Mansions

by Whitney Bianca

  She drags her pink lips across my skin, leaving a slick trail of saliva in her wake. I pull her hair and she drops her head back. She sucks on the tip of me, swirling her tongue around it, her eyes half-closed but never leaving mine. I can't concentrate on anything but the way she's fucking me with her mouth and her hand, slowly. Maddeningly slow. She's driving me crazy, but I'm not in any rush to come so I don't punish her for it.

  “Do you want to know something about me?” she asks, then licks the tip again. “About all the things I've done?” I don't respond and she doesn't stop stroking. “About all the men I've been with?” I stare down at her, my muscles stiffening at her words. “I fuck men wherever I go. I don't even have to know their names.” She drags her hand up me, tugging just enough that I have to clench my jaw before I make a sound.“I probably fucked someone in Istanbul. I probably sucked his dick just like this. But I can't remember.” She drops her head back into the stream of water and the shampoo runs down her body. She doesn't loosen her gip on me, however. My eyes drop to her breasts and I want to squeeze them. Bite them. I want to make her gasp. She's playing with me, trying to piss me off. And it's working.

  I buck my hips and pull her towards me. I force my cock back into her mouth and she sucks me deep with a low moan. Coldly, I thrust into her, fucking her hard. She whimpers and chokes and digs her fingernails into my thighs but I don't stop. I imagine those two all the other men she's probably had through the years, all the other men who've used her like this. I imagine drops of come on her face. Then I imagine how my come will look dripping out of her pretty pink pussy after I've just fucked her. Adrienne was made to be covered in my come, not anyone else's. She'll realize that soon enough. I plan on teaching it to her starting tonight.

  My orgasm explodes in my chest first. I gasp at the intensity of it. My climax goes on and on and I force myself deeper and deeper until she's almost swallowed my whole length. I'm practically down her fucking throat. I don't pull out until I know for damn sure she's swallowed everything I have to give her. I close my eyes, imagining my come burning up her insides. She's gagging and making ragged, painful noises. Tears stream out of her eyes. Finally, when I'm satisfied, I let her go and she jerks away from me so fast she almost falls off the bench. She chokes and coughs, putting her hands to her throat.

  “That's what I deserve,” she chokes out, staring up at me like she's won.

  “The only man you're going to fuck from now on is me. Anytime you want to hate-fuck yourself into oblivion, you'll ride me until you're raw and bleeding. You're only going to choke yourself on my big, magnificent cock,” I grit out through clenched teeth. I hate myself for letting her get to me, but she did this shit on purpose.

  Now she's going to have to suffer the consequences.

  “Don't move,” I growl and she doesn't reply. She just stares up at me with those big, mysterious, mad eyes. She knows what's coming. I clamp my hand around her throat, keeping her still when she starts to squirm and then I scrub her down until I'm satisfied. When she's clean enough, I throw her over my shoulder and that's when she starts to fight. She throws her arms and kicks her thighs and slaps my back and shoulders, but I don't care. I stride into the bedroom and throw her down on the bed. We're both soaking wet but I don't give a shit.

  I'm tired of waiting.

  I turn and grab my tie off the bedside table as she tries to crawl away from me. She grips the sheets and pulls herself across the mattress, leaving a wet trail on the sheets in her wake. I catch her right before she falls over the side of the bed. I close my hand around her thigh and she screams. I drag her back toward me and grab her wrists. She screams again, pressing her face into the mattress, as I began wrapping the silk tie tightly around her wrists, securing them around the left bedpost.

  The bed is an antique, a grand four-poster frame from Italy. The virgin Mary is carved into the cherrywood headboard, surrounded by fat cherubs. I stare into the blank eyes of the carving as I pull Adrienne's arms taut. She bows her back and she struggles, but I'm stronger than her. She rolls her body, but she can't throw me off. She can't get away, ever. Soon she'll realize that.

  “Let me go!” she screams. “Let me go, you vile piece of shit!” I freeze at her words, a smile curling over my lips. I love it when she calls me things like that. When she's tied good and tight, I run my hand down the bumps of her spine and over the sharp corners of her shoulder blades, until my fingers find the little circular burn in the center of her back. She has other marks on her, from the explosion and other, older scars, but this is the one I gave her. It's mine. Abruptly, she stops screaming as my finger traces the round mark from my cigarette. It's barely healed and when I touch it, my need for her only grows. I like seeing my mark on her. Her back rises and falls and I can feel her heart beating a mile a minute beneath her skin.

  “I am vile,” I admit, loving the way the word feels in my mouth. I lean forward and kiss her shoulder, then press my lips to her ear. “I'll be the nastiest, dirtiest, filthiest fuck you've ever had,” I whisper, my cock coming back to life and getting harder and harder with every word I speak. I drag my eyes down her body, taking in her perfect ass and her creamy skin. My knees sink into the mattress as I straddle her and push her wet hair out of her face. She shivers as a drop of water runs down her neck. I run the blunt head of my cock between her soft ass cheeks, remembering exactly what she wanted me to do in the museum.

  I refused her then because I didn't want to lose myself in her darkness. I didn't want to wallow in her mire, so to speak. So I held back. I kept myself in control and I almost lost my chance to give her exactly what she wanted. What both of us wanted. Then I almost lost her, Adrienne Hamina, the only person that means anything to me in this shitty world.

  I'm never going to make that mistake again.

  From now on, I'm going to give us both what we want, when we want it.

  I'm no longer afraid of getting dirty.

  In fact, I'm about to make a huge fucking mess and I'm going to love every minute of it.

  *****

  I twist and turn like a pig on a spit. He's got me tied so tightly I can barely move but with every little movement, the pain rears its ugly head again. This is how it's going to be, I realize. He's going to use me for whatever pleasure he can take from me. All of my power is gone, as far as he's concerned. I'm just supposed to lay down and take it.

  And I do.

  When he runs his hands up my thighs and then pushes them roughly apart, my heart jumps in my chest. My jaw aches and my throat is raw from the face-fucking he punished me with. I can still taste him on my lips and smell him in my nose. My arms are pulled taut and my wrists ache from the pressure. Everything hurts, anyway. I'm used to it. I arch my back, trying to relieve some of the tension. The sheet beneath me is smooth and expensive, but the threads still feel coarse against my sensitive skin. In the shower where he touched me everywhere, but barely paid any real attention to the skin calling out for his touch. My body feels raw, on edge. I know what's coming next but I don't know. I can't predict what he'll do to me, now that I'm completely at his mercy.

  His hands trace the swell of my ass and I feel the goosebumps rise on my skin. He exhales slowly as he digs his fingers into my prone flesh, and I jerk upwards into his touch. I want it, despite everything. He shifts on the bed, moving behind me, but I can't see him. I press my forehead into the mattress again and tell myself to breathe, trying to calm the drumming of my beating heart.

  When I feel his tongue, I can't stop the startled noise from leaving my lips. He spreads me open like he owns me, like every inch of my skin is his for touching. He doesn't hesitate to explore my most sensitive place. He doesn't hesitate at all.

  “Wait,” I hiss, even though I know that will only make him more stubborn. I need a moment, but I know I won't get it.

  “Shut up,” he replies, no malice in his voice. He sounds like he's out of breath, actually, like his heart is racing just as much as mine. But that's not possible. Dori
an Armstrong doesn't let himself be as vulnerable as I am right now. He wouldn't allow it.

  I grit my teeth as he drops his head to lick my ass again. The strokes of his tongue are long and then short, completely unpredictable. His fingers dig into my flesh as his movements become more and more excited. Before, it was like an experiment, like he just wanted to know how I would taste, how I would react. Now, it's like he wants it. And that's terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. He forces the tip of his tongue inside the tight ring of muscle and I arch my back and raise my hips off the mattress. The tie cuts into the skin of my wrists as I move, but I can't stop myself from moving into him.

  After all the pain and discomfort and shock and general awfulness that's been my life lately, what he's doing is good. I know I shouldn't believe in it. I shouldn't buy into what he's selling but it feels good. My eyes slip closed and I can only focus on his tongue and what he's doing with it. It becomes a staccato rhythm, long and short, smooth and then rough, deep and then shallow. I move my hips with him as well, even though it makes me dig my thighs into the bed and causes pain to shoot up my back. Or maybe that's why I move my hips. With every bit of pleasure he gives me, along with it comes a shock of pain.

  It makes it even better. Cleaner, not that it makes any sense.

  It's overwhelming, but I only care about the feeling. I roll my hips, chasing his tongue but he lets me win more often than not. He gives me what I want, like he can read my mind. His tongue goes deeper and deeper inside, spreading me open wider and wider. I want everything, every inch of his thick, rough tongue, and we mindlessly move together until he makes a low noise in his throat and pushes away. I whine and arch my back again as the cool air hits me. I'm a mess, wet and throbbing and unsatisfied. He sits back, his knees touching my inner thighs, but he doesn't touch me again for a long few minutes. I can hear him breathing but I tell myself not to look.

  He slides off the bed and I can't contain my curiosity anymore. I turn my head, blowing a puff of air out of the side of my mouth to move my hair out of my eyes. It only partially works. I can't see him completely as he strolls over the armoire in the corner. I've never seen anyone open it since I've been in this room, and I try to see what he's doing but I can't. I clench my eyes shut, not sure if I'm truly ready for what's coming next. I don't have a choice, but I'm not sure.

  I open my eyes again when he puts a knee on the mattress and climbs back on the bed. He's back between my legs before I can protest. My throat feels like cotton so I don't know if I can do anything beyond moaning or whimpering anyway. He strokes my thighs and ass again, his hands warm and strong. Then he's reaching upward, up the curve of my spine and then around to cup my tits. I can feel the tip of his hard dick, slipping between my ass cheeks.

  “Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice dark and deep like black magic. I remember this is what he asked in the museum, when I gave him an answer that probably shocked both of us. This time it's no shock. I already know what he's going to do; he does, too. “You still want it to hurt?”

  “Yes,” I say, my voice scratchy and foreign. He chuckles, brushing my hair off my neck. I feel a shiver of electricity fire up my spine. Then he presses his mouth to my shoulder, distracting me just enough that I don't expect it what he does next. I grunt like an animal as he plunges a finger inside my ass. He prepped me but I'm still not ready. My muscles clench around him and I know his big cock is going to feel huge in comparison. He slides his finger roughly in and out, and I lift my hips off the mattress, involuntarily wanting him deeper even though it hurts.

  I hate him, I do, I do but I still want it. I still want him.

  The room is lit by two lamps, casting the corners in shadows. The heavy velvet curtains are pulled over the windows. The rest of the world doesn't exist. War-torn countries and drug wars and famine and genocide don't exist in here. This is my life now – life in a sumptuous jail cell. A padded room in which to bang my head against the walls and be fucked in but never leave. It feels like a bad dream, but I know that if it's left up to him, I'll never wake up.

  “How does it feel?” he asks, slowly pull away.

  “Don't stop,” I gasp.

  He opens a bottle and I know instantly what was in the armoire. I feel the cool liquid against my skin and I breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn't sure what he was planning, but the lubrication lets me know exactly what he wants to do. He thrusts two fingers in inside of me, slower this time. He prepares me, his fingers spreading me open. I writhe and moan as he tortures me, little by little. He likes it too, I can tell. He likes what he's doing to me.

  I scream when he presses the head of his cock into me, stretching me wider than I thought possible. The pain blossoms through me but he doesn't stop. He bucks his hips and forces himself into me, inch by inch. I yank my arms again, even through I know it's futile. I feel pulled tight, like I'm going to break. Sharp pain shoots down to my shoulders as he runs his hands down the center of my back. I gasp as the pleasure of his touch mingles with the all-encompassing pain. I clench my ass around his cock and he exhales sharply. His hands slide down to my ribs, his fingertips brushing the swells of my tits.

  I arch my back higher, wanting him to cup my breasts with his big hands again. I want the pleasure as much as I want the pain. I asked for the pain, but I crave his touch as well because I'm weak. I close my eyes as his hands continue down to my hips, ignoring my silent request. His fingers dig into my skin and I know what's coming. He rears back but doesn't pull all the way out of me. I'm empty, but still straining around him. The feeling is pure torture. So is the waiting. I know he's going to rip me open, it's just a question of when. I bite down on my lip, pressing my face against the soft part of my arm, trying to prepare myself.

  When he thrusts into me again, I scream again, but my voice is muffled in my ears. All I can hear is the drumming of my heart. I'm terrified of the pain, I realize. The fear is a rush. It makes the pain sharper and my mind clearer. The haze that has surrounded my existence is gone, finally.

  All I know is Dorian. Dorian is everywhere. He's everything.

  He fucks me hard, every stroke deeper than the last. His big cock is all I can think about. Blissful agony slackens my jaw and makes my eyes roll up in my head as the sweat on my back turns cold. My lungs can't expand fast enough as I gulp in air. His hands are roaming again, up my ribs and over my shoulders. His breath is coming just as fast as mine and for a long time, I focus on the rhythm of his breathing. As he becomes more frenzied, so does his breathing. As his frenzy grows, my reality sharpens.

  I'm pulled tight and my brain is as sharp as a pin.

  I've been in a haze for far too long. It's strange to feel alive again.

  He grips my hair with one hand, pulling my head back, as he thrusts into me. “You're perfect,” he says and I can hear the pleasure, thick at the back of his throat. He likes my pain and he likes fucking me. The realization sends a shiver of pure, perverted lust through me. I'll take all of the pain he wants to give me, because what else can I do? “You want more?” he asks but I can't answer him. My tongue is too dry and I can't move my mouth. I've lost all control. He drops against me, his chest pressing against my back. He's as wet as I am, all over. It's sweat or water from the shower. It doesn't matter; we meld together, our wet bodies slick. He bucks into me like he can't control himself and I wish I could see his face.

  I want to watch him fuck me. I want to watch his chest muscles tighten and his pupils dilate. His cool facade has finally crumbled. His fingers tighten in my hair and he makes a low, wild sound as he speeds his thrusts. He's deeper inside of me than anyone has ever been and he doesn't stop there. He wants to destroy me from the inside out, I'm fairly certain. He almost succeeded at the museum. Now, I know why he didn't fuck my ass then. I would have been a boneless, bloody mess afterwards.

  I wonder how much I'm bleeding now.

  My pussy squeezes at the thought.

  “Adrienne,” he hisses. “Tell me what you want.”
I try to speak, but a moan is the only thing that escapes. He growls, the sound vibrating through his chest and bucks into me. My hips grind into the mattress and I spread my thighs wider as my clit rubs against the sheet below me. The agony is ecstasy and I want to come, more than anything.

  God up in heaven, I want to come with Dorian's cock filling me up.

  “Harder,” I whisper.

  “This isn't good enough for you?” His voice is strained, and I know he's close to losing it. He wraps his hand around my throat and locks his other arm around my waist, cementing me against him. My heart slows in my chest as I wait for it. He doesn't disappoint. He digs his knees in and drills his big cock to the core of me. A white hot pain shoots through me and I let out jagged, wounded cries. I hardly recognize the sounds I'm making. They're primal and violent and nonsensical. He presses his lips to my ear as he growls and moans, assaulting my brain with every sound of his pleasure. I can't think anymore; I can only feel him and hear him.

  He's taking me over, completely and fully.

  “Fuck, I want to cut you open,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “I want to skin you alive.”His words work in tandem with the friction building against my clit, and I can feel the orgasm I'm chasing, just out of reach.

  “I want your blood,” he continues as he fucks me. “I want all of you.”

  “Take it. Take it all,” I say, because I want him to. He can have all of my skin and bones and blood. Truth be told, he's already got them.

  And he knows it.

  I'm completely at his mercy.

  “Come for me, Adrienne. I want to fucking feel it,” he demands, his voice sounding like it's in my brain, not my ear. When he drops his head and bites my shoulder, I lose control of my body completely. His teeth sink into my skin and I come harder than I ever have. My orgasm is violent and I thrash under him, unable to scream anymore as the pain and pleasure becomes one force inside me. I clench around his cock and I never want to let him go. He chants my name as he rides me through my climax. I would do anything for him in that moment. I would die. I would kill. I would deep-throat his cock every day for the rest of my life. In that moment, he's everything to me. No one will ever take his place, I know. There's no one with the guts to fuck me like this.