“Go on. Struggle. I like it when you struggle.” He crooned in my ear, his voice all the more domineering for its soft, low tone.
I tried to push against him, to hiss my frustration. But he had me pinned tightly beneath him: pressed front facing into the mattress trapping my arms underneath, my legs forced wide by his and mouth clamped shut with his hand.
“You’re mine.” He released my mouth. “Say it.”
“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours” I gabbled in a rush.
“Yes.” He confirmed, covering both my mouth and nose this time. “Mine.”
With that claim, he thrust his hard cock inside my cunt, already wet in its neediness. I tried to moan at the fullness, the delicious stretching feeling, but there was no air. My lungs began to burn.
“Such a helpless, little fuck toy. My little fuck toy.” I wriggled and struggled against him, but the only movement I could make was to rock back further onto his cock, pushing him deeper inside me. He groaned and loosened his hand. I gasped free for a second, then his hand tightened again.
“So desperate for air, and all you can do is fill your needy pussy with my cock.” My lungs on fire, I rocked back against him over and over, unable to moan my arousal or beg to breathe. The helplessness span through me, my nerves ablaze with the pleasure and pain.
“Only a filthy slut would get so tight and wet when she’s forced down like this.” His words pooled in my cunt, coating his cock with my fresh arousal, and I burned with humiliation at the feel of my own wetness. My mind was singing for air; I was trying to kick free and release my arms. Yet his thrusts and words sent waves of pleasure crashing through my senses that I didn’t want to stop.
We laid in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets afterwards. His fingers in my hair, mine clinging to his upper arms. My breathing had returned to a normal pace, but my mind was a knot of humiliated and achey, painful and sensitive, tingling and pleasured.
“I know you’re strong.” He leant close to my ear and kissed my lobe. “I know you’re intelligent, I know your strength.” More kisses up my temple. “I know your submission is a gift, and I appreciate it. I appreciate your submission.”
His words trickled over my skin, warm and safe. No-one had said that out loud to me before.
“I appreciate your dominance.” I whispered back.
And how I did, how I did, how I do.
I Appreciate
Published
Mischief's Muse 