20. Aron #2
I slide my left hand up and wrap it around her slender throat, feeling her pulse thrum underneath my touch.
When she doesn’t protest, I squeeze harder and then harder.
Until I hear her not only wheeze while struggling for breath, but I feel her rub herself against our joined hands.
Almost imperceptibly, and likely without realising. But she is reacting.
Good fucking girl.
The things I can make her feel, the things I’m going to make her feel. She has no idea. No idea how much I can corrupt her, how depraved I can make her. But she will.
“That’s it,” I growl in her ear. “A traitorous little whore like you doesn’t deserve to waste my oxygen.”
A strangled cry tears from her lips. She throws her head back, her hair silken and soft on my chest. She thrusts harder into our hands.
My vision clouds, pleasure slicing through my spine, my balls constricting rhythmically.
“Fuck, Riley ...” I grit through my clenched teeth, squeezing her throat harder.
She’s moaning louder now, and struggling, her whole body rigid, fighting with itself. I press my thumb and my index finger more firmly against her pulse, and she gyrates her hips, bucking in my hold.
“Don’t fight it,” I command. “Stop resisting me.”
I make her fingers flick faster across her clit, and she wails. It’s so easy to make her react to me, so natural.
I dip my own finger lower, tracing her entrance without breaching it. She is absolutely soaked, dripping all over. She’s perfect, all of her perfect.
I loosen my hold on her neck a little to allow her two wheezing breaths before reducing her air supply again. She arches her back, grinding her ass against me.
My cock throbs and jerks, streams of precum rolling down the length.
How do I make her tip over the edge before I lose the last shreds of my sanity?
Since she was a girl, she was forced to bear responsibility for others. Her siblings, her parents, the whole burning fucking world. When was the last time someone felt responsible for her?
“Before you know it, I’ll fuck all fight out of you. That’s a promise. I’ll make you my obedient pet.”
Unable to resist anymore, I dip my fingers inside her, only to feel her spasm in reaction to my words. My good girl likes it when she’s not in control.
“Your body belongs to me now. You belong to me.” I choke her harder, making her gasp for a breath she’s not allowed to get.
“You eat when I say you eat. You sleep when I let you. But most importantly ...” I put more pressure on her circling fingers, and a tremor runs through her.
“Whenever I decide to give your body some pleasure, you’re not going to fight it in that twisted head of yours.
You’re going to take whatever I give you and thank me for it. ”
I start thrusting my spare fingers into her while still guiding her, helping her work at her clit.
And fuck, her pussy feels so fucking good I could die. So wet and warm, her walls firm and elastic. And the way they throb around me! She must be close. It’s a good thing she can’t see the victorious grin on my face.
“You helpless, clueless, pathetic little thing. You can’t even get yourself off. You need me to show you how. That makes you mine. My desperate little whore.”
This time, I cut her air supply completely, letting her lungs sear with the lack of oxygen.
“No ... no ... Fuck! No! Fuck!” she rasps voicelessly, arching her back, her cunt pulsating wildly.
“If you ever want to breathe again, say thank you!”
She growls, angry and feral, but then mouths, “Thank you ... you fucking bastard.”
“That’ll do for now. But that attitude of yours? I have ways of fixing it that you’ll love to hate.”
I deny her air for a heartbeat more and then relent, causing relief to rush through her in a tidal wave. That does the trick.
She comes undone, quaking with pleasure, her pussy throbbing so violently it nearly snaps my fingers in half. She collapses, her knees buckling underneath her. She crumples in my arms, leaning against me for support.
“Aron,” she moans in ecstasy. “Aron!”
My vision blurs, and triumph explodes in my chest at the sound of my name on her lips. My own orgasm rips through me. Jerking, my dick spurts cum until the front of my trousers is completely drenched with it. I throw my head back and groan loudly, sweat erupting all over me.
This didn’t happen. It couldn’t have. There’s no fucking way I came in my pants like a fucking teenager. Definitely not just from the feel of some mustard bitch falling apart in my hands.
My anger flares, my embarrassment quickly morphing into a need to put her in her place, to show her this means nothing but a noose tightening around her neck.
I whip her around, and she yelps as I push her against the bars with my hand tangled in her hair, tugging at it sharply.
Freshly fucked, she is a masterpiece: eyes still dark and liquid with desire like molten metal, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted.
“I can’t believe this happened,” she pants, echoing my own thoughts. “I stopped believing my body could even do that.”
Why the hell does she keep saying that? Why would she ever think her beautiful body couldn’t do something so natural? Who the fuck was it that made her doubt herself like that?
A different, unbidden kind of rage twists inside of me. I’m going crazy. I need to get my thoughts under control.
“Did you want this to happen?” I let go of her hair in favour of grabbing the bars on each side of her face, trapping her. “Did you want me to make you come? A man who hates you and everything you represent?”
She winces at my words, stunned. “No. I didn’t,” she admits.
“So your body betrayed you?” I press on.
“Yes.”
“Not nice, huh? Betrayal?” I taunt her. “Now you fucking know what that feels like.”
She blushes violently, and I’m expecting her to lash out, to yell at me what an asshole I am. I’m hoping she might even cry. But her look hardens instead, and her lips stretch in an unfazed smirk.
“Fuck you.” She rolls her eyes at me.
I think neither of us wants her defiance to have the effect it has on me.
She wants me angry, and I want to be angry at her.
But instead, I can’t decide whether I’d rather kiss her or spank her before doing what I just did again.
But she can never know that. She must never know how close she’s come to making me question everything.
“You will,” I assure her, straightening to my full, menacing height. “Just give it time, Hotshot.”
I don’t wait around to watch her face fall. I head for the exit, stepping over her discarded trousers, not letting myself question what made me decide to let her keep her clothes.