Page 117 of Retrograde

In other words, you can either opt out or take whatever you’re given. Damn it.

“Are we going to have to do this the hard way, then?” he croons maliciously. “As you wish, but it’s going to hurt more,” he threatens. “I said, grab the bars and bend over.”

I gulp, heat flooding me from head to toe.

“Do you want me to take these off?” I indicate my shorts.

“Did I fucking say that? Just do as you’re told.”

Nodding, I step to the grille and wrap my fingers around the thin, smooth metal bars—so different from the ones I’m seeing in my mind’s eye, recalling their rusty feel and the moist cave smell, so at odds with the warm, cypress-scented air carrying in from the outside.

Aron pulls my hips further back, then slowly drags the shorts down, goosebumps erupting over my exposed skin, dark excitement coiling in my core.

“Please ...”

“Hotshot, do you never learn?” His fingers trace my curves, their touch electric. “With me, you get what you deserve. Always.” He withdraws his palm and then brings it back, crashing.

My yelp barely dies on my lips before he does it again, the impact searing into my flesh.

“You can be loud all you want, but I’m not stopping until this ass is bright red,” he threatens, gripping my hip to keep me in place.

His slaps and my cries fill the air. My vision swims with the potent mixture of pain and anticipation.

When he’s satisfied, Aron rubs my tender flesh before reaching between my legs.

“You’re dripping all over the floor, you filthy slut.” His words hit my bloodstream like a drug, potent and intoxicating. “I’ll start with this pussy since it’s weeping so pretty for me. I’ll make it cry even more.” His touch skates over my slit, and I almost black out. “But then I want to finish by wrecking this tight little hole.” My nerve endings sizzle when he circles my other entrance with his thumb.

“Stay like this. Don’t move an inch.” He pats my hip in warning before walking away.

To comply with his wish, I barely dare breathe, my muscles locked in place and my thighs trembling.

“Fucking beautiful,” he drawls when he returns, setting a bottle of lube on the nearby counter.

The sharp sound of him unzipping reaches my ears.

“See, you can be a good girl.” My eyes roll back when he traces the tip of his pierced cock between my folds, over and over my clit. “You are a good girl. You just need a reminder sometimes.”

He barely enters me, and my walls are already spasming around him.

He reaches for the bottle and spreads the lube around my tighter, more sensitive entrance before pushing his thumb all the way in. His other fingers close around the swell of my hip, gripping my ass cheek.

A few thrusts are all it takes for me to crash over the edge. I come hard, my body convulsing, my vision blazing like burning magnesium.

Aron gives me no time to recover, rutting into me savagely, fingers digging grooves into my skin until he brings me back to the brink, bliss coiling through me. I groan complainingly when he pulls out, then whimper when his piercing grazes my tender skin, trailing upwards towards my other hole. He circles it, teasing me, drawing more sounds out of me.

“Fuck me, Hotshot, I forgot how pretty you sing when you’re scared.”

I am scared—scared that he’ll be rough, too lost in his own enjoyment. But when he starts pushing his cock into me, he’s slow and careful, stopping anytime my moans break into cries.

The first few thrusts are deliberate and unhurried, giving me just enough time to adjust. The pain is bearable, but intense enough to remind me with each stroke that this is a punishment. Still, my overwhelming lust soon overshadows it and has me arching my back. I’m rolling my hips to chase friction, trying to rub myself against him for relief.

“Greedy little whore,” he growls into my ear when he notices what I’m doing. “Who said you could come yet?”

His fingers close around my throat, squeezing hard, making me gasp for breath. I’m enveloped in his body’s heat as he continues slamming into me, stretching me, tearing me apart.

“Do you want to come?” He presses his finger against my clit, and the firm, motionless contact is enough for ecstasy to gather and grow inside me like a storm about to unleash its power.

“Y-yes.”