by Gabi Moore
“Forget about that,” he said and grabbed me, then got to work pulling my jeans down, letting them bunch at the knees, exposing my bare ass. We were still standing in the foyer.
He gripped my half-unbuttoned shirt in his fist and yanked it to one side, making a handle for himself that he pulled to angle me down and away from him. I twisted around to peer at him, and gasped. His cock was bursting free from the slit in his jeans, red, stiff as a pole and pointing straight at my now upturned rear.
We were both still mostly clothed, naked where it mattered, the heft of his body basically pinning me hard against the wall and nearly knocking me off my feet. The ache in my pussy was so intense now I couldn’t help but throw my hips back against him to beg for that thick red rod to be stuffed inside me. He moaned, pressed my head down and ran greedy fingers over the drenched slit between my legs, right over the spot that had been burning hot and desperate ever since they had taken me.
It felt like I didn’t even know the man who was behind me, the man about to fuck me, and yet, I felt like I had missed this man all the same. That I had somehow missed him for all the time I had known him.
He dipped the head of his swollen cock into my hole and rubbed the slick length of it up and down my pussy, spreading my cheeks and restraining me with his other hand. I wanted him in me so badly I was close to whimpering and begging for it. I lifted my hips up but to my surprise the cock tip came to rest at the tight pucker of my ass. I tensed up.
That was something we never did. He asked me sometimes. I had told him that it was degrading and that I wouldn’t. That only whores and porn stars did stuff like that. That I would no way do something so painful and humiliating.
But as he tilted his hips and pressed his cock against the tightness there, I didn’t stop him. Maybe, the degradation and pain was what I needed. To the surprise of us both, the ring of flesh relaxed and allowed the first inch of him to enter without much resistance.
“Fucking slut,” he muttered in a voice that I had never heard him use before, and the word sent a nasty little thrill through me, one that somehow opened me up so that when he jammed the next inch inside I accepted it willingly, and opened to it like he had found the magic word that melted every boundary.
“It hurts,” I cried.
“Good,” he said and pumped in another inch, and another, till I felt the weight of his entire body press firmly against my exposed hips, so he could dig into me even further, no part of his cock not buried in me.
The world went still as he skillfully introduced his manhood into that secret space, slow but purposeful, like he owned ever last quivering inch of me. I gasped and shuddered against him, melting all around that shaft of steel that seemed to be the only thing holding me up anymore.
It was the most revoltingly pleasurable sensation I had ever experienced. I felt filled up, deeper than ever, and stretched and torn apart in a way that half thrilled me, half scared me to death. It felt wrong. It felt dangerous. But I couldn’t tell if the intense burning and the waves wracking through me were pleasure or pain.
My body decided for me and almost involuntarily my hips pressed back against him, swallowing up the brutality, every part of him disappearing except for that tight place where we were locked together.
When he yanked down hard on my shirt and began to thrust, I thought I would pass out. I might have been screaming. I might have gone silent, each pump of his dominating hips a small death of the girl I thought I was, the girl who never would have allowed her boyfriend to turn her over the entrance hall table and fuck her ass till she nearly fainted with pleasure.
Each stab opened me further, and allowed him in deeper. My whole body felt engulfed in flames, and with every thrust we felt melded together, like he was knotted in me forever. My pussy was streaming wet and pulsing in response to the hard treatment the rest of me was getting. I felt the familiar swell of the start of an orgasm, only this one had long roots tangled right into the deepest part of me, roots that seemed like they would shatter me to pieces right from inside my core, from that dark dirty part of me that had wanted this all along.
I turned to see his face washing over with pleasure, anger, something else, something more than all of those… His jaw was clenched hard enough to pull the tendons tight on his neck, and every muscle in his perfect body was hard and twitching as he threw his cock again and again into my body. He was being too rough. He was going to deep. But I didn’t care. I was willing to let him kill me if he wanted.
I knew now what drug I wanted. What addiction I was willing to die for.
With every savage fuck, I realized that I had known all along that even though sex had hurt me in the past, it was my only redemption now. That even though sex had shackled me in the past, it could now become the most delicious tool. As he fucked me, pain and redemption and bliss and disgust and ecstasy and love and hate all melded and mixed together. I didn’t know what I was feeling, only that I was feeling it intensely, with every last speck of my being.
I could hear him moaning and start to lose control. I felt him twitch inside me and the movement was enough to fling me over the edge. A slow, deep, hard orgasm ripped through me, and I screeched like an animal, sending the side table crashing to the floor and crumpling down against his body. I felt his cock tighten and swell inside, his balls pressed firm against my drenched clit, and soon he unloaded thick shots of hot cum deep into me, each one wracking his body and eking out a muffled cry from his throat.
We both crumpled at the knees and tumbled to the floor, released from the madness. He was still bolted hard inside me, and I winced as he slid out lovingly, both of us tender and still engorged. I curled up in a ball and he curled behind me, along my spine, cradling my breasts in his hands, his dick slowly deflating against my thigh.
For the longest time, we lay lie this together, just breathing.
Chapter 17 - Leo
“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what came over me,” she said, and started prying my hands off her.
“You’re sorry?”
She was on her feet, fumbling for her clothing and, unbelievably, blushing.
“I’m just …I’ve had a really traumatic day, and I’m tired, and things have just been so emotional.”
I stared blankly at her. A moment ago I had held her tightly in my lap, cock buried all the way in her and watching as her beautiful spine curled again and again as she came. And now she was apologizing? I stood up to grab my clothing too.
“My head’s a mess. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking.”
She flashed her eyes up at mine, one twinkling blue and innocent, the other dark and hidden. She looked …tumbled. Her hair was in loose tangles all around her beautiful face and there was a looseness in her limbs, a kind of devil-may- care attitude in the way she flung her words at me. It was hot. She was hot.
“Yeah, well… I’m going to the police to report all of this, and as soon as I’ve done that, we need to sit down and have a serious chat about what the hell is going on with us, and we need to discuss--”
“No. We don’t need to discuss anything.”
“Are you kidding me? I thought we were doing OK, you and I, but I guess …I just don’t know what to think anymore.”
“So, stop thinking then,” I said and returned her gaze, making her freeze in the middle of pulling her jeans up.
“Stop thinking? Stop thinking? You see, that’s what I’m talking about, am I in the twilight zone or something? I’m serious that we need to reconsider the wedding. We need to just pull back for a second and call that off for the time being.”
I stood up and lay my fingertips over hers, to stop them from fidgeting with her zip and button. She paused and looked up at me. She was and always had been the most striking woman I had ever seen. Like me, but better. And beautiful. Soft where I was hard. Good where I was bad.
But she squirmed her eyes away from mine and looked to the floor.
“You
’re embarrassed,” I said, a little amused. I could see her lips tightening, but she said nothing.
“It’s OK, you don’t have to say that you liked doing …that. But I know you did. I felt that you did,” I said, and caressed my hand up over the hem of her jeans and onto the still bare flesh of her stomach.
She froze and said nothing.
“We should take a break from each other for a while,” she said to the floor. I reached out my fingertips, took her chin and lifted it to me so she had no choice but to look at me.
“You’re not going anywhere, you’re going to stay right here and let me keep loving you,” I said in an almost-whisper. “And we’re going to keep doing this...” I added, and let my other hand caress the full slope of her hips and squeeze her ass so she knew exactly what I meant.
I felt the tension in her melt a little.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said those things, I don’t know why I’m so crazy these days, I--”
“Shhh…” I said and gently kissed her cheekbone.
“I’m serious though, Leo, I think I’m losing it. The things I did…”
“What did you do?” I said to her neck, and then carried my trail of kisses down to her collarbone. She took a long time to answer me.
“I …I danced.”
I stopped kissing and looked at her.
“You danced?”
“I danced.”
I took a step back and cocked my eyebrow at her. I had always suspected that Sophia had a little hidden edge to her, a little more than a wild streak but something she was more than capable of restraining. But the look she now gave me had me wondering if she wasn’t well-behaved with a tiny wild streak but more like wild with a tiny well-behaved streak.
“On the …stage? You mean you danced at the club?”
I had vaguely imagined her cowering in a corner, dismayed at the seedy place they’d taken her to threaten me, but this confession immediately changed everything. She squirmed a little and looked as though she couldn’t find the right words.
“They forced you to dance?” I said gently. The idea was awful. Them abducting her, keeping her prisoner and then forcing her to dance was one that filled me with the most white-hot rage. But I couldn’t ignore that that rage was tinged with a sharp little pop of curiosity that still wanted to hear every last detail.
“Well, actually …this is kind of difficult to say…” she muttered and kept staring down at the floor.
“Just tell me, Sophia. Did they threaten you? Did …did anything else happen?” I tried not to allow my thoughts to go too far down the road of what else could have happened there, although some sick part of me wanted it to be bad.
“No, it wasn’t like that. They didn’t hurt me at all.”
“Then what? You can tell me,” I pressed. Had they humiliated her somehow? Is that why she was so reluctant to speak to me now?
“I wanted to do it,” she blurted at last. “I pushed for it. I went on stage and I …I enjoyed it. I loved it, actually.”
Here she frowned and shook her head from side to side, like she didn’t quite recognize herself.
“You …you wanted to dance?”
The look on her face now was devilish.
“They watched me,” she said quietly. “I took everything off, I showed them everything, and they all watched me, and they fucking loved it, and I … I…”
“What? What did you do?” I asked, nearly shaking her by the shoulders.
“I came!”
“What?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but just being up there, I can’t explain it, it was so intense, I felt like I was going to pass out except in the best way possible… and I …”
“Who--”
“No, nobody touched me, I was just …I was on fire. It was like magic. I stepped off the stage and my body just… ” her eyes glazed over and the look of pleasure that washed over her face had the strongest effect on me. Secret, shameful parts of me had imagined her stolen and ravaged. Imagined the sordid things they had done to my sweet, innocent girlfriend. They were thoughts almost too obscene to even imagine, and yet, here she was telling me something even sexier. She wanted it. She really wanted it.
But suddenly her blissful expression collapsed on itself and she was frowning again.
“In any case, I just don’t know what’s going on with me anymore. I’ve spent such a long time rehabilitating, Leo, and all of that shit is in my past now, and it’s behind me now, and I can’t risk…”
I knew she had had a drug problem in the past. I knew she was ashamed of her childhood, of doing the whole foster parent circuit. Of the shoplifting, the fighting in school. I already knew all of that. She continued, little tears growing on the edge of her lashes.
“I just can’t trust myself anymore. I’m regressing,” she sobbed, then flung herself into my arms.
My mind whirled.
“There’s stuff you don’t know, Leo. I never told you. I was too disgusted with myself. I used to be…”
“A dancer? You used to strip? What?” I asked, confused.
“Much, much more than that,” she said coldly.
I pushed her away at arm’s length and studied her.
“More? Like what? You used to …you used to sell yourself?” I yelled. The anger came more quickly than I knew what to do with it.
She was so thrilled by the idea of stripping and being a whore that just the idea made her come, and yet here we were, on a dry spell that was going on a month now? How the fuck did that make any sense? Hadn’t I given her everything? Didn’t we have the perfect relationship? I had assumed I had always pushed too hard, that I always needed to be gentler with her, to be patient, and yet… my jaw clenched down.
She said nothing, only looked at me with those two-tone eyes, pulled wide open.
“You’re right, we should call the wedding off,” I said, and released her. Her lower lip quivered.
“Leo, please don’t be angry, I’m as confused as you are, I want to be honest with you, I wa--”
“Just shut up!” I yelled, and instantly regretted it.
“Did you really actually have an orgasm on stage? Seriously?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, was it worth it?” I said, voice rising again. It was my turn to feel as though I couldn’t recognize her.
She said nothing.
“Well, tell me? Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy being a giant slut for everyone? I can’t believe this,” I said, now leaning up so close to her that she shrunk back in fear. “Tell me, was it really that good? Huh?”
She stared at me mutely, eyes big. I wanted to shake her.
“Well?”
“Yes! I fucking loved it!” she hissed back.
I was stunned.
“Then dance for me,” I said.
Our eyes caught for a moment, brown with blue, blue with brown, locked together in that way that only we could look at each other. Fuck, I loved this woman. And in this moment, I wanted to hurt her.
“Do it,” I said more quietly, my voice choking up. “Dance for me. I want to make you feel that too.”
“I can’t,” she said eventually and shook her head, but I grabbed her shoulders and pulled me towards her.
“You can, and you fucking will,” I hissed. The shock on her face made me instantly hard. I couldn’t explain it. Hate and love and fear and lust and confusion and delicious, delicious desperation all mixed together. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I only knew it was intense.
“Do it. Strip it all off and dance for me like you did when you were playing the whore, since you clearly love it so much,” I said with steel in my voice. She wanted to play with fire? She had a dark, kinky side? Well, so did I.
She opened her mouth to protest once more, but I cut her short.
“Do it.”
Her eyes hardened at me. She took a step back, and then that glazed expression went over her face again. I could tell her hands were shaking as she ran them over h
er body. She was demure, awkward. She took a step away from me. I could see the lump dip and rise again in her throat as she swallowed. I flung myself into a chair, spread my legs wide and watched her, hands laced on my lap. I loved how nervous she was. I loved that she was shaking.
“Don’t hold back, baby. You want to play with this kind of thing? Then do it. Fucking show me,” I said. And slowly, very slowly, the moment morphed from angry and painful into something delightfully hot. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and arched her back, and gradually, she started to move like something molten, like a flame but in slow motion.
She was beautiful.
Without looking at me, she stroked her tight midriff, snaking her hands down and all the way up her tight little body. I could still scarcely believe that a few hours ago I had given her the thorough fucking I had. I couldn’t believe what my body had done to hers. And that she had loved every second of it.
I watched as she gyrated and twisted her hips, rose up onto her toes to stretch out and then let her perfect breasts sway from side to side right in front of me. She was my girlfriend. My fiancé. But she was possessed. This wasn’t just another side to her that I was just now seeing. It was a whole extra dimension.
She moved silently, then slipped off her clothing, first her shirt, then her jeans, taking her time. It was the same body I had dominated the night before, but the way she held herself now made her seem utterly different. I wanted her, badly. Though I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, I felt my body tighten and harden at the mere sight of her. I had felt raw and exhausted after what we had just done together, but it didn’t seem to matter. I wanted more.
She peeled her eyes open and gazed heavily at me, daring me to watch her more closely, a voluptuous, almost challenging smile on her full lips. She could tell what she was doing to me. There were no words. There didn’t have to be. The space between us became electrically charged somehow, filled with the wordless conversation that we were having, a carnal call and response between my body and hers. It took every fiber of my will to not reach out and grab her again, and show her just exactly what I was capable of doing to that teasing body of hers…but I held back, transfixed by her gaze, by her silky movements and full, swirling hips.