Page 46 of Locke

He stood by the bed, looking down at me, still naked, and his cock looked hard and heavy. His eyes were even heavier as they planted their sights on mine and demanded tightly, “Time’s up again, temptress.”

The problem with the fight I gave next was my movements were slower. The pain in my body was fierce. My bones were aching. I threw the tray down on the ground and then I raced to the other side of the bed, but Locke was already on me, and instead of fucking me face down, he wrapped a hand around my throat and forced me down as he plunged his face between my legs and ate at my pussy. My hips bucked in surprise, and my legs kicked out, trying to fight him except…

Fuck, the warmth of his mouth shot sparks straight through me.

The heavy desire so overwhelming, I let out a loud cry at my surrender.

He was so animalistic, his grip torture around my throat, but his mouth a wicked instrument. This was so fucked up and wrong, and he even said so.

“Why are you wet, temptress?” he growled. “Why does your pussy love when I choke you like this? Fuck, you taste so good.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My vision spotted and my body bucked in both desperation for breath and the impending orgasm that was about to hit. I mouthed rageful curses at him, but no sound came out, and then all at once the darkness edged around my vision as my orgasm hit full force, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body.

He swiftly let go of my throat and I gasped for air, riding through the orgasm with stars in my eyes, my body limp and motionless.

He didn’t stop there.

The second I recuperated, he was back for more, this time his cock in my mouth, telling me in that heart-stopping way, “Try to get out of this. I’m going so far deep, you’re never going to forget the taste of my come as it shoots down your throat. I’m going to ruin you by the time we are done here, little lion.”

The throat fucking was the hardest part.

Because my mouth was so small against his length, and it sent tears down my eyes how unforgiving he was. Death by throat-fucking went through my mind a number of times when the air depleted from my lungs. A humiliating way to go. I’d never hated a man more in that moment than this vile monster over me, abusing me for his own sick pleasure, and he just wouldn’t stop. My tears turned him on more. My pleas silent, he hated it. He wanted me begging. Something about Locke made me feel like he loved the begging.

But I would never given him the satisfaction.

And that just riled him up some more.

When he came down my throat as my body lay trapped beneath him, he gritted out, “No, little one, we are still not done here.”

And then I was back on my belly, and his sweaty, muscled body was pressed against me, until I felt every inch of me covered in him.

He fucked me again.

In and out.

Never stopping.

And he said so himself.

"If you keep feeling this good, I'll never stop. I might keep you, little lion. What do you think about that?"

"Never," I simply retorted, my core tightening from his thick length. I shook through another orgasm, and he laughed darkly in my ear.

"We'll see," he whispered, biting at my shoulder.

I shook my head, resisting, but at the same time, my body bent to him, completely enraptured by how good he made me feel.

He pulled out of me, coming down my back, making sure there wasn't an inch of me that wasn't coated in him.

"Damn you," I cursed at him, panicked by his appetite as he slid into me once again.

He didn't stop.

*

My life over those few days existed like this: fucking in some depraved way, shower, food, sleep. But even sleep was short-lasting, and Locke stalked around me while I ate, like he hated how much time I was taking.

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