Chapter 6 #3
I blushed, glad he probably couldn’t see my face from his vantage point.
His hand brushed lightly over my ass, tickling, making me shudder.
“You can’t be surprised I plan to fuck your ass.”
“But you told me you weren’t into anal.” It had come out embarrassingly high-pitched. I hadn’t done anything ass-related before, nor had I practiced or prepped.
He made a sound of disbelief. “How many times do we have to go over this, Emme? I’m not the man you were communicating with.”
That had to be part of the mindfuck. I’d never told him that anal was a hard limit, so he’d just told me he wasn’t into it, so that when he pulled a one-eighty it would put me off balance.
Right?
Or…
“Anal can be one of the more debasing, dehumanizing ways to use another human being, don’t you think?
It may be vanilla, but the lingering taboo of it still makes my dick hard.
” His finger strayed to my perineum, which he stroked, then drew a slow, heart-stopping trail to my rear hole.
He brushed back and forth over it a few times, then circled it with his fingertip, making me twitch and shiver as I clenched against the inevitable invasion.
“Please…do you have to? Can we just skip this?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Why deny myself when I can just take what I want?”
“I—I’m a…I haven’t.” I cleared my throat, trying not to squirm under his watchful gaze. I could barely see him the way I was, with my neck fastened down, my head twisted to the side, and one ear resting against the cushions.
“This gorgeous ass hasn’t been fucked before?” He tsked. “My, my. A kinky girl who’s never done anal—is this the ‘eighties? What kind of dominants have you had over the years who allowed any bit of you to stay virginal?”
“Ones who respected my limits, unlike some people.”
He snorted. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? That I don’t measure up to your exacting moral standards about proper Dom behavior? Those men didn’t give you what you needed or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I changed my mind. I want a safeword,” I blurted.
“You want? Too fucking late. Your safeword negotiations with some other man mean nothing to me.”
He spat, and warm liquid slid from the top of my ass crack downward. Something trickled from my pussy, and I hoped like hell it was just my body expelling more of the come he’d left in there.
This wasn’t how I’d envisioned things going at all—I hadn’t expected him to be so rough or scary.
I’d expected to see through his acting. I was genuinely afraid of this man.
Maybe Charity had vetted some guy who wasn’t trustworthy after all.
Or maybe he’d been telling me the truth all along, and he was a stranger who’d overheard our conversation and taken me to play with, knowing I wouldn’t be able to help but enjoy some of what he did to me.
Maybe I wasn’t the first girl he’d kidnapped. The basement room he’d kept me in had been ready for a captive.
Hell, maybe the bacon he’d fed me was made out of people. What the fuck did I know?
The toying fingertip pressed against my rear hole, coaxing, prodding, forcing my body to open to him.
“Please,” I whimpered, trying to clench against the invasion.
“Thank you for taking it slow, Mr. Scott. Thank you for not just forcing your dick into my little virgin hole, Mr. Scott,” he said dryly.
“You’re at my mercy, beautiful Emme. You should be grateful I’m taking pains not to damage you too badly.
” He grunted as he pushed his finger in deeper, while the only reply I could muster was to gasp and shudder.
“Your little hole is going to feel so good squeezing my cock.”
I grimaced, anxiety warring with the strange feeling of having something up my ass.
Embarrassed, I buried my face in my arms against the cushion.
Being on display to him like this was humiliating, even though I couldn’t do much about it.
Maybe I could have swatted at him with my hands, since they were free, but it would probably just make him tie my hands or be less careful.
I didn’t want him getting rough—not there.
He slicked a second finger with spit and pushed it in alongside the first, wriggling and twisting until I was squeaking and gasping for breath.
My pussy dripped more fluid onto my thigh, but I tried to convince myself it was just his saliva dripping down, and not my body or brain enjoying this feeling of complete helplessness.
Slowly, he withdrew his fingers.
“Please, Mr. Scott. Don’t—” But he was already dragging his dick over me there, soft compared to his callused fingers, but much harder and larger than anything I wanted near that hole.
“Relax. It’s not a big deal.”
Then he shoved that monster dick of his into my pussy, where I actually wanted him to put it, to my shame, breaching me by a few inches, then a few more.
The near-painful stretch was startling enough that I blanked to anything except the penetration, the soft cushion cloth against my mouth, my arms under me…
my breathing and the rocketing thud of my heart.
He wrenched himself from me. My pussy clenched, and I made an involuntary noise of frustration. This time, it was definitely not come that dripped from within.
His ominous chuckle said he knew.
What he was planning to put in my ass was definitely a big deal, and the memory made me hyperventilate at the thought of him forcing that into my untried ass. I was seriously regretting not doing this in high school with my pushy then-boyfriend who’d had a more standard-sized dick.
He spat again, and I was glad I couldn’t see his cock from my angle. I tried to wriggle to one side, to get away.
“Can’t we go inside? It’s so cold.”
“No.”
“Lube? What about lube?”
“Spit is fine. And you. Why are you so fucking wet?”
I mumbled fuck into the cushion.
“Let me know if it hurts.”
I’d always heard spit was not fine.
“You’ll stop?”
“No, but if you’re lucky it’ll get me off faster.”
I cried out in fear as the velvet head of his dick pressed against my ass. It was slick, but there literally seemed to be nowhere to put it back there. Slowly, slowly, he coaxed the head into my protesting hole. My whimper of despair made him groan.
“You’re okay. Your body was made for this.”
“No it wasn’t!”
Inch by inch, he forced my body to take him. The pain increased, and not the good sort of pain.
I found myself writhing to get away even though I was fastened there, and as a last resort I twisted, squealing at him to stop, over and over.
He ignored me. It was aching and awful, and my belly cramped, but he didn’t listen to my complaints.
Instead, he leaned on me and used one hand to coax himself in.
With his other hand he held my clawing hands at the small of my back until he was impossibly deep and thick in my guts.
I gagged, tears of discomfort and humiliation trickling from my eyes.
“See? I fit just fine.”
“It hurts!” I sobbed.
He was holding still, but whether to let me get used to the sensation, or to stop himself from coming, I wasn’t sure.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He stirred his hips slightly, and I frowned against the sensation, trying to think loose thoughts but clenching around him instead. My body wanted him out, but I was too afraid to move. “Do that again.”
Annoyed, a little frightened, yet I clenched again automatically, and he groaned. His grip on my wrists was almost hurting enough to distract me from the churning in my belly.
“Good girl. That’s right.”
Damn him, I tried to push him out, but he only grunted. It didn’t sound like pain.
When he pulled partway out, I was so relieved I sobbed, but he only spat on where we were joined, then pushed back in fast enough to rob me of breath.
Jammed against the back of the couch, I tried to kick back at him, and failed. The ties held.
His hips kept moving, and I squealed, my toes curling as I tugged my wrists out of his grasp so I could hold onto the couch cushion. He let me go, maybe because he had other things on his mind, and instead he leaned on me, pressing me down with his arms.
Slow, shunting movements gradually sped up, making me burn.
He added spit from time to time, but it was about as comfortable as having my hole branded.
I cried, unashamed at the sobs that escaped me.
When his hand burrowed underneath, found my clit, and began to stroke me there, I fought the weird pleasure that surged through me.
I was breathless and aching but couldn’t resist the fingers that knew exactly what I needed.
The orgasm that had been building without my permission wound tighter, and I let go of control, all too aware that he wouldn’t stop—that he’d take exactly what he wanted.
My eyes, staring, unfocused, made the cushion I leaned on a blur of blue, as he shunted me back and forth, jarring the couch.
My body begged for him to come, wanting the added lubrication from that almost as much as the orgasm he threatened me with.
“I can feel your little body tensing and trembling, Emme,” he whispered against my nape. “Take the orgasm because you won’t be allowed another for a long time.”
I didn’t want to. Hell, I couldn’t let him win.
But it hurt, and I was helpless, and his fingers were cruel, dipping into my pussy and circling my aching clit. A shudder wracked my body, and I was ice cold and freezing hot. My legs tensed, toes digging in.
My pussy rippled, setting off a strange chain reaction that made me choke under the onslaught of sensation.
His finger was in me, the heel of his hand pressed and pressed, and I came, hating him, hating myself, my ass on fire as I couldn’t help but push back against him in the crudest invitation.
He gave another quiet groan that kept my orgasm at its pinnacle, and his finger wormed its way further into my pussy, even though there was no room, and my body felt stretched taut and at its limit.