Chapter 28 #2
“Look at this pretty virgin flower,” Mike murmured, moving the broad head of his cock up and down through my wet folds.
The sensation made me gasp, made my hips jerk involuntarily.
“So pink and perfect. So ready to be fucked.” He dragged the head slowly over my clit, and I cried out.
“I’m going to enjoy fucking this hot, wet cunt so much. ”
“Please,” I heard myself beg, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. “Please, sir, I need it. I need you inside me. Please fuck me.”
The desperation in my own voice should have mortified me, but I was beyond shame now. I needed him. Needed to be filled. Needed to finally know what it felt like to have a man’s cock stretching me open the way nature intended.
Mike positioned himself at the entrance to my sheath, the broad head pressing against the opening.
I felt him encounter resistance—my hymen, that last physical barrier of my innocence.
His hands moved to grip the backs of my knees, taking over from where my own hands had been trembling.
He held me there, pinned and spread and completely at his mercy.
“This is going to hurt,” he told me, his voice rough with desire. “But you’re going to take it anyway.”
Before I could respond, before I could prepare myself, he thrust hard into me.
I screamed. The pain was sharp and immediate, a tearing sensation that seemed to radiate through my entire core.
My body tried to buck away from the intrusion, tried to escape, but Mike’s grip on my legs was iron.
He held me exactly where he wanted me and began to fuck me with deep, powerful strokes.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my face.
But even as I struggled beneath him, even as the pain made me want to push him away, I felt something else building.
The fullness of him inside me, the way his cock stretched me much too wide, the utter domination of being held down and taken—it was arousing me in a way I still couldn’t understand, but that seemed to be getting stronger every time I submitted to my sponsor… my master… sir… Mike.
The pain and the pleasure tangled together until I couldn’t separate them.
Every thrust hurt, but every thrust also hit something deep inside me that made my whole body light up with sensation.
I was being deflowered, claimed, used—and I was crying and struggling and feeling more like a woman than I ever had in my life.
I felt like a virgin and a whore at the same time.
Like something sacred was being profaned, and like that profanation was exactly what I needed.
My pussy clenched around Mike’s thick shaft, and I heard myself making sounds I’d never made before—desperate, animal noises that should have embarrassed me, but only seemed to spur him on.
“Please,” I sobbed, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. “Please, sir, I need—I can’t—”
“You need to come,” Mike growled, his thrusts never faltering. “Don’t you?”
“Yes!” I cried out. “Please, may I come? Please, I need it so badly—”
His hand released one of my legs and moved between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it firmly.
“You’ve been such a good girl,” he said, his voice rough with exertion and desire.
“Such a brave little slut, taking my cock in your virgin pussy. You may come as much as you want now. Come on my cock, Laura. Show me what a good girl you are.”
The permission was all I needed. The orgasm that had been building since he first put his tongue on me crashed over me like a tidal wave.
I screamed, my whole body convulsing as pleasure so intense it bordered on pain radiated through every nerve.
My pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, and I felt him groan above me, felt him drive even deeper as my body milked him.
But he didn’t stop. He kept fucking me through the orgasm, and before the first one had even fully subsided, I felt another building.
And another. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me until I couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the next began.
I was sobbing, screaming, my hands clawing at the comforter as Mike used my body exactly the way he wanted.
Finally, he pulled out, and I whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But before I could process what was happening, his strong hands were flipping me over onto my stomach.
“On your knees,” he commanded. “Face down.”
I scrambled to obey, my legs shaking so badly I could barely support my weight. He positioned me exactly how he wanted—knees spread wide, my face pressed into the comforter, my bottom raised high in the air.
Then I felt him behind me, felt the broad head of his cock pressing against the no-longer-virgin entrance to my pussy again.
He gripped my hips and thrust inside in one brutal stroke, and I screamed into the comforter.
This angle was different—deeper, more intense.
His lap slammed into my punished bottom with each thrust, sending fresh jolts of pain through the welts.
This is how a naughty slut gets fucked, I thought hazily. Face down and ass up, her master towering over her, looking down to watch his cock surging in and out of her needy little cunt.
The new angle drove his cock so deep inside me that I felt like he was touching my soul. My fingers clawed at the comforter, searching for purchase, for anything to anchor me to reality as another orgasm ripped through my body. I sobbed his name into the fabric, barely able to form words.
“That’s it,” Mike growled above me, his hands gripping my hips so hard I knew there would be bruises. “Come on my cock like a good little whore.”
I did. Over and over. Each thrust seemed to trigger another wave of pleasure, until I lost count of how many times my pussy clenched around him. My whole body was trembling, covered in sweat, utterly spent but still somehow climbing toward another peak.
Mike’s rhythm became erratic, his breathing ragged.
I felt his fingers dig even harder into my flesh, felt him swell impossibly larger inside me.
Then with a guttural groan, he drove deep and held himself there.
The hot pulse of his release filling me triggered one final orgasm, and I screamed into the comforter as we came together.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. He stayed buried inside me, his weight partially resting on my back, both of us struggling to catch our breath. I could feel his heart hammering against my shoulder blade, could feel his cock still twitching inside my used pussy.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them. I hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t planned to admit the terrifying truth that had been growing inside me since—when? Since he first spanked me? Since he fed me dinner on the plane? Since this morning when he called me brave?
I felt Mike go still above me. My heart seized with panic. What had I done? This was an arrangement, a transaction. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him. That wasn’t part of the deal.
But then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me up and back against his chest without withdrawing from inside me. He turned my face toward his, and I saw something in his eyes that made my breath catch.
“I love you too,” he said softly, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I’ve been trying not to, but I do. God help me, Laura, I’m in love with you.”