Page 173 of Something So Strong

“Had enough?” I’m asked as his fingertips trace figure eights against my swollen flesh.

I shake my head.

He grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes—his nails digging so deep I swear they almost break the skin. “I wanna hear your voice now.”

“Give me more,” I mumble around his fingers.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses in malcontent. Reacting to the lewdness of my request and torn between wanting to please me and knowing when to stop.

“I promise I’ll tell you when I can’t take anymore.” He pulls out of my mouth. “Please, I need this, Jess. I need you to drive him away from me for good. And… If you meant everything you said, I need you to punish me for thinking I was never good enough.”

He plunges back inside me, all the way to my throat, and hooks his thumb into the soft part of my chin behind my jawbone.

“I fucking hate when you say shit like that.”

He smacks me with all his strength and I cry out only to have fingers forced deeper. I gag around them, saliva coughing out onto his hand and the shitty fabric of the seat. And from there, the assault on my ass only grows. It’s bad, but in the best way.

Tears flow from my eyes. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. The pain is cathartic.

“Enough?”

I try to answer but my words are lost in a high whine as his thumb pushes between my cheeks again.

His thumb repeats its course, asserting more pressure than the first two times when he reaches the rim.

Again he asks, “Enough?” And this time I shake my head.

“Do you understand what I’m asking?”

The concept is too much to even think about, but the way he’s dancing over me, bending me to his will, has me dying to feel something I’ve never dared imagine. And I have to believe that’s the appeal. That visceral, anxious fear that when this is just a memory, I’ll still clearly remember how the uncertainty almost killed me… So this time, I nod.

“Bite me if you want me to stop… It’s okay to do it this time.”

Jesse’s three middle fingers disappear once more from my mouth, and it’s mere seconds before I feel their warm, slick wetness gliding over my hole with wide strokes.

I watch as Jesse spits on the digits of his other hand, then retracts the first and offers me its thumb.

That’s when my eyes shut tight. Cheek against my forearm and Jesse’s thumb pushing up against my soft palate, I whimper like a little lamb.

Just like I’d done to him, he slowly builds pressure until he feels me relax enough to push inside. But any calm earned was through the sucking of his thumb, and I clench around his finger—my teeth sinking into his skin.

His finger slides out, but I didn’t want him to stop. It was only on reflex that I’d bitten him.

I moan around his thumb and run my tongue across the creases of his knuckle, and he gets the message to try again.

Small, feather light concentric circles trace around my rim. Anticipation builds until the pad of his finger presses into me and there’s almost an amplified sensation running the length of my cock. Pleasure negates pain as he pushes further until I feel his finger sink fully inside me.

I exhale around his thumb, my fears completely melting and giving way to the self-gratification monster that’s always lived inside me. Arching my back, I push against Jesse’s finger desperate for him to move.

“You’re such a slut, Baby,” he coos, and that word warms me more than I know it should.

I know I’m not ready, I’ve fingered enough asses in my time to understand the process, but my god I need more. More pressure, more depth, more friction. I need to feel myself forced to accommodate.

Like he can read my mind, no sooner has Jesse retracted his finger before the weight builds again—stronger this time. More assertive. It stings, but I love it. His fingers part, stretching me further, curling and searching.

They slide in and out, the subtle sound of our combined spit easing exploration.

It’s a first for him too, and the reminder of it has me sucking so hard his thumb will be bruised for days.

---