His thrusts are brutal as he uses my upper arms like a handle, pulling me back onto his cock as he slams forward. We meet in the middle with an intensity that distributes shockwaves through me. Another orgasm builds, coiling in my core.
He must be able to tell from the way I tense because, unbelievably, he speeds up. He shunts into me with so much momentum, my legs slide and spread. Suddenly, he’s hitting even deeper. He leans away, using my arms as leverage, yanking me back onto his cock with a force that borders on painful.
I feel incredible, like I could bottle this sensation and conquer the world.
“Yes. Please, Max!” The orgasm rips through me, leaving me mindless and boneless as I bounce against him. Every nerve shatters and drifts away on the wind.
Still, he doesn’t stop or even slow. He just keeps fucking me through it. Past it. The pleasure spirals as I take more than I thought possible.
Max makes it clear that my body isn’t my own right now. It’s his to break apart and put back together however he sees fit.
Oddly, I love this.
Love the freedom of not being in control. Of not having to think, of escaping the role I’ve played for so long.
This is sheer bliss. Existing in this moment where nothing matters except the next crashing wave of ecstasy that steals every breath.
Just when I think I’m adjusting to his punishing pace, he lets go of my arms. His massive hand tangles in my hair at the back of my head. Then he pulls me up before yanking me back.
Sparks shoot across my scalp in a way that trickles down my chest, through my breasts, and makes me clench around him.
My back arches as my weight shifts, my center of gravity all over the place. I can’t focus as his cock continues to drive me insane with every thrust and pull. The relentless ecstasy has me pressing my ass back, trying to take him deeper despite the sting in my scalp and the stretch across me.
The training I’ve devoted my life to reminds me of my exposed throat. My entire body extends in a taut line of surrender. I’m offering myself to him, and I don’t even care.
Max uses that to his advantage.
His other hand slides around and finds my breast. He pinches my nipple, twisting in an almost torturous fashion. He holds it as his thrusts make me bob and shake, pulling against his grasp.
I’m sobbing, pleading, spilling out words that I don’t recognize. “Harder. More. Please. Break me. Use me. Take me until I can’t remember my name.”
He gifts me what I’m asking for, what I’m pleading for. His quickening pace becomes punishing and brutal. I clutch at his arm, my nails digging into his skin.
I can’t breathe, can’t think. I’m nothing but the euphoria thrumming through me.
Then his rhythm falters. His cock goes rigid, and I can tell he’s close. He’s about to leave his mark inside me the way his hands have left their marks on my skin.
“Max…” I don’t even know what I’m begging for, if I want him to come or to keep going forever. All I really know is this all-consuming need. “Please…”
The pleasure builds to heights I didn’t know existed.
The orgasm hits me like a freight train ripping out of my soul. My muscles lock as every nerve fires at once. All thought scatters to white noise and static.
When he comes, hot pulses fill my pussy. His hand in my hair keeps me still, forcing me to submit, to take everything, unable to do anything but accept this final claiming.
I sob on a moan.
Again and again, until he’s done with me.
Finally, his fingers mercifully release my hair and trail down to my neck in a gentle, almost tender gesture. I collapse, every limb heavy as he lets me slide to the mattress. All my muscles ache in the most delicious way.
I’m marked. Claimed.
My pussy throbs from his pounding. My breasts sting from his rough handling. My scalp tingles where he pulled my hair.
I’ve never felt more alive.
I’m free from the prison of my own making.
