"Rub yourself the way you do when you’re alone,” he instructed. "Like you’re trying to make yourself come, but don’t.”
She nodded and shifted her two fingers into a small V-shape, the pad of each finger on either side of her clitoris. Slowly, she made a circular motion, then an oval, pulling the hood lightly with each apex and nadir. As she did so, Malcolm picked up the water bottle and examined it. It wasn’t a large bottle—only about six inches tall with a narrow neck and a round bulb of a base, a typical glass water bottle. There was no paper label on it, only paint. She’d taken off the screw cap. It was just glass, she told herself. Thick smooth glass and he was sliding it, mouth first, into the hole. She moaned as the cool glass pressed against her hot inner flesh. Smooth, so very smooth, but hard as well, unbearably hard. Thick at the base, too thick to take all the way in. And yet as she rubbed herself harder and faster, she wanted it in. Could she take it? Malcolm seemed in no hurry to force the matter. He pushed it in and then allowed her body to push it back out again. He pushed it in. Her body pushed it out. His dark eyes were trained on the sight; he looked only at her pussy and the bottle.
"I once poured wine, bottle and all, into a pretty whore’s cunt and drank it out of her,” he said in a low and faraway voice. "Evangeline. A freckled ginger. She was the bastard daughter of a duke.”
"Did she like it?”
"She liked me. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t let me do to her. One evening, I played cards with her father and beat him. I rolled up the money I won from him, slipped it in a bottle, and put the bottle in his daughter’s cunt that very night. When I told her where I’d gotten the money, she laughed so hard the bottle shot out of her and shattered on the floor. Coins went everywhere. I nearly pissed myself. What a sight.”
"You’ve had adventures, haven’t you?”
"Haven’t you?”
"Not until you,” she said. "And probably not after you either.”
"Oh, you’ll have an adventure after I’m gone. I’ll see to it.”
"I bet you will,” she said. Malcolm only smiled and forced the bottle in a little deeper. Her muscles stretched and opened to receive it. The longer she touched herself the more she wanted it. She felt a deep muscle contraction and it was so delicious she almost orgasmed right there.
"Be good,” he said.
"Trying.”
"This is a show,” he said. "And you’re putting it on for me. Entertain me, not yourself. Entertain me.”
His tone was commanding and she responded well to that tone. She put her heels on the bed, flexed her hips, lifting them as she pulled in her stomach muscles to turn her body concave so that he could see her pussy better. With both hands she pulled her labia apart as he pushed the bottle in so deep her vagina nearly engulfed it. It slid out of her, but Malcolm eased it back in as she once more pulled the labia apart. She could take it. She could. She knew she could if she could only open up a tiny bit more. Her body was so tense it almost hurt to shift her thighs a few inches wider. But she did and as Malcolm pressed the bottle in, the heel of his palm against the base, she inhaled and drew it into her all the way, entirely.
"Hold it in,” Malcolm said. His hand covered her entire pubis, blocking the bottle’s exit. She clutched at the sheets, her body taut, tense, and ready to snap. But she held it, she held her breath and held the bottle in her. Malcolm tapped the base of the bottle and she felt vibrations all through her hips. She groaned, moaned like the whore he’d made her. More taps, more vibrations. He put two fingers on the base of the glass and moved it side to side, up and down, around in a circle. The pleasure was maddening. She’d never taken so much. She had never been opened up and filled like this. Not even his huge organ had split her so wide as this. She came up on her elbows, unable to believe it was happening, but when looked between her thighs, there it all was—the bottle buried in her, Malcolm’s hand holding it in, her clitoris swollen more than it had ever been before. She pushed air through her lips like a woman giving birth.
"What do you want?” Malcolm asked. "Do you want it in or out?”
"I don’t know,” she breathed.
"I like it in. Very nice,” he said. "But you must be about to die, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you love to come?”
"I need to.”
"You don’t need to. You want to. And I want to keeping fucking you with the bottle. Push it out.”
"This is…perverse,” she said between breaths.
"Don’t complain,” he said. "I could have used a wine bottle.”
She tightened her inner muscles and forced it out of her. She watched it emerge from her wet sex and into Malcolm’s hand. But as soon as it was out to the mouth of the bottle, Malcolm eased it back into her, all the way in again. He slid his arm under her shoulders and she lay back across it. The position forced her back to bend and thrust her breasts into the air. Malcolm licked and sucked at her nipple as he toyed with the bottle inside her. Mona begged him to let her orgasm, implored him, offered up her body to him, which was meaningless since he’d already bought it from her.
"Soon…” was all he said. Soon. He rasped it into her ear. Her body shook and shivered, shook and tensed. She had to come, had to, absolutely must…
He was fully erect again, his cock pressed against her thigh. She reached down and grasped it in her hand, held it simply to hold it, this instrument of her pleasure and her torment. Malcolm shuddered and chuckled, no doubt amused by her desperation. The begging went on. Soon the only word she knew was "please.” She said it over and over. Finally, he gave in.
"Push it out,” he said and she rolled up again to force the bottle out of her. Malcolm mounted her quickly, penetrating her with a stroke. With her breasts in his hands, he rode her into the bed. The thrusts were rough and rapid and bruising. He squeezed her breasts with brutal strength, and she didn’t care, not at all. She cared only about the huge hard shaft slamming into her over and over. She arched into the orgasm, crying out louder than she ever had, her vagina closing in quick contractions all around the brutal organ inside her. Her entire body flinched with the muscle spasms. God, what was he doing to her? How could she ever return to a normal life after this?
She collapsed back onto the pillows and Malcolm pulled out of her. She rolled onto her side and he lay beside her, his chest to her back.
"I have to sleep,” she said as he kissed the side of her neck under her ear. "I can’t go on anymore. I have to sleep…just for a minute. I think you killed me…”
She was out of her mind with exhaustion. Malcolm laughed that gentle mocking laugh again. He pulled the red rose from behind her ear, unpinned her hair and let it lay free on the pillow. He teased her nose with the petals and kissed the back of her neck.
"Sleep then,” he said. "I don’t mind. Sleep and I’ll take you while you’re sleeping.”
"You wouldn’t…”