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“You want release? You’re gonna have to work for it this time.” He rubs my lips with my own arousal, watching out of eyes that promise to use me and make me like it, too.
“Open,” he commands, pressing his thumb on my lower lip, forcing my chin to give in. When he pushes that finger into my mouth, it’s almost brutal. “Look at yourself,” he command. “Watch yourself beg to suck my cock.”
I obey, my lips wrapped around his finger, tasting myself as I look to the side into the mirror. And he is only beginning to assert his dominance. I can tell by the way he starts fucking my mouth with his hand, his bruised knuckles stopping a breath before they knock into my lips. All that power, all that danger, focused on me. I could get hooked on this.
My toes curl into the wooden floor, seeking to move my hips forward and rub myself into the wetness of my own want against the chair, my pussy begging to be used.
Sade groans, tugging harder on my hair and bringing his own face close to mine, only his mouth free while he talks into my ear.
“I’m gonna pound that needy pussy with my hand,” he says. “But I’m gonna have to make sure you keep quiet. Mr. And Mrs. Sorbaine wouldn’t be happy if their guards discovered their secret room now, would they? Or to find the remains of their guards’ shredded bodies all across the floor.” He pauses for the effect of those words. “So, I’m gonna use both my hands on you.”
He dips his finger inside again, this time curling it in deeper. I can’t help but lose a groan, jerking my hips, wanting him deeper. For the Fucking Flying Dutchman’s sake, I was a virgin only a week ago, and now I’m writhing on a chair for a masked man.
“That’s it, ache for me, pretty poet. Ache until you want to write about it.”
Going down on one knee next to my chair and facing the mirror, he brings that finger back to my mouth while reaching down with the leather-clad one. It goes between my legs and hovers there, his fingers barely touching my exposed folds. Making me beg for it. My hips roll forward uncontrollably. If it weren’t for his arm resting on the back of the chair to come around my head and fuck my mouth with his finger, the chair would be rattling on the floor, alerting the guards.
But Sade’s weight keeps it in place. I can’t move it a single inch, the pathetic sounds I’m making, begging to be fucked, muffled against his fist.
“You want the big masked man to finger-fuck this pussy good, yes.” It’s a statement, not a question. As if he’s inside my head and knows every dirty wish I ever had. “Then you want him to grab your hair and give you a nice filthy face-fuck, make you see once and for all how much of a slut you are for him.”
I go wild, my calves flexing against the chair, my feet pushing against the floor so I can thrust up and impale myself on his hand. He gives me a mean laugh as he finally sinks a gloved finger inside me so slowly it’s torture. I suck harder, but he retreats and slams his hand over my mouth, trapping the back of my head against his bulking biceps. His eyes meet mine in the mirror like a bloody sunset. As if he’s done playing.
Now, he’s going to get rough. His hand moves relentlessly now, going in to his knuckles.
“Let’s get you ready for my cock.” The piece of masculinity I glimpsed days ago flashes in my memory, big and hard and worthy of a god. The leather slides smoothly through my cream, which earns me an appreciative groan from Sade. “You’re so good. The little whorish poet, ready to be used by her muse.”
He sinks another finger in, and now it starts to hurt. Yet my hips won’t slow down, still thrusting to meet his pounding. It must look clumsy and desperate, restrained as I am with my wrists and ankles zip-tied to the chair. I mumble into his hard clasp on my face, my eyes tearing up. I can barely still see anything in the mirror, but my body is a symphony of sensations. I want to tell him to fuck me harder because, yes, I did fantasize about this, about him doing it to me, back when the possibility of him and I even speaking to each other seemed wild. The only scenario that made sense in my mind was that he would use me for his pleasure and then discard me. The discarding made an especially lot of sense.
“You want me to replace my fingers with my cock, yes?” he rumbles. I nod as much as his grip allows. “Oh, I will. But, before that, I’m gonna give that mouth what it deserves for having let another cock fuck it first.”
He eases his fingers out, his weight shifting as he works on his pants, pushing them down just enough to free that gorgeous object of torture that is his cock. His other hand slides off my mouth only to grab a fistful of my hair, smearing the saliva from my mouth to my cheek, while the leather one sticks the two fingers it fucked me with between my lips. They force my jaw open, my own taste coating my tongue. I close my eyes, giving in to his savagery, when he says,
“Open your eyes. I want to look into them when you gag on my dick.”
The wide crest of his cock pushes past my lips, and I can taste his pre-cum on my tongue.
“I’m gonna take that whorish mouth, and I won’t be gentle about it,” he announces gruffly, his voice filled with cruel need. “This isn’t your lover fucking it, the man who pleasured you with his mouth on the stairs.”Your lover.The words resonate inside my skull. “It’s the masked man who came here tonight to ravage you.”
I make the most unsavory gurgling sounds when he reaches the back of my throat, driving it past the constriction he encounters.
It’s hard with the gag reflex and the tears blurring my eyes, but I try to move my tongue. I have no idea what I’m doing, but that only seems to increase his pleasure. Groans escape his chest that he didn’t mean to let out–I can tell because they sound like curses, and his body flexes like he wants to keep them back, to prohibit excitement from filling his body. If there’s one thing Sade Royales never loses, it’s his control, and right now he’s stripping me of mine down to the bone.
He keeps his grip on my jaw and my hair while he shoves that rifle of a cock down my throat, eyes on mine. My lips bruise at his merciless thrusting. We’re angled in such a way to the mirror now that I glimpse his naked buttocks, hard muscles flexing. A monument of power, consuming its victim.
“I’m gonna unload in your mouth like it’s my cum hole,” he grunts just before warm strings hit the back of my throat. I choke on them, and his eyes flash behind the mask. As if this is exactly what he wanted to see.
“Ah, beautiful.”
Pleasure and pain. With every second that passes, I grasp the meaning of those words better. He only pulls his cock out when he’s completely done, and my eyes are already starting to roll back. I go limp on the chair, but he slaps his hard dick against my tits. It feels like a rubber baton being slammed into my flesh, bringing me back to attention.
Sade takes a moment to wipe the tears off my face with his thumbs, my sight clearing to his masked face staring into mine. The sunset in his eyes is bloodier, brighter. As if it were turning into a sunrise.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “My tainted piece of innocence.” He cups my face lovingly, yet the corners of his mouth lift in a grin that promises bad things. He takes one last good look at me before he stands up smoothly, his large cock hanging heavy as he shifts behind me.
When he locks eyes with me in the mirror, I realize that’s what he wanted. His wiping my tears, it wasn’t a moment of tenderness. He was making sure I could keep watching the show.
“I want you to watch yourself get fucked with my cum smeared all over your face.”
