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He tries to move his hands to hide his pulsing asshole, but he’s never getting out of my bonds.

I stroke the top of his head. “Good boy,” I praise, and his head snaps back. He’s so angry that he wants this more than he needs to keep hating me. I kick my boxers to the side. My chest heaves in anticipation. His ass is finally going to be mine. I know it’s going to be a tight fit, even if I use lube, but he deserves to hurt.

“Now what?” he bites out, sitting back on his haunches, the front of his grey sweats tenting.

I fall to my knees in front of him and the sudden movement startles him. His eyes widen when I cup his face tenderly. He tries to pull his head away, but I keep holding on. He hates it when I’m tender with him. I need to remember this for later. I frown, where the hell does that come from? I run my thumb over the bruise on his cheekbone where I slapped and punched him. “So beautiful.”

His eyes narrow and I smirk. I know he doesn’t like it when I comment on how beautiful, almost delicate he is. The bruises and cuts are an intoxicating contrast to his soft face. The cut on the middle of the bridge is starting to bleed a little. I lean forward and glide my nose along his. “So beautiful and all mine,” I moan, grabbing my hair tie with my teeth from my wrist to get my long hair out of my face.

“Moon,” he says and his voice breaks at the end as strands of dark hair travel in front of my gaze. “Stop playing with me and fuck me.”

“Come here,” I whisper, and start to kiss him violently, drawing him close to my body. He moans in my mouth, and I push him backward. He deepens the kiss on a desperate groan trying to get comfortable with his hands bound behind his back.

I hover above him, while he rests on his left side, trying to hide his flushed face in the thick rug. I kiss his neck, and he turns his head in my direction. I trail a path over his feverish skin, studying the way his breath hitches where I touch him. His lower stomach is especially ticklish.

“It hurts,” he tells me, his eyes pleading to end his misery.

“I know, baby, it will all be over soon.”

He’s drenched in sweat, and tastes so goddamn good. He watches me while he pants as I trail open-mouthed kisses down his skin, never breaking eye contact. I tug his sweats down and off, throwing them on the bed. He pulls his right leg up to hide his thick cock while his cheeks flush. I grab one of my shirt garters and roll it over his dick.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, as I tighten it a little and he arches his back from the sensation.

“You’ll see,” I moan and flip him onto his front. He pushes his ass back, and I reach between his body and the floor to pull him up a little.

Whimpering, he moves up a bit more as I trail my palms over his chest and pinch his nipples. He pushes his ass back on reflex and I gasp when my dick rubs his ass cheek. I pull him up against my chest and run and tease my fingers over his hard nipples. Sighing my name, he starts to pant and grind his ass against my thighs.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, I need it please,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

I wet my fingers and squeeze his nipples again, making him cry out while his head falls back against my shoulder.

“Moon, please.”

I kiss his shoulder, and he stiffens. He hates intimacy. He hates it when I take it slow, because then he needs to stop and think about the fact a part of him likes this. That he likes the thought of having my dick in his tight ass.

“Did you think about me while you were touching your ass and I watched?”

He turns his head to look at me and softly nods, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. I push my knee between his legs, and he pleads with me to stop.

“Why?” I chuckle. “You only have to say no, and I’ll stop remember?”

His whole body is shaking; he’s desperate for me to take him. I slip a finger down his ass crack, and he topples forward, but I hold him up by wrapping my arm around his chest. “I got you baby, breathe through it. Be good.”

He hangs his head, and I see a tear falling onto his thigh. I throw my head back, fighting against my own emotion. Why do I like it when I’m hurting him? Why do I want him to cry? Why do I want him to beg me to stop, to push my dick inside while he struggles? What the fuck is wrong with me that I’m hard as fuck fantasizing about him struggling underneath me? I want him to fight with me and scream as I shove inside. I rock my hips against him, parting his cheeks with my cock. The tips of his fingers glide over the top of my cock and I groan; the leather belt is holding around his bruised wrists. He’s never getting out of these bonds. He tries to move his hands but there’s no way he can escape on his own. He stiffens, like the thought just hit him, and he opens his legs wider, taking me by surprise.

I move my other hand over his stomach up to his neck and angle his mouth so I can press my lips to him. He doesn’t kiss me back, so I lick at the cut and bite again tasting the blood. He whimpers and the burn in my groin starts to intensify; I feed on his anger, his pain, his submission. I dip my right thumb in my mouth to get it nice and wet, then push against his puckered hole and press inside. He gives in easily, swallowing my finger as he wails out in pain.

“Don’t struggle, let it happen,” I say through gritted teeth. “Fuck baby, even after everything you’re so tight.”

“I can’t, it hurts. Oh fuck Moon, what’s happening,” he sobs. “Why does it feel like that?”

I pull my finger out and add in another, grinding them both deep inside his tight channel. “How does what feel?” I smirk.

“That tingling deep inside my stomach, arghhhh!”

His sweat covered skin glides along my front while I play with his ass. I tighten my hold on his neck and suck on his skin, roughly leaving my mark, showing everyone he belongs to me. I have never felt this possessive in my life, as my fingers slowly fuck his tight hole.