Masquerade

Still held up by his hips and dick I moan softly. He watches me with a satisfied look on his face and then he withdraws out of me and puts me down. He sits between my parted legs and spreads apart my knees so wide that my hips rise up and off the bed, buttocks split open and my exposed sex feels as if it is protruding and hanging down. It is a humiliating position but his hands on my knees are powerful and will bear no objection. And this position also reveals my sex to be a craving thing. It wants him. It wants everything he wants to give it. It flutters open and closed like a desperately hungry mouth. He gently massages me between my legs, smearing the juices leaking out of me into my lips and stroking my sticky clit.

‘Not again,’ I object, but weakly. I am greedy for it and because that orgasm really did take a lot out of me I feel lethargic and exhausted.

‘Again,’ he says very firmly and between my legs, my sex throbs helplessly at the brutal dominance in his voice. I shiver, trying to restrain its greedy throbbing.

‘What’s the matter?’ he whispers, his hands expertly working the moist flesh.

I flush bright red. I cannot admit to it but I cannot help being violently turned on by the feeling of being overpowered. There is a certain amount of shame to being overpowered but at that moment the path of acceptance seems more hospitable. I gasp as the pleasure between my legs mounts and mounts. His fierce fingers strike the wet, throbbing flesh.

‘Oooooo…’ I sob as the waves come. The sobs are a delicious release for the warm pain. Moisture trickles out of me and runs down the crack of my buttocks. He smiles and using that slick wetness inserts his finger straight into my ass.