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He felt that, I realized suddenly. My pussy’s contraction had sent a jolt of pleasure through his system. I had that power… or at least my vagina did. Yes, it hurt, down there, and I felt much too full. Christian wanted me to feel that, too; he held himself inside me at full length, I sensed, in order to teach me to receive what he chose to give. Yes, he mastered me more thoroughly with each passing second. But his power over me gave me a certain amount of power over him, too, didn’t it? He wouldn’t have thrust his manhood inside me if he didn’t need me as much as I needed him, would he?
I felt Christian’s hands move, taking hold of my forearms, pulling them away from my backside and then bending them back behind me. I felt him press that tiny bit further into me, and I gasped at how deep the iron bar of his cock had gone inside my needy pussy; it felt as if my sponsor’s rigid penis had reached my ribcage.
Christian folded my forearms and transferred both my wrists to his left hand. I whimpered at the feeling of restraint, of control, of dominance. His right hand moved again, higher up my back. He rubbed a circle over my bra strap, somehow both soothing me and reminding me that he had dressed me in the lacy lingerie—that he had decided to take my panties down but had left my pretty bra still on as a reminder of his ownership.
The hand moved higher up still, Christian’s cock still deep in my pussy, his denim-covered lap firmly up against my spanked bottom. He took hold of my shoulder. He curled his fingers around my neck. He squeezed very, very gently, and a sob burst from my chest. My body bucked against his, backside squirming and pushing; the flash of pain from my defloration had nearly faded but the soreness of my ass under his mastering thighs demanded some kind of friction… suddenly I felt desperate for more.
As if he had waited for just that reaction from my muscles, Christian gave me more. My keeper began to fuck me. In easy strokes at first, he withdrew his hardness almost to the tip and then he thrust it back inside me, renewing the pain but also causing the pleasure to build, though very slowly.
“Oh… oh… oh… God,” I whimpered. “Oh…”
“Shh, Rebel,” Christian growled. “Just take it now. That’s it. That feels so good.”
As if he couldn’t help himself he began to fuck me harder and faster. It hurt more, but only at the very beginning, because the feeling of his hands on me at wrists and throat seemed to join together with the mounting pleasure between my legs, and above all with the pleasure inside me, a kind of pleasure I hadn’t really even imagined: the way his rock-hard cock pounded into me brought a cry of need and ecstasy with every thrust.
“Sir,” I sobbed, the rational part of me not sure I really even wanted to feel so much pleasure, because of how needy it would make me seem, and how addicted to his mastery I could already feel myself becoming. “Sir… please…”
“That’s right,” Christian grunted, his voice thick and his words divided by the driving thrusts of his manhood into me. “Good girl to ask… permission. You may… come.”
My mind, in its wayward thoughts, had supposed I would ask him to stop. I had known he wouldn’t, but the idea that he had taken my plea as a request to climax sent a thrill of humiliated, submissive pleasure through my whole body, and I started to come, as if in obedience to the command implied in his granting permission.
CHAPTER21
Leah
Christian had to hold me tightly to ensure he could keep fucking me as he pleased, all the way through my orgasm. My body wanted to move, to dance, even—to explode, really. My new sponsor refused my limbs that privilege. His restraining hands gripped me harder, and the feeling of domination seemed to explode inside me, instead.
I kept coming, and coming, and coming. Off in space, some part of me started wanting the pleasure to taper and to fade. Christian’s thrusting cock didn’t allow it; the overwhelming pleasure became a kind of torture as his lap pounded into my punished backside over and over.
His rigid penis seemed to become even harder. I heard a growl in his throat, and I let out a sob of beseeching, begging him to come. Christian’s hips changed their rhythm, jerking against me, and I felt the hot iron bar of his manhood pulse in my pussy. I gasped at the sensation as an aftershock of orgasm coursed through my muscles and my nervous system, once again rebounding against his firm hands’ restraint.
Christian’s grip tightened even further. He held his cock deep inside me as he came, his breath coming in soft grunts of satisfaction that brought a wave of shameful pride to my chest. My billionaire sponsor had enjoyed himself in my virgin pussy: he had climaxed there, in the place prepared for him—they had waxed me for his use, they had given me a shot to ensure he could have me as often as he liked without fear of consequences.
He liked fucking me.My cheeks warmed a little at the thought, but I couldn’t keep a tiny smile from creeping onto my lips as well.He liked it so much that he pumped his seed into my hot, wet pussy.
I snuck a peek at our reflection again, for the first time in what felt like long minutes, and I saw Christian standing over me, a fully dressed billionaire standing over the naked young woman he had just deflowered. I felt his cock still deep inside me, like a shameful secret he compelled me to share with him: his ultimate dominance terribly present for me, his fuck toy, though the reflection didn’t show it.
I looked into my own eyes, and I saw there a new dimension to the waywardness Christian had discovered in me: with a new blush I realized Ilikedthe sight of the alpha male dominating the no-longer-virgin girl with his hands and his hard manhood. I liked it so much that I had to look down again, because of the renewal of heat it had brought between my thighs.
“No,” Christian said. “Look at yourself, like you were doing, Rebel.”
The blush got much more intense. I felt my brow working, creasing, showing my keeper exactly how precisely he had understood the expression in my eyes. I raised my eyes again, to meet his gaze in the picture window.
He had a warm smile on his gorgeous face. The sob that burst from my throat, from the wave of helpless affection that rose in my chest, took me by surprise. Christian kept smiling, and, gently, he started to disconnect our bodies: he let go of my shoulder, and then my wrists. I could feel how he had grown softer inside me and I had another strange moment of pride; this forceful, dominant man had spent his strength inside my body.
The rebel—the defiant girl Christian had given that unexpected new nickname to—seemed to resurface. I even experienced a moment of something like scorn. Hadn’t I justwon, in a certain sense?
Sure, he’ll get hard again… but not for a while, right?
But the tenderness in him seemed to coexist with his roughness more closely than I had guessed. Even as he let me go, and I felt his cock slip out of my pussy, he stooped a little, and I watched him move those strong hands again, forward and downward. I let out a little cry as he put them under me, the right beneath my ribcage and the left at my throat, and lifted me up to hold me against him.
His lips found a place behind my ear that sent a shudder through my whole body. I gave a little gasp as I realized that his semi-rigid cock had just started to harden again, up against the bare skin of my back. Christian’s right hand went down between my legs, and took a possessive hold there, fondling and probing.
I whimpered, because I knew exactly what he meant to do: my feeling of triumph and scorn evaporated into a new wave of helpless need, since my sponsor had reminded me that I belonged to him, down there. He had disciplined me in the same place he had fucked me, and he meant to do it whenever he decided I needed that terrible reminder of his authority.
When Christian spoke, though, his warm voice seemed to come from the gentle part of him, despite the dirty words he murmured into my ear.
“I’m going to need to fuck this tight little pussy again very soon, Rebel,” he told me. “You’re just too hot to resist.”
