Chapter 22 Grace #2
His eyes darken, roaming over my body with a possessiveness that is both an act and utterly, devastatingly real.
“Such a pretty thing,” he says, his voice louder, for our audience. “So ripe, plump, and ready to be fucked. Let’s see if you’re worth what I paid.”
His hands are brisk, efficient as he pushes me back onto the bed. The silk is cool against my feverish skin. I can’t help it; my eyes flicker upward, to the void of the gallery and I can’t tell if I’m imagining my mother’s face there or not. A gasp catches in my throat.
“Eyes on me,” Antonio growls, his body coming over mine, blocking my view. He cages me in with his arms, his face inches from mine. His scent, sandalwood and clean, male sweat envelops me. “Look at your owner when he’s giving you attention.”
He lowers his head, and his mouth finds my breast. It’s not a kiss; it’s a claiming.
His tongue flicks over my nipple, once, twice before he draws it into the heat of his mouth and sucks, hard. A sharp cry is torn from me, a sound of shock because in all of this, I didn’t anticipate there would be any pleasure.
He bites down hard into the flesh around the bar, making me buck beneath him as I scream louder.
He moves to the other breast, giving it the same ruthless attention, his hand pinching and rolling the wet nipple he just abandoned.
Then he moves down my body, his lips and tongue tracing a hot, wet path down my stomach as one hand holds me by my throat to pin me there. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, spreading me open.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs, his breath a hot ghost against my most sensitive skin. “Such a greedy little cunt when I haven’t even started yet.”
The crude word spoken in that low, commanding voice sends another jolt through me. I whimper, trying to turn my face away, trying to hide in the sheets, only he won’t let me. He won’t grant me even this small mercy.
He reaches over to pick up a silver vibrator, sleek and sinister. He holds it up, showing it to the gallery, to me.
“Let’s see how loud we can make you scream,” he says, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
A low, insistent buzz suddenly fills the air. He traces it up my inner thigh, and I jump at the strange sensation. He brings it closer, circling my folds, making me shudder.
The vibration is intense, overwhelming, and then I feel it. The full, horrific and yet exquisite effect of the piercing.
The tiny silver ring comes alive. The vibrations from the toy don’t just hum against my skin; they travel through the metal, turning the sensitive nub into a screaming epicentre of sensation.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
A broken sob escapes me as my hips lift off the bed, seeking more pressure, more of this delicious awful torture.
I’m a whore. I’m a fucking whore.
“There it is,” Antonio murmurs, his eyes glued to where the toy meets my body, to the way I’m trying so hard not to writhe beneath him. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? You need to be played with. You need to be shown what you are.”
He increases the speed, and the buzz becomes a roar in my blood. He holds the vibrator firmly against me, the metal of the toy clicking against the metal of my piercing, sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through my entire body.
I am dissolving.
The gallery, the danger, it all bleeds away into a white-hot haze of feeling. My back arches, and my fingers claw at the sheets. I don’t understand what this feeling is, and I hate it. I hate how it changes me, how it twists me, how it makes me want more.
I’m babbling, begging, pleading like a fool. “Please… Antonio… I can’t…”
“You can,” he snarls, his voice rough with a hunger I know is real. “You will. Come for me. Come for your new master. Show them all what my money bought.”
He leans down, his mouth finding my neck, biting hard, drawing a sharp gasp from me. The sting of his teeth mixed with the relentless pressure on my clit causes the world to tilt violently.
Colours swirl at the edge of my vision.
The fear is still there like a cold knot in my stomach, but it’s being drowned by a rising tide of pressure, a dizzying, terrifying monster that seems to grow inside me.
A raw, screaming cry is torn from my throat as my body convulses under his hands. Lights flash behind my eyelids. The world vanishes into a vortex of pure, shattering sensation.
I go limp, boneless and trembling, waves of aftershock still rippling through me. Antonio turns off the vibrator and sets it aside. The sudden silence is deafening. He looks down at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before the mask of the cruel buyer slips back into place.
“One,” he says loudly. “A decent start but I paid to ruin you, and ruin is what I’ll get.”
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s flipping me over onto my stomach.
He pulls my hips up, forcing me onto my knees, my face pressed into the silk.
The way he manhandles my body makes me feel weightless despite my size.
It’s also a testament to the sheer brute strength that he has, how impossible it would be to fight him.
Something presses against my soaked entrance, and I barely get a second to register it before he thrusts his hips forward.
He drives into me in one long, brutal thrust that steals the air from my lungs.
The pain is immediate, sharp, a tearing sensation as he takes my virginity. It’s excruciating, a wave of pure agony that steals my breath. Tears spring to my eyes again, hot and fresh.
“Shhh,” he soothes, the word feeling crueller than the pain. “It’s okay. Your cunt will get used to it.”
Every single movement he makes hurts. His cock is thick, hard, stretching me in ways I never thought possible.
The pain is intense, a constant friction against the delicate muscle inside me.
The pain is so intense, so sharp that it feels like it should break me.
I scream out, I claw at the space in front of me, trying to get away, trying to get him off me but it’s not good. He’s too strong, too overpowering.
I want to beg him to stop.
I think I start to but his hand clamps around my mouth, silencing my words.
“You’ll learn.” He groans. “You’ll learn to love my cock, to love everything I do to you. To crave my touch, to crave every bit of attention I give you.”
I know that’s a lie. I’ll never want this, will never crave this.
“I hate you.” I scream, and it comes out muffled beneath his fingers.
A smile, cruel and sharp, spreads across his lips – he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing, how he’s hurting me, and he doesn’t care.
He sets a punishing pace, each thrust a claim, a punishment, a branding.
The pain is still there, sharp and intense. The heat, the pressure, the way his cock hits something inside me and that piercing, no. I don’t want this. I don’t…
It’s building again. The same dizzying, terrifying heat that had claimed me moments before.
He fists a hand in my hair, pulling my head back, arching my spine. “I can feel that you like that, don’t you?” he snarls near my ear, his breath hot. “You like being used like this, being turned into just a hole to be fucked.”
The degradation, the crude truth of his words makes me clench around him tightly. A guttural groan rumbles from his chest.
“See? Your body knows what it is. It knows it belongs to me now.”
He slams into me, over and over, the sound of our bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, echoing in the room.
I am mindless with it. The pleasure is a sharp, bright pain, a friction that is igniting every nerve ending.
I’m moaning with every thrust, pushing back against him, meeting his violence with my own need that I don’t even understand.
“You want more, you greedy slut?” he taunts.
“No,” I whimper. I can’t take more. I can’t. “Please…”
He laughs, a dark, delicious sound. “Liar. Your cunt is gripping me like a vice, your body is begging for it.”
He releases my hair, and his hand comes down hard on my arse cheek. The sharp sting makes me yelp and clench around him again, intensifying the confusing hateful sensations coursing through us both.
His thrusts become more erratic, harder, deeper. “Come for me,” he growls, “Come while I fuck you and let everyone here know that you’re mine.”
I shake my head. I tell myself over and over that I will not do that, that I will not give him that. He can use my body, he can use me like a whore but I will not submit, I will not give in and become that.
Only, that’s not true. He’s manipulated me, manipulated my body, done something to me to override all sense of reason and logic, and…. I cry out.
I shatter again and my scream this time is long and loud, my body seizing around his as the orgasm rips through me.
My convulsions trigger his own; with a roar that seems to shake the very room, he pours himself into me, his own release hot and endless.
He collapses over me, his weight crushing me into the mattress, both of us slick with sweat and trembling.
We lie there for a moment, panting, connected.
His body suddenly feels like a shield against the world. Only, this man cannot be trusted. This man here, he is my death, and I know that in my soul.
Slowly, carefully, he withdraws from me, the loss of him making me feel even more aware of the throbbing soreness between my thighs.
I lay still, staring up, trying to get my breath back.
This was worse, so much worse than I could have ever imagined.
I want to curl up, I want to crawl into the darkest space I can find and just die.
But as Antonio moves, as he shifts, I realise with horror… he’s not done. This horrific performance isn’t over.