I was steadily getting pissed for some reason. I remembered the feeling I’d had with Kent that one morning, my eagerness to punish, to make him bend to my will. And I wanted to do the same to Dominic. I loved him, I did know that, but I loved being in control of him too.
“My Dove,” Dominic said, still not looking at me.
“Look at me,” I said.
He raised his face up until his mouth was a couple of inches from my clit.
“This is what you asked for,” I said. “You knew the rules before we began. I will take two more husbands. That’s a fact. You will always be my first husband but I will have two more. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my Dove,” he said.
“Good. I don’t want to see any more pouting. I need men in my life. You hear me? I need a man. And right now, I need my man to eat my pussy for me.”
He dove in. Whatever anger or doubt or uneasiness he had built up in his system seemed to come pouring out as he reached around, took my ass in his hands, and squeezed. He dug his fingernails into the f
lesh of my ass and shoved his face into my pussy.
He licked me with wide strokes. It was different from what it had always been with Kent. Good…but different.
My mind drifted between the three men in my life. I’d nearly forgotten about Kent since marrying Dominic. Kent. My young friend. The boy who’d do anything I asked him to. He’d be eighteen soon. I promised him I’d keep a space open for him.
Pike, my biker bad boy. I could imagine how he’d thrust inside me when finally given the chance. If anyone could give me a daughter it would be Pike. Somehow I knew he’d force a daughter into my womb. He’d command it.
And Dominic, the charming and subservient cook whose tongue was painting my pussy a glossy coat of clear right now. I was swollen and he was working his magic. I lifted up on my toes and pushed down against his tongue, fucking his face the best I could from my position.
I pushed him back on his dinette chair and wasted no time unbuckling his belt and opening up his pants. I didn’t need him to take them off. I just needed his cock exposed. I didn’t even feel to see if he was hard. I simply opened my legs and squatted. He did the rest, pointing his head right at my pussy.
I shoved down onto him hard, feeling the dry push of his head as it fought to dampen itself with my juices. Then it did and it was all easy from then on. I gripped his hair in both hands and yanked, digging my fingernails into the back of his head.
He groaned in complaint. It hurt. I knew it did. It had to. So I dug my fingernails in harder.
“The fuck…” he said.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“It does,” he said.
So I scratched harder at his scalp, twisting my fingers a bit to let the nails dig in. And I fucked him. With each pull against his scalp, I slid forward, grinding against his cock, feeling his public hair brush my clit and set it on fire.
I lowered my head and took his earlobe in my mouth. And I bit him.
“Ouch, what the fuck!” he said.
“Shut up,” I warned him. “You want to please me right?”
“I do. Always.”
“This pleases me,” I said as I bit his ear again.
I didn’t come to full orgasm this time but as I bit him and he complained and grunted and I knew it hurt him, I felt the inside of me spasm and my legs twitch. And then he was coming. The pain seemed to turn him on too and I knew as time passed he’d come to love it as much as I did.
An hour later, as we both lay naked in bed, the sun setting somewhere outside, he said to me, “You like to hurt people.”
I didn’t know how to respond. In some ways he was right. It wasn’t about the pain. I mean I wasn’t a serial killer who enjoyed bashing in the heads of puppies or anything. I just liked seeing a man quiver and complain.
I liked being in control and knowing that he knew I was in control.
I liked leaving a mark that would remind him of that later.