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He moves faster, pushing deeper until I'm screaming out in pleasure, my body trembling from the intensity of it all.
His massive hands lock mine above my head, keeping me still, not that I could move him off me even if I wanted to.
"You are mine, slave."
Despite his thrusts, which are hard and endless, my eyes snap to his.
"It's Maya."
I immediately clamp my mouth shut. What’s wrong with me? Where did that come from? Do I have a death wish?
His movements stop.
"Maya..." he says, rolling my name around on his tongue as if it has a bad taste. "But you are my slave." There is confusion in his eyes as he stares down at me.
Anger boils up within me, but I squelch it. His cock is still buried deep inside me and at the slightest movement, pleasure ripples through me.
I gasp.
He smiles.
I try to pull my wrists free from his grasp, but he tightens his hold and continues fucking me. I try to remind myself that I should hate him for this. But the sex… it's amazing.
I moan.
He smiles again, pleased with my response.
"Say it," he growls, pushing further into me.
I'm too lost in pleasure to say anything.
He picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. I'm panting and gasping as the orgasm builds up inside me, begging to be released.
"Tell me you belong to me," he demands.
I really have to swallow my pride, but I do so.
"I'm yours," I murmur.
He grins with satisfaction, his thrusts becoming even more intense. I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me, my body shaking with its intensity.
"I want you to come again," he orders. "I want you to clench around my cock. I like that."
Of course, he does. It must be a power trip for him. Unfortunately, I like it, too.
"Come for me," he repeats.
Another orgasm builds up inside me, begging to be released. I'm so aroused, I could probably come without his help, but he won't stop until I'm satisfied. It's a strange thought, for him to care about my satisfaction.
"Come hard."
But I can't speak. I can only obey.
His face inches closer, and his hands cup my face. He looks deep into my eyes as if searching for something. I don't know what he finds, but it seems to satisfy him because he leans down and kisses me.
His kiss is gentle but passionate. He wants me to want this. He wants me to enjoy it.
I want to remind him that it’s not his duty to worry about that. That he can do whatever he wants, whether I like it or not. Another part of me feels a little guilty, because the truth is that I do like it, even if I don’t want him to know that. And a third part of me, maybe the most revolting part, can’t help but think his concern for my enjoyment is a little… sweet.
