No hesitation.
No warning.
I think it’s two. They twist and turn in a near circle, the hard edges of the gloves rubbing inside me in a way that’s so tantalizing. I can’t stop the moan from escaping my lips now, from vibrating in my throat.
“F-fuck,” I mumble, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible.
The slap is hard, seizing up my back and down my legs. But then there’s a thrust. Exactly like I want, hard and straight to the point. My shoulders push into the restraint, my large breasts hitting the cold wood with the next thrust.
“St-stop,” I say, but I don’t sound like I mean it. And how can I? This is deliriously wonderful. I never imagined it would be like this. The games I played, the videos I watched, the chats I had—nothing compares to the real thing.
“Stop,” I say again, more firmly this time. But nothing changes.
My pussy pulses against the intrusion, but not to push the fingers out. I want them deeper inside me. Harder. Faster. I can barely breathe. Air catches in my throat, making it impossible to inhale, to get enough oxygen into my lungs so I’m not light-headed, so that my knees don’t give out.
“Stop.” The word falls off my lips, and I’m sure it’s to deaf ears. No one is listening to me—no one ever does. Not even my own brain and body hear my words. “Don’t stop…”
The thrusts get harder.
One.
Two.
Three.
My ass cheeks are spread apart to the point that it hurts, but I don’t fight it. I want this. I’ve always wanted this. Not only is it what I deserve for having these fantasies and dreams, but it’s what I deserve for diving into the deep dark web to find someone who can make them come true.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, each thrust pushing my shoulders and wrists into the wood, giving me more splinters, tearing my skin, and bringing me to heightened pleasure. Grunting, I bite my lip to the point of tasting blood.
Another thrust.
Is this really all with fingers? Or is there a cock involved? Because I feel so stretched. I feel full to the point of bursting. My pussy tightens down, my toes curling into the cold cement flooras I keep myself upright and at the perfect angle to receive even more.
Because that’s all I want.
More.
My breast is grabbed tightly, the pressure of fingers digging into my skin and pulling away. I’m going to bruise—no doubt about that. My nipple burns as it's twisted sharply and then pulled. I clench my eyes shut. Ripples of pleasure tear through me, curling my hips forward and tightening my stomach.
I cry out.
The fingers vanish from my pussy, and all I hear is wet liquid pooling around my feet.
“Oh god.” I wince. “D-did I j-just p-pee?”
Biting my cheek, I cringe. But I can barely focus on my damp toes because the pleasure still races through every nerve in my body. I didn’t think I’d actually cum. Well, I did, but this isn’t right, is it? I shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t have…
“You begged for this, remember?” That same altered voice reaches my ears. It’s no longer as harsh as it was before, and I hear the breaths, the inhalations from exertion, and they’re not mine. “You wanted this.”
I did.
I did want it.
I begged for it.
I wish I could turn around and see who stands behind me, to look on the face of the person who just gave me the best orgasmof my life, to know who finally made my rambling a reality. But I’m locked in place, and I have no idea if I’ll ever be let free.
The shuffling of boots against the cement brings me back to reality. Staring down, I see those black boots, the dampness from my body on them. The hand covers my face, fingers shoved into my mouth.
