Chapter 53

53

June

The head of his monster dick teases my pussy, and that yearning which has grown and grown inside of me swells until it seems to extend to every part of my body. I want him, I need him. I have to feel him inside of me. I tilt my pelvis up until his cock breaches my slit, and the sensations from the point of contact zip out under my skin. Finally. Finally. He's going to fuck me. Only he doesn't.

He clicks his tongue. "No topping from the bottom, baby."

He pulls out, his weight slides off me, and I cry out, "Sir, no!"

"What did you say?" He slaps my pussy, and pain spirals out from the contact. Only, the pleasure that follows in its wake turns my thighs to jelly. My eyes roll back in my head. A buzzing sound reaches me, and I realize, he's turned on that hated vibrator again. Yes, it makes me feel good, but that's the problem. It makes me feel too good. So good...it almost feels like a punishment.

I only realize I've spoken the words aloud when he growls, "You have to pay, baby. You realize that, don't you? "

I nod miserably.

Not looking forward to this. Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod! The breath whooshes out of me as he uses his free hand to scoop up my cum from my cunt and smear it around my forbidden entrance. Then, he breaches me there with the vibrator, and I cry out. More out of surprise than anything because, strangely, it doesn't hurt too much.

He keeps the vibrator there, allowing me to adjust to its size. He begins to rub at my swollen clit with his fingers. My climax builds almost at once. He tweaks my clit, and I want to cry out, but the sensations building inside me block my throat. All that emerges is a puff of air from my mouth as I moan and whimper and try to pull away, all the while aching for more. More. More. The word seems to be etched into my brain. It's on a repeating loop, like a mantra I'm chanting. I try to tug my hands free so I can hold onto him, try to wrap my legs about him to pull him close, but can't. I have to settle for being spreadeagled and open, at his disposal.

He grinds the heel of his palm into my cunt, relentless in the pursuit of the pleasure that fills me, and expands, and heats my blood. And when he slaps my pussy again, I orgasm.

It's quick and sharp, and it's accompanied by blinding sparks that crash behind my eyes. By the time it ebbs, I'm shivering, and mewling, and trembling so hard, he grips my hip to keep me in place. I'm so relaxed, the vibrator slips in further. I huff, adjusting to the sensation of being filled in this way. He holds it there, the vibrations pushing up against my inner walls. I feel it in my innermost space, in my pussy, up my spine, in my breasts. And when he, once again, pushes his cock into my slit, I moan.

I'm so spent, I don't think I can orgasm again. Only, he takes off my blindfold, and the sight of those sapphire eyes flashing with desire, his cheeks flushed with need, and his mouth parted as he fixes me with that fierce gaze, tells me I'm wrong. My master knows exactly how to manipulate my body. He knows what I want better than I do.

He thrusts forward and impales my cunt, and I open my mouth in a silent scream. Too much. Too full. He's taken me in both my holes and the sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. He holds my gaze, pinning me down with his cock in my pussy and the vibrator in my forbidden channel. I shudder and whimper and feel so completely taken. So completely under his power. So completely at his disposal .

The emotions churn in my chest. My belly twists in on itself. He stays there allowing me to adjust to the intrusions, and just as the sensations ebb, he begins to move. He holds the vibrator in place as he pulls out and stays poised at the rim of my pussy. Then he plunges forward and impales me again. He hits that spot deep inside. Instantly, I feel the tendrils of a new orgasm wrap around me and begin to squeeze.

"Oh, Sir," I moan.

"Stay with me." He pulls out again, and this time when he impales me, my entire body moves forward. Without missing a beat, he continues to fuck me with the vibrator, easing it out when he's inside me. And sliding it back in when he slams his cock into me.

Liquid heat spurts up and through me. It's too much. I open my mouth to cry out, and he's there. He places his mouth on mine and absorbs the sounds. Then reaches up and releases first, one of my hands, then the other. I wrap them around his shoulders and hold on as he fucks me in both of my holes. He sets a punishing pace, throwing his entire body into how he plunges his cock inside of me, fucking each of my holes in a steady rhythm. A tinge of pain, and a whole lot of pleasure rockets through my veins. And the way he kisses me, it's too much.

All the sensations coalesce in my core and build up until it reaches my chest. And when he tears his mouth from mine and growls, "Come," I instantly shatter. The world goes dark. I'm dimly aware of his low groan as he comes inside me. Of the warmth of his release filling me. Of him continuing to fuck me with his dick and the vibrator until a second orgasm builds in my lower belly. NO way. Again?

My eyelids flutter open, but before I can protest, the climax washes over me, gentler than the first, but even more intense, for he's kissing me again, and looking into my eyes. And it's so profound. So everything . I'm filled with him, and surrounded by him, and weighed down by him. I'm subsumed by him. I'm his, in every sense of the word. And then the blackness overpowers me.

When I open my eyes, he's holding me in his arms. I'm laid out on top of him, while he's on his back. It's quiet because he switched off the vibrator, which is no longer inside me. He also untied the bindings around my ankles. My cheek is pressed into his chest, and I can hear the boom-boom-boom of his heart as it bangs into his ribcage. It's so reassuring to know I'm not the only one affected by what happened. I turn my face into his chest and kiss him. I taste the salt of sweat on his skin, smell the scent of sex that clings to his pores, and shiver in response.

His arms around me tighten. "Cold?"

I shake my head. "Overwhelmed."

He dips his head and kisses the top of mine. "You were incredible. You allowed me to push you at every stage and matched me step-for-step. You never backed down and opened yourself up completely. You humble me, baby."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. It's silly wanting to cry, but his praise is so incredible. It fills me, heals me, and swells my heart with so much warmth, I'm sure it's going to burst. I press my lips to his chest again, as the tears drip down my cheeks.

"Hey." He flips me over on my back. Balancing his weight on his arms, he looks at me closely. "Did I hurt you? Did I push you beyond your limits?" Worry shadows his eyes.

"No." I swallow down the emotions bubbling inside me. I have this ridiculous urge to cry, which is strange. Why should I feel so undone? But it's like he's given me permission to allow things I bottled up inside to be unleashed.

"It's okay." He cups my cheek and kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my mouth. "It's okay to let it all out."

More tears flow down my face, and I don't try to stop them. I allow myself to be held by my husband and soothed by my master as I cry for things I didn't dare acknowledge until now. About how the very act of being given up by my mother left me with a primal wound I've spent my entire life trying to come to terms with.

How with every foster family I was bundled off to I tried to fit in, and in doing so, never felt free to be myself. How I could never give myself permission to stay in the moment. How abandoned I felt all through my childhood, until Irene adopted me; and how, even after that, I carried the burden of feeling like I had to be grateful to her. How despite her best efforts in trying to give me a home, it felt like a part of me was missing. How lost I felt, like I was always searching for something. How I never found the space to mourn everything I'd lost. How that loss hit me anew when I met my birth mother, and that brought all of my grief to the fore again. How, in his arms, I have the space to let go, for the first time in my life. How the relief of submitting to him completely means I'm in a vulnerable enough space for the dam to break open.

I sob silently, then with more abandon, as he holds me. As he pulls me in and rolls onto his back, stroking my head and murmuring encouraging words. And when I'm done crying and spent, he rocks me to sleep.

When I open my eyes again, it's morning and he's still holding me. I look up into his face, take in the growth of whiskers on his jaw, his slightly parted lips, the scars on his cheek which only add to his vulnerability. His long lashes graze his cheeks as he slumbers. I reach up and touch his scarred cheek, tracing the curve of the puckered flesh up to his temple.

His eyelids flutter, and his bright blue eyes stare down at me. He's awake instantly—thanks to his military training. His arms around me tighten, then one side of his lips hitches up. "Good morning, wife."