He filled me with one brutal thrust, my pussy clenching around him, the air punched out of my lungs as I let out a scream muffled by the sheets. His hands gripped my tied wrists, using them like reins and pulling me back into the punishing strokes.
The pain was sharp at first–raw and stinging from his earlier spanking–but quickly it melted into something else. Heat. Pleasure. My body betrayed me, tightening even as my pussy throbbed, begging for more.
"God," I gasped, my face pressed into the sheets. "So deep."
"Not. God!" The silence after each word was punctuated by the sharp smacking sound as he landed slaps on my ass again. "Sir."
"Yeah," I cried. "Yes, sir..."
That word made him slam in even deeper, his pace relentless, each thrust sending a shockwave through my hungry body. My arms strained against the silk binding, my heels digging into the sheets as I tried to anchor myself against him. I had never been taken at all, and this–taken, claimed and used like a slut–was my dark fantasy come true.
My orgasm built fast, too fast, curling hot and vicious in my belly. I was about to beg for release when he pulled out suddenly, leaving me empty and my pussy clenching around nothing.
"No," I whimpered, looking up at him, desperate to be stuffed by his cock again.
His smirk was pure cruelty. "Did you think I'll let you come without permission?"
I whimpered, my body aching and throbbing as my wetness dribbled down my thighs.
He flipped me onto my back effortlessly, my bound hands pinned above my head. Then he climbed over me, straddling my hips, his cock dragging lazily against my sweaty abdomen as he leaned down. His hand pressed down on my throat just enough to make the room tilt.
"You'll come when I decide you've earned it," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "For now, you're just my toy."
My hips bucked helplessly beneath him, my nipples hardening under the lace bra I still wore. I had never felt so helpless, so exposed–and I've never felt so alive.
The sinful night blurred into waves of torment and bliss.
He teased me with his fingers, circling my clit until I was seconds away from breaking–then pulling out just as my pussy was on the verge of erupting, a wicked grin on his face. He spanked me again, this time harder until my ass was red and tender. He bit at my neck, sucked bruises into my skin that would bloom purple tomorrow–hickeys–evidence of this night I would never explain.
At one point, drunken by the taste of me, he dragged my off the bed by my bound wrists and bent me over the desk by the window, the city light sprawling beneath us. My reflection stared back at me in the glass–face flushed, my makeup smeared, my body trembling as his cock stretched me open.
"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice rough. "See how filthy you are for me."
I did, and God help me, I loved it.
He fucked me there, against the window, one hand fisted in my hair while the other snaked around my throat like a python, while I begged and sobbed and moaned his name even though I didn't know it. My breasts pressed against the glass, my breath fogging it making the city oblivious below.
Every time I was about to come, he stopped. Every. Damn. Time. Until I was shaking uncontrollably, tears dropping down my cheeks out of sheer desperation.
"Please," I sobbed, finally broken. "I need to come..."
He slid two fingers into my mouth, teasing my tongue, silencing me. "Shut up and take it. You're not done."
I sucked his fingers desperately, drool dripping down my chin and my body convulsing with need. I was lost, ruined, nothing but a toy for his pleasure, to be controlled by him. And it was all I wanted.
Finally–finally–he pushed me on the bed and crawled over me, his body pinning mine down, his cock sliding against my slick, wet folds. His mouth crushed mine in one brutal kiss, his teeth scraping my lip until I whimpered.
"You want to come?" he snarled against my mouth.
"Y-yes...sir," I sobbed.
"Then come when I tell you."
And with that, he slammed into me again, harder than before, his thrust brutal, merciless. His fingers wrapped around my throat again, cutting off my breath, the other ones curling around my waist as he fucked me into the mattress.
"Now," he growled.
The orgasm tore through me with a detonation. My body arched and bucked violently, my vision turned white and my throat burned from the loudness of my scream. Every nerve lit up, my body bucking under him as he fucked me through it, prolonging my orgasm until I was literally thrashing beneath him.
"Good girl," he growled, finally spilling his fiery hot cum inside me with a guttural groan.
I collapsed under him, trembling, wrecked, breathless.
We lay there for a long time, his weight pressing me into the sheets, both of us heaving as we fought to catch our breath. Eventually, he untied my wrists, the silk slipping away from my raw skin. I flexed my fingers, sore and shaky, but I didn't move.
He brushed his thumb over the marks on my throat, his expression unreadable.
When I finally rolled to my side, the light of dawn was already seeping in through the curtains. The city outside was waking up, but I wasn't ready to. I wanted to freeze the moment, stay in it for a moment longer.
But I had written it in my bucket list: Just one night. No strings. No names. I wasn't to meet him again.
So when I sat up and reached for my dress, he didn't stop me.
Neither of us said a word.
I didn't ask his name, he didn't ask mine. And when I walked out of that hotel room barefoot, heels dangling from my hand, my body sore and marked and still dripping with the combined proof of our sinfulness, I smiled.
I was twenty and I had finally given myself the gift I had always dreamed of–one unforgettable night of surrender.
The memory of his fingers around my throat, of his voice rough with deadly passion, and his command in my veins. I knew they would haunt me forever.
And I wanted it too.