The Devil's Plaything

“I want you,” he tells me earnestly. “I want you here,” he mumbles. “Now. Naked. On my cock while you play for me.” Every word is huskier than the last, gravel strains his voice.

My thighs squeeze together to quell the ache left by him earlier, which is now, once more, ignited by his admission. I shake my head, no, but he merely offers me a knowing smile. My refusal is pointless because it’s a lie.

“Sit down,” he tells me, standing at the edge of the piano. I find myself obeying, settling on the bench seat. “Spread your legs and let me see my newly owned pretty little pussy.” His voice is rough, filled with desire.

I’m wearing a pair of shorts, so I’m not sure what he wants me to do, but I spread my thighs, and allow him a view of my panty clad crotch. A smile appears, dancing on his lips like a lover between the sheets.

He leans in close, his hot breath on my ear, and he offers up his next instruction, “I want you to play with your cunt, my cunt, because I own it. And I want to watch you come.”

“But—”

“Close your eyes, think of me eating your sweet pussy and come all over your fingers. And when you’re done, I’m going to shove my cock so deep inside your body, it will be molded perfectly for mine alone.”

A whimper of need escapes me as my body pulses, my pussy tightens at the thought of him inside me once more, and when Victor steps back, he waits. Trembling fingers find my core, and I push aside the material. I want him to own me. In this moment, right here, in his music room, I realize I want this man more than my next breath.

I close my eyes and imagine him touching me. My fingers dance to their own song as I find myself wet. My teeth sink into my lower lip. Moans tumble from my mouth, my body already convulsing, so close, nearing the precipice of an orgasm while Victor watches me.

I don’t open my eyes though; instead, I keep them shut for fear of seeing him. I want to be lost in the fantasy, and I allow my mind to drift to the moment he broke my barrier. He was feral and hungry, an animal taking what he needed, and that’s the thought that brings euphoria.

When I finally come down from my high and open my eyes, I find the burning stare of the man who’s so clearly taken everything I had to give. He leans in and lifts me up, before settling on the stool and setting me on his lap.

His cock is hard, pressing against my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder and brings my hand to his mouth. Taking my two fingers, he sucks them clean, licking my arousal from both digits before he murmurs in delight.

“You’re utterly delicious.” His appraisal makes me blush. “Play for me.”

I’m not sure if I can even get a note out, but I try. My fingers hover over the keys, and I allow a song to flow through me. Victor’s hand taunts my pussy, shoving my panties and shorts aside, his fingers dip into me, slow and steady, as if he’s playing me as much as I’m playing the song.

His cock throbs when he dips deep into me. With a shuffle, he moves his cock between my thighs, and I feel the velvety flesh hard and hot against my core. Without a word, he slips into me. My legs are splayed on either side of his thighs, and he hits a spot inside me that has stars bursting behind my eyelids.

“So beautiful when you’re lost in pleasure,” he tells me. “Do you enjoy my cock in your tight cunt, juguete?” He murmurs along my shoulder, causing me to shiver.

“Yes, Victor,” I tell him honestly because I do. I never thought much about sex, but with him, it feels natural.

“Can a captive fall in love with her captor?” he asks, as he lifts his hips and fucks into me again, drawing a moan from deep within my soul. “Tell me, juguete,” he orders gently as he throbs inside me.

“Yes,” I whimper the truth I never wanted to admit. Every moment with him is turning me inside out. My anger spirals into dangerous passion as my rage turns to unmistakable need.

Suddenly, he’s lifting me up as if I weigh nothing. He never breaks the connection as he sets me on my feet and presses his hand down onto the middle of my back, making me bend over.

“Hold on,” he tells me, before his grip on my hips turns hard and unrelenting. His body slams against mine. The musical notes of the keys fill the room, not making a recognizable melody, but it’s our symphony of pleasure.