She felt elated.
I must the first woman he has brought here, she wanted to assuage herself, even though she knew it was probably untrue.
“Let me give you a tour of the premises,” he said. “Then we’ll have a shower together. Are you hungry?”
She was starving.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He smiled a secret smile. “Because I’ve got dinner all planned out.”
7
He gave her a tour of the premises by carrying her in his arms. She felt loved and coddled and cherished.
Why can’t it always be like this?
She could walk, but she still wanted to be carried, and so she feigned extreme fatigue from the sex, which was not far from the truth. Her wrists and ankles wore the red bands of the cuffs, and he seemed quite taken by these marks of his domination over her.
“So you see, this is the lounge,” he said, still smiling. “Do you like it? Do you want to lie on the couch? Or do you want me to take you upstairs to the bedroom?”
“Bedroom,” she mumbled against his chest. She imbibed his sweaty scent.
“OK. Bedroom it is.”
His smile suggested that he knew she was pretending, and he was letting her pretend for as long as he saw fit.
It was an intense psychological game, one that she was not very adept at playing. Unfortunately, she was already mired in it and she had to ride it out. The trouble with relationships founded on sex was that they didn’t quite know how to behave when they were not having sex. Or maybe it was just her, and he was behaving the way he had always behaved in all his relationships founded on sex.
Sometimes, she found the incredulous thought flitting through her mind:
This is my Professor.
This is the man/superman shifter of my dreams.
And at other times, she had to tell herself to get over it already. So she was a cinder girl who had gone to the ball and was picked by the handsome prince. You are in the fairytale already. Get over it.
He carried her upstairs. It was a penthouse, after all. Upstairs, he brought her to a large room on their left. It had a small sitting area and a large king-sized bed mounted on a dais, as if it was a throne. The bed was all done in white – silk coverlet, damasked headboard, pillows and all.
He laid her upon it and stood at the foot of her bed, looking down at her with a curious expression in his eyes.
“Did you like that?” he said.
Like what? Being carried? Being fucked by him in both holes without a condom?
Yes!
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
He laughed and slapped her thigh lightly.
“Quit pretending to be a wilting lily and get up. Let’s shower and we’ll go for dinner.”
She had to smile at that.
The bathroom was cavernous and all done in white tiles and marble with grey streaks in the slabs. The bathtub was an old-fashioned one. It was supported by four brass legs in the shape of dragon claws. There was a shower cubicle as well as a bidet.
Rust led her to the shower cubicle. He fiddled with the knobs on the wall, and a warm rain shower instantly poured from apertures in the ceiling, drenching both their naked bodies.
She giggled in delight, and he smiled broadly to see her so happy.
“Come on,” he said, “let me bathe you.”
In his eyes was a strange light that she could have almost mistaken for love. But not love. He wasn’t capable of loving someone like her. Not the likes of him.
He soaped her all over, focusing especially on her tits and pussy and ass. His soapy fingers even wormed into her pussy hole to clean it out thoroughly. Then she washed him, pausing significantly at his cock and balls. His cock immediately got hard again when she was soaping it.
“Ready for another round?” he said in a husky voice.
Then he pushed her back against the wall.
“Straddle me,” he commanded.
She put her arms around his wet neck and he lifted her by her waist. She wrapped her legs around his hips and eased her pussy down onto his ramrod cock. He speared her easily, pushing apart her pussy walls as though they were paper.
Using the wall as leverage, he rocked his hips against hers, once again fucking her with an intensity which drove her mind into delirium. Her back thudded against the hard, smooth wall, as did her soft buttocks. His cock pummeled into her, slamming her hips against the wall in a wet slap-slap-slap of rhythm.
She could only gasp under the cascade of warm water and let him ride her to another oblivion of stars and whirly planets and bright colored lights. This time, he came into her pussy. His jet of hot sperm gushed into her vagina, and up, up, up into her womb. She imagined his squirming little life-givers swimming their way up into her dark womanly canals, filling her with the promise of life.
She stayed like this for a while, pinned to the wall by his cock and merciless strength. Then he kissed her wet face and lips, murmuring, “Are you all right?” Words of love and caring, even though he never mentioned the ‘L’ word even once.