Chapter 51 Grace #2
He doesn’t grab me, he takes my hand again and leads me to the bed. He lays me down on the crimson coverlet, my skin a pale contrast against the rich colour. He follows me down, bracing himself on his arms above me.
“All that time you spent fighting me,” he whispers, his face inches from mine. There is no anger in it. There is something else… a dark thrill. “It only made the thought of having you here, like this, even sweeter.”
His mouth finds mine, and this kiss is not like the others. It is not punishing or demanding. It is deep, exploring, passionate. It’s a kiss that seeks to learn the secrets of my mouth, to map every sensitive point.
His tongue strokes mine with a devastating laziness that coils heat low in my belly.
I am kissing him back, my hands tangling in his hair, the last of my resistance melting under the relentless, confusingly gentle assault.
He kisses his way down my body in a slow, worshipping descent.
He pays homage to the hollow of my throat, the slope of my breasts, the quivering expanse of my stomach.
He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, his tongue flicking over the peak until I am arching off the bed with a broken, desperate cry on my lips.
He gives the same devoted attention to the other, his free hand pinching and rolling its twin, sending twin bolts of exquisite pain straight to my core.
He moves lower, his hands spreading my thighs. His mouth finds the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, nipping and licking with a sweet torture that has me writhing.
He is drawing out the anticipation, making me ache for him in a way that I both love and hate.
When his tongue finally, finally finds my centre it is with a slow, deliberate stroke that wrings a sob from me. He feasts on me, his tongue circling my clit with agonizing precision before plunging inside me.
He is relentless. Reading every gasp, every twitch, every silent plea of my body, and answering it. The pleasure builds in a terrifying wave, and for a second I think he’s going to do it again, he’s going to deny me this.
Only, he doesn’t. His grip tightens as though he’s forcing me to take this assault and I’m crying out, my fingers clutching the coverlet as I shatter under his mouth, my vision whiting out.
Before I can even come down, he is moving. He flips me onto my stomach with a gentle firmness. I feel him leave the bed and hear the click of a lid opening. A moment later, the cool slickness of lubricant touches the small of my back.
Understanding dawns, and a fresh thrill of nervous anticipation shoots through me.
His hands massage the globes of my backside, parting them as the cool, metal tip of the plug presses against my arsehole. He works it with a torturous slowness, a gentle pressure that gives way to a delicious, stretching fullness as the widest part pops past the ring of muscle.
I gasp into the duvet, the unfamiliar intrusion a shocking contrast to the aftershocks of my orgasm.
It’s too big. It’s far too fucking big. I whimper, the pleasure turning to pain, and it earns me a hard slap.
“You will take this.” He growls before hitting me again and then with brutal force, he pushes it the whole way in.
The scream that leaves me feels otherworldly. The pain sends a shock of adrenaline into my stomach, making me think I might just puke. How can he be so gentle, so loving one moment and so brutal the next?
“So pretty.” He comments as he starts massaging my arse cheeks, manipulating my body while I whimper and try to just breathe.
He turns me onto my side, facing away from him and I feel his weight dip the mattress behind me. His chest is against my back, his cock pressing against me. One hand slides around to cup my breast, teasing the nipple while the other guides himself to my pussy.
He enters me in one smooth, deep thrust that steals the last of the air from my lungs.
The plug inside me makes the sensation overwhelming, every movement amplified, every inch of him felt more acutely.
He holds himself still, buried deep, and I feel his breath hot against my neck.
“You are mine.” he growls, his voice thick with passion.
“Every part of you. This…” he thrusts, making me cry out, “…and this.” His hand slides down, his fingers tracing the base of the plug where it disappears into me, sending a jolt of something shocking through my entire body.
“I bought you, I paid for you, and I will have every piece of you in whatever way I wish.”
He begins to move in a deep, rocking rhythm that is utterly devastating. His hand on my breast, his teeth on my neck, the relentless fullness inside me, it’s too much.
I am unmoored, lost in a sea of sensation. Pain and pleasure seem to morph into one confusing, awful mess.
He shifts again, pulling me onto my hands and knees, never slipping out of me. Now from behind he drives into me with more force, his grip on my hips so firm it’s almost painful.
Each thrust feels like it pushes the plug deeper, a dual penetration that ignites every nerve ending I possess.
I am mindless, animalistic, meeting his thrusts with my own. I don’t even know what I’m doing, I don’t even know if I love this or hate it. I have lost control, lost all sense, lost myself in how he is using my body.
He leans over me, one hand snaking around to find my clit and rubbing tight, frantic circles as he pounds into me. The coil inside me winds tighter and tighter, and a scream builds in my throat.
“Come for me,” he commands, his own breath ragged in my ear. “Come for your Master like the good bitch you are.”
It’s the permission I didn’t know I needed.
My world fractures. My orgasm crashes over me in a violent, seismic wave that rips a guttural cry from my throat.
My inner muscles clamp down on him, milking him, and with a roar he follows me over the edge, his own release pulsing into me, hot and endless.
We collapse together onto the bed in a tangled, sweating, breathless heap of limbs. He stays inside me for a long moment, both of us shuddering with the aftershocks. Finally, he withdraws.
I lay still, waiting for the pain that comes with the removal of the plug.
But it doesn’t come.
Antonio gets up, goes to the bathroom and I hear the sound of him cleaning himself.
When he returns to the bed, he pulls the covers over us and lets out a sigh like he’s ready for sleep and he’s done with me.
“Ma, Master?” I whisper.
I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel the way his whole attention focuses on me.
“What is it, Pup?” He says.
“I, the, that thing is in me.” I whisper and my cheeks heat with the shame even though he’s the one who did that. He’s the one who put it in me.
“And it will remain in you.” He replies in such a tone. “You will sleep with it, you will keep it there. It will be another reminder for you that I own every inch of your body, and can use you however I want.”
I blink back in shock. Surely he’s not serious?
“But…” I bite my lip, worried that if I push this then he’ll finally lose his patience and drag me back down to my cage.
“But what?” He says, though he doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds amused, as if he’s enjoying my discomfort immensely. Absolute bastard.
“What if I need to poo?” I say.
“Then you can take it out. See to your needs and then replace it after.” He says like that’s so obvious I should have guessed it myself.
Jesus fucking Christ. He’s not joking, is he? He wants me to have this thing in me not just tonight but for tomorrow too, and the next day?
I open my mouth to say more and he wraps his arms around me in a way that tells me this conversation is done.