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Like the coarsely dominant words I had imagined a moment before, the thought of Ivan giving my pussy—No, my mind whispered, not your pussy… a girl like you has a cunt, for her owner’s pleasure—what I so richly deserved brought a terrible wave of shame and need. I cried out anew, and at the same time I felt Ivan pull his cock out a little further before he slammed it back into me. My whole body bucked, and without any warning or any real buildup I felt an enormous orgasm draw so close that it loomed over me like a tsunami suspended just before it crashed into the shore. My vagina clenched hard around the thrusting penis, and I staved off my climax only through my sheer, reflexive fear that it might actually rip me apart.
“Oh,” Ivan grunted, his voice thick with pleasure, “that’s such a nice little cunt. You may come, girl.”
They weren’t the brutal, humiliating words I had heard in my head, but they contained enough degradation to send me instantly over the edge, the tsunami descending and sweeping me out into a vast sea of pleasure. I lost all purchase over my thoughts, or I would have done everything in my power to resist the idea that rose in the sea like a life-belt buoying me to the surface: even as Ivan had degraded me, he had thought of my pleasure alongside his own.
More, he had thought of it—or so I believed I had heard in his voice—both from the dominant perspective of his own satisfaction, in forcing pleasure on his bed girl, and from the perspective of wanting to take care of my needs… of me, the naked girl he had just unpacked from her shipping crate.
I lost track of the number of surges of ecstasy that climax sent shooting through every bit of my body. Only as they started to wane did I even wonder whether it had been one orgasm or an uncountable number of them. I had read, blushing, of women who came that way, and I had felt certain I couldn’t be one of them—didn’t want to be one of them.
Under the brutal pounding my master now started to give me, for my very first fucking, I realized how wrong and yet how right I had been. The heat that spread so far and fast, from the roots of my hair to my curling toes, told me that whether or not that first wave of helpless pleasure had represented more than one climax, the next one bestowed by my owner’s enormous manhood unmistakably had its own separate build, its own discrete thrill of need that made me sob for the next punishing thrust of Ivan’s hardness—followed by its own delicious-yet-frightening release.
Whether my master had made a wanton woman of me, or laid bare my shameful needs, I knew I had had it correct from a reasoning perspective—I had been right to hope my virgin pussy didn’t have the capacity to climax over and over. Not the way Ivan’s cock made me do, anyway.
Now that he had ripped through the barrier of my hymen with it, to claim me as his fuck toy… now that the first titanic orgasm had shaken my frame to its core and yet left me in one piece…
I didn’t think I could ever have enough of it.
It had started to hurt again, but the pain didn’t have the aspect of the kind of unpleasurable sensation that tells a human body to stop doing something dangerous, like holding the handle of a pan you didn’t know was burning hot. Instead it seemed only to add to my feeling of submission to my new master’s pleasure. It sharpened the shocks of terrible pleasure he forced on me.
I let out a long, whimpering moan as I felt the emotional consequences of a dominant warlord making me his sexual servant, my mission to destroy him notwithstanding. His deflowering my virgin pussy, his making its newly opened sheath into a tight little cunt he clearly enjoyed fucking, above all his bringing me to helpless climax after helpless climax that way… it made me his at a level I could scarcely comprehend.
And, to my utter dismay, I wanted it to go on and on. Him, standing over me, straddling my legs, his knees bent to lower his manhood to the height necessary for fucking his new concubine. Him, gripping me around my waist, holding me motionless atop the ottoman so that he could seek all the pleasure he had bought inside the cunt he had acquired for the purpose. Him, thrusting his huge penis into me over and over, making me come again and again despite my inexperience… my precious innocence… my pretense of innocence… all the things I had always told myself about what sex meant to me.
