Chapter 28 Happy Birthday #3
“That’s a good girl, much better.” He pulled almost all the way out and then drove back in. “That’s it, just relax. You want to please me, don’t you? Just like that.” He continued thrusting slowly, widening every part of my sphincter and the muscles inside. “Doesn’t that feel good?”
It didn’t. It still hurt, but I couldn’t say that. He’d taught me to hide the truth, to always agree with him and what he wanted. “Yes … Sir.”
“Can you open just a little more?” I held my breath, trying, and he pushed a little deeper. The pain made me lose control.
I panted and whimpered. “Sir …” I called.
“Shhh … You want this. It’s what you’ve been needing.”
I swallowed hard. It was the opposite. I couldn’t imagine a more disgusting sexual act to enact. But I craved to do right by him, to satisfy him. It was obvious I was failing at that, so I wanted to cry.
“Oh my god! It hurts so bad,” I cried.
Gripping my hips, he pinched the little fat he could find. He thrusted his cock in longer strokes, coming all the way out and then pushing until I whimpered, sobbed, or screeched.
“That’s it, such a spoiled whore, crying because she wants all of my cock in her ass.” Every time it slid in, it went a little deeper. One hand held my hip while the other slipped under and flicked my clit.
I gasped, and wax spilled all over me.
With his dick stuffed deep inside me, the short current of pleasure sprouted from my clit. He waited for me to relax. I moaned with every flick, and it got euphoric fast. The stroking unwound my body, and I gasped when my butt relaxed, allowing him to slide deeper, forcing a groan out of him.
Then he ghosted my clit and thrust into me faster, harder, sometimes going so deep I couldn’t help but lose my mind, wailing and screaming. He relished his pleasure too deeply to notice my pain anymore.
“God, you feel so good. Mmm. Just like that. Keep it open for me. That’s it.” Thrust.
“Ahhhh!”
“Fuck! Yes!” Thrust.
“Ahhhh!”
“So fucking tight when you scream,” he complimented through his teeth, then spanked me, making me coil around him ever so rigidly and leaving me breathless.
I could feel every detail of his cock. Sometimes, the big vein would twitch, and it was enough to draw out my helpless tears and whimpers.
My knees threatened to give out when he thrust into me again.
I panted for a few seconds, then stopped breathing again.
It was the only way I was able to keep myself open enough for him.
Dizziness swirled the world around me, so I breathed again, which opened me to the excruciating pain and the hot wax trailing over my shoulders, waist, and butt cheeks.
He hissed and whimpered when the wax trailed down my crack, touching him.
Sir withdrew himself while holding my cheeks open. I tried to pucker but couldn’t. “I wish you could see what I’ve done to you. It’s so pretty like this, Little One.”
Since I could breathe again, the black blotches and small stars slowly disappeared. This time when he pushed himself into me, it didn’t hurt as much. He was wetter.
At first, he only fucked me with the very tip of him.
I feared when he would fuck me so hard and deep that it would hurt again.
Incomprehensibly, the rubbing of his cock against every part of my sphincter, as it pushed it and pulled with each penetration, became enjoyable.
I threw my head back, chasing the pleasure, and panted to the rhythm of him fucking me.
Practicality, thoughts, manners, and morals all left my mind, leaving only the sensation of his cock doing this disgusting forbidden deed, stuffing my hole, and my need to satisfy him.
Soon, the feral, disgusting need for the pain, the need to be fucked hard, to be used and reduced to a cum sock overtook me.
I didn’t want him to care anymore. It surprised me and was such a powerful hunger that it stole my ability to think.
So I rocked back and forth, drawing groans and moans from him.
“More. More, Little One. More. Please.” The fact I could reduce this powerful monster to high-pitched whimpers and cries begging me for more made me such a proud disgusting whore.
I was greedy for it. It was a vicious self-feeding cycle.
I’d fuck him, and he’d make sounds that goaded me into wanting more.
What became frustrating was him refusing to fuck me back. Where was the man who wanted to use me? Why was he hesitating? It infuriated me when he forced me to beg.
One of the candles finished and the hot wick tab at the bottom kept the wax in liquid form, scorching my skin.
At first, the wax and tab were so cold I couldn’t take it, then it transformed into a throbbing, sharp burning.
I ground my teeth, wincing at the pain. Then he pinched my hips and hauled me toward him until his cock was deep inside me, engorging again and again.
The wax surrounding the wick tab trailed down and the tab fell, rattling on the floor.
I trembled from the agony of the burn and my insides.
My lips trembled at the pain after I released them from the bite.
The burn wouldn’t stop hurting. I was in endless hell. Meanwhile, he’d torn my asshole apart. There was nothing I could do except wail. Why did there have to be so much excruciating agony to his domination?
I regretted craving this side of him; he always made me regret it. He fucked me slowly, then hurried his pace. I submitted completely, opening my ass for him to use and enjoy, but that wasn’t enough for him.
Soon, the pleasure masked the pain pressuring my insides to choke his cock. No matter how much I tried to stay wide open, my hole tightened more and more. The tighter it got, the more I enjoyed it sliding in and out, defying all of my body’s efforts to stop it.
My body violently convulsed. The whole passage of my asshole and rectum clenched and released at an insane speed, and with every release, a current of heat rolled through my body until it reached my brains where heat and stars exploded, changing the chemistry of my brain physically and physiologically.
Where there once had been pain and terror was now pure euphoria, feeling safe, loved by everything around me.
I needed the druglike state to stay so fucking badly.
It wasn’t something I could hide, it was too intense.
Current after current, filling and changing the chemistry of every atom in my body.
Sir whimpered at every convulsion that originated from my ass and flowed through me.
My clit throbbed, feeling so filled or swollen and taut, and I squirted again and again, each pulse relieving the pressure a little, but not enough to keep me from screaming.
The intensity was too much, and I could no longer stand the physical draining.
“Sir … Please. Please. I can’t.” He fucked me harder, enjoying me imploring for his mercy. There wasn’t a corner of my body that wasn’t feeling his fat long cock running through me.
“Say it, Little One. Say what you really want,” he whispered.
“Please come! Come please.” Did he not understand if he kept at this for another minute, we would both be set ablaze by all these motherfucking candles? Who the fuck does this? I was fed up.
I stopped breathing and arched while his cock reached new depths, engorging, twitching, and filling me. The new depth pulled out a scream from me. “Deeper. Deeper, Sir!”
I heard the brief chuckle. “You like that, slave? You like having your ass filled all the way?”
“Yes. Yes, Sir. Please, more. Please deeper.” He granted my wish by pulling my cheeks apart so hard the tissue holding them together hurt. I didn’t care.
“Yes. Yes. Please.”
The hot cum lubricated me. His cock engorging extended the pleasure beyond comprehension, tearing and hurting me even more, but the pain was now pure pleasure, and I was addicted. The cum squelched loudly as he fucked me without control. I gasped for air.
Once again, I’d inexplicably ended up enjoying something I found vile. The self-disgust reached me within seconds and was infinite.
Sir blew out every candle until it was pitch black. I collapsed to the floor, too tired to do anything but fall into a half-asleep state while sobbing inconsolably. “What have I done? What have I done?” I kept repeating.
“Shh … You’re okay. You did good, Little One, you did.” He petted me while whispering kind words in an attempt to bring me back.
The searing of my torn ass from his girth and the inability to close it was all I could focus on. Disgusting. Humiliating.
I felt vapid—physically, emotionally, spirituality—and my mind equaled that of a worthlessness that made me crave death as powerfully as I craved as air. “I want to die. Let me die,” I mumbled while sobbing with my eyes closed.
The blistering burns on my back were throbbing torture.
It was hot and frigid at the same time, sending violent chills through my body.
The person I used to be had been replaced by a black hole.
The self-hate came and drowned me. I hated the pieces I was leaving behind as I died.
It was weird being alive while also being so dead inside that I no longer remembered the person I used to be.
He’d shattered me into so many pieces. There were only splinters left of me. “Please kill me. Please.”
The worst part: I didn’t even remember how he did it. It was second nature to want to please him. I was supposed to be something big, impressive, important. Daddy wanted me to change the world, and yet all I was allowed to become was a disgusting, empty whore.
As he pulled the candles off me, the frozen wax yanked at my skin. I arched and screamed.
“Little One,” he kept calling me, trying to speak some sense into me and bring me back, but he didn’t understand he’d killed my spirit and the only thing he could do to bring me out of this misery was to pull the trigger.
I was like some injured, trapped animal, and he kept trying to save me when the right thing would’ve been to shoot me already.
“Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.”
Nothing calmed me.
When he carried me to the bathroom and placed me in the waterfilled tub with him under me, holding me, giving me short kisses on my cheeks and temples, my hands, as he washed me, I stopped screaming but not sobbing, not hiccuping, not begging him to kill me.
He rinsed me and dried me, then tucked me into bed.
“Thank you for being so good today, Little One. It’s my birthday, and you gave me such an amazing gift by being your true self.” His words mingled with my deep sleep.
“No. No. No,” I mumbled.
“I’ll be gone for a while.” It was quiet for sometime, so I fell into deeper and deeper sleep.
“What’s your name?” I wasn’t sure if all the gentleness had been a wishful dream.
“I don’t remember,” I whispered, waking alone in the pitch-black room alone.
It felt like a substantial time after when something bad happened, something even more awful. Somehow, when I woke up again, I wasn’t sure if that awful event had even occurred.
It was just a feeling. But if it was just a bad dream, then why was my body even more torn apart than how Sir had left it?
Everything—my mouth, my pussy, my clit, my arms—was broken. I had to hold on to the wall when I would walk to the bathroom, and it burned to piss.