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“You’ve held out on me, little whore. You have a husband who’s notorious for walking at the dark edges of sexuality. A husband with the bucks and the will to conquer women, and you don’t tell me.”
“How would you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know. But I do.”
She didn’t like his tone or the feel of his grip or the unsettling feeling in her belly. “What’s this all about?”
“You’re holding out on me, Jocelyn. I hate that. You give me everything or you give me nothing.”
His dick was pulsing. She could feel the rising instrument on her inner thigh throbbing. The pulse was climbing into her clit and she moved on him involuntarily despite the terror traipsing through her.
Feeling her physical response, he smiled wickedly. “You want it rough.” Her body replied without her having to say a word. “I will whip you, I vow that.”
She was certain of that fact seeing what foul passion spoke for him. She couldn’t stop the physical reaction which added to his argument. Even if she denied his assertions, he’d know otherwise. Her sex had become wetter, her heart beat fast and the look in her green eyes spoke to him in a seductive language more telling that anything she could say in words.
“Why this now, Ian?”
“Because I don’t want a false lover. If he had all of you, you’ll give all of yourself to me.”
“I’ve given you everything that I can,” she swore.
“You lie!” His lip curled, and he slapped her face. He laughed feeling her sexual energy spike again. “You even loved getting slapped.”
“You want to rape me now?” she asked.
“No. It wouldn’t be rape. But you should be careful of blind alleys and seamy clubs and going out after dark.”
“I only go out with you,” she reminded him.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Somewhere in the midst of her terror, his penis slipped inside her cunt, and while holding himself above her he thrust to the sensitive end of her channel. Riding her like a horse in the tempo of a canter, he split her interiors with a cock that grew fuller with each painful prod.
The position was so intense that she was weeping before he was finished. Though she flung her legs wide apart to make the assault easier, he only took that as a sign to be more cruel. For a while he let go of her hands and fell into her chest, his mouth biting her breasts and leaving purple hickeys in the midst of her pale white flesh. She thrashed beneath him feeling a strong need to ride back hard in order to find any pleasure for herself. But before she could grasp that perfect feel of clit and spasming vagina that might bring on her orgasm, Ian lift himself from her body again, took her hands in his, and pummeled her mercilessly, while staring cruelly at her hungry body writhing beneath him.
“Rub yourself, I want to see you cum,” he bit off tersely when he finally backed away.
“I’m not sure I can,” she replied.
“Just fuckin’ do it, Jocelyn!” he barked, his eyes now almost venomous.
Obeying his order, she played with herself. For a while she closed her eyes and tried to think of men other than Ian. Yet despite her attempts, she was hooked on his mastery over her. Her mind conjured scenes of whipping and humiliation. And as she opened her eyes and gazed into his, she found herself staring into the vast and empty landscape of his quixotic face. He was like a madman, but by then she was too far gone to be afraid.
***
It was days later before she could talk to Ian about that night.
“You scared me,” she told him when she finally had the courage.
“What’s the problem with that,” he quipped.
“I’m not sure I feel safe with you.”
He smiled broadly, his impish charm on the surface of this conversation—that the one part of him she seemed to trust the most. After all, it had lured her with him on this reckless excursion.
“You don’t trust me?” he acted hurt.
“You hurt me that night.”
