Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Viola
Tears stain my cheeks. He terrifies me in the most erotic way.
When I told him I had no limits, I never expected him to be so spot on.
Despite the overflow of tears, my cunt quivers at the thought of him forcing me to suck him off.
By the feel of it I'm gravely concerned I'll not measure up to his previous blow jobs.
Can I even fit all of that in my mouth? Is that even possible?
His knuckles brush along my cheek, sending spiked shivers along my skin.
He rises to his feet, leaving me down in the cold dirt.
His eyes are glazed over through the mask as he looks down at me.
We're going off script, but that's okay in my book.
The plan was to chase me, fuck me, then leave.
His hands swoop down and wrap around my neck.
His thumbs stroke my chin. He forces my eyes on him.
“Ask for it,” he rasps against my cool skin.
My mouth parts. I'm too stunned to speak. “What?” I squeak out. Does he want me to beg to suck his cock?
His grip tightens. “I said.. Ask. For. It,” He repeats slower. His gravely voice lacks restraint. My tongue lashes against my lips, wetting them.
“Please let me suck your cock.” I croak. My voice is strained and desperate. I already feel how wet he's making me. It's more erotic than anything I've ever experienced.
My nails dig into the raw, spongy dirt. It's the only way to keep myself grounded.
He purrs at my response. The outline of his hard dick is eye level with my line of sight.
Even in the darkness, it's impossible to miss.
His chest undulates when he catches me looking.
His grip loosens a fraction. His fingers trail upwards, tracing teasing patterns along the soft, fleshy skin of my lips.
On instinct, I part my lips. His thumb slips into my mouth.
I suck. He groans. His other hand works the zipper and button of his jeans, slow and calculated.
“Pull them down my thighs,” he instructs in a breathy rasp.
I blindly obey, my hands moving on their own accord.
I curl my fingers in his belt loops and tug them down.
His cock tents against his boxer briefs as it springs up, hard and ready.
I bravely rove my hand up his ridged stomach as I continue suckling his finger.
I feel the hard plains of his abs ripple against my touch.
Arousal is already seeping through my panties.
I rub my thighs together through my jeans to relieve the pressure.
I sink my hands into his boxers, ripping them down so he's bare before me in all his glory.
He drops his fingers from my mouth, painting my neck with my saliva, and lets his masked face lull back, giving in to temptation.
My tongue envelopes around his cock, licking along the veiny shaft. My hands grip his thighs.
He tastes salty and forbidden. I hollow out my cheeks, suck and release him with a pop.
I swipe my tongue in a sweeping circle along the head, relishing his flavor.
The flat underside of my tongue caresses at his weeping release.
He mumbles some incoherent nonsense. I rock harder on my hips, chasing friction as his legs shake before me.
His whole body vibrates. I try to swallow him whole, but tears prick my eyes.
His control snaps, and he snarls, bucking forward.
His hand wraps around my ponytail, and he pulls my mouth free with a pop.
With a snapping quickness, he rips my jean jacket up my arms, trapping them against the fabric.
He pulls the edge of my jacket over my head so my hands are trapped upwards and not under me.
How considerate. His body glides against mine as he forces me backside on the cold forest floor.
The damp ground soaks through my white t-shirt.
With his body over mine, he slaps one hand over my mouth to prevent me from making any noise while his other wrestles with the button on my jeans until they're at my ankles.
My panties follow suit. The cool air breezes over my exposed pussy.
“Such a rounded, perfect body. Perfection.
I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop, baby Vee.” His voice offers promise. He slaps my cunt.
My breath hitches, and I jolt. His growing erection presses into my warm folds, painting my lips with his weeping desires.
“No.” I cry through his callous palm even though I mean absolutely none of that.
My heart rate picks up. I fight his hold, kicking up dirt all around us as I use all of my strength.
My body goes molten the moment he releases my mouth and slaps my cheek.
Not hard, but enough to get my attention.
“Bad girls get punished.” He reminds me.
Fuck, I want to be punished so badly. My insides are coiled tight like a spring ready to unfurl at a single touch.
He leans back, admiring me through the slits in his mask.
His crescent prisms glint in the moonlight.
He laughs menacingly before spitting on my cunt.
“Brace that gorgeous body, Little one. Daddy's coming home.” With those final words, he thrusts inside me.
A burning sensation bubbles just under the surface of my skin.
My thighs tremble with each snapping motion of his muscular hips and thighs.
Twigs and rocks scrape along my backside.
I desperately attempt to wiggle free just so I can feel his skin against mine, not even to escape anymore.
Every second he sinks into me, I float higher.
I want more. Need it. Every hard plane of his tight body.
Every inch of his sweat-ridden abs. Everything about this encounter sets me ablaze.
His dirty mouth. His overpowering primal side.
All of it. His biceps flex against my arms, caging me in his insanity.
Every masculine detail about him makes me that much more turned on.
My lips quiver as beads of his sweat fall along my neck and cheek.
“So tight. So warm. So mine.” He purrs. Even though I know this is temporary and just a fantasy, I refuse to feel guilty about how deeply I am letting this encounter embed into my psyche.
I let my eyes drift to his mask and the dark eyes laced with promise staring back at me.
Tenebrous, mysterious, and shrouded in a labyrinth of forbidden, unvarnished secrets.
It smirks back at me like a taunting, lethal sin.
His pace increases with each stroke. He reaches that spot inside of me that makes me forget everything else around me. My toes curl, and I cry out as fluid gushes out of my pussy. Holy shit. Did I just squirt?
He releases a fierce, husky growl. “Soak this cock. Drown me, Little one.” His hand travels down my arms, ribs, and hips.
He grips so tight before losing himself to me.
His other hand drops from my wrists to play with my swollen clit, flicking it just enough to keep me teetering on the edge.
My eyes roll. My breath comes in short bursts.
I couldn't form a coherent sentence if I tried.
“Look how responsive you are. This clit loves the attention I give it.” His voice drops an octave.
I fight the urge to rip that mask off his face, to face the man who has me on the brink of all my sexual desires, but he has my jacket wrapped so tightly around my arms. “P-p-please,” I beg.
My need to come overrides any other sensible thought.
“Tell me who you belong to, Little one.” His commanding tone tells me he will happily deny me until I comply.
I whimper, pleading. He drags his knuckle over my clit, slow and teasing now.
He lowers himself while still buried deep within my fleshy walls.
His scent surrounds me with each syllable he utters.
“Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” He enunciates each word with a sharp rasp. I shudder.
“You.”
I can practically hear him smirk through his mask. “That's right, Little one. You'll never forget it after I'm done with you.”