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“You’re beautiful,Princesa. Too beautiful for words.”
We’re nose to nose. The intimacy curls around us, like a dense fog addling my brain.
“Your whimpers and cries make my dick hard. I want to fuck you until it hurts.”
His cock twitches between us. I imagine it pushing against the zipper to free itself. I imagine it weeping as he buries it in my pussy.
“Would you like that?” he asks. “Would you like me to fuck you until you scream?”
A small moan twists its way out of my throat.
“Take off the leggings. And shoes. Leave your panties for me.”
They’re not suggestions. They’re commands. This isn’t a democracy. He’s the king.My king. God help me.
While Antonio watches, I undress as he asks, a flush creeping over my skin. My inhibitions take over, drowning out the occasional twinge of conscience.
He admires me, quietly, while I stand before him in a scant piece of lace. My cheeks are warm, and despite my efforts to remain calm, I fidget.
“Are you embarrassed by your nakedness?” he goads, his mouth curling at the edges. Not a smile, but not a sneer, either.
I lower my eyes.
“You’ll get comfortable with it.” He steps closer, so close I feel the heat off his body. “I like you stripped bare. Body and soul,” he murmurs, running a finger from the hollow of my throat down to the white lace panties.
I’m teetering. A gust of wind could send me to the floor. I draw a breath to steady myself.
Antonio cups my ass in one hand, while the other disappears between my legs. “Are you wet?” he asks, sliding his fingertips over my pussy and rubbing the sensitive folds through the gusset. “You are,” he whispers above my ear. “I hope you brought a change of clothes.”
It’s hot in here.So hot. I arch into his fingers, and he rewards me by focusing his attention on my clit.
He smirks when I gasp for air.
“I spend too much time thinking about defiling your gorgeous body, but when you’re a greedy little whore, like this, you’re irresistible.”
I bristle at the word whore and turn my head away.
“Look at me,” he demands.
And I do. There’s no guile in his expression.
“Does it make you uncomfortable when I call you a whore?”
I nod. Although it’s not that it doesn’t arouse me. It does. What makes me uncomfortable is that I don’t want to be aroused by it.I shouldn’t be aroused by it.
“What about slut? Do you like that word better,Princesa?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“It won’t be long before you’re comfortable with all of it. Everydirtyword. Everydirtydeed.”
He’s right. And that’s what I’m most afraid of.
He loosens my braid, shaking the waves free, until it falls over my shoulders. When he’s through, he fists the hair at the nape, tugging my head back until we’re eye to eye.
“You’re my wife, myPrincesa, and the strongest person I’ve ever met. But you’re also my whore. You’ll spread your legs for me, give me your ass, and choke on my cock. And you’ll tremble while you submit, because it’ll feel so good.” His eyes flare, and the devil appears in the flames.
This isn’t a game he’s playing, or if it is, he’s playing to eviscerate the opponent.Is that what I am?Is this what he meant by pushing my boundaries, or has he simply lost control?
