“I-I don’t know, Sir.”
“You know,” he growled against my ear. “Tell me.”
I didn’t want to guess wrong—not because I was afraid of what he would do to me, but because I didn’t want to disappoint him. And it was difficult to figure out where my desires ended and his plans began. I didn’t want to engage in transparently wishful thinking. “You’re going to fuck me, Sir?”
“How am I going to fuck you, Sophie?”
“Hard,” I answered automatically, because it was the first word that sprang to my mind. I followed it up with a breathless, “Rough?”
“Very rough, indeed.” He withdrew almost entirely, poised tantalizingly at my opening. “Give me your wrists.”
He held them in one hand, firm against the small of my back—the way he sometimes would when he spanked me. I was completely immobilized by both his grip and his body pinning me.
Then, he did exactly as he’d promised.
The pain was intense, unrelenting, transcendent, as he fucked me. Some strokes were short, teasing my opening over and over before suddenly slamming as deep as he could. There was no pattern to his movements; I couldn’t brace myself from one thrust to the next. I wept aloud, perspiration gluing strands of hair across my eyes and into my mouth. I twisted and thrashed, but I was entirely at his mercy. The panic of being restrained that way, the clawing fear at not being able to move my arms or legs coupled with the agony as he used my body wound sinuously together into a rope that bound physiology and psychology tightly together.
Neil pulled out to dip his thumb into my cunt, coating it with my juices. His hand wrapped around my face, and he forced that thumb past my lips. “Taste yourself, Sophie.”
I moaned in appreciation and swirled my tongue around him, the same as I would have done if I were sucking his cock. He jerked his hand away then entered me in one quick, violent thrust. I screamed, this time; I couldn’t help it.
“Shout all you like,” he teased cruelly. Spreading me with one hand, he forced his thumb, lubricated with my own spit, into my ass.
I screamed, again, but this time, for a decidedly different reason. The humiliation I associated with anal shot my arousal to immeasurable heights, and my cries of pain melded into cries of bone-shaking, skin-prickling pleasure. I practically vibrated from the tension of my impending orgasm. He quickened his pace inside me, and I climbed higher, higher, nearly there—
With a shocked groan, he drove deeper and flooded into me.
It clearly took him by surprise. It took me by surprise, too—enough that my release never happened. He hardly ever came before I did, unless it was on purpose. But he hadn’t warned me that I would be denied, and I’d done everything he’d asked, hadn’t I? My heart raced, my mind flipping through every depraved act we’d engaged in, scrutinizing it all for some serious infraction.
He recovered quickly, pulling out of me when every last shudder had subsided. I was about to beg him to let me come, to promise that I would be better, that I would give him anything, that I would never defy him, again. I didn’t have to. He flipped me onto my back and slid two fingers into my still aching cunt, angling them upward to press hard against my g-spot. I rode his hand, arching my back as he worked his thumb over my clit. The wet sucking sounds as he pumped his fingers made my breath stall in my lungs—I didn’t want my gasps to drown anything out.
“You did an excellent job, Sophie,” he murmured. “You may come, now.”
After years of submission to him, those words were as sure as any touch. My body curled up from the bed, every muscle tensing, and I came, my thighs clamping shut to quiver around his hand. Relief and pleasure flooded through me, and proof of it flowed onto his hand. Every system in my brain went offline, my circuits overloaded with an onslaught of shocks to my nervous system. My mouth opened, but only a strained rasp escaped. Time hung suspended until I fell back to the duvet, writhing in the slow, sweet return to reality.
“Another one?” he asked, his fingers still inside me.
I shook my head weakly. “No, Sir.”
“And what if I told you that you’d have as many as I wished to give you?” he challenged me.
On any other night, my answer might have been different. But tonight, I said, “I would safeword, Sir.”
“Ah.” He withdrew his hand gently. “Shall we get you cleaned up?”
I nodded gratefully and let him help me up. When I got on my feet, his arm lingered around my waist, and I leaned against him, not trusting my shaky legs. Having sex like that was like running up and down a flight of stairs to the point of exhaustion.