by Jenn Marlow
“Good girl,” Roland commended, and his hand reached down to her head and combed his fingers through her chestnut hair. His touch was surprisingly gentle despite the anger that continually played in his facial expressions, despite the fact that he made her to do this. She wondered if she was right, if he didn’t know who he was, if somehow, he was battling himself, but she shook it off. This man was no good. This man was no good. This man was definitely no good. He couldn’t be, and it was in that that she had to take note, because she could never let her guard down with this man. He would and could hurt her, physically and emotionally. He had the keys to her entire life, her body, and by knowing of her brother’s existence—her soul.
She felt more movement just inches away from her head before looking up. With his other hand, he made a motion towards his fly. Fuck. His fly. He unzipped and Alex, who before couldn’t even look at him, discovered that she was all of a sudden unable to tear her eyes away as Roland freed his cock. It was thick—God, was it—and already half hard, and Alex was ashamed to admit that it was nice looking. She knew that had this been any other sexual encounter, her mouth would have watered with delight. It looked delicious, aesthetically speaking. But it couldn’t appeal to her though because he was making her do this. This wasn’t on a volunteer basis, as every other blow job she had ever given was. She found herself licking her lips unconsciously and immediately regretted it when she heard him laugh with cockiness.
“Thought so.” Roland’s voice was suggestive and thick with smugness, and she flushed. “Come on then,” he said without the frustration that was just there before. This time, it was almost in jest, but she knew it wasn’t really. It was all pretend again; he was feigning the good guy act. “Do it, Alex. Suck my cock.”
She shuffled herself an inch or so on her knees and looked his cock. She didn’t want to; and just as she was about to protest again, he grabbed her head and forcefully jerked it towards his crotch. She knew then that he wasn’t letting her get away with not giving him something. Not today.
The force of his hands gripping the back of her head caused her mouth to fall agape in nothing more than absolute discomfort, and it was then that she decided to give in and take his now fully erect member into her mouth. The hot flesh weighed on her tongue heavily, and she contemplated his length. He was incredibly large in both length and girth; so much, in fact, that she reveled in it for a moment.
She took him in deeper, feeling the tingle of his length against the back of her tongue until her nose was nearly against his clothed pubis. He smelled clean. It wasn’t just the cleanliness of his clothing, but it was as if he—himself and his cock—had just taken a shower.
She appreciated that at least. If she had to have his cock in her mouth, at least it was clean. She heard a soft moan fill the room, and it took her a moment to actually rationalize that the sound wasn’t from that of a male; it was a noise made by a female. And an instant later, a realization hit her that was perhaps even more surprising. It was her; the moan had come from her. She felt disgusted. She could only imagine how she seemed; but then she knew exactly what she seemed like. She seemed like a cock-hungry-slut who was so hungry for it that she was even willing to sell herself into sex slavery. Obviously, that’s what he thought. How could he not?
“Good,” Roland praised, his hands resting on Alex’s hair. “Good girl. I know you want it.”
Alex kept her eyes screwed shut and sucked harder, hoping that the slurping sounds could somehow block out any other audio in the room. She didn’t want to hear his moans, his egotistical remarks, or any surprise sounds from herself. She didn’t want to hear anything. She just wanted it to be over.
Roland groaned and thrust into her mouth further, forcing Alex to take more and more into her mouth. “You look good, Alex. You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. “Your mouth looks so fucking good when it’s closed around my dick.”
Alex kept sucking, tonguing around the head—although she wanted to bite it and tell him to go fuck himself. She didn’t though. Instead, she just wanted it to be over. In order to provide for more efficient pleasure, she reached up to use her hands too, but Roland stopped her.
“No, just your mouth. This is a much better use for it anyways. You’re so much sexier with a mouthful of cock,” he cackled. Alex tried to find the strength in herself to pull away from him, but Roland grasped her hair more firmly and pushed against her head once again, forcing his cock deeper. Alex found herself moaning again, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the choking pain of his cock hitting the back of her throat, or if she was secretly becoming aroused. “That’s why I bid on you, you know? You were so fucking sexy, and you had a mouth on you that ached to be fucked.” He thrust his hips harder, fucking her face roughly—in and out, in and out. He was relentless, as he pounded at her throat; she could tell he was close.
His breath quickened, words were shallow and hurried, and she felt his—still clothed— thighs clench and his muscles harden as they smacked into her, and then he came with a groan as hot liquid filled her mouth. His dick pulled out of her mouth, and she bent over, head aimed at the hardwood floor below so that she could spit. “Fucking swallow it!” he demanded intensely, and she obeyed.
He kept one hand in her hair, stroking almost absently. She, on the other hand, looked down, keeping her gaze frozen on the floor. She was ashamed.
“You’re very good at that,” Roland said. “I’m sure you’ve done that quite a lot…stripper and all.”
“Stripper isn’t the same thing as prostitute you fucking asshole,” she seethed, finally looking up at him with her eyes narrowed. He smiled, and she knew that he was mocking her. She said nothing; she wasn’t giving him that sort of satisfaction.
“Looks like you enjoyed it, though.” He sounded amused, and she became aware that he had noticed her moans as well. She still didn’t know why she moaned exactly and didn’t feel like delving into it by herself, let alone with the likes of him accompanying her.
Alex moved away from his crotch and went to stand but Roland’s hand tightened its grip in her hair and jerked her head back sharply. “Don’t,” he said in a strong and intimidating voice. Alex gasped at the sharp pain that shot from her scalp. “You look good like this. Your lips are all swollen and wet.” He brought his hand away from her hair and to her lips. He traced them and looked over them, longingly. She closed her eyes, feeling Roland’s on her. “Your cheeks are flush,” he said, as he brought his hand away from her lips and traced his fingers along the flesh of her cheeks, causing her to shiver. “Open your eyes.”
She found herself obeying once again and looked up into his expressionless face. Roland moved his hands down her cheeks again, tickling her flesh as he trailed downwards. His thumb met her lips again and traced them once more. Alex shuddered. He smiled before pushing his fingers through Alex’s now parted lips. As if on instinct, she sucked on them and moaned softly into him.
“I don’t think I said you could enjoy yourself, did I?” Roland said menacingly. “You said no to me; so I think you need to be punished.”
Alex shivered at the darkness in his voice—not out of arousal, but slightly out of fear. She had no idea what this man was into. She had never fallen into bed with someone she didn’t know, let alone someone into kinky play. It was obvious, by his tone and the very nature of why she was there in the first place, that Roland Peters was into kink. Hell, he bought women for his own sexual desires. And then it hit her. Maybe that’s why he had to buy women!
Maybe he had some sort of unrealistic expectations in bed; maybe his sexual preferences were too strange for normal relationships. And then she wondered, did he have normal relationships? Did he have a day life and then a secretive sex-slave owning nightlife? She had no idea what he did during the day after all. Maybe, like her, he kept his worlds separate from each other.
Then, despite herself, she found her imagination growing with a vivid prowess. She imagined him during the day, decked out in his fancy suits,
enthusiastically walking down the sidewalks of the city. He was smiling at everyone genuinely as he passed. She had already noticed that his teeth were so white, so she always wondered what a genuine smile from him looked like.
She imagined him meeting a few friends on his lunch break, dining at a beautiful bistro outside amongst beautiful white cloth-covered tables. She imagined he had a girlfriend there, a beautiful one, with a classy dress to match his classy suit. She imagined their food costing more than she made in three nights. She already knew his life was much more luxurious than her own, but she wondered if it was also a normal one.
She could imagine it being so—if he separated the worlds. But then she wondered the opposite. What if Roland Peters was of one singular being? What if what you saw was what you got? What if Roland Peters was alone? What if there was no other life? What if this was all there was? She pondered which was worse: to be a man hiding his true self from all whom bore witness—such as his friends and family; or to be a man with no friends and family…to be completely alone.
“I guess we’ll just have to find something else for a punishment since you’re enjoying this,” he said darkly, and she rolled her eyes, wanting to protest. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t aroused, not in the least, but she didn’t really know if he would take too kindly on it, nor did she know if it was completely true. He was good looking, and it had been quite a long while since she had been in the presence of any naked man, especially one with a cock like Roland’s.
She realized that his fingers were still in her mouth, and despite her thoughts, she was still sucking on them with enthusiasm. He smiled devilishly before pulling his digits out of her mouth. “Get up,” Roland said softly, as he reached for his belt buckle.
Alex stood up slowly and timidly; she was scared of what she knew was likely to happen next. Though she wasn’t sure of what he was about to do, she had a pretty good guess. The metallic clinging of the buckle was like nails to a chalkboard in that instant. It caused her ears to ache at the sheer unwelcomeness of it.
Roland pushed her in front of one of the dinner chairs. “Bend over and grab hold of the seat. Maybe this will be the punishment you deserve.”
Alex’s mouth ran completely dry, and she tried to force words to come out, but they wouldn’t. She wanted to protest, to call him sick and disgusting, but she couldn’t. And she wondered, as her mouth opened and closed repeatedly in a tangent fit to formulate words, if she couldn’t because she was scared or if it was because of something far more complex and demented. “Now!” he demanded, and it was then that she caught herself in another act of indecency…she licked her lips again. She couldn’t understand why she continued to lick her lips, as if with a hungry desire, but she shook it off because she knew one thing was for sure, she was at least a small bit frightened of Roland’s emptiness. The blackness that enveloped his natural gray eye color was almost too terrifying to fully comprehend, and she wasn’t willing to tempt his hand any further. He hadn’t stricken her, but she knew that he very well could.
She swallowed hard and moved slowly into the position he requested. She stiffened as he moved behind her and slipped a finger under the waistband of her trousers and tugged them down slowly. She felt the chill of the air hit her flesh, and she knew that her underwear had been taken down as well, revealing her ass.
She gasped, as his hand gently touched her flesh. His hands were warm and soft, free of any callouses. They were smooth as silk and moved across her bottom almost effortlessly; but they were also large and strong as they gripped and massaged her. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was all so—hot. Not only hot, but intimate. He squeezed her ass a little more, fondling it for all that it was worth, and she moaned.
“You want this?” he asked.
Alex shuddered and let her head hang down in shame, not wanting to answer. She didn’t want it from him; she despised him. She knew that. But what he was doing was undiscovered territory for her; it was arousing.
“Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she managed to gasp, because what else could she say? She knew that if she told him the truth—that she wanted it, just not with him—he would likely be angered. She knew he would likely make it far worse than it had been so far. She just wished more than anything that it could all be over. It humiliated her so much that it almost disgusted her. She hated her ass being in the air just so that a stranger—and not only a stranger, but one as horrible as Roland—could view her for his own personal benefit. And what she hated more, was that she was even slightly aroused by it all.
“You’re so pale, you know,” he seemed to marvel, still stroking her flesh, “but I’m going to spank you until you’re a bright cherry red.”
And then he took his hand away from her, and immediately and instinctively, she clenched her cheeks in anticipation. He laughed audibly before she felt the crack of his belt slash at her ass. She yelped in pain. It stung harder than anything she had ever experienced. She thought back to even her childhood days, and she had never been spanked bare-assed. This was a first, and she hated it. Her flesh felt as if it were on fire, as the heat blossomed across her ass and throbbed like a beating heart.
“Don’t you dare move,” Roland said in a darkened tone once again, and Alex—despite the gnawing desire to run away—held herself still for the next strike. CRACK.
More fire and pain shot over her, “Ah!” she screamed out in agony. She knew she was wriggling from the pain, but he didn’t seem to mind. She gripped the chair’s white cloth seat with all her might. Her fingernails dug into the fabric with so much force that she was sure she would rip it, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t her problem.
Roland continued to spank her relentlessly, and she could tell that the belt lashes would leave welts all over her cheeks, and even her thighs where he would occasionally strike for surprise or just his own amusement, she wasn’t sure. She squealed and writhed, but still remained hunkered over the chair. She wondered why she hadn’t walked away, or at least tried to. Could his punishment for her disobedience really be worse than whippings?
But then a haunting realization crept up once again. She was disgusted by him, yes; the belt lashes were painful, yes; but she couldn’t help but notice that after every strike—right after she pulled away on instinct—she was pressing back, almost eager for the next crack of leather against her red swollen ass cheeks.
“You look so good,” he said, and she could tell he was smiling. “You look quite pretty with your hot, round little bottom quivering and trembling.”
She felt his lashes stop and his hands reappear at her buttocks. She winced from his touch. She could feel the marks as he ran his hands over her flesh. His touches were light, but it burned, throbbed, and stung with a force unlike any she had ever experienced. She squirmed under him, gasping and crying out the more his hands felt, until he was eventually massaging her again.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice filled with almost certainty, perhaps even a tinge of wonderment. “You love this. Don’t you?”
She breathed heavily in frustration. “Fuck off!” she screamed, almost fed up with his ego. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. She didn’t need his “certainty” to cloud her mind any more than it already was. She didn’t like the spankings, and she did at the same time. She had no idea about anything, except that she hated this man.
“Don’t you?” he reiterated, angrily, before raising his arm and crashing the leather strap back down on her flesh.
She yelped in painful surprise as the belt struck the back of her thigh. It wasn’t an excruciating pain though, much like the beginning of his assault; but it was different. It was painful, yes, but not in a terrible way, and not unbearably so. In other circumstances, Alex wondered if it might be welcomed. She couldn’t explain it because through the pain—through the fiery sting—she was aroused.
“Roland,” Alex moaned, surprising herself. “Roland, please. Just stop.”
But he didn’t.
He kept going, spank after spank, lash after lash. She yelped his name in breathless fortitude with every strike, but no matter how much she cried, no matter how much she pleaded, he didn’t stop. He just spanked harder. There was something almost admirable about it. She had to admire his strength; it was extraordinary that his stamina never faltered and his muscles never failed him in all the minutes that passed. He continued to strike without hesitation.
But then he stopped. Just like that. And though part of her, the fleshy ass part of her, was relieved, there was also part of her that ached for it to continue. But she knew it was for the best; she was sure that she wouldn’t have been able to take much more. She wondered if she was bleeding. He hadn’t been gentle in the least, and she only prayed that she’d be able to sit the next day. She looked down at her hands, which were gripped tightly around the white cloth of the chair’s seat and noticed her knuckles were white and fingernails ached. She had been gripping so hard that it took her a moment to release the fabric. It was as if her muscles were so attuned to gripping that they didn’t quite know how to release without a strength intervention from her brain.
“Perfect color,” Roland mused, and all Alex could do was cry out helplessly as Roland squeezed her sore bottom. She gasped for breath, as he released his grip from her flesh. She shuddered, trying to recover from the touch. “Stand up,” he demanded, and she helplessly obeyed once again and let him turn her around. She felt a wetness creep down her leg slightly and wondered where it came from until she felt her clit throb with desire. Despite her humiliation, despite her pain, despite her distaste for him as a person, there was no denying that she was turned on. Her pussy wanted release.