Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Vicky
The shower runs for an age.
Then it shuts off.
I have to fight not to swallow. I know he’ll check. I don’t want his belt on my ass before he fucks it.
My ears strain for any sound of him, but I still can’t hear the pad of his bare feet on the thick carpet. I don’t know he’s there until his fingers touch my spine and run down over my ass. It makes me jump.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Did you swallow?”
I shake my head against the sheet.
“Good girl.” His hand cups my bottom. “Hold the bars. Spread your legs. Lift your ass.”
A whimper slips out, and I can’t help it and don’t try to stop it. I reach for the bars of the wrought-iron headboard, wondering if he’s going to tie me again. My ass comes up beneath his hand, thighs parting.
His fingers slip between, stroking me.
“So wet,” he says, voice so low it’s barely a whisper. Yet the room is silent; I’m not sure I’m even breathing. And of course I’m wet; I’ve been lying here waiting for him. Just as he wanted.
He loves this game. All those times he told me to take a bath. Make myself ready for him. Anticipate him.
It’s too goddamn effective. I’m a mess, my body’s alive, his touch awakens every part of me, not simply where his hand is on me.
Then he slides a finger inside me, and I press my head into the sheets, lifting my hips up higher, whimpering uncontrollably. Wanting more, needing more.
God, don’t toy with me!
I’d be begging him if I could speak. He’s gagged me with his cum. No… I’d be cussing him if I could speak. How dare he leave me like this, for so long?
His finger strokes inside me, then slips out. He spreads my wetness around, making it obvious to both of us just how ready I am for him.
My face flushes with humiliation. He’s turned me into his slut, wanton and needy. In what… two weeks?
No. Not even that. Just since the night of the dance, eight days ago.
Eight days to totally lose my cool until I’m lying naked on his bed, lifting my ass on request.
That’s not me.
Is it?
No.
Frustration flares, powered by my own shame but directed at him. This is his fault, damn it. I pull away, my hips turning, twisting on the bed. Yet I can’t bring myself to swallow, or release the headboard. How fucked up is that? I can’t even fight him anymore. What’s happening to me?
“Now then, Tinker Bell,” he says, voice deep and pulling at me, tinged with amusement that inflames me. “Do you want to play petulance?”
His hand comes down on my ass, the sharp slap almost making me gasp before I catch myself in time, not spilling his goddamn cum.
He spanks me again, on the same cheek, the same side.
“Is it a spanking you need?” Another spank, in the same goddamn spot.
His hand pauses to stroke the sting away, fingertips dipping deep into my cleft.
“I know you don’t want to ask, so I’ll give you the choice.
” He’s leaning over me, his mouth near my ear.
He spanks me again, before even offering me whatever sadistic choice he has, still on the same damn cheek.
He’s doing it deliberately, I know he is.
His other hand grips the back of my neck, holding me like a rambunctious puppy.
“Lie still, with your ass lifted and offered, and I’ll do what I intended to.
” A fourth spank, and it’s all I can do not to cry out and spill his cum.
“Anything else, and I’ll punish you just like you want, and then I’ll do what I intended to.
” He pauses, gently caressing my ass, pulling a moan from me that I don’t want to give him.
“It’s a one-time deal, Tink. In the future, I won’t reward brattiness. ”
Brattiness?
Utter. Fucking. Asshole.
And now I have to offer myself or get punished. More punished. And if I don’t, he’ll think I want to be punished.
Part of me wants to provoke him, if only to get the spanks evened out. If I had any trust that’s what would happen, I almost would for that reason alone.
But I don’t.
Knowing him, he’d torture just that one side of my ass then laugh when I have to sit on the other for the next week.
He’s fucking with my head. I know he is.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. Doesn’t mean I can resist. Doesn’t mean I know what to do.
Damn him.
He’s patient, not rushing me. Probably enjoying my internal turmoil like the sadistic fuck he is. His hand caresses my bottom, soothing and gentle, but he hasn’t released his grip on the back of my neck. It’s a dichotomy that pulls at me, dominance and care, control and tenderness.
I can’t think, not like this. I can’t fight him, not pinned and naked. Not when I’m so aroused. Not when I respond to even the slightest touch.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and I realize I’ve stilled, my bottom raised.
Hell, I didn’t even do it consciously.
I’m so screwed.
His fingers dip down again, finding my clit this time. I shudder, my whole body alive, every nerve his to strum. He flicks it once, twice, and it’s almost enough. I’m already so close to coming. Then his hand pulls away, and I moan my frustration at him.
And the bastard laughs.
“All in good time, Tinker Bell.”
God, I hate that name. It’s so condescending, so demeaning. But I respond every time he uses it.
Yep, screwed. Absolutely, totally screwed.
Alex has made me into a mess, on his bed, naked and helpless. Again. And I don’t know if I love it, or hate it.
“Legs together,” he tells me as he joins me on the bed. “Ass up for me.”
His body covers mine, skin still faintly damp, but he’s holding himself with one arm, his other still gripping the nape of my neck, pinning me.
His control is such that I hardly feel a difference; no transfer of his weight, no discomfort.
Just pinned, exactly as he wants me, whether I like it or not.
And damn it, but I do.
His cock brushes against my raised ass, heavy and hard.
His legs envelop mine, holding them closed.
I’m lying beneath him, submissive and obedient, offering myself.
One side of me is aflame, stinging and warm.
I hardly notice that his cum is still in my mouth, save that I can’t speak.
I mustn’t think about it; it’s just one more humiliation that pulls at me.
Great. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.
How the hell has he done this to me? Why have I let him?
Why am I so aroused, so wet, so desperate for him?
“This is how I want you,” he says, the words quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself, full of intense resolve. “Freely giving yourself to me for the asking. Ready for me because I told you to be.”
I whimper around my mouthful, hips twitching, fists clenching on the headboard bars.
“Yes,” he hisses. “And I love it when you fight.”
His cock presses through the folds of my raised pussy, and he finds my entrance and pushes in. My whimper becomes a muffled cry.
“Fight as much as you want,” he says, pressing my hips into the bed as he buries himself in me. “You’re going to lose, because it’s not me you’re fighting, it’s yourself.”
He said that to me on the helicopter, and I ignored it. I’m not ignoring it now.
The bastard’s right. Or half-right, anyway; I’m fighting him too.
No, you’re not.
“You can swallow, Tink. Don’t worry, I’ll give you some more cum.”
All that time, and he didn’t even check. I swallow anyway, feeling it slip down my throat.
Immediately, I miss it.
“I hate you.”
He chuckles, drawing a gasp from me as his cock twitches deep within me. “No, you don’t.”
“I do.” I don’t. I partly do.
“You’re too wet to hate me.” He pulls back and thrusts in, his hips slapping into my ass. “Your body feels too good,” he grunts through his effort, “and your ass is pressing back against me…” his cock penetrates deep, filling me so perfectly, “…with too much eagerness.”
I wasn’t pressing back, was I? “Fuck,” I gasp between his thrusts. “I really hate you.”
At least he’s not taking my ass.
His grip tightens on my neck, his growl next to my ear. “Girls that aren’t respectful while they’re getting fucked get punished.”
I whimper, and it’s all I get to do before his weight lands fully on me, his other hand pushing beneath me, finding my clit. He’s merciless, rubbing it hard, and I come almost immediately, crying out as I clench around him.
“That’s one,” he murmurs, and I barely hear him. Then I do, and tense at the implications.
“No… please. I’m sorry.”
“Too late.” He sounds happy about it.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Now you’re lying.” He spreads my wetness over my clit, takes it between finger and thumb, and pinches hard, driving his cock inside me at the same time.
I scream into the sheets, hips bucking, pleasure and pain melding into each other until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. He pulls back slow, then thrusts in harder than he ever has, using his full strength, and it feels like he’s almost splitting me open.
All the while, his fingers rub at my clit, circling, teasing, flicking, pinching. It’s too much. I can’t help it, and my body tightens as I grit my teeth and come again.
“Two.”
Fuck.
“Please…”
“I’m not in a rush, Tink. Shall we pick a number?”
Oh God, no.
He draws back slowly, my pussy clenching like I don’t want him to leave. I can’t control my body anymore.
Then he rams in, and I cry out. It’s so intense. There are tears leaking from my eyes, and I don’t know why I’m crying.
“I love the way you’re holding those bars,” he tells me, like he’s commenting on the décor.
I’d forgotten I was.
“I don’t need to tie you, do I?”
He’s right, he doesn’t. Merely his words bind me effectively enough.
His fingers begin on my clit again, and I sob into the sheet. “Please…”
“Fuck, I love the way you beg. It makes me so hard for you.” His cock doesn’t move inside me; he just keeps it there, stretching me, filling me. My pussy clenches over and over, and it’s not deliberate, it’s my body. I’m lost in his control of me.
His touch on my clit is gentle this time, edging me. Seconds become minutes, and he’s hardly moved. Just his hips, pushing against my ass, his cock rubbing enough to keep my mind on nothing else, and his skillful manipulation of my clit. I can’t think, I can’t fight, I can only endure.
“Please…” I don’t even know what I’m begging for.
“Another?” he asks, almost civil.
“No…” That’s not what I meant, is it?
His touch intensifies, like he was waiting for me to say no.
As if the very opposite of what I ask is what he does.
He rubs my clit as another orgasm crashes through me, leaving me gasping and quivering.
I couldn’t take my hands off the bars even if I wanted to now; I’m certain my fingers have locked up.
“Three.”
At least three. I think some of those were doubles, if not more. At this point, he could blow a gentle breath on my ear and I’d probably come.
“Alex, I’m begging you.”
“For what, Tink?”
Shit… now I have to think. I don’t know. What am I begging him for?
“Fuck me. Please.”
Damn it! No! I should’ve begged him to stop.
He chuckles softly, and I shudder at the way it moves him inside me. I’m so sensitive.
“As you wish.”
“No, I—”
It’s too late. He lifts off me, bracing himself on his arm again to give himself the leverage he needs, then begins to move. His hips slam into my ass, his cock penetrating as deep as ever.
He doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, but repeats it. Over and over.
It’s all I can do to brace myself on the bars of the headboard, pushing back, my mouth open in a silent cry as my body is subjected to him.
I don’t know when I start coming. There’s an explosion of pleasure, light, release, but it doesn’t end.
It’s wave after wave. I’m gasping for breath, only half aware his fingers are back on my clit, even as he fucks me mercilessly.
My body can’t take anymore, and the noises I’m making are helpless—as am I.
And then he tenses, grunts with exertion, and his cock swells inside me, pulsing as he fills me with more of his cum.
Just that sensation is enough to trigger another climax. He’s claimed me again, and my body responds, like it’s perfectly tuned to him. I can’t think, I can only feel, and I love it. I love giving myself to him… I love when he takes me as his.
At last, he stops moving, and I can draw a breath. It feels like I haven’t breathed in too long. My muscles are trembling, my legs are quivering. If this is what it means to be truly fucked by Alex, then…
It takes me a moment to finish that thought.
Did I like it? Do I want it?
My body is awash with endorphins. I’ve never felt so sensitive, so aroused, so desperate, so fulfilled.
The answer’s a clear hell, yes… but damn, that was intense. I might need a day or three to recover.
He sweeps my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck. “How are you doing, Tink?”
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Broken.”
“Good.”
Then the bastard chuckles, and it sets off a round of after-shocks that would count as orgasms themselves under any other circumstances.
“Stop, please…” I beg as soon as I can. “Don’t move.”
“I’ll get you a drink.”
“Not now, not now,” I say in a rush. “Just keep still.”
Another chuckle. Maybe he can’t help himself, but I think he’s doing it on purpose.
My pussy clenches so hard I’m sure it counts as coming, and my breathing stops.
Jesus.
“What did you do to me?” It’s barely a whisper.
“Made you mine.”
My heart flips at that. Because he’s right, he has.
We lay quiet for a long while, until at last he softens and slips from within me, his cum trickling out. Even then he doesn’t move, keeping me pinned, idly stroking my hair while I feel his heart beating against my back.
“I love you,” I murmur. The words didn’t ask my permission; they just arrived.
“I know you do.”
Yeah, that’s right. That’s what he always replies.
I wish, just this once, he wouldn’t.