphoric those words made me feel when his fingers tightened and set off pastel explosions behind my eyes.
The last thing I remembered was his cock filling me up, all of W filling me to bursting. And when I came to, he was still there, deep inside me. “There you are,” he said. My cheek felt hot, like he’d just slapped me. “Want to go again?”
“No,” I gasped.
“No, Sir,” he reminded me.
“No, Sir, please. No more.”
“Time for your assfucking, then?”
I didn’t answer, just let him flip me over and give my ass cheeks a few spanks. I was weak as a kitten. No more fight, no more energy to do anything but cry and lie there as he went for lube.
“Don’t choke me out while you’re in my ass,” I begged. I didn’t know why, but the idea terrified me, that he might be in that sensitive, vulnerable place while I was gone to the world.
“Don’t choke me out while you’re in my ass,” he repeated in a mocking falsetto. “Really, Chere, why would I? I want you to feel every minute of this, from the moment I force it in until the moment I come deep inside you.”
I cried some more as he pried open my ass cheeks and shoved the head of his cock against my hole. The ritzy white Four Seasons bedspread had to be smeared all to hell with my juices and tears. For $1500 a night, they could deal with it. I braced as he straddled my hips and eased his shaft into my passage. Ow, ow, owww.
I was exhausted, but not too exhausted to feel every inch of his length. I tried to be open, especially since he wasn’t giving me much choice. I couldn’t defend myself or wiggle away, which made it feel worse.
“That hurts,” I groaned.
One hand gripped my hair again, and the other clamped over my mouth.
“It ends when you come,” he said. “So I suggest you stop whining and figure out a way to get off. This doesn’t end until your ass milks the cum out of my cock.”
Fuck. There was no way I could come when it hurt so bad. But then, the idea that I had to come to make all this stop...that was a very powerful mindfuck.
“I hate you,” I said against his hand. I truly hated him, but there was something about his cruelty and perversion that turned me inside out in a wondrous way.
“That’s right,” he said. “Feel me taking your ass, tearing you up. You can pretend I’m raping you if you want.”
I tried to shake my head but he only laughed.
“I’m waiting for you to come,” he goaded. “Do you want me to help you?”
I feared what his “help” might entail, but when he let go of my hair and grasped my pussy instead, it felt much better. Way better. He hurt my clit, but it was a good kind of hurt that blended with all the other hurt to make me sub-spacy and hot. I was his, trapped, blind, used, manipulated. I groaned, wanting this to be over, only because the torment and feelings were so overwhelming.
“Please, please,” I begged.
“Come on, you horny little bitch. This fucking doesn’t stop until you realize this is the only reason you exist. To please me. To amuse me. To surrender to me. To take my cock in any fucking hole I want, however I want.” He punctuated each assertion with a pounding thrust, and then he slapped my pussy hard, and my body and my mind decided this depraved treatment was worthy of an orgasm after all. I tipped off the edge of the cliff and fell, fell, fell into a powerful climax.
“Oh God. Oh Jesus,” I babbled. He groaned and pounded me harder, and yes, I think I milked his orgasm right out of him. My pulsing release went on and on, too intense to feel very pleasurable.
“I can’t. I can’t,” I repeated weakly. “I can’t. Let me go.”
I didn’t even know what I meant by I can’t, except that I knew I couldn’t bear any more stimulation. I had to be released. I had to recover.
He withdrew from my limp, ragdoll body and went into the bathroom. I heard water running. Not the shower. A bath.
Oh, yes, I needed a bath. When he returned and untied my wrists, and lifted me from the bed, I huddled like a baby against his chest. It wasn’t until we were together in the water that he undid my blindfold and let me see. The lights were dim, but they still seemed too bright. There was too much glass and mirror and chrome. I whimpered.