Mr. D - Black Mountain Academy

“Take off your fucking clothes,” he commanded.

He took a step away and began doing the same.

I brought my shaky fingers to the button of my pants and began doing exactly as he said. If this was my penance to earn his forgiveness, then so be it.

Anything.

I would have done anything.

He pressed his mouth to mine, thrusting his tongue past my lips. I waited for him to bite, to shove, to hurt in order to contrast against such an intimate touch.

I returned the kiss, cautious at first, but did not resist at all.

He grabbed my breast and broke away from the kiss so he could watch my expression. Pinching my nipple hard, I wondered if he waited for a cry, a scream, something. I simply stared as his pupils dilated and his mouth opened slightly in an almost snarl.

Not saying a word, he lowered his hand and pressed his finger into my pussy without any warning at all. My wetness made the invasion smooth and painless, and when I spread my legs wider and moaned in response, I knew I was losing my fucking mind—or what was left to lose. He made me feel that way.

All I wanted was him to hurt me.

Abuse me.

Make it right.

Make all I did go away.

Punish me.

Make me pay.

Thrusting his finger up inside me as deeply as he could, he growled, “Did you think I was a good guy? A nice man who would be easily tricked?” He thrust again, and then again. Each thrust harder than the last. My juices seeped around his finger, coating his palm.

I moaned loudly with each aggressive movement of his hand, clinging to his back as if holding on to life. I was submerged into complete darkness and he was my only beacon of light.

With his other hand, he grabbed my throat and began to squeeze. “I could hurt you right now. I could do things to you that would damage you forever. I could fuck with your mind in ways that you would never recover.”

My eyes widened, but I was not afraid. Maybe because I was curious just how he would do that.

Maybe I wanted it.

Maybe I wanted to be taken right to that edge.

My pussy tightened around his finger, and I knew that if he continued, I would come. I was going to come from his threats alone.

In a moment of rage, he flipped me around to face the wall.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t whimper.

He slapped my ass hard, causing a need to moan and plead for more.

Taking hold of my hair again, yanking hard at the scalp, he swatted my ass fiercely again, and then again.

Yes, Mr. D.

Punish me.

I’ve been bad.

So very very bad.

Breaths of air released from my open mouth, but still no cries for mercy followed. No shouts. No begging to God.

I liked it.

I fucking loved it.

He continued to spank my ass, the sting of his touch burning all the way down to the wet lips of my sex. I would win this battle with him. I knew he wanted me to hate him. I knew he wanted me to fear him. I knew he thought he wanted me to leave his home vowing never to come back. But that wouldn’t happen.

It would never happen.

Mr. D would reveal his desire to be with me by the time this night was over.

After spanking my ass several times, aggressively and hard—practically growling with every breath—he shoved me down to the ground, towering over me. “Look at me,” he shouted. “You want to play in an adult world, little girl? You want to fuck with people? You want to mess with the minds of others? Well, you picked the wrong fucking person to do it with.”

I stared up at him… waiting. I saw pain in his eyes, a deep despair. I saw fury and rage—which I knew would pass. But I did not see hatred. Mr. D did not hate me, and I knew that.

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Do you think you can mess with grown ass men and not think there would be consequences?”

“I want the consequences.”

“Jesus, you’re insane.”

“Yes,” I answered, my eyes never leaving his. “I am who I am, and I’m not going to deny it.”

“You hid this side of you. You lied. You deceived. Shame on me for falling for it,” he said between clenched teeth. “But I see you, Corrine. I see clearly now. Never again will I fall for your traps.”Mr. DHer tiny naked frame lay crumpled on the floor, still pressed up against the wall, yet she didn’t shake. I wanted her to fucking shake. I wanted her to fear me. To hate me. Maybe then she would leave me alone.

I needed her to be the one.

Her obsession was becoming mine.

Her lunacy was becoming contagious.

She was so fucking dark, but my eyes were getting used to the darkness.