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Too aroused to protest, I let him wrench my arms behind me. Easily he held me in the grip of one hand, but I wasn't inclined to fight him. The sound of the drawer opening came again, and I wondered, in the part of my head that wasn't starved for sex or air, what kind of kinky dungeon limo this was. Did this stuff come standard for bondage fetishists? Or did Anton have it specially made?
I felt the unmistakable caress of leather on my fingers and I knew exactly what he was going to do. I'd seen it when I'd looked up some of the terms of his contract on the internet. I licked my lips and held my breath.
Gently he worked a long, thin leather sleeve over my hand, past my wrist, up my arm. Then he put another sleeve over my other hand. The material warmed with the heat of my own skin. When they had reached as far up my arm as they would go, he pulled my arms together and fastened them to each other with leather straps, securing them in place. I was now helplessly immobile. My pu
ssy burned with need and arousal.
Anton's hand slipped over the lips of my labia. “You're so wet for me,” he said. “Do you really want me that much?”
It seemed impossible that he could think otherwise. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”
“Tell me.”
He seemed to love it when I talked dirty.
“I want your cock in my cunt,” I said. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk.”
To my shock, he spanked me. Hard.
“No,” he said, and his hand smoothed over my ass again. My filled ass and empty cunt both quivered at his touch. “Tell me that you want me.”
But how can I? I wondered. I don't even know you.
One finger entered my pussy and I clenched around it, whimpering.
“Tell me, Felicia.”
I grappled for coherent thought as his finger slowly began to pump, in and out, in and out.
“I want you, Anton,” I said at last. “I want you. Please. Don't...” I couldn't think of what he might want me to say. “I want you to fuck me.”
A second finger entered me, and I collapsed completely against the seat. The limo went over a bump, and Anton reached out to steady me. Then I realized what he must be thinking.
“I want you to catch me,” I said. “I want you to hold me up and hold me down. I want to talk to you about dumb shit while you try to read your quarterly earnings report.”
He laughed, and I heard the surprise in his voice.
“I want to learn what you like. What you want.”
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I'd like that, too.”
And though he didn't say anything about learning what I wanted, he seemed to know that already.
His fingers retreated and I heard his clothes rustling, shifting, unzipping.
Then the soft head of his cock was pressed against my slick folds, and I almost cried with happiness as he slowly, inexorably, pushed forward.
My body parted for him like it had never done for any other man. All his teasing, all the terrible, terrifying, mind-blowing orgasms he'd given me, all of them had prepared me for him like nothing else could have. I felt every millimeter of his cock as he filled me, each vein and ridge as he slid inside.
“Anton,” I panted, and then he was fully seated in me.
I felt him from the inside out. His flesh burned inside me, and I wanted nothing more than for him to ride me until I couldn't walk, make me come until I couldn't even feel any more. The hem of his shirt brushed against my ass and I felt the fine fabric of his tuxedo pants grazing my thighs. His balls tickled my clit as he gave his hips an experimental rotation, grinding against me, and I moaned and shuddered.
“You are very beautiful, Felicia,” he said. “I am glad you married me.”
Then he started to fuck me.
It was torture. Sweet, delicious torture, but torture all the same. His cock filled my pussy and the plug filled my ass, but the way he moved was so slow, so lazy and unhurried that I wanted to scream in frustration. And I would have, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that he angled his cock downwards and with each thrust he rubbed over something inside me that set me alight, something I had never felt before. With every long, drawn-out push of his cock he speared it, and each push sent stars pinwheeling across my field of vision.
