29. Dani #3
“Make me come, Daddy,” I pant.
He reaches around and slaps my tit then grabs it, twisting my nipple. He grabs my jaw, twisting my head around so I can see him looking crazed in the beam of the flashlight discarded on the floor.
“I’m not going to make you come. You’re my sex toy. I’m not yours,” he hisses as he ruts into me. “I told you not to fuck with me.”
Now that he’s come in me, I know he’s close.
I want to come again. I rise up, grabbing hold of a shelf so I have some leverage to work my clit.
The shelf topples over, and I fall forward. Ingredients spill over the floor, bottles crashing around me. That cock is still claiming my ass.
He grabs my jaw, forcing his fingers into my mouth.
“I didn’t tell you you could come yet, did I?”
I make a helpless noise.
“You don’t come unless I let you, you understand?” he hisses, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I asked—”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His cum explodes in me as his balls empty out, filling me with his cum while I have to kneel there and take it.
Like a slut.
Like his little cum slut.
His cock comes out of me with a sick noise that goes straight to my clit.
“Run.”
“What?” I whimper, turning to blink at him.
He looks bored and impossibly tall above me.
“I said run.” He grabs the olive oil bottle and smashes it on the edge of the table. “Or I’m fucking you up the ass with this bottle.”
“Shit!” Legs trembling, I rush back through the house.
I feel him behind me, chasing me, periodically reaching to grab me, to push me against the wall, to grab my tits, to pinch my nipple, to rub my sore, aching pussy.
He doesn’t kiss me, though, and I want that.
I want the closeness.
I want to know that this is real, that this means he likes me, that he wants me, that I’m more than a stand-in for his sick fantasy.
I’m finally back in the main hallway with the oversized windows out to the city. There’s light from the city; I can see. I rush to the front door.
He grabs me, jerking me back. I land hard, grabbing the banister to keep from crashing, but I’m down, my legs splayed on the stairs.
Then I groan, from deep inside, as that thick cock suddenly thrusts inside of me, taking my pussy because he owns it now.
He fucks me once, twice, then pulls out.
“I want to cum inside of you.” He slams back in. “You want me to give you a baby?”
Sort of?
I shake my head; I don’t know what the right answer is.
He grabs my hair, twisting me around.
“Then suck my dick.” He thrusts my head to the thick, hard cock jutting out of his pants. “Suck it.”
The zipper scrapes my chin.
I only know how to do this in theory.
I try to clumsily suck him, one hand on the base as I lick and inexpertly suck the head of his cock. I take a deep breath, rise up on my shaking knees, and take him deeper in my mouth, rolling his balls in my hand like that teen magazine said to do.
I allow myself to stroke my clit a few times before I grab onto his belt with both hands so I can really try and give head.
He hisses, pulling me off.
I gulp air as he looks down at me.
“Touch yourself.”
I reach down to my pussy.
“Touch your ass too.”
I hesitate.
His hand tightens on my neck, and I reach one hand back, sliding my fingers in the cum and oil there until I can thrust in my hole.
“Yeah, you like that,” he hisses as his fingers pry my jaw open.
His cock slams in my mouth.
I had not really been giving head before because tears leak out of my eyes when that huge cock hits the back of my throat.
I can’t think; I can barely breathe.
I bounce on my hands as he fucks my mouth, taking me deep in the throat.
“You like this? You like being treated like my little prisoner, don’t you?”
I try to mumble “Yes, Daddy” around the huge cock.
I can barely breathe through my nose.
“I’m going to train you into a good little girl,” the deep voice promises me.
I’m about to pass out as he fucks my mouth.
His hips are doing that thrusting thing again; he’s about to come—in my mouth, down my throat.
I panic.
He holds me, pulls out slightly, so all that cum fills my mouth.
I can’t swallow it all.
He grabs my face, closing my mouth and nose with a huge hand.
“No, no. Swallow it. I don’t want you to spit that on my floor. I said swallow it—that’s my good girl.”
My pussy still aches.
I didn’t come.
I lean back on my knees, trying to do my best sex-kitten impression and pose on the stairs—legs spread, pussy on display for him.
“Do you want my pussy?”
He stares at me for a moment, not moving, long enough that I get uncomfortable.
What am I doing?
This man kidnapped me and used me for sex—really dirty, disgusting sex—on the floor.
My mom would be appalled.
Maybe he’s in love with me or something now, the stupid part of me wonders.
He’s not, the rational analyst reminds me.
He doesn’t like me.
“I, um.” I clear my throat.
He’s still staring at me.
“I’m just going to go grab one of your shirts—or something—so I can go home.”
“Home?” he barks then laughs. “No, you’re not going home. You’re never leaving. I’m tying you up in my bedroom so I can fuck your pussy whenever I want.”