Chapter 4 #2
Sizzling anticipation floods me at the sharp sound of him undoing his zipper. He wrenches his cock free, so rock-hard that the veins are popping, beads of precum rolling down its swollen head.
“Let me lick it clean for you, Daddy,” I suggest sweetly, but Silas doesn’t spare me a glance as he aligns the tip with my entrance, tracing the slit languidly, spreading mine and his juices along its rim, teasing me until I’m moaning in a tortured way, my eyes nearly rolling.
“Not today. And I told you not to call me that.”
I want to encourage him to act on my disobedience, my thoughts straying to the under-bed storage upstairs, hiding long-unused handcuffs, floggers and even a cane in case he felt particularly unforgiving. But I don’t get a chance.
As opposed to pushing his cock inside me, he grabs my hips, the sides of my ass resting comfortably in his oversized hands.
And then, abruptly, he jerks me forward, making my pussy tear along his length, ecstasy cutting through my clit like a sharp knife until he bottoms out, hitting my cervix with the force of a falling hammer.
My inner walls spasm as they stretch around him impossibly tight and—just as he wanted—I scream.
“How are you doing this?” I gasp as he rolls his hips around, the pressure on my G-spot increasing and decreasing rhythmically like a maddening heartbeat.
I’m tempted to point out how much bigger his cock feels, but don’t, scared he’d take offence at the implication that its size was ever insufficient. Which, in all fairness, it wasn’t. But why can I feel him so much more acutely just now?
“Why are you still talking?” he snarls, holding me firmly in position, but swaying backwards on the balls of his heels so that his hips are inching away from mine slowly.
He slides out of me until only his tip remains inside, and the unhurried caress of his departing dick has my pussy throbbing with uncontrollable need.
With barely more than an inch of his shaft wedged between the lips of my cunt, he straightens up, increasing the pressure tenfold.
He sways in a way that’s almost imperceptible to the eye, but that torments me without mercy, until he has me trembling, tears stinging in my eyes.
“Oh fuuuck,” I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ...”
“More words,” he rumbles, complainingly, and his right hand leaves the fleshy part of my hip only to collide with it sharply in a resounding smack a moment later.
I yelp, my skin stinging from the impact, but the pained sound quickly morphs into an ecstatic one as he drives into me so forcefully that the table with me on it slides away from him, scraping the floor in a loud, unpleasant screech.
I yell at the violent slash of bliss that slices through my whole body.
And then at the brutal impact of Silas’s left hand this time when it strikes the side of my ass, the sting of it sinking deep into my flesh.
My eyes are watering not just with the potent mix of pain and pleasure, but with all the smoke that’s slowly filling up the room.
Silas picks up his tempo, pumping in and out of me, knocking the table forward a few paces each time, and accompanying every one of his thrusts with an unforgiving spank until my skin is bright red and I am panting hard just to cope.
His ministrations are almost intolerably painful, but so is the searing joy that’s eating away at every single one of my cells.
I collapse on my back, hitting my head with a loud thud.
I tug at my hair and cover my face with my palms, and when I take them away, they’re black from the mixture of my tears and smeared mascara.
I feel like a ravaged, depraved mess, stripped of all dignity and beyond ready to beg him for the release that is the only thing that can save me from going completely insane.
“Make me come,” I plead with him, nearly sobbing. “Daddy, please, let me come. I need it so badly.”
He chuckles, the crooked smirk on his face diabolical. “Not yet, dark darling,” he drones. “Not yet.”
I have no time to dwell on his surprising new pet name for me. Because he slides out of me and steps back, my arousal instantly cooling down on my exposed folds, tender from being rubbed raw and swollen with desire.
I want to protest, but before I manage to form any words, he instructs me in a stern, uncompromising tone of voice, “Turn around and bend over the table.”
I bite my lip, overcome with ice-cold exhilaration.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Roxana. I wasn’t asking.”
Grinning, I obey, the tendons at the back of my thighs stretching and my skin tingling with anticipation as I flatten my breasts against the smooth surface.
“Legs further apart,” a commanding rasp sounds from behind me, and I do as I’m told.
Silas steps closer until his cock presses flat against the slick crevice that throbs urgently at the contact.
The hard length reaches way past the point where my ass cheeks meet to just barely hide my other, more indecent entrance.
That threatening proximity tempts me, making me want to take a step back and have him breach it.
“Grab the edge of the table and hold on to it.”
I reach out my arms and do just that, my knuckles turning white and my heart hammering in my ears. I vaguely note that wisps of dark smoke are now swirling about the room.
As if intuiting the direction of my earlier thoughts, Silas lays his hand horizontally across my rear and spreads my cheeks apart with a guttural, puzzling ‘hmm’.
I let out a strangled, indeterminate noise, unsure whether it’s a protest or a permission that I want to express that way.
But in any case, Silas doesn’t wait for either.
I hear a wet plop as he coats his fingers with spit in his mouth, and then, soon after, my yelp bounces off the walls as he plunges two fingers in my ass at the same time as the tip of his cock drives deep into me like a battering ram.
“Fuck, Silas!” I cry out.
He pounds into me again and again, forcefully, plundering me with his fingers at the same time.
“More ... fucking ... words,” he growls in between thrusts.
I only wail in response, scorching heat rapidly swelling deep within my body, ecstasy tightening around me like a noose. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, but even that does nothing to stifle the raptured screech that’s continuously tearing up my throat.
Silas’s spare hand finds my hair to fist it tightly.
He lifts my head up, and the heat of his large, strong body envelops me as he bends over me.
His breath tickles me when he whispers into the shell of my ear, “You keep wanting to call me ‘Daddy’, but you don’t want me to fuck you like one, do you?
You don’t want to be taken care of. Being ruined is what you crave. And that’s what you’ll get.”
He must be pleased because he finally managed to strip me of my ability to speak.
I just cry some more, not so much in reaction to what he said as to the way he wrecks my pussy; ruthlessly and relentlessly like he intends for me never to use it again.
The invasion of his fingers higher above is no less brutal, their plunges deep, rapid, and completely dominating.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks, smoke is burning at the back of my throat, and the fronts of my thighs and crotch are getting bruised viciously against the edge of the table.
Not that I have much attention to spare for such minor discomforts.
Despite my efforts to hold it in place, the table grates against the floor, the noises of it competing in volume with the ones I’m making as Silas continues rutting into me, fucking me harder than I’ve ever been fucked, ravaging me more thoroughly than I thought possible.
He isn’t just rearranging my organs, he’s obliterating them, and it’s all too much, like I’m fighting just to stay alive through it.
A powerful climax is ripening inside me, but I find myself unable to reap it.
Still, the last thing I want is to ask him to go gentler, revelling in his rare savagery, the perilous torture a form of edging that causes my unceasing pleasure to swell into bestial proportions, long past the point of sane or even tolerable.
With one hand still wedged deep between my ass cheeks, fingers of Silas’s other hand brush my lips as they force their way into my mouth.
“Suck on them,” he instructs me in a flat, strangled tone of voice, and what I do can’t even be called obeying, because I no longer have anything resembling free will and the ability to protest when commanded by him.
I press my teeth into his knuckles, and with my tongue rippling underneath them, I pull on them like I would on his dick.
Silas grumbles with satisfaction behind me, interrupting his thrusts to roll his hips, the hilt of his length pressing against my pubic bone, rubbing against it pitilessly as if meaning to rip the surrounding flesh off.
I screech and bite into his fingers. He chuckles darkly and resumes pistoning into me until cold sweat erupts all over me.
It is almost terrifying, the way I come completely undone, the intensity with which he can make my body react.
There is no pain anymore. No heat or cold.
No noises, no tastes. Just a solar storm raging inside me.
I am blind and deaf and would not get out of the way of a falling tree in this state.
My body is no longer my own; it has become nothing but a conduit for a force it is itself powerless against.
But then, Silas’s cock throbs inside me violently with his own impeding culmination, his punishing pace letting up just a little.
Just enough for me to soar. Electricity rushes all the way through to my toes and fingertips, and I shake and shudder, my lungs closing.
And everything goes black as I ride out the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life.
When I come to, I’m coughing violently, the smoke searing the insides of my lungs. I’m still lying on the table, but on my back, even though I don’t recall turning over. Silas is towering over me, with my legs thrown over his shoulders.
“Oh come on,” I complain, my voice raspy. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do any of that trying-to-conceive nonsense ... oooow, OW!” My hands shoot to my abdomen, my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “It’s burning!”
“It’s nothing, you’ll be fine. Give it a minute,” Silas says in a flat tone of voice. “Breathe through it.”
I whimper, then open my mouth to argue with that statement.
“Roxana, do as I say. Deep breaths, now.” His fingers close tighter around my thighs.
There’s something so firm, so commanding in his look and in that imperceptible gesture that the protests die on my lips and I just do what he wants, inhaling deeply, then exhaling, once, twice, thrice .
.. only to realise that he was right, the scorching sensation is easing up.
Still, what the hell was that? Do I have an infection of some sort?
I don’t have time to dwell on that, though, as there are more pressing matters to attend to. Such as the fact that the damn Yorkshire puddings are about to set our house on fire. I cough some more, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“I need to take them out before we choke to death here.” I make to roll off the table, but Silas holds me firmly in place.
“No. You stay here and keep your legs up, or else there’ll be consequences,” he threatens before walking to the oven.
Being who I am, of course, I contemplate disobeying.
But I am so drained, so completely satisfied, that for once, even I decide against it.
Instead, I wrap my hands underneath my bent knees and watch him as he opens the chrome slide-in oven door and reaches in.
It is because I’m so tired that it takes me a minute to fully realise what it is I’ve seen, and by the time I do, Silas is already back by the table.
“How did you not burn your hands?” I ask, raising my head to look him in the face. “You didn’t wear oven mitts!”
He turns his hands over and spreads his fingers out, looking at them in a puzzled sort of way. “Huh. I guess I did burn them a little.”
His eyes then stray down to my pussy with a frown.
“You’re leaking.”
“Well, what did you expect?” I chuckle, laying my head back down and closing my eyes. “There was so much of it. Seriously, what is up with you today?”
He doesn’t respond. “Let me clean you up,” he says instead.
I expect him to go grab the paper towels from the kitchen counter. Which is why it takes me completely by surprise when his tongue slices through my slit and then licks all around it, deft and supple in its purposeful motion, his hands kneading the sides of my hips.
“Fuck, Silas!” I gasp at the intrusion.
At first, he only groans in response, encircling my clit with the tip of his tongue.
The sound he makes is so anguished and tortured that it tugs at something tender inside me, and suddenly, that gesture feels more intimate than erotic.
More intimate than any single interaction between us has felt in years.
“Silas ...”
He presses his face against me momentarily, his beard coarse, but the contact itself gentle.
“Dark darling,” he drawls, his breath hot against my core. “How will I ever get enough of the way you taste?”
“That’s a dumb question,” I say in reaction. “Because why would you ever have to get enough?”