I cry out again as the pressure turns into an overwhelming, toe-curling sensation. It’s pleasure. That’s what the pressure is. And it’s not right. I’ve never felt this before. Something must be very wrong with me. I’ve always controlled my body, every part of it, and now, suddenly, something is happening, and I don’t understand it.
My knee jerks out and I accidentally kick him in the face. He pauses for a moment, a bit dazed, and I take advantage of it to scurry to the other side of the bed. I’m both terrified by the fact that I just struck him, and terrified, too, of my body’s reaction to his tongue.
But he only laughs and follows me. I leave the bed and try torun to the bathroom, but he’s faster than me. He grabs me, kicking and yelping, tosses me over his shoulder then throws me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me.
I dare to glance up at him, and shudder at the dangerous hunger glinting in his eyes.
“Feisty, aren’t we?” he growls. “You’ll never win against me, though. I own you.”
I feel something hard press into my stomach. He pins my arms over my head and leans in to kiss me, biting my lower lip so hard I taste copper.
“Feisty,” he grunts again, then lifts himself off me, still holding my arms in his hands. He pushes them to the bed against my sides, pins them down so I can barely move them, then returns to his place between my legs. His tongue darts over my folds again, hungrily, sucking and flitting, and he pushes it into me, curling his tongue in and out, touching a soft, spongy area that makes me cry out in surprise and anxiety. My body is alive with electricity, wetness dribbling down my thighs and drenching the sheets, and I don’t understand what’s happening. I’ve never been more frightened and embarrassed in my life. My body’s going crazy, and I can’t make it stop.
But the more I thrash and writhe under him, the faster he goes. His tongue returns to that soft area within me again and again, then laps at my folds, licking away the wetness as if he finds it delicious, sucking in the little nub that drives me frantic. He even presses it between his teeth a few times, sending sparks of pain that mingle with the pleasure, making the pressure in my lower stomach even more overwhelming.
All the sensations he’s causing in me seem to fuse together at some point into a delicious, frightening tingle deep within me,that mounts and mounts, invading my whole stomach, making my limbs numb, until suddenly, it bursts, erupting in a wave of something absolutely intoxicating that washes over me.
He continues to flit his tongue over me as I twitch in ecstasy, my vision going white, my body vibrating with pleasure. At last, I lie still, breathing heavily, the sensation ebbing away, but he continues to lap at my pussy until the last of the pleasure dies down.
Then he lets his body fall over mine, crushing me against him.
The moment he does, the realization of what just happened hits me like a blow to my stomach, and I choke out a sob.
He pulls his head back and looks at me, startled.
“You’re crying.”
I shake my head, my tears falling faster.
He stands up slowly, his face a mask.
“You didn’t want this.”
I open my mouth a few times, trying to speak and failing, before managing to blurt out, “Something is very wrong with me.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“My body felt strange,” I whisper. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t control it.”
His surprised expression fades away, replaced by a bark of laughter. He lies back down on top of me, shaking with mirth. I hide my burning face in my hands, torn between shame and anger.
“Don’t you know what that was?” he asks, chuckling.
Anger wins. I look away, ignoring his question, my entire body trembling with rage. He’s laughing at me.
But he doesn’t seem to care. He merely holds my chin and turns my head back toward him. I hide my face. I won’t be laughed at. I don’t have much say in this world, but I’m holding onto that.Don’t fucking laugh at me.
He seems to think my anger is cute, and it makes me seethe.
“That was an orgasm, silly girl. Haven’t you ever had one before?”
He forces my hands away from my face and looks at me, his mouth parted in a large grin.
“My little pet. How old are you? Nineteen? And you’ve never come?”
He’s holding me, but I keep my eyes resolutely averted. If he had only half an inkling of what my life has been like, he wouldn’t come near me. I’d disgust him. This is only the tip of the iceberg.
Right now, I’m wishing hewasdisgusted. I want him to leave. I’m still fuming. I hate him.I hate him.
