14. Sawyer #2
Frankly, it’s too late to matter.
She lets out a growl that could be a mewl as I pump my fingers faster, harder. Her back jerks against the straps holding her down, and her hips wiggle earnestly, searching for escape.
My cock thickens.
“What’s the point in struggling, beautiful? What do you think you’re going to accomplish?”
I fit a third finger inside. My skin heats as blood pumps faster through my body. My cock bulges through my shorts until it’s painful, but I don’t dare give it a moment’s attention. I keep all my focus on the girl.
She doesn’t answer me. I hope it’s because she can’t.
Her mouth opens with a moan as her legs part a centimeter, then another. Her body slowly betrays her, winding up until it can’t wind anymore.
“It’s okay to come,” I say, my voice breathy. “Come for me, Luna.”
She clamps her lips shut, but she can’t stop herself from doing as I command. Her hips tremble as a deep moan tries to free itself from her mouth. Her pussy clenches my fingers as my hand wets, Luna’s rich scent carrying into my nose.
I don’t smile as I breathe in. Don’t even close my heavy eyes. I don’t feel smug or satisfied. I feel … blank. My mind—for once—goes quiet, raw need clawing at my chest, straining my cock. More animal than man.
Clearing my throat, I try to collect myself. Wait a beat. Then use my middle finger to push her hood up, finding her clit once again.
“Sawyer, no. Please.”
“You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it. I know you do.”
“It’s too much.” She whines and rubs her heel against me in a hopeless attempt to push me away.
“It’s never too much.”
“Sawyer!”
She gasps as I plunge three fingers inside of her, lifting until she spreads her knees apart on her own. I pump until I feel like she could fit another, then I force my pinky inside, making her squeak in a breath.
Now it’s too much.
She stays perfectly still, her mouth finally zipped shut. She doesn’t ask me to stop as I work her, each movement slow and controlled. She stretches around my hand, her walls trying hard to keep me out.
“Have you ever been fisted?” I ask, my tone level. Even. As if my cock isn’t raging right now.
“N-no,” she whispers. Fear is thick in her voice, a sweet drop of liquid sugar in the barrel of acid she’s been spewing.
“Do you want to know what it feels like?”
“No,” she’s quick to say. Her breath shakes as she quiets. “No. Please no.”
The smell of fear sours the room, fear that wasn’t here before. Because she was, in fact, trying to play me.
Now… Not so much.
“You don’t have to be afraid.” I pull my hand from her clit to caress along her lower back. “I hear it can feel great.”
“S-S-S…” she begins, but as I push in deeper. All sound cuts off before her pretty lips can say my name.
Shame.
“I like you, beautiful. I really, really do. That’s why I forgive you for going back on our deal. You were overconfident, and people do silly things when they’re overconfident. I get it.”
She exhales as I pull out, like she was holding her breath. She shouldn’t do that.
“That’s also why I want to be kind to you. And gentle. But you aren’t letting me.”
“I—” Her mouth slams shut as I push in again, squeezing a groan through her closed lips.
“I’m gonna try one more time, Luna. Okay?
I really think you have it in you to survive, and we need to bring those instincts out before you go and get yourself killed…
Because you like options, and because I’m so nice, I’m going to give you some.
I know you like pain, so this should be an easy one for you. You ready to hear it?”
Her head slowly moves up and down, but I don’t accept it as an answer. I shift my thumb to her ass and grip until she cringes. “Yes … sir. I—Please tell me.”
“I’m going to make you come again, but you get to decide how.”
She breathes heavily as she listens. I wait for snark, my chest loosening when none comes.
“Fist or cock, sweet girl… What do you think?”
“Cock.” She spits the word out like it’s spoiled fruit and writhes on the bench as I move inside her.
“Cock?” I hum. “I thought you liked pain.”
“I don’t.”
Go figure.
“I don’t know, Luna. I really thought you were going to pick fist. I mean, Jesus, I’d hate to rape you like you accused me of before. I’m not like that.”
Pressing her forehead into the bench, she cries at the pressure in her pussy. “I know,” she says through a sob. “I know you’re not like that. I just said that to hurt you, but I…” Another sob. “I want you. Please, Sawyer, I want you so bad.”
“Are you sure, baby?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m so sure. I’m so, so sure. Please.”
My bottom lip draws into my mouth, my tongue sliding across it.
I am not delusional.
I know this is fake.
Of course, it’s fake.
But still…
So much desire floods my balls that I find my hips thrusting. Lightly. Wantingly. I swallow and prepare myself to speak so my words don’t slur with a bad case of lust-drunk.
“Okay. We’ll do it your way then… But please listen to me carefully, sweet girl.
” I let my lungs expand and fill my voice with contempt—as real as it is intentional.
“If you ever call me a rapist again, this will be the last time you have the privilege of getting fucked by my cock. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? ”
“Yes,” she rasps, her shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry… I’ll never say it again.”
“Good.” I pat her ass while pulling my hand from her pussy. Her breaths pick up, not quite into a sob but close. I can feel her body relax beneath my touch, and it unwinds my shoulders as much as it does hers.
I don’t prefer this way of doing things. I like gentle. I like mutuality.
But comfort leads to complacency, never adaptation. It’s hard to argue the effectiveness of a bit of pressure.
Maybe she’ll thank me one day.
My body curves over hers to undo the strap hugging her shoulders, her spine arching beneath the weight of my torso and the forceful grind of my hips.
She extends her legs to lay flat while I move down the line freeing her from the other three.
Every inch of her chilled skin vibrates with endless shudders. But she doesn’t cry.
Not even as I lay myself on top of her and kiss the rounded notch at the base of her neck—then lower, lips following the slope of her spine, tongue pausing to explore the valleys between bone.
“Breathe,” I whisper when I notice her shallow inhales. “Just breathe. You’re fine.”
I trail all the way to her ass before sinking my hands into her hips. Then lift.
She scoots her knees forward when I prompt and stays still, fight muted for the moment. Maybe even for a few days while the fear is fresh.
Once that fear fades… The wildcat will return, vicious as ever. Until the next round of pain. Then the next. And the next. Until resistance becomes exhausting and acceptance feels like mercy.
You can’t sell fantasy to a pessimist.
But you can sell relief.
Palms splaying over Luna’s ass, I crook both thumbs in the deep crease; spread her open; dip my head.
Her pussy gleams, wet and ready even before my tongue glides through the center of her folds. Scent dizzying. Taste raw—lavender oil from the bath hardly masking her arousal. Arousal that’s fresh, not only leftover from our earlier playtime.
Jesus Christ, my cock is hard.
I pop the button on my shorts while sucking a lip into my mouth. Luna’s hips buck with her gasp. Then go utterly still.
Obedience?
Probably not.
Pleasure so extreme, it’s shocking?
A narcissist’s fantasy.
I’m not a narcissist, but I do know my way around a pussy well enough to—after a few minutes of licking and sucking—anticipate the tension in her thighs releasing. Unsurprised as little squeaks of pleasure escape her mouth.
I wait until she comes before allowing my movements to slow, a sigh rolling across hot, tender flesh.
My turn.
Abandoning her pussy, I slide my tongue up the crease of her ass, pausing on the buttoned hole. It flexes with tension she carries into her lungs with one sharp, defensive inhale. Not a freaky girl.