Page 20 of Silver

More tears stream out of my eyes.

He takes one of my hands off his arm, grabs my wrist, and pulls my arm down until he presses my palm against his erection.

I gasp. His dick is huge.

“Feel that? My cock is so fucking hard. The more you struggle, the harder my dick gets. It’s beautiful. Keep your hand right there. Hold my junk. If you let go, I’ll use a paddle on your naked bottom.”

My breath hitches. I don’t like the idea of being paddled, so I don’t remove my hand from his dick.

Still gripping the bulk of my thick hair with one hand, he brings his other to my pussy and grabs me through the denim of my jeans. “Your cunt is wet, isn’t it, precious?”

I sniffle, trying hard not to sob out loud.

He pinches my pussy so hard that I cry out. “Answer me.”

I gasp. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” Every time he issues a new order, my pussy leaks. It’s starting to piss me off. I don’t want to be a masochist. The thought has never entered my mind. I’m not somebody’s fuck toy.

He doesn’t release me. Now he’s holding me up with both hands, one lifting my pussy too high, and the one tugging my hair back and upward.

I can’t stay like this much longer. My calves are straining. “Please, Sir.” I try begging. He said he likes me begging. Maybe it will soften him. His heart, not his cock, obviously.

Silver drags his fingers along the seam of my jeans, teasing me, making me horny when that’s the last thing I want to feel. Anger and frustration should be my top two emotions. Not arousal. Manipulative asshole.

“You need a firm hand, Daphne,” he informs me. “You need discipline. It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already defying me. That does not bode well. I meant for you to try out the kennel and see how it made you feel, but now you’ve angered me with your bratty behavior, so I’m forced to punish you instead. I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to take off your fucking clothes like a good girl. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” I glance toward the door, wondering if he locked it. If I make a run for it, will I be able to escape him? I thought I could do this, but I can’t. It’s too much. It’s not worth it.

Silver moves so fast that I don’t know what’s coming until it’s too late. He releases my pussy, spins me around, and drags me by the hair toward the bed, scaring the fuck out of me. Less than a second later, I’m pressed flat on my stomach, my legs dangling, my toes too far from the floor to get any purchase. His bed is too high, and I’m only five-four.

Silver keeps one hand on the back of my head, pressing my cheek into the mattress. He uses the other to reach under me and unbutton my jeans before lowering the zipper and tugging the denim to my knees.

I’m flailing, but I’m not strong enough to stop him. He’s going to do whatever he wants to me.

He bends, drags my jeans the rest of the way off, and then yanks my panties over my ass and down my legs next.

I scream when the first hard slap lands on my butt. I’m still sore from last night’s spanking; I can’t take another.

Silver must have set my panties on the bed because I get a fleeting glimpse of the cotton as he snatches them off the mattress, balls them up, and stuffs them in my mouth.

“Close your lips around your panties, naughty girl,” he orders, his voice firm. “I don’t want to see them. Make sure I don’t see a single glimpse of your come-soaked white panties while I spank you. If your lips part, I will start over.”

My mouth is too full. I start to panic. I won’t be able to breathe.

He slaps my ass hard again. “Now, Daphne. Close your lips.”

I pull them together. It’s awkward. I’m sure I’m choking.

Silver grabs my cheeks and turns my head so I’m forced to look at him. I’m sure my eyes are wide with fear. I’ve never been this scared.

Okay, that’s not true. I was more frightened the night I was attacked. But this is a close second, only because I know who my assailant is now, and part of me trusts he won’t actually murder me this morning. He’s a depraved sadist, not a killer.

“Breathe through your nose,” he commands.

I draw in a snotty breath.

He reaches for the nightstand with one hand and returns with a few tissues. Holding them to my face, he says, “Blow.”

I obey him. I’m running out of steam.