Chapter 4

I sat on the couch, frozen, my mind blank. No thoughts cut through me, just the raw feel of cum dripping down my face and the throbbing ache in my neck. The bitter taste still coated my tongue, the hot smell of the room mixing with the sweat starting to dry on my skin. I wondered if I really liked it, and the answer came silent and dead-on: yeah. There was something monstrous in it, something that scared me and, at the same time, stirred me up in a way I couldn’t wrap my head around.

“Lie down on the couch. On your stomach.”

The order came from somewhere in the room, firm, no hesitation. I couldn’t see him, just heard him rummaging around, and that made my vulnerability pulse inside me, thick and exciting. Not being able to look him in the eye left me even more surrendered, trapped in this unknown, unsettling state of submission.

I obeyed. I lay down, naked, my hot skin sticking to the cool leather of the couch. Strands of my hair clung to my face, stuck by the smeared makeup and the cum drying slowly. The smell got stronger, mixing with the dampness of my ragged breathing. I must’ve been a total mess — a blur of lust and exhaustion. And still, a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine when I heard his footsteps getting closer.

He came up beside me, his presence burning in the air, heavy, impossible to ignore. His hand ran down my back, a rough touch, but still a kind of caress. It slid down to my ass cheek, squeezing it hard, spreading me open. Before I could savor that stroke, with no gentleness at all, it moved to the base of my spine and kept going down, pressing between my cheeks, pulling a deep shiver from me. His finger found my asshole, sliding over it and making my whole body tense up, then, without warning, it plunged into my pussy like an assault.

It went in fast, violent. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. A delirium took over me, a pulsing heat running through my whole body, and a moan slipped out before I could hold it back. I hadn’t even realized how wet I was until that moment, until I felt every fiber of my body yielding to the invasive, fierce touch that claimed me completely.

Finger by finger, almost his whole hand was inside me. The wet, loud sounds echoed in the room. With every thrust, my body arched more, swept up in an uncontrollable wave of pleasure and pain. He was violating me with his hand, no holding back, each movement ripping from me a mix of discomfort and ecstasy. I gave in more, diving into the sensation of being invaded like that, raw and brutal, feeling something huge and overwhelming building inside me.

When the pleasure hit its peak, when everything started turning into a thick, feverish haze, he yanked his hand out of me in one brutal pull, like drawing a blade from its sheath. The air rushed from my lips in a surprised gasp, but before I could react, his palm came down hard on my ass. The slap cracked loud, the burn spreading through my body like a wave. A scream tore from my mouth, my skin on fire, vibrating between shock and desire. My whole body shook, not understanding the sudden shift from pleasure to pain. My chest heaved, my mind spun, and all that was left was the awareness of my skin blazing.

His fingers slid back inside, starting the hypnotic cycle again. He’d invade me, and just when I finally relaxed, the slap would come. Four or five times he repeated the ritual, each hit pulling me back into tension. But in the last few rounds, the slap took longer to land. The waiting, the anticipation of the pain, became worse than the impact itself. For a fleeting moment, I caught myself wanting him to just hit me already. The pain would come, sharp, but with it would bring the pleasure back. In that final cycle, the world seemed to stop for me; I wanted the pain, wanted to get it over with. The buildup was killing me, and without realizing it, I spoke for the first time.

“Hit me now, please!”

Something suddenly tightened around my neck, the pressure clamping my throat shut, stealing my air. He’d yanked the collar, hard and determined, and the pull made me choke, a strangled sound escaping my mouth before I could even hold back the fear.

“Shut your mouth, you slut. I didn’t tell you to talk.”

The voice that sliced through the air was dark, loaded with a power that chilled me and set me on fire at the same time.

The collar didn’t loosen. He didn’t slap me again, didn’t move, just held it, squeezing my throat with the leather strap, keeping me on that cruel edge between desperation and ecstasy. My breathing got hard, the air stuck in my throat like a cry for help that would never come. My mind swung, confused, between the panic of losing control and the dizzy rush of total pleasure that this surrender gave me.

My body shuddered all over, an icy shiver running down my spine, and suddenly I knew. I knew I’d never be the same after that night.

He let go. The air tore into my throat as it rushed back in, a choked sigh, a sob of relief and emptiness. My chest heaved, my skin burned, my mind whirled in silent chaos. I should hate him, should be scared. But all I felt was a sick desire to lose myself in it again, in his brutality, in the total surrender he ripped from me without mercy.

I was fucked. And I wanted more.