F*ck It Out...

“If you aren’t going to willingly talk to me, I’m going to fuck it out of you.” He ties something about my wrists, binding them together and leaving me powerless against him. Not that he needs restraints to do it.

His hand clasps onto the back of my neck, holding me in place, while his other hand roams my thighs and rear. His thumb slides along my crack and grazes my tight pucker. When I moan and shove my ass back into his hand, I’m finally rewarded with a firm smack, dead center, catching both cheeks and my aroused slit.

He leans over me, his weight pressing into my back. “Don’t move,” he snarls into my ear.

“Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

“Good girl,” he praises, plunging his thumb into my ass. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“You should know,” I snap, still angry about his lies and now his effect on me. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Oh, Gabrielle, wrong fucking answer.” Suddenly, the plump head of his cock parts my saturated lips, gliding up and down my sex, spreading my wetness, heightening my arousal. It teases my clit, forcing me to spasm and groan. He lines himself up with my constricting entrance, taunting me with his presence.

“Are you going to be a good girl and tell me why you’re upset? Or, are you going to be a wicked little thing and make me torture this sweet cunt until you beg?”

“I don’t…know,” I pant.

“Unacceptable,” he growls, slapping me across both cheeks and slamming himself balls deep only to extract himself again. “Come on, Elle. Stop fighting it.”

I struggle with my restraint and snap my legs shut. This is not what he wants. His hand comes down on each cheek swiftly, and his legs spread mine back apart, pinning them open. He pumps a few shallow thrusts, twisting his hand in my hair and roughly yanking it back so my head flies up and my back arcs violently. His other hand slithers about my waist and down to my throbbing apex, cupping it in his palm. “When will you learn, I own this…? I own you, body, mind, soul.”

His finger dips between my plump lips, slowly rubbing my clit with concentrated precision, building me up, only to stop when pleasure begins to take me. He repeats this torturous act repeatedly before the ache in my womb overwhelms me and I scream out, “You lied to me!”

He pauses and whispers into my ear, “What did I lie about, angel?”

I shut my mouth tight and shake my head, still angry that he has this effect on me. He presses my body back against the island, holding my neck and teasing my hard clit again. 

I can’t fight him anymore, and I utter only one word, but it says it all, “Marlena.”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, petting the side of my face while my head lies on the cold surface, intensified by the sweltering warmth of my sweat glistened skin. “We will discuss this later. Now, I fuck you.”

copyright © 2014 Lena Black