“You can’t get away,” he reminded me. “The most you can do is flip over, although I wouldn’t recommend doing that unless you want to be fucked in the ass.”
He poked his cock against me again. He was so thick and hard, already ready for round two. He gripped the blindfold so it was tight against my eyes, and then he grabbed my hair and pulled it, and kissed me at the same time. I moaned at the dissonance of pleasure and pain.
“You want that now, don’t you? Since I mentioned anal, you want me to flip you over and ream your ass, you little slut. You love when I hurt you.”
“No, Sir,” I lied. “Please don’t.”
“You don’t get to choose. Shut the fuck up.”
He shut me up with his lips, his kisses that grew hotter and more insistent. I whined as he yanked a fistful of my hair. The harder he pulled, the more I ground against him. No one else had ever made out with me like this, rough and painful and soft and tender all at once.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said against my ear in a hoarse whisper, and at the same time he said he wasn’t going to hurt me, his fingers tightened around my neck.
I turned my head. I wished I could see his face. Did he look angry or loving? Was he going to kill me or just scare me?
“You’re hurting me,” I rasped.
“Calm down and let me choke you.”
My body was making involuntary motions to get away. My arms jerked. My legs strained. My neck lengthened under his hands and blood heated my face. “Please don’t,” I begged. “Please, Sir…”
His grip loosened. I gasped in air at the same time he kissed me. It felt like he stole my breath. “Please,” I said, and I didn’t even know what I was pleading for.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Do you trust me?”
“No,” I cried, just before his grip tightened on my neck again. I fought but he held me down. Next I knew, I woke to the sound of frightened keening and realized the sound was coming from my own throat. I panicked because I couldn’t see. Oh, God, I couldn’t move my arms.
W said my name, stroked my cheeks and kissed me. “Okay, you’re back. It’s okay.”
I calmed, and remembered the hotel room and the blindfold, and the bondage.
“Please don’t do that,” I pleaded. “Don’t make me pass out like that.”
“Why not?”
I felt too weak to yell at him. Instead I whispered, “What if I don’t wake up?”
“I’ll make sure you wake up,” he said against my lips.
He started kissing me again, but I couldn’t enjoy it any longer. While one hand stroked my hair, the other still rested around my neck.
“You said you would try not to…to scare me,” I said when he let me come up for air.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Because of the blindfold, I couldn’t tell if he was willfully fucking with me, or if he honestly thought he wasn’t hurting me. I suspected it was a combination of both.
“You might kill me,” I said, so aware of his fingertips against my throat.
“I would never kill you,” and this time he said it like he meant it. “I just want to kiss you.”
As he said it, his fingers tightened a little, but not enough to bring back the tumble into nothingness. It was worse somehow, that restrained threat.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m so afraid.”
“I know, baby.” He nuzzled me, moved his hips against mine and licked a line from my neck to my cheek, and along the edge of the blindfold. “I love how afraid you are. But I swear, I promise, I won’t hurt you. I would never kill you.”
The more he said it, the more I shivered, because his fingers were pressing on either side of my esophagus, bringing death a little increment at a time. Then he was gone. I heard a condom wrapper ripped open, and the snap of him adjusting the tip once he rolled it on. I was so concerned for my breath, and my life, that I’d forgotten about his cock. Within seconds he was back on top of me, nudging open my legs and sliding deep within me. I clenched around his thick length and remembered. Oh, yes, I remembered.
He moved in me slowly, taking his time. I luxuriated in the feeling of fullness and wished I could hold onto him. My shoulders ached from my arms being bound over my head, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the other pleasure I felt. I moaned and groaned and arched to him. Then his hands were back at my neck.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” he replied, and gave me just enough oxygen to feel fear and panic and not pass out. At the same time, he kept fucking me, driving me across the sheets with powerful thrusts so the rope tethering my wrists went slack. I struggled like I might free myself, like he might ever let me be free.