Chapter 27 Just a Dream #4
His eyes fluttered open as if I’d woken him from a sweet dream.
I studied his face, his sharp chin, hard features, his magical light-green eyes.
He was undeniably beautiful. I kissed his high cheekbone, his forehead, then his closed eyelid.
Then I licked the scar sliding across his face, with kisses along the way.
“I want to call you by your name while … touching each other. Just for tonight.” My eyes met his, then moved to his lips.
Was this how one begged for a kiss, by alternating their gaze up and down? He kissed me, confirming my suspicion.
“You’re my slave. I am protecting you, Little One. I’ll always try to protect you. My name would kill you. Just call me Sir.”
The subject was closed by the kisses he planted on my clavicle and chest.
It hurt, like a rejection.
He didn’t understand. Sir was my slave master, not my lover.
I wanted a lover, just for one night. Just one time.
Please. I gave him the puppy eyes Mom always used on Dad.
They often worked on him. But no, it didn’t work on Sir.
I was grateful he at least didn’t comment on the tears once again falling so quickly from my eyes.
Please. The desperation bloomed my madness, and I wasn’t sure if I’d vocalized the besiege or if I’d only thought it.
He licked them, kissed them, and then kissed my lips again.
No wonder men loved hurting women so much, the tears tasted good while kissing.
The salt seasoned the deep kiss he gifted me.
I thought of it as a blessing because it made me forget everything, soothing away the darkness from my mind.
I enjoyed being so connected to him. He was inside me while kissing me, his arms embracing me, his fingers caressing me.
He flicked my nipple, sending another heated wave through me that forced me to whimper and arch my back.
I cupped his face, bringing his lips back to mine, which were now swollen.
Our fingers interlaced, then he guided my arms to my back as if once again trapping me.
As he kissed me deeply, I whimpered while I rocked my hips, fucking him slowly.
I relished every single one of his moans.
They helped me pretend I had control when reality could shatter me; I had absolutely nothing.
“You’re so addicting.” A high-pitched whimper came out of him. He sounded and looked desperate, sucking at my tit in a clumsy way. “Please, Little One. Let me fuck you hard.” I tightened my hold on his hand and kept him in place.
“No. This is your punishment for not telling me your name.”
At first, he smiled at my gumption, but a few minutes later, the desperation took over his facial features, wrinkling his forehead and eyebrows, curving down his lips. He looked like a miserable puppy. It made me smile.
“Fuck. You’re killing me.” We were panting and wincing, both aching for more, but I needed to see him suffer, really fucking beg just once.
His forehead rested on my chest. “Fuck … You’re so fucking wet … tight. Magdalena.”
I tightened my hold even more on his hands when he tried to pull them away, and slowed the pace almost to a full stop.
I’d squeeze his cock, then release it, teasing him.
He groaned with every clamping, licked and bit his lips, then sucked on my nipple for comfort.
My pussy was drenched, my juices wetting his balls.
The pulling sensation on my breast intensified, blindsiding me.
I threw my head and arched my back while rocking my hips so fast and hard they hurt.
With his cock deep inside me, I felt unbroken. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yes … Yes … Yes,” he cried between moans, pants, and kisses placed on my chest, neck, and cheek.
“Beg for it,” I commanded.
“Let me fuck you,” he whispered in my ear, his pants tickling me and making me fold away from him.
His raspy, deep voice did something undefinable to me, and I suddenly didn’t want to dominate him but needed him to dominate me, to be my master.
I fought it. What the fuck was wrong with me?
How could I want this on the very same day he’d humiliated me? No.
“I know you’re fighting it. I know you want me to fuck you hard, to hurt you,” he whispered into my ear.
God, he was winning. I was losing all sense of pride and resistance. “That’s not true.”
“It’s okay, Little One, you can’t come like this, let me make you melt on my cock.”
“No—” Within five seconds, I was on my belly with his body over mine, and his cock slamming into my pussy as his hands hooked around my shoulders from under.
“This is what you need. Open up for me for me.”
“No—” As he slid against my sweaty skin, it bounced my wounds. Pain and pleasure collided with every thrust, and I had no choice but to scream, losing my mind trying to understand why I wanted both. His right hand unhooked from my shoulder and slid under my belly, then he flicked my clit.
“You love it. You were born for this, to be fucked hard like the whore you are.”
“Masssster!” I screamed, as too many contradicting things were making me lose my mind.
I was nowhere and everywhere, empty and stuffed again, nothing and overwhelmed.
My butt cheeks burned. I tried movinig his hand away, to run from him, but he didn’t let me.
All-too quickly, the lack of control messed with my mind.
It stole my breath, and my body seized, every clamping around the girth of him sending a new overwhelming wave of pure pleasure through me.
“You like it when I force myself on you like this?” He changed nothing, still pleasuring my clit, fucking my pussy at full speed and force. “Tell me the truth, Little One. Say it.”
“Please.” I cried into the pillows, spreading my legs farther so I could feel his finger flicking my clit more. My body rocked to fuck him back like the whore he kept telling me I was.
He groaned. “Yes, just like that. Just like that.”
“Please—” The intensity, it was too much.
“Say it.”
I didn’t want to soak the bed by squirting to him saying I was just a whore who enjoyed being raped. “No.”
He stopped, spread my butt cheeks, and slipped his thumb into my ass.
His other palm pushed down on my back, keeping me from running.
As my body clamped onto his thumb and cock, a long gasp rolled out of me.
The dual sensations sent me into oblivion.
My walls gripped his girth and thumb for dear life. “How does that feel? You like it?”
The answer escaped me before I could even think. “Yes. Yes,” I repeated on every breath.
“Please … I need more, Sir. Fuck me. Please.”
“Okay, Little One.” The way he fucked me was not normal, it wasn’t even how he usually did it. It was feral and so violent it had me shaking and sobbing. The feel of his hot cum comforted me. “God, you’re amazing.”
“I don’t want to be like this, to be a whore, to like this.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. You are delicious perfection. Don’t be ashamed.”
I cried like a child because somehow through the months but especially that day, he’d broken me physically and emotionally again and again, into being exactly what he’d set sight on, making me his perfect whore for him to sell.
“Shh. It’s okay,” he repeated while embracing and kissing me, and he didn’t stop, not even when I fell asleep.
“Promise me you won’t let go of me tonight,” I said, half asleep.
He kissed my shoulder, and as he wrapped his arms and legs around me, he replied, “I promise. Rest, Little One, you need to rest.” Several times, I didn’t wake up completely when he reapplied the cream to my wounds.
“You’re pussy is going to get me killed, Little One,” I thought I heard him say, but it could have been just a dream.