Page 10 of Magnum, Volume 2

And then came his voice again.

“Permission to drop, slave.”

I carefully landed on the balls of my feet and then turned to face him. At his house, he’d moved to stand in front of me, so I’d only had to look up once I landed. The difference was a little jarring, but then his voice brought me back again.

“Who am I?”

The answer came out on a broken sob. “Sir. You’re my Sir.”

“Good girl.” He pointed to the bed. “Lean over. Tits on the mattress, ass in the air, arms stretched out on the bed over your head.”

It wasn’t the same as the bar, but it was close to the same position, and seconds later came the cool touch of lube, and then the plug, insistently pressing into me. Opening me.

After weeks of emptiness, it burned, but he ignored my whimpers and tiny little yelps, working it in steadily.

I was a little surprised when the widest part finally pushed past my tight ring, and the whole thing seated inside me. It still hurt and burned and stretched, but not as much as I’d expected.

Is it crazy that I was more disappointed than relieved?

Still, my hole clenched around the neck, and I was completely aware it represented Magnum’s will over mine. The cincher, the shoes, the plug. No way to pretend I wasn’t completely dominated and owned in that moment, and the sob that ripped out of me had nothing to do with physical pain and everything to do with an emotional release I couldn’t stop. So many feelings, growing and growing inside me, and my eyes watered once again while the weight of the plug settled deep inside me, forcing my body to accept it and remain open yet plugged.

“Stand, little slave.”

He pulled the bedspread down and then folded the blanket and top sheet out of the way, on top of the spread.

“You know how I want you.”

I climbed up and settled on my back, center of the bed, arms stretched out to the side, legs bent and open.

He undressed without hurry, his gaze never leaving mine, then climbed onto the mattress between my legs.

But he didn’t fuck me right away. He leaned down and then his mouth was on me, and I was suddenly in danger of coming, but I didn’t have permission.

“Sir, please! I’m close!”

But he didn’t back off — tongue and lips, with just enough suction on my clit to nearly bring me despite the fact I was trying my hardest not to fuck up and come without permission.

Seconds before I’d have lost it, he rose over me, lined himself up, and drove inside me.

There was nothing gentle or kind about it, and he was already far enough inside me I could feel the rough part of his cock. I couldn’t scream because it knocked the breath out of me. My hands fisted the sheets, my knees came up, trying to make room for him inside me, but that wasn’t possible.

The plug and his cock, both spreading me wide and filling me — and he didn’t give me time to get used to him. He pulled out and plunged back inside me. The textured, corded length scraped over tissues not used to it, and I finally managed to cry out, but he just hammered himself deeper into me, stretching me and bruising me inside.

I didn’t even know my eyes were closed until his gruff, growly voice ordered. “Open. Your. Eyes.”

I met his gaze as tears threatened to spill from the emotion and the overwhelm. The eye contact spurred him and he moved faster, with deep, unrelenting thrusts that scraped me raw and drove the breath from me, pain and pleasure weaving through my system at the same time while I forced my eyes to stay open because he’d demanded it, and it was impossible to hide everything going through me in that moment: my love for him, my complete and utter submission, my need for him to hurt me with his mammoth, monstrous cock.

“Come.”

I hadn’t even known I’d been close to an orgasm, but it hit like a detonation at his single-word command. My body clamped down hard around both his cock and the plug. My room flashed so bright I couldn’t see, and broken sounds tore out of my throat. He fucked me straight through it without slowing, the friction turning sharper as I grew even more sensitive.

He built me back up slower, edging me until I was shaking and begging in soft, broken syllables. When he finally gave permission, the release rolled through me in long, torturous waves. I held onto him and rode it out while he kept the same relentless rhythm.

He didn’t let me come again for a long, long time. He edged me, working me close and then going inside and holding still, stretching me impossibly wide while he told me to breathe, and I fought the cincher to obey. And then he fucked me hard and fast again, working my clit to bring me close — and then made me back away from it again. And again.

But eventually, he ordered me to beg better, and I gave him everything I had. “Please, Sir! I need to come so badly! I beg for mercy, Master! Please allow your slave to come again!”

Eventually, he said, “Permission, slave,” — and I swear the release he finally allowed took the top of my head off. It didn’t just crest, it detonated up from the deepest part of me in an endless wave that swallowed everything. My ears rang, and my vision narrowed so I could only see the dark intensity of his eyes. Every muscle from my filled pussy and stuffed ass all the way to the base of my neck locked down. My muscles spasmed and jerked around his cock, around the plug, and against the unyielding grip of the cincher. My body fought itself, fought him, fought the orders to keep coming, and still the climax rolled higher.