Vanquished

"Don't smile at me like that," I bit out at him. Insufferable man, thinks he knows everything.

"How am I smiling at you?" he asked, his blue eyes sparkling, the corners of his lips turning up even more.

"Like, 'She's saying 'no' now, but soon she won't be.'"

"Mmhmm," he said, his lips settling over mine. I struggled. His hands clasped my wrists and pinned them down. I struggled, pulling at my wrists, and he tightened his grip. With his mouth, he pushed my shirt over my breast, then fixed his mouth on my nipple, sucking hard, biting. "Mine!" he said when I squealed.

---

"You're mine," he said, straddling my hips, sitting up. He pushed my night shirt up past my breasts and I twisted. He slapped my breast, hard. I moaned, bucking underneath him, meeting the hard wall of his body that prevented any escape. He slapped my breasts from the other side, setting up a rhythm. I'm not sure how long he went on like that, slapping my breasts, making them bounce, making me buck and squeal. "I can do whatever the fuck I want with you," he said. "If you didn't like that, you should have thought of that before you gave yourself to me."

He rose up, moving his hips until they were in front of my face, and then his cock was rubbing over my face, pushing past my lips, over my cheeks, bumping into my nose. I was grunting, my eyes squeezed shut. "Lick it!" he ordered. I stuck my tongue out and let it glide across his skin as he continued humping my face. He pulled my shirt up and over my head, leaving my arms in it so it was hooked behind my neck. He kneaded my breasts, pressing them together almost painfully as I arched and groaned beneath him, moving his hips to fuck between them.

"Whose are you?" His words were timed perfectly with a slap aimed at my breast.

"Yours."

"And what are you for?" I arched, expecting another slap, but none came. He was patiently waiting for an answer.

"For you to fuck," I whispered.

"I should get on that then." He slid up, his cock pressing into my mouth. I moaned as he pressed against my face, holding the sides of my head. He placed a pillow under my neck for a better angle, and slid in until I gagged, noises forced from me from his cock forcing air out of my throat. I love that noise. He fucked my face slowly, murmuring words that are lost in the fog, making me groan and grunt as he filled my face with his cock over and over.

"Good fuck hole," he murmured softly, praise and degradation combining to make my body tremble as he pulled away. A moan emerged from somewhere deep in my throat, a primal noise coming from a place beyond thought.

"Did you forget that you were a fuck hole?" he asked, his thumb sinking into my mouth, replacing his cock. I could only moan as I sucked on it.

"How does that make you feel?"

I was beyond words, in a place where the feeling has no name. I felt owned, used, simultaneously degraded and adored, and very fucking aroused. I managed a grunt in response.

"Let's see how it makes you feel," he said, sliding down my body.

"Oooh, it makes you feel good," he whispered, his cock sliding into the arousal he had created, filling me up. My eyes were darting around and I was moaning. Our eyes met as he entered me fully. "For lack of a better word."

I moaned, rolling my hips up into him to feel him deeper. "I'd ask you to come up with a better one," he said, his voice gravelly in my ear, "but I think you're beyond finding words. I think you're just reduced to a fuck toy now."

He thought right.

He felt amazing.

We stayed like that, rocking into each other, for some time. My legs scrambled for purchase on our smooth sheets to push back against him. He pinned my wrists to the bed and drove into me, forcing groans from me. Waves of dizziness swept over me as my blood rushed away from my head.

But then he pulled away, seemingly suddenly. "Uh?" I grunted, looking at him as he rose to his knees. He was leaving the bed. "Where you going?" I stammered out.

"I'm going to put you up on this ramp and fuck you," he said matter-of-factly. He kept saying he was going to do that last time too, but he never did. I crawled out of the way on all fours and he plopped the Liberator ramp down in front of me. I whimpered. "Go on, get up there," he said. It's so hard to hold my balance up there at this point, but I did as I was told.

He put the wedge in front of me for me to rest on, because he's not completely evil. I climbed up on all fours and he grabbed my hips, sinking deeply into me. His cock first rubbed against my g-spot and then slammed into my cervix. I screamed and arched up, away from him, but he grabbed my hips and held me, pumping into me like that over and over. Pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, they coexisted and then they mingled and then I was driving back into him and I was screaming "Oh God," nearly constantly. He grabbed my hair in one hand, pulling straight up, forcing me up onto my fingertips, and he kept pulling higher. His other hand wrapped around my throat, his fingers pressing into my windpipe just so, not blocking my air completely but restricting it just enough that I could only rasp "Oh God," and breathe raggedly, and the whole time he kept fucking me, fucking me, the cock, the hair, the throat. So. Fucking. Perfect.

I was screaming raggedly and he was holding my throat and pulling against it with each thrust, giving my hair a little tug as well, and I felt him get closer to his own release. I screamed even louder, overloaded with the extreme sexiness of it all, as he pumped himself into me, releasing his orgasm into my body.

He pulled away gently and I collapsed there, legs hanging off the bed, face buried in the wedge. He rubbed my back. "You want me to hold you now, love?" he asked tenderly.

This man.

I think he can keep me.