“Y… yes, sir.” I’m in a daze. A disbelieving daze.
“Good girl.” The crop lands beside me on the ottoman. “You’re starting to learn. Now…” I feel him behind me, his strength, his emotions, his body as the head of his cock pushes into my wet folds. Groaning, I bow my head, and I barely notice Ian pull apart my twist and take my long hair into his hand. “It’s time for me to see how well you can really obey. We’ll start by seeing how well you can control yourself.”
“Okay…”
“I’m gonna fuck you, Katie. Fuck you hard and fast, and your goal is to not come.”
What?
He’s kidding!
“You don’t think I’m serious? You haven’t earned the right to come again. You’re going to amuse and pleasure me first. If you come too soon? I will punish you… and you will not like my punishment.” He pinches my tender flesh, and I grimace. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fuck no! What’s the point of all this if I’m not enjoying it? Not coming? I’m a woman, damnit. Part of the beauty of being female is endless orgasms if a guy plays it right.
I have to remind myself that this is about orgasm denial. I’m not used to that on my end.
Ian’s finger dips into me, and he remarks on how wet and eager I seem to be. I barely hear him. Even when his finger enters my mouth and I taste myself on him, all I can think about is how sore my ass is and what a sadist this guy can be.
God, I kinda love it.
“Oh my shit,” I mutter, eyes closing as Ian’s cock teases my opening. “Please fuck me…”
He clicks his tongue, pulling back out. “I like to hear you beg, Katie, but don’t get too eager. Remember, you’re not supposed to come. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”
I know that. What is he waiting for? He thinks I can’t control a fucking orgasm? He’s lucky to get me off purely from vaginal stimulation, I mean…
The world goes black as he thrusts into me.
It’s crude. It hurts a little, especially with my sore ass. But holy fuck am I glad to have him inside me, finally!
He holds still within me, his self-indulgent groan sinking into my chest. I must be tight, wet, and definitely warm. All I feel is his sheer girth taking up my insides, my inner walls resting snugly around his shaft and tip. Fuck me, it feels so… comfortable.
Ian slowly pulls out. Wetness drips from him, from me. Chuckling, Ian says I look like I have a leak he needs to plug up before it gets all over his bedroom carpet. Oh my God, what a way to break the mood!
Then he slams back into me, and I don’t fucking care what he says. He can say anything. Do anything. All I care is that Ian Mathers is deep within me, his hands clamping down on my hips as he begins to thrust with increasing speed.
In this position, every thrust shoots me forward and then pulls me back again. My hair is still tight in his hand, and he pulls, yanking my head back and making my scalp tingle in pain like my ass. My earrings clink against my neck. My collar tugs at my hairs. Everything is a mixture of pain and pleasure, and when Ian calls me his “dirty girl,” all I know is that yes, yes I am his damned to hell dirty girl.
I’m not used to this kind of debasement. A man bending me over, chaining me to his home, and then using my body however he wishes. The movements he conducts are not with my pleasure in mind. His cock doesn’t search for my G-spot. It doesn’t pull out and rub against my clit. It’s raw desire on his end. A man who takes what he wants and leaves the rest behind.
He’s taking me. I’m what he wants.
What I leave behind me is up to me.
This shouldn’t make me come. Not sex like this. It might get me wetter, it may satisfy my craving to feel full and fucked, but it’s not going to give me an orgasm.
It shouldn’t, anyway.
Yet here we are, my body starting to shudder because my brain is latched onto the idea of Ian Mathers using me and it’s so…
It’s so…
Liberating.
This fucking hot man with his talented cock wants me. He wants to rescue me from the evil thoughts that constantly torment my head. Not being good enough for my family. Not being accomplished enough for the business world. Nobody taking me seriously because they see a woman playing around until she gets married. People talking behind my back and saying that I overcompensate with Doming because I’m too insecure to do anything else.
Well, how about this, huh? Is this good enough? Is dressing like this and having Ian grip my hips, pull my hair, and fuck me wide open with his cock good enough?
Oh my God, his fingers are so strong, so possessive on my flesh. He’s not even touching my clit. He’s grunting, though. Such a fucking hot grunt that sends so many shivers through me. He wants me. He can’t control himself. I’m his darling, his love, his baby…
His Katie.
It’s happening. My brain explodes in relief, in the knowledge that I can release everything I ever thought I knew I wanted. It doesn’t matter. This is where we are now. This is who I am in this moment.
His sub.
“Oh, God!” I don’t merely praise him. I praise Ian as well, my mind completely losing it. All I feel is him crashing into me, taking me so roughly that my legs jerk back and forth from the force of his thrusts. My own cum is running down my legs. My teeth rip apart my bottom lip. I hear his warning to not come, that he can feel me tightening around his cock, but I don’t care.
I can’t control it. This is so fucking hot. I’m his bitch. The only man I trust like this, and now I’m his fucking plaything.
My head throws back. I scream as he pulls my hair.
That’s right. I’m clamping down on his cock, refusing to let it go as I ride out a long, hard orgasm that even blows my fucking mind.
“Ian!” I whine, his thrusts now completely overtaking me. I’m rocking on my legs. I’m watching the carpet and the ottoman rush back and forth as my head bobs from our movements.
I’m coming.
“Oh, shit.” Ian’s fingers are digging so hard into me that there’s no possible escape. Not from him. Not from my…
From the man who owns me.
A heavy, predatory groan fills the room. I feel so small. So helpless. So this is not my problem. Whatever is going through Ian’s head as he starts to come, it’s no business of mine.
I’m too preoccupied with what’s about to happen.
“Come inside me!” I long for it. To feel that warmth, that sense of him claiming me and further turning me into the very thing people hate me for. “Please! Ian!”
I’ve never sounded so desperate before. My orgasm lasts longer, taking my eyes away from me, my sense of smell, and even my ability to do anything but grip the ottoman and feel this alpha male spend himself inside of me.
The first hit is the most satisfying. That sense of “I did it, I got him to do it…” combining with that relieving heat pumping inside of me. I moan from the reprieve as the next shot fills my cunt with more of his seed.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
I don’t think I’m going to get the fifth since we’ve slowed down, but as I’m about to collapse toward the ottoman, Ian growls, his cock emptying the last of it into me.
This is the third time this has happened. This is the most traditionally unromantic position to be in. But shit-fuck-shit, was that the best!
He carefullly pulls out of me. When the head of his cock separates from my body, I know why he’s being cautious. The man unloaded so much into me, that it comes spilling out in this position, running down my thigh and…
I happen to glance down in time to see a drop of white hit the carpet. Then another. My inner walls are shaking in that post-orgasmic reverie they love so much, and Ian’s seed is the collateral damage of the quake inside me.
It’s so much.
Just as I’m about to close my eyes and focus on the pleasure spreading through my body, Ian snatches my hair again, pulling me up and smacking my ass so hard that I scream in pain.