Slow at first. Long, deep strokes that make me gasp with each thrust. I watch in the mirror, mesmerized and horrified by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of me, glistening with my wetness.
His fingers find my clit.
The touch is electric, overwhelming, and I cry out—an actual scream that echoes off the walls. He circles my clit with the same deliberate precision he's using to fuck me, matching the rhythm of his hips with the movement of his fingers.
"That's it," he says, his voice rougher now. "Let me hear you."
The pleasure builds fast—too fast. That weird feeling of pure bliss starting somewhere deep in my core and spreadingoutward like wildfire. His cock pumps harder now, faster, hitting something inside me that makes my vision blur.
Then his other hand is on my breast, twisting my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. The sharp pain mingles with the overwhelming pleasure, creating something dark and twisted that I don't have words for.
His fingers slide up from my throat to my mouth, pushing past my lips. I taste myself on them—salt and musk and something darker—and I suck instinctively, my tongue swirling around his fingers even as his cock pounds into me relentlessly.
He's everywhere at once. Filling my pussy, stimulating my clit, twisting my nipple, fingers in my mouth, pushing deeper until I gag slightly. Every nerve ending in my body is firing at the same time, and I can't—I can't?—
"Come for me," he commands, his voice dark and absolute. "Come on my cock like a good little slut."
And I do.
The orgasm crashes over me with the force of a tidal wave, and I see white. Literally white. My vision goes completely blank, my body convulsing so hard the restraints bite into my ankles and wrists. I'm screaming around his fingers, or maybe I'm not making any sound at all—I can't tell anymore, can't distinguish between what's real and what's sensation.
Everything goes black.
I wake up gasping for air.
He's still fucking me.
Still buried deep inside me, his cock moving in and out with the same relentless rhythm, his fingers still working my clit. How long was I out? Seconds? Minutes? I can't tell, can't think, can't?—
"There she is," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Welcome back."
The pleasure hasn't stopped. It never stopped. My body is still riding the wave of that orgasm, or maybe it's a new one building—I can't distinguish anymore where one ends and another begins.
"I told you I'd fuck you until you scream," he continues conversationally, like he isn't destroying me. "You passed out. Did you know that? Your whole body just went limp. It was beautiful."
His fingers press harder on my clit, and I feel it building again—that impossible, overwhelming sensation that my body can't possibly sustain.
"Let's see if we can make it happen again," he murmurs.
And then he's twisting my nipple hard, grinding his cock deep inside me, rubbing my clit in fast, brutal circles?—
I come again.
See white.
Everything dissolves.
When I surface this time, there's something pressed against my lips.
A sippy straw.
I blink hazily, trying to focus. He's holding a cup of water, his cock still buried inside me but not moving now. Just there. Keeping me full while I drink.
"Good girl," he coos softly, his voice gentle in a way that makes something crack in my chest. "Drink for me. You need to stay hydrated."
I drink obediently, the cool water soothing my raw throat. I didn't even realize how thirsty I was, how much I've been screaming and gasping and?—
He pulls the cup away and sets it aside.
