Dirty Wedding

"You want me to fuck you." He pulls his thumb back.

A sigh falls from my lips.

"But you test me."

"Yes."

"You do this to me—" He presses his palm against my back, pushing my stomach against his hard-on again. "Then you dare me to leave you without satisfaction."

"Yes."

"Do you know what that does to me?"

"No."

"How crazy it drives me?"

I shake my head.

He undoes the button of my jeans. Rolls them over my hips.

My ass.

To my thighs.

He keeps them there, binding my legs together.

"Do you have any idea how rough I can be?"

"No."

Smack.

Without warning, he brings his hand down against my ass.

A hard spanking.

Then another.

Another.

"Bad girl." He purrs it with equal parts approval and scolding.

Then he spanks me again.

Again.

My eyes close.

My body goes into overdrive.

I feel only pain and pleasure and the intense need to take whatever he'll give.

He spanks me again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

"This is ten." He brings his hand to my ass again. "Do you need ten more? Or have you learned your lesson?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

Smack.

He hits harder this time. Hard enough I gasp.

But he doesn't stop. He doesn't check in. He doesn't tease.

His palm comes down against my ass again and again.

Until it hurts more than it pleases.

But that hurt is so fucking good.

He stops.

Was that ten? I don't know.

His hand goes to my wrist. Then the soft leather of the cuff.

He secures my left wrist.

The right.

He pulls my hands behind my back. Binds them with a short chain.

He pushes my thong to my thighs.

Pushes my jeans and my panties off my feet.

Then his hand is on my ankle. And he's binding my legs with his tie.

He straightens.

Presses his hand into my back, holding my stomach against his hard cock, daring me to ask for more.

Daring me to plead for mercy.

Smack.

He hits me again.

The other cheek this time.

Again and again.

Until I can only feel the sting of pain.

Then his hand is on my sex. A soft touch.

The rough push of his fingers inside me.

"You're wet," he growls.

"Yes."

"You like defying me."

"Yes."

"You want to be punished."

"Yes," I breathe.

"You won't earn what you want that way."

"What is that, sir?"

He presses his hand into my back again, pressing my stomach into his cock.

Fuck. No. Anything but that. "Please."

"Please?"

"Please, fuck me. Please, sir."

He drives his fingers into me again. "Why?"

"Why?" What does he mean, why?

"Yes." He drives his fingers into me again and again. "Why should I reward your disobedience?"

I try to find some reply, but the pressure of his hand overwhelms me.

He stretches me deeper.

Again and again.

Pushes me closer and closer.

His thumb finds my clit.

Three circles and I come.

I groan his name as pleasure spills through my torso. My world goes white. Only the blinding, beautiful light of bliss and the sharp, perfect sting of pain.

"Please." It's the only thing I have.

"Do you think you're in charge here?"

"No, sir."

"Do you think I'll give in because you beg?" he asks.

"No, sir."

"Then why do you keep asking?"

"Because it's all I can do."

A groan falls from his lips. Again, he brings his hand down on my ass. "I don't have mercy."

"I know."

"Remember that next time."

"Yes," I breathe.

He spanks me again. Hard enough my entire body stings.

Then he tugs at the chain holding my wrists.

He stands, pulling me up with him.

For a second, his eyes go to the mirror. Mine follow.

I'm naked, except for the sheer black bra, the cuffs on my wrists, the binding at my ankles.

And he's behind me, in his suit, one hand on my wrists.

Completely in control.

He brings his hand to my throat.

A groan falls from my lips. "Ty, please. Please. You know what that does to me."

His grip tightens.

"Please."

Through the mirror, his eyes meet mine.

He holds me in place for a long moment.

Then he pushes me onto the bed.

I turn my head, but still, my cheek hits the sheets. The mattress dulls the impact, but not enough.

It hurts.

In a way that makes my sex clench.

How can I need to come again so quickly?

How can I be satisfied and in need at the same time?

How can I want it rougher than this?

I'm so empty, so painfully aware of how much I need him to fill me.

And I have no idea if he's going to keep me here waiting forever or fuck me right now or something in between.

Some beautiful, horrible torture like watching him fuck himself.

He presses one hand into my hip, pinning me to the bed.

He's behind me. Right behind me. His cock against my sex. Only his slacks between us.

His bed is exactly the right height.

Like he planned it.

Of course, he planned it.

He keeps me there, on the edge, waiting.

Finally, he unbuttons his slacks.

He looks me in the eyes, through the mirror, as he drives into me.

No condom.

Nothing between us.

Just his flesh against mine.

It feels so fucking good. Like he's mine. Like we're one.

Like every cheesy metaphor in every single pop song.