Chapter 23
The first thing I’m aware of is the pressure.
A deep, invasive fullness that pulls me from the depths of sleep.
My mind is slow, clouded with remnants of a dream, but my body is waking up fast, registering the thrusts that are rocking me gently against the mattress.
There’s a familiar scent surrounding me, a familiar body pressed against my back.
Zane.
The memory hits me of earlier tonight. The note in the bathroom with the plug, meds, and instructions to get ready for him. My heart pounds frantically in my ribs. He’s actually doing it. He’s inside me, fucking me awake.
I should be screaming, fighting, pushing him away. This is the moment I fantasized about, the chance to struggle, to make him work for it, but my body betrays me as a soft, needy sound escapes my lips instead. My hips shift, pushing back slightly to meet his next slow thrust.
Zane freezes behind me, his cock buried inside of me. “Mason?”
Hearing him say my name snaps me out of it. I don’t want him to stop. This isn’t romantic, this is him taking what he wants while I was unconscious.
“Get off me!” I gasp, but my voice is weak, breathy, unconvincing. I try to squirm away, but his arm bands around my waist, holding me in place. The struggle is a joke, a pathetic attempt that only serves to press his cock deeper inside of me, tearing another moan from my throat.
“Shhh, Pet,” he murmurs in a salacious, devious tone. “You don’t mean that. You’re desperate for someone to touch you, anyone, asleep naked with a plug in your ass. You can’t fool me. Your body’s been begging for this.”
“No, I don’t want this! Let me go!” I cry out, despite my hips thrusting back to meet his, because I’m a liar and we both know it. I’m so hard it hurts, precum leaking all over the place. I really am a desperate whore. He’s not wrong.
“Oh, I know you don’t want to want it,” he concedes, his voice a low, mocking rumble that vibrates through my chest. “That’s the best part.
You hate how much you need this. You hate that your pathetic little cock gets hard for me even when you’re asleep, but I saw your naked, plugged ass.
You did that because you wanted to be ready, just in case it was an option for me to fuck you while you were unconscious. ”
He punctuates his words with a sharp, deep thrust that punches the air from my lungs.
My vision swims for a second, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming, not in pain, but in agonizing pleasure.
At how true his words are. At how I’ve always dreamed of being spoken to like this but never thought I’d find someone who was as into it as I am.
At the fact that Zane came crashing into my life quite literally before sweeping me away to his basement—right into one of my fantasies now that he’s finally embracing his desires.
“Tell me, Mason,” he continues, his hand tightening on my dick, stroking me teasingly. “Did you dream about this? Did you dream about me filling you up while you were helpless because all you want is to be my hole? My whore?”
The question is so degrading it makes my whole body flush with heat. I can feel the shame prickling at my eyes, a humiliating burn that I have to fight back. I don’t want to answer. I can’t answer. But my body does it for me, a fresh wave of precum spilling from my tip, a silent, damning admission.
He laughs, a low, dark, demeaning sound as he swipes the new pool of precum around in acknowledgment. “You’re a mess, Pet. A pathetic, desperate mess leaking all over yourself. Is it because you know you’re all mine to tease and play with?”
“I said get off of me!” But the attempt is weak.
I need more practice, because I really want to shout, “Harder, Master,” but I bite my tongue instead as his cock turns me into a writhing, sobbing, desperate mess.
The coil of heat is tightening in my gut, the undeniable climb toward my orgasm that his degradation is only fueling.
Every cruel word, every possessive touch, is edging me closer and closer.
It’s fucked up, and yet I don’t feel an ounce of shame.
“You don’t want me to stop,” he rumbles, biting my ear as he crowds me. “You want to be taken like this. Filled up and used like the pathetic cumslut you are.”
The words send a shiver through me because he’s right. God, he’s so right. I’m already so close, so terrifyingly close to coming undone completely, to shattering into a million pieces, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing I want to do to stop it.
I give up my weak attempt at fighting back and agree. “Yes, Master. I want your cum. I need your cum. Please, pleeease.”
“Your begging is pathetic,” he taunts, and I’m well aware. Zane turns me into the neediest, most feral, unhinged version of myself.
He moves both hands to grip my hips and flip me on my stomach. Then he’s pulling them up so he’s got the perfect angle inside of me and fucks me mercilessly.
“Nugh. Fuck, oh fuck,” I moan at his punishing pace.
“Your hole keeps sucking me back in. Your body can’t bear the thought of me not being inside of you.”
“Need you,” I cry. “Need to come.”
“Make a mess of these sheets, Pet. Show me how much you like being fucked awake.”
I reach down, hand stroking my shaft with vigor, and a moment later, I’m crying out as my release coats the bed below me.
“Fuck, this hole,” Zane mutters above me as his own orgasm rips through him and he shudders against my back.
We both pant as we come down from the high that we found in our first experience with somnophilia.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Did you like that, Mason?” Zane asks through huffs of breath behind me.
“So much. So fucking much.”
“Good, me too. You did so good for me. I had no idea I’d even be into that, but I loved it.”
His praise fills me, knowing that he’s exploring new parts of himself in this process too. “That makes me happy.”
He smiles. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and change these sheets, huh?”
Zane rolls off me, pulls me with him, and wipes me up. He changes the sheets, and when we’re finally back in bed, Zane pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “Time to sleep, Little Psycho.” Then he kisses the back of my head in a way that feels intimate beyond anything we’ve ever done before.
I’ve never been so happy.