“Taking it slow,” Jonah says. “Do you know why?”
I shake my head. My hair is stuck to my forehead with sweat
“Because I’m not going to come in you yet. You have to wait for it. Soon you’ll beg for it, because that’s the only way I’m going to stop.” He pushes in again, burying himself deep inside me, and whispers against my shoulder, “Stop for now, I mean. I’m going to fuck you again. And again. I’m going to fuck you blind.”
“Don’t—”
“I told you to shut the fuck up.”
Jonah pushes the panties back into my mouth, and this time he won’t take them out again. He pumps into me, his hips pistoning faster and harder until the force of it feels like it’s going to rip me apart. He’s spread my legs so far apart that I can see where he sinks into me, the faint glistening of my wetness against his rigid cock as he slides in and out and in again. My ragged cries are muffled by the cotton in my mouth, and I can tell he loves how I try to scream, and fail.
When I’m on the verge, I can’t help rocking my hips up to meet his—but that’s when he pulls out, denying both of us release.
For a moment he kneels there, his cock jutting forward as he looks at his prisoner. He reaches up to cup my breasts, squeezing hard.
Then he slides off the bed.
He goes for his bag and pulls out something small and white, U-shaped. What in the world?
“I’m going to roll you over,” he says. “You’re not going to kick me, or fight, or do anything else stupid. If you do, you get spanked. Understand me?”
Nobody’s ever tried to spank me before. Is Jonah talking about light, playful pats, or something more brutal?
Probably the latter. I mean to find out.
When he loosens one of my ankles, I do nothing more than flex my foot. Renewed circulation sends blood rushing through my heel and arch and toes, tingling in a way both painful and welcome. But when he releases the other, I use my newfound traction to push myself farther up the bed and kick at him.
“Bitch.” Jonah lunges over me and sinks his teeth into my shoulder. Pain ripples through me—has he broken the skin?—and I freeze. This is what he wanted. He turns me over as best he can. While my arms are still tied to the posts, most of my body lies on my left side, and he’s now scooting down the bed to tug my legs to the opposite bedposts.
He’s turning me over just enough to expose my ass.
“That’s right,” Jonah murmurs. “Lie still instead of fighting. You want to make me happy, don’t you? If you make me happy, I can be nice to you. Give you something to eat. Let you sleep in this bed instead of on the floor.”
Oh, God, oh, God. What is he going to do to me? I fear it as much as I thrill to it. Is there no danger, no humiliation, that can ruin this fantasy for me? Or will it own me forever?
It owns me. Jonah owns me.
I shake my head yes, silently affirming that I’ll do what I can to “make him happy.”
He grabs my hair, lunges close. “Good. You’ve learned that you have to do whatever I want. And now I want you to wear something.”
Wear something? Confusion only adds to my fear as he pulls away again and grabs the small white device. Now that I see it more clearly, I can see that the ends of the U are flatter, the center more cylindrical; it seems to be coated in silicone. Then I feel him slide it inside me—one end within my cunt, the other pressing against my clit.
“You’re not just going to take this,” Jonah says. “You’re going to like it.”
I hear a soft click—and the device inside me begins to vibrate.
This is a vibrator? I’ve only seen the rabbit ones, not counting the enormous things they sell at the pharmacy as “back massagers.” I come so easily that I’ve never bothered buying one.
It feels good, though. Great. I realize now that this is perfectly designed to be worn during sex; the end inside me is slim enough that Jonah could push his cock in there too. Maybe the sensation will do something for him, too. But I don’t know why he thinks I’d need a vibrator to enjoy it when he fucks me . . .
Just at that moment, Jonah slides two fingers inside my ass.
My entire body tenses, clenching around him. His fingers seem to slide up so deep inside me; the pressure kindles primal shame within. I start to shake, individual muscles in my legs and my ass trembling like the strings of an instrument being played. As Jonah turns his hand inside me, I can feel the pressure of his knuckles—the roughness of his skin against my hole—and I feel myself blushing so strongly that my skin seems to be on fire. Jonah chuckles, low and hot; he must see that I’ve gone scarlet with shame. He pulls out his hand, but he’s not done.