Higher and higher he strums me until my toes curl.
“Not yet.”
I hold my breath as the tip of his cock presses against my tight ring of muscles.
“Relax and I’ll let you cum.”
I’ve learned his meanings. My Sir is really saying that if I don’t relax, he won’t let me cum. And as much as I want air right now, I want to cum.
“Who owns you, kitten? Who do you belong to?”
“To you, Sir.”
“And what do you want?” His cock pushes harder applying more pressure.
I push back toward him as much as I can in my bindings. “To cum. Please, Sir, fuck my tight hole and make me cum.”
He’d said he wouldn’t do it until I begged. I never thought I would, but I did. I’d do anything for him.
I suck in a breath and ball my fists as he plunges forward, taking my ass and making it his. Tears leak to the table as he moves, thrust after thrust, until the rhythm is right and my body accepts the invasion. His warmth covers my freshly punished skin. My thoughts are monopolized by the fiery burn of his cock in my ass and pleasure of his fingers in my pussy. Higher and tighter until I see explosions of light and I cum apart. Moments later Victor does too, filling my ass with his seed until it can’t take any more and drizzles down my leg.
He pulls out and kisses my holes. Next he unfastens the chains and my legs relax. When he rolls me over, his expression takes my breath away. So much love and adoration. He smoothes back my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear and gently kisses my lips.
“Kitten, you’re perfect and you’re mine—forever.”
I’m too tired to speak. Instead, I smile and nod. He’s right.
I am.
I’m his to have and I’ve never been happier.
TEN YEARS AGO
"You're such an ass," Jess blurts out. Her tone sounds angry, but her volume is still low.
I shrug with a smirk as I heave my backpack higher on my shoulder. As we step through the front doors of our high school, the onslaught of the warm Missouri sun causes me to squint my eyes. For a few steps I think about how to answer her, what to say. If she were a guy I'd have the perfect response. I'd say that I wasn't the ass, but Maura Sharpe had a fine ass and I'd fucked that too.
But Jess isn't a guy, and even though she's my best friend, I'm confident she doesn't want that much detail. I can see her in my imagination scrunching her cute little nose and after hitting me halfheartedly saying, 'Gross, TMI!'
Trying to avoid her manhandling—something I wouldn't take from anyone else—I start to reply when she purposely bumps her shoulder against mine, her tiny frame filled with enough hostility to almost bounce me from the sidewalk. I grin. So much for my attempt to avoid her physical aggression.
Catching my balance as car after car peels past, determined to leave the parking lot before the line begins to form at the stoplight, I stare down at her and with a gleam in my eyes, ask, "Are you trying kill me?"
Jess shakes her head. "Maura? Maura?" Each time she asks, echoing the name belonging to her friend and my latest fuck, her voice gets louder and the name more exaggerated.
I hit the unlock on my truck as Jess goes around to the passenger side.
Once we're both inside, I start the truck and immediately roll down the windows. Missouri weather has serious multiple-personality issues—freezing one day, sweltering the next. It’s like it has as much trouble as I do deciding what it wants.
Jess lifts her long blonde hair and directs the air conditioning vent in her direction.
"What do you want me to say?" I finally ask as I back out of the space, barely missing two girls walking with their heads together, too lost in their conversation to realize they're about to become road kill.
As my bumper moves in their direction, one of them turns toward me, but as soon as she recognizes my truck, her anger turns to a smile and her eyes search for mine in the side mirror.
"Hi Ashton," she calls with the telltale flick of her neck and a finger wave. "Call me."
I wave at the same time I see Jess's head shake in my peripheral vision. As I ease the truck into the line of traffic, I say a silent prayer that the girl won't try to come up to my open window.
Jess cranes her neck over her shoulder. "Isn't she a freshman?"
"Is she?"
"Jeeze, Ash. You really are a manwhore. You know that?"
I lift my brows. "No, Jess, I'm not a whore. Whores get paid. I willingly share my talents with those in need. I think that's called a humanitarian."
We finally make our way out of the parking lot and onto the side streets and with a little acceleration comes a nice breeze to cool the cab. Admittedly, it works better than my AC. But one day I won't be driving a beat-up old truck. One day, I'll have a car to go along with my body and personality.