It felt nice to share that secret joke with him. She eyeballed him and I wanted to smack her. But who wouldn’t eyeball him? He was shirtless, a towel slung over his shoulders. His trunks rode low on his hips, revealing not just his six pack but the tease of iliac furrows on either side, and a trail of gold-blond fur that doubtless continued all the way down to his cock.
He preened under her appreciative gaze—again, who wouldn’t?—but when we reached our floor, I was the one he led off the elevator. Sorry, unnaturally plastic bitch. I was the one he wanted, I was the one who got those abs and those iliac furrows, even if my D cups looked miniscule next to her massive GGGs.
“Don’t ever do that to your body,” he said as we walked to the room. “Just don’t.”
“I might have to, if I want to keep working. When women get older—”
He turned to me with a silencing glare. “Don’t talk to me about your work. For the time being, your only work is being my whore. Your only customer is me, and I don’t ever want you to look like that woman. End of conversation.”
Oh, right. Our exclusive thing. I shut my trap while he keyed open the door. When we got inside, he let me take off my swim suit, then he picked up my panties. They were still in a ball on the bed where I’d spit them out.
“Open up,” he said.
I would have argued, but his expression told me it would be pointless. This was what I’d missed seeing those first few dates: his intent, commanding expression, the taut lips, the arched brow. He was great at it. I opened my mouth.
He jammed the panties in and grabbed his tie and gagged me every bit as roughly as he’d done it the first time. I played along, because I could see he had a plan, and it was my job to make it work for him. I moaned and pushed back at him so he’d grab my wrists and force me to comply.
Amazing, that he could hold me so forcefully and not bruise me, but I was starting to understand how he did it. It was a trick of movement and firmness, and the area of his body. A big hand could grip you firmly and make it feel really painful, when what you were really feeling was the real estate of that hand on your skin. Understanding it didn’t make it any less thrilling.
He pushed me back on the bed. I wanted to hide my face. I thought the gag probably made me look ugly, but when I attempted to turn away he yanked me back and made me look at him. He knelt over me and collected my hands, and placed them over my head.
“You leave your hands there,” he said. “Don’t even think about moving them.”
The threat in his voice had my thighs inching closed. He made an irritated sound and forced them open, wider this time.
“Don’t you dare close your legs, or I’ll tear your ass up. This pussy is mine.” He grasped my mons and shoved a couple fingers inside me. I was just out of the pool, so I was wet, but not that wet, and it hurt a little.
And I liked it.
I was freaking scared of him “tearing my ass up,” but I liked being scared about it, and holding my legs open so he wouldn’t do that to me. That was when I realized he was changing me, changing my sexual preferences and what I was willing to put up with. If I wasn’t wet a few seconds ago, I was wet as a river now.
“No,” I moaned through the gag, and he knew I meant yes. I was rewarded with another finger inside me, a rough piston in and out. I had to fight the instinct to close my legs again, to escape the discomfort.
“Don’t dare,” he said. “Don’t dare try to stop me. Your body is mine, your mouth, your ass, your tits, your cunt, everything that makes you my sex doll. Isn’t that right?”
I nodded. Oh, yes, I was his sex doll. What else could I be, with my mouth full of my panties, my hands above my head in surrender, my whole body exposed and aching for him? I wanted his cock. I wanted him to use me. He kicked off his trunks and he was so hard, so thick. All this time I’d only felt it, not seen it. Even earlier, I was too scared to look at his cock, but now I saw it in all its jutting, masculine glory, framed by a heavy set of balls. If I wasn’t gagged, I would have begged for it. Please put it inside me. But with W, I never got what I asked for, only what he wanted.