I bring her to another climax, this one swift and sharp. It’s another lesson, another point I’m making. I own her now, I control her. I decide when she comes, how she comes, and how many fucking times too. She doesn’t get to speak, she doesn’t get a say in any of it.
I control her. I control all of her. Every fucking part.
I flip us again, pinning her wrists above her head.
Above, the noise of the crowd has dimmed. I can’t tell whether they’ve grown bored of this performance, or whether I just don’t give a fuck about them.
I fuck her through another orgasm, and then another.
The world has narrowed to this bed, to this woman, to the relentless cycle of pleasure-pain I am orchestrating with my body.
“No more. Please, no more.” The words are a prayer, a begging, a desperate plea.
And it does fuck all, because does this bitch not listen to a word I say?
“I decide when we’re done. I decide when I’m finished with you.” I growl. Besides, there’s one hole I haven’t yet claimed. One part of her I want to fuck and savour before this night is done, and my dear sweet little Grace has to begin her training.
I shift on the bed, my weight causing the mattress to dip a little. She lays still, almost petrified as I study the landscape of her used body, as I turn her over and inspect all of her. My fingers trace the curve of her waist, down over the swell of her hip, coming to rest on the sore, heated skin of her arse cheek where my palm landed earlier.
She’d look so good on her knees. She’d look so good, all red and welted after I spanked that fat arse of hers.
My hand slides lower, dipping between her thighs from behind, sliding through the sticky mess leaking out of her.
She flinches at the direct contact on her oversensitive flesh, a weak sound catching in her throat.
She tries to push herself up, she tries to move and I lift my hand, bringing it down swiftly onto the peachy flesh.
“Stay still.” I growl. I didn’t give her permission to move but I keep my hand on her hip, holding her in place. Ensuring she stays put.
My free hand moves down the cleft of her arse. I know they cleaned her, that they ensured her back entrance was ready for me because I gave clear instructions for it to happen.
She tenses immediately.
“Relax,” I command as my finger starts probing, starts preparing her in a way that is both clinical and deeply violating.
A whimper escapes her, her fingers clutching at the black sheets, twisting the fabric. “It’s too much,” she gasps, pressing her face into the mattress. “Please, I can’t…”
I tut back.
She can, and she bloody well will.
Her body will be made to fit me. If I have to tear her, if I have to rip her open, then so be it.
I spit in response, spit right onto that puckered flesh and with my fingers I work her open with a ruthless efficiency that brooks no argument.
“You can,” I grunt as I start thrusting more forcibly. “You will. Be obedient for me.”
Before she can brace herself, my hand comes down on her arse. The sharp, stinging smack makes her cry out and jolt forward.
“Antonio…”
I line myself up, pushing against the resistance and with my hand I slap her again, slap her harder.
She screams out as I force myself in, as I demand acceptance. I can feel her insides giving way in a manner that tells me there will be blood, there will be damage, but that’s okay. I’m okay with that. I’m happy with that.
I want her to remember this. I want her to wake tomorrow and have every inch of her flesh be carrying a reminder of how I fucked her.
“That’s it,” I murmur, “Take it. Take my cock. Bleed all over it.”
