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“Call me names again,” he says, “and I’ll make you regret it.”
Oh, God. I love this. Love the bite that’s in his tone, the command and challenge.
“Cunt. Slut fucker. Whore lover,” I push.
“Lower.” He pushes on my back until I’m bent right over, and he snaps something on my wrists.
Handcuffs. Where the fuck did he have handcuffs? Real ones by the feel.
“Key’s in the other room, slut.” And then he shoves a finger into my ass and pumps it. “Fuck, you feel good for a whore. Should I get a man over here to take that mouth? A man to fuck your ass while I fuck your cunt?”
“No…”
When Hendrick turns utterly filthy, he’s terrifyingly good at it. “You say no, but you want it.” He keeps his finger in my ass and then he slams into my cunt with his cock so hard the only thing keeping me upright is his free hand that’s caught in the chain connecting the cuffs.
It has the effect of him being able to keep me both upright and off kilter and so open that his cock hits me differently every time, and all I can do is take it.
My pussy grabs and clenches, fluttery with need as his shaft splits me apart. The head hits me deep, and all it takes is a tug, and I’m half up. Oh, God, his cock hits the front of my tunnel, all those nerve endings are battered over and over, and a thick vibrating pleasure begins to ring out.
“You fuck!” I cry, words wobbling. “I’m coming. You’re making me come.”
“Do it, whore. Squeeze my cock. See if you can make me cum.”
I can’t stop myself. I come hard, shaking, body jerking as the pleasure deepens, widens and swallows me whole.
“Oh, fuck yes, Cat. You just squirted all over me.”
He’s not lying. He’s sliding in fast now, deep, the extra wetness slicking the way even more, and then when he starts to twitch, he pulls out and drags me to the table.
“You think I’m going to come without making you work for it?”
I can’t feel my feet, and I stumble, legs buckling, but he yanks me with the chain of the cuffs, his arm coming around me to stop my arms being ripped up painfully, but the bite is good. A sweetness of its own.
Glaring at him over my shoulder, voice thick and low with lust, I say, “Make me.”
The lust is dark in him. When I glance down, his cock is glistening from my juices and so stiff my mouth starts to water. The tip drips with pre-cum.
He grins lasciviously. “Looks like you’re hungry.”
Hendrick pushes me on the table, onto my back and it’s the right level of uncomfortable as the cuffs gouge into my back and wrists. He drags me so my head’s hanging off, upside down, and then he feeds me his cock.
It’s a little too violent as my head’s at an uncomfortable angle. Breathing’s hard and his cock stretches my mouth, and everything makes it tight so he seems bigger, like he can’t fit, but he does, and the head hits the back of my throat.
His balls hit the top of my head with every stroke, and he grunts, rubbing the bulge in my throat from his cock.
“Fuck, look at that view,” he grunts. “You take my cock so well.”
He pulls and twists my nipples before he just slams into me, the room filled with the harsh guttural breathing from Hendrick and me, his groans and my gagging sounds.
He pushes into me, right to the back of my throat, again and again, his fingers sliding over me to my clit where they work magic.
Hendrick’s moves are harder, faster, from both ends, and I’m edging myself, trying to hold back my orgasm for his.
When he comes, I let go and the pleasure overwhelms, sending me into wild spasms. He twitches and jerks and then he surges back so his hot release hits my tongue, and he staggers. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Then he sticks his finger in my mouth and paints my nipples with his cum. “That was payback for ruining my shirt with him. Swallow.”
He leaves me there, spent. All I can hear for a long moment is harsh, uneven breathing.
