The Minotaur #4
This is what I want. What I've needed. To lose control. To be too scared to think properly.
Still, I'm too Type A to surrender so easily.
So I try to pull away, grabbing hold of my pillow to throw at him, but he tugs me again, and the pillow knocks the lamp off the bedside table. I'm ashamed when my first thought is how I need to get up and clean the mess.
"You're a fun little treat, aren't you? All that wild heat hidden beneath an icy shell."
He growls again, but changes the cadence, focusing the vibration solely on my body. I feel that shit in my core. I moan when the vibration travels down my body to my clit, but he tugs on my ankles again, and snaps, "Now stop making a fucking mess and be quiet before I punish you."
The threat has me fighting against his hold, and I try to wiggle away from him, my betraying pussy getting slippery, my pelvis pressing up, seeking relief, but I don't stop struggling. I haven't been this wet, this turned on in ages. And I don't think I've ever been this scared.
"If you scream again, I'll slit your fucking throat. Then I'll shove my cock deep in the gaping wound and come while you bleed to death."
Those words should have me screaming at the top of my lungs.
His voice is rough, and there's a promise of violence in his eyes.
His fingers wrap around my mouth again, claws scratching my cheeks.
I wouldn't be surprised if they left a small trail of blood where they dig into my skin.
When he releases, I gasp for breath, my eyes watering, but I don't run away like I should.
"I—" I start, but he reaches back and slaps me across the face. It stings, and I cry out.
"I said, shut the fuck up," he growls. Then he climbs off me, and in one dramatic whoosh, rips all the blankets and sheets off the bed.
Grabbing each of my ankles, which now feel bruised from all the manhandling, he drags me effortlessly to the edge of the bed, then grips the tops of my pajama pants and rips them in half.
The material scrapes down my thighs as he tears it off my body, doing the same to my nightshirt.
The clothing is expensive, and for a moment, that's where my mind goes—the clothing, the lamp, all these messes and broken things.
"Wait, I'm not sure—"
Slap! His palm lands across my cheek. I'm too stunned to keep arguing. His slaps are hard enough to sting, maybe not hard enough to bruise.
He ripped my clothes, slapped me across the face, and he's not even introduced himself.
Panic edges in again, and that wild, excited feeling inside me morphs and swirls in my gut.
I try to remember all the things I asked for, but my head is swimming the same way it did when I read through all the options.
I was a glutton two weeks ago, checking things off like a fucking starving woman at an Italian restaurant.
I'll have one of these, and one of these.
Did I ask for this? I can't remember. But he's huge. If he were really trying to hurt me, a slap from a minotaur would surely knock me out cold, not just sting. My cheek burns a little, and he stands tall at the end of my bed, admiring his handiwork.
God, he's so big.
And I like the way this feels. Being scared. Losing control.
"Zair?" I whisper, scared of getting slapped again. But what if this is another minotaur? What if I'm just unlucky and this isn't the escort I paid for? I'm completely at his mercy.
The thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying. I should put a stop to this. Demand answers. Instead, I let the fear bubble beneath my skin.
The minotaur—Zair, hopefully—scratches his wide jaw with his claw-tipped fingers.
I notice for the first time that he's shirtless.
The light streaming into my bedroom from outside highlights his impressive figure.
Broad-shouldered, muscles ripped, but in a thick, bulky way.
Barrel-chested, the kind of body fit for manual labor.
I can easily see him throwing a tree trunk over his shoulder, like the one from his profile picture.
He sighs. "You don't listen, mouse. You're a very bad girl."
I swallow audibly and attempt to scramble backward on the bed, but he grips my ankle roughly and pulls me back toward him. It hurts, and I know that will definitely leave a bruise.
He continues, "I told you to shut the fuck up. Three times now. And still, you keep working that fucking mouth. I told you what I'd do, didn't I? I warned you."
He works his belt, making an elaborate show of unlocking the metal. Slowly, he opens his pants, dropping them down and kicking them off to the side.
I think, even if the room was nothing but shadows, I'd be able to see his cock. It's that enormous. Swaying between his legs, bobbing with each movement. I can't take my eyes off it. I'm dripping, aching with need for it.
Zair wastes no time climbing back over me.
He spreads my knees wide, and my pussy clenches in anticipation.
Like he can smell the flood between my legs, he chuckles.
"You don't get rewards unless you behave, little mouse.
" With my knees wide, Zair slaps my thigh with an open palm.
Hard. Harder than when he slapped my cheek.
I wince against the pain, but I don't have time to register it before he slaps my other thigh. My fleshy skin shakes beneath the sting, and I can't help but gasp against the pain.
My thighs are throbbing, legs spread wide, and he's still chuckling like this is nothing but a game to him.
Then, in one move, he rips my underwear, the same way he did my pants, and tosses the material aside.
I wore a bralette to bed, now the only thing left to give me any modesty. Useless against him.
Zair takes a deep inhale, breathing in my scent. "You may speak when I give you permission. Do you understand?"
I pause, unsure if this counts as permission. I nod yes, just to be safe. Then, with an open palm, fingers flat, he slaps my pussy, stinging my clit. I can't help it, I cry out again.
"Good girl."
I guess I can cry out and whimper. I just can't talk.
Sucking in a shaky breath, my nerve endings humming with need, sensitive from the slapping, pussy dripping, Zair rewards me again.
He slaps my clit, harder, and the sharp pain makes me want to pull my knees in, to rub them together, to get any kind of friction, but he's kneeling between my legs, an immovable wall.
"When I broke into your apartment tonight, I intended to raid the place.
Steal some of your fine possessions. But then I caught the scent of your sweet pussy and I just couldn't resist taking something even better.
Now, I don't feel like dealing with the cops or nosy neighbors.
They don't need to know I broke in here and intend to beat this pussy into submission.
So when I tell you to shut the fuck up, I mean it. Do you understand? You may speak."
"Y-yes," I whisper. Lying on my back, knees splayed wide, this monstrous minotaur between my thighs, pussy still dripping, I can't help but wonder if I've gone insane.
"Good girl. No more talking. We still have a punishment to deal with.
Since I intend to play with you for a while, I'm not going to kill you yet.
But you're still going to choke on my cock.
If you feel death clamoring, you may pinch my thigh.
But I'll warn you... if you tap out before I come, you will be punished.
Do you understand, little mouse? You may speak. "
Tears spring from my eyes. I don't enjoy sucking dicks. I never have. It always felt so demeaning. I don't think this was on the questionnaire, was it? I can't remember now.
What should I do? I have my safe word, but this is beginning to feel real. And kind of scary.
Debating what to say: yes, no, maybe, I don't know, fuck you—Zair slaps my pussy again and my abdomen tenses in surprise. That actually hurt. Tears leak from my eyes, a current of anxiety and fear spilling out of me, but Zair only laughs.
"I asked you a fucking question, mouse." Climbing up to his knees, he strokes his cock, the massive length swinging so close to my face, my throat closes up with nerves. "I said, do you understand? Speak." He growls again, and it rattles my body in alarm.
My lips press together before the words spill out unwillingly. "I-I... Umm... Okay. I just... I'm scared," I whisper.
If I thought for a moment that Zair—my hired escort who is supposed to take care of me—might take a moment to reassure me, I quickly learn how wrong I am.
Instead, he just laughs, adjusts himself on the bed, grips my chin, and works my jaw open with his meaty fingers.
The strange shape of his cock: flat at the tip, thick and wide, with a ropey ring around the head, invades my mouth as he pushes in, forcing me to unhinge my jaw.
I have an errant thought that I should have practiced with my dildo.
The tip of his cock breaches my open mouth, only an inch or two, my tongue feeling the soft, bumpy texture as it slides past. His brows tense, eyes slit, mouth parting slightly as he sucks in a breath while my tongue explores the texture of him.
Noticing his obvious pleasure makes me want to clamp my teeth down in defiance. His cheeks lift when he sees the fight in my eyes.
"If you bite, I bite back. Remember that." Then he pushes in. I gag, but he works himself out before pushing back in again, more slowly. "That's it, mouse. Let me in. Let me in, and I'll let you live. For now."
In and out he works his cock, only a few inches at a time. My jaw is still tense around him, but each time he thrusts back in, I relax a little more. The more I accept him, the more he encourages me. Praises me.