Page 47 of Magnum, Volume 1

He nodded once, his eyes dark, expression grim.

“Grab the olive oil, cunt. Cabinet on the far right, middle shelf.”

I moved on unsteady legs, staying on my toes, trying to walk with grace, but I wasn’t sure I pulled it off. My stomach had twisted into a tight, nauseating knot, and the huge plug shifted with every step — a burning reminder of both how wide open it held me, and how small the plug was compared to what he would soon force into me. The entire walk, my traitorous clit throbbed in time with my pulse while cold fear settled in my gut. My pristine gut, cleaned out and waiting to be violated.

When I returned, his shorts were off and he was naked, his misshapen, massive cock standing proud. Just the sight of it made my hole clench hard around the plug.

“Your asshole will only have what’s left from me plugging you, so get as much as you can on my cock.”

My hands shook as I poured oil into my palm and wrapped them around him. He was already granite hard, and I worked the slickness over the blunt, oversized ball on top, down the thick shaft, and then to the rough, abrasive base.

I poured more into my hands and did it again, trying to get it on in careful layers while my stomach somersaulted and the plug kept me stretched and aching.

He didn’t rush me, didn’t tell me to get on with it. When he was as slick as he was going to get, I took a step back, my entire body a trembling livewire, and met his gaze, waiting for instructions while my asshole clenched and spasmed around the giant plug.

“Wash your hands and then climb onto the mattress. You’re smart enough to figure out where your hips go.”

It’s possible I took longer than necessary washing my hands. Drying them. He didn’t say a word though. Just watched me with those dark patient eyes, and the silence only made my pulse louder in my ears.

I walked to the mattress on shaking legs. The huge plug shifted with every step, a thick, relentless pressure I couldn’t ignore. When I started to lower myself over the wedge he said, “Legs apart so I can make sure your clit is over the slit properly. Arms straight out to the side.”

I obeyed. Cool air touched me, and his fingers slid under me, between my legs, and brushed deliberately over my clit — then withdrew.

“Excellent,” he said in that too-calm, commanding voice. “Legs together now, fuckslave. All the way.”

This position was wrong. It felt like punishment. With my thighs locked together, how was I possibly going to open enough to take him?

Also, I knew I was going to fight him, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get any leverage. I desperately wished I’d be able to just stay still and take it, but I knew it wasn’t likely.

Within seconds, he was on the mattress, then his muscled legs were surrounding mine, pinning my legs together even tighter. One big hand settled between my shoulder blades, pressing me flat. The other gripped the base of the plug, yanked it out of me, and my hole clenched and spasmed around the sudden emptiness while my screams echoed off the walls.

And then the head of his cock was inside me, pressing. Pushing. Driving.

There was no careful pressure, no slow working in. He drove into me with his weight behind it, pressing me into the mattress. Then again, vicious. Violent.

I thrashed under him and shrieked nonstop, unable to do anything else with my muscles locked, my hole burning, and every instinct screaming that it was too much, that I couldn’t possibly take it — but he didn’t stop. He kept pushing, relentlessly forcing the fat, textured shaft into me inch by brutal inch while I panicked and fought him with everything I had, but he easily held me down, pinned to the mattress while he pried my asshole open with his monstrous dick.

“That’s it. Fight me, bitch. No choice but to take it, slave. This is what you are, this is why you fucking obey.”

He slammed in three more times before I felt the rough part of his cock. The corded ridges scraped and dragged against the tender, overstretched ring of muscle, and then rasped against the inside of my hole on the way out. Scraped it all over again on the way back in. Every stroke felt like sandpaper, and he drove harder and harder, using his weight and power to force his way in while I screamed and begged, “Please stop! I can’t take it! Oh, God! You’ll split me open, I can’t! Please stop! Please!”

My hands scrabbled uselessly against the sheet, arms no longer stretched out to the side. I tried to push up, tried to reach back. I clawed at the side of his body, behind me, and he grabbed my wrists, twisted my arms behind my back, and pinned them there with one hand while he kept jackhammering his way into my tortured hole.

I couldn’t get leverage. I couldn’t open my legs. I couldn’t do anything but futilely fight him while he forced me open and drove into me, knowing escape was impossible and there was no way to stop him while he wrenched my hole wider and wider with every thrust.

The burn turned white-hot, and I thrashed under him, trying to buck him off, but it was hopeless. My hole had no choice but to yield, and my broken, desperate shrieks filled the room.

“Please have mercy! I’ll behave! I’ll obey!”

“Of course you will, cunt. You’ll also hurt for me while I remind you why you’ll fucking obey.”

I could feel every sudden flare of girth as he forced himself deeper.

“Take it, cunt.” His voice was deep and commanding over the sound of my sobbing. “Tell me you need this. Tell me how important this is to who we are.”

I shook my head and begged again, “Please stop! I can’t take it! Motherfucking Red!”

“Oh no, cunt. You gave up your right to that word.” He pulled nearly all the way out and slammed in harder. “Tell me how much you motherfucking need this, slave.”