I move my hand between her legs once more, feeling her soaked pussy hole dripping. I slide two fingers inside her quickly and a whimper escapes her against the duct tape as I shove them as deep as I can,
then I addanotherfinger,
andanother,
then mythumb.
Her eyes widen, her breathing becomes frantic, realizing I am about to press my entire hand inside her, just as I said I would. She shakes her head, but I release her wrists, grabbing her throat, squeezing tight, silently ordering her to take it.
She struggles to fit me inside of her as expected, her pussy is so fucking tight, but I don't relent. Knowing I need lube to do this, I release her throat and draw out my knife from my jeans pocket. As she lifts her head I press the blade against my palm, slicing deeply and swiftly across it until a steady flow of my blood is dripping onto her pussy and the pool of my cum. I clench my fingers, attempting to squeeze more out and then I roll my hand in a mix of my own blood and cum.
She stares at me with wide eyes like I am utterly insane and I fucking am, I know.
Now my hand is ready, I press my fingers and thumb inside once again, feeling her pussy stretching until all five of my top knuckles are inside her. She has her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as I slowly rotate and push.
Inch by inch I extend her to the absolutely limit, but she doesn't stop me, she just scrunches the bed sheets into herhands, holding her breath until finally, her little cunt hole is tight and clenched around my wrist, her pussy swallowing my hand whole. She lets out the shuddering breath she was holding in through her nose, her chest heaving with each inhale and exhale.
I allow her to accommodate to the size of my hand because although this is probably the hottest thing I've ever felt and seen, and I would love to aggressively ram inside her, I don't want to tear her completely apart. I still want this pussy for Dark Night without fucking stitches and internal damage.
The muscles inside her clench around me, resisting my intrusion and I lean over her, bringing my mouth close to hers. “You need to fucking relax, or you'll be ripped the fuck apart,” I growl quietly.
I press my forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact as I slowly twist and push my hand further inside her. She reaches down, grabbing my wrist tightly, the tension in her body is obvious, every muscle taut with a mix of pain and pleasure.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” I command against her lips. “Focus on me. Feel every inch of my hand inside you and how well you’re taking it.”
She takes a quivering breath, her eyes never leaving mine as I attempt to guide her through it. The power of the moment is fucking electrifying, and her body begins to yield, her tightness gradually giving way as she follows my orders.
I can feel her surrendering, her walls relaxing ever so slightly as she accepts me deeper. “That's it,” I praise breathlessly. “That’s my good Little Dolly.”
Eventually, I find my hand moving faster as I start to lose control, rotating with a rhythm that she seems to enjoy. The sight and feel of her body responding to me, the way her soakedpussy takes my hand and some of my wrist repeatedly, has me rock fucking solid again, and I am tempted to fuck her asshole at the same time.
Each time I thrust my hand deeper, she loosen a bit more, yielding to my untamed invasion. The deep wound on my palm stings, the wetness of our shared cum and my blood making every movement smooth and fluid. My breathing becomes ragged, matching hers, our shared dark sadistic delight filling the room.
Her hips begin to buck with more confidence, meeting my thrusts, her hand squeezing my arm and I growl with approval. “Fuck,” I mutter, my voice thick with lust. “Fucking take it all, you little slut. Show me how much you want to ride my fucking fist.”
She moans against the duct tape, her eyes rolling back as she loses herself. Lying beside her, I lean over, my free hand reaching and gripping her thigh to hold her open as I drive my fist in and out of her with increasing power, attempting to make her scream for me but all I hear are the wet sounds of her pussy echoing in the room.
Feeling her titties bouncing against my bare chest, I glance down before teasing one of her nipples with my tongue. Her body arches off the bed, her back bowing as she chases her release, her breathing growing more frantic. I can feel the pressure building inside her cunt, the way her muscles clench and flutter around my hand. The sight of her surrendering to the pleasure, her body writhing beneath me, is almost too much for me to witness.
With one final, forceful drive, I push her over the edge.
Her body convulses, the bliss crashing over her like a wave. I keep fucking her with my hand, drawing out her orgasm as muchas I can, feeling every spasm and contraction as she comes apart around me.
I release her nipple, lifting my head to gaze down at her, seeing her restrain the scream she desperately wants to let out, and it only makes me admire her more. She has willpower. As always, a stubborn Little fucking Dolly.
As she gradually comes down from her climax, my hand slows down inside until finally, I ease it out of her. I possessively rub her twitching wet cunt with my hand, staring down at her as if I've won a prize I've desperately always wanted.
“You're so fucking perfect,” I rasp. “You're made for this, made for me.”
In an orgasmic daze, she runs her fingers through the back of my longish hair, searching my eyes as we share a moment, then I rise, standing off the bed.
As I gather my hoodie and jacket, she hurriedly pulls on her shirt and when I turn to face her, she's already seated at the bed's edge, stealing a glance back at Limp Dick, who's still out of his head and she looks confused by it.
I kneel in front of her, drawing her attention back to me and my eyes linger on the duct tape she hasn't pulled away, silently waiting for me to allow her to remove it. I lift my hand, pinching the edge of the tape, and peel it away, eliciting a sharp hiss at the sudden sting.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I look down briefly, retrieving something from my inner pocket. I hold it in my hand for a moment, scanning its bizarre features: a deranged plush dolly with black stitched cross eyes, a tiny button nose to match, cream-colored yarn pigtails, and a small pink dress. When I raise my gaze to hers, she is staring at the soft toy intently, her expression a mix of curiosity and awe. I offer it to her, and sheaccepts it cautiously, cradling it in her palms. Her thumbs press into its rough fabric as she holds it in her lap, her eyes glassy when they meet mine.
“It's for you, my Little Dolly,” I murmur.
