Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

His fingers tightened around my jaw and slid down the front of my neck. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “That’s your line. Say it.” He gave me a shake.

“Yes, Sir.” I sounded weak, whimpery. I sounded every bit as scared as I felt. I still clutched at him, like he might relent.

“Put your arms down, Chere. Stop trying to get away from me. You heard what I said.”

Oh, yes, I’d heard. Until I’m done, you’re going to do whatever the fuck I say. Later, I’d masturbate to those words. I’d picture his face as he said them, although he wasn’t letting me see him now. That was always part of his control, to make me feel blind and helpless. I put my hands down at my sides, releasing some of the tension in my body.

I could feel his muscles respond behind me. His arm left my waist and moved up to my bra. He pulled the cups down so my breasts were exposed, lying on the shelf of the folded-over satin. He slapped each breast and pinched my nipples. I rose on my toes and reached again for his arm.

“Put your arms down,” he repeated, in a voice that dared me to disobey.

I held my hands stiff at my sides as he pinched my nipples hard as any nipple clamp ever did. His fingers tightened around my neck as I moaned and wrenched my head from side to side. I bowed out my middle, trying to get away from the pain.

“Ow. Please,” I begged. His sweater was soft against my back, but his muscles were hard and his hands were hurting me.

“Push your panties down.”

The agony of his touch compelled me to obey. I slid my fingers under the waistband and jerked them down over my hips with frantic tugs.

“More,” he said impatiently. “Push them down to the middle of your thighs.”

The fingers at my neck went tight again, and I scrabbled to comply, shoving them down with my fingertips. I could feel the unyielding girth of his cock through his jeans, pressed against my bare skin. I imagined him unzipping his fly with that intent, angry look of his, pulling out his monster cock, and then…what?

“Please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for.

“Shut the fuck up. I tell you what to do and you listen. That’s how our thing has always worked. Now, part your pussy lips.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” His fingers tortured my nipples, first one and then the other. “Part your pussy lips with your fingers.”

I reached down and delved between the hot folds, ashamed by my crazy wetness. His rough orders, the nipple torture, his hand threatening to choke me, all of it had me creaming myself. My fingers went immediately to my clit.

“No.” He let go of my nipples to give me a short, sharp crack on the ass. “Did I say to touch yourself? I said to part your pussy lips, not to rub one out. Have you forgotten how to follow directions?”

I gave a soft sob and nudged my labia apart to hold myself open. It was so humiliating, so cruel to make me do this. It was also so fucking hot. I was suddenly twice as wet as before.

He made me stand like that, tits out, panties down, exposing my wet, needy clit, burning all over my body in a blush while he massaged my neck and kissed me, and nibbled at my ear. “This is how you should be all the time,” he said, sliding his arm around my waist again. “In my control, with your sex open to me, and your body open to me, all wet and ready for me. Doesn’t this feel good? Doesn’t it feel right?”

I shook my head, blinking back tears. “No.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to admit what you really want. That’s why you need me. I take away the choice, and make you accept all the filthy, dirty cravings inside you.”

The grip around my middle loosened. His hand slid down. I could have pulled away then. I could have escaped, but I didn’t move. I felt paralyzed with need, with lust. With shame.

He touched me one place, one single, specific, slick and swollen place. He laid a fingertip atop my clit and my knees almost buckled. One touch, one second of pleasure, and his finger was gone.

“Oh God.” The words burst out of me with angry frustration.

He released my neck to cover my mouth. “Quiet,” he snapped. “Not one word. Keep holding yourself open. I didn’t tell you to stop.”

I complied, knowing I’d die if he didn’t touch me again just that way. He did, several times, but never long enough to satisfy me more than a second or so. I moaned behind his hand.

“This is what happens to girls who tease, and say no,” he said. “They get taught lessons. Look how wet you are.” He left my clit to slosh his fingers through my drenched pussy. “You told me you didn’t want this. You told me you didn’t want sex, that you wanted us to be one hundred percent professional, but feel how wet you are. If you don’t want sex, why are you humping my hand?”