Page 8 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

Harder…yeah. I could do harder. Harder was good—

God. It hurt. My nails dug deep enough into my thigh to leave crescents behind before impatience got the better of me. No more teasing. Spots swarmed across my vision. I squeezed my eyes tight and finally, blissfully, wrapped my fingers around my aching dick. Pleasure burst bright red behind my eyelids, and I slumped forward in relief, my lips dragging against the mirror. Hopefully I wouldn’t leave marks all over the glass—buuut, honestly? It felt too good for me to really care.

That’s what Windex was for, right?

Hold on to that feeling.

It felt so good to be touched, felt so good to be present in the moment, my body thrumming like an instrument beneath my hand. Pleasure was a foreign but distantly familiar sensation.

Squeeze yourself.

I squeezed.

I’d always been messy. Most of the time I barely needed lube to get myself off, my own precum more than enough to slick the way. Now was no different, my cock dripping eagerly while I played with it, thumb digging into the leaking slit till a broken whine escaped my throat. The sound vibrated against where my palm held my neck—loosely now—and I trembled, weak-kneed.

I needed more.

No.

Not there.

Not…what?

I said squeeze yourself.

Squeeze? I was squeezing. And my dick was enthusiastically thanking me with the way it jerked in response. God. Yes. I fucked into my fist, the pleasure making me sex-stupid for a few blinding seconds before I finally realized what the voice in my head had meant.

Right.

My neck.

Squeeze my neck.

I didn’t need to be reminded twice. I followed the command with enthusiasm. My nails bit into the sides of my throat while I swallowed back a groan and shoved my palm hard enough against my windpipe I saw stars. I knew I was doing this wrong. The choking bit. There were articles about it on the internet—oxygen wasn’t supposed to be inhibited, just the blood, but God…even though I was doing it wrong it still felt so right. I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to.

Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning.

My lips were chapped, my tongue needy, mouth too empty as the chill from the glass pressed against them. I’d never been this kinky before. Never touched myself so roughly—never been so demanding.

This was new and terrifying.

And I liked it, probably too much.

Too soon, my orgasm rushed toward me. My hips were helplessly pumping into my fist, upper body wedged sweaty and slick with my own desire against the counter as my pace quickened and the slick sounds of sex made my mind buzz with a primal sort of want. I wanted to fuck. To slide somewhere tight and hot, and release all over my fingers. My grip tightened and I swore, pelvis snapping forward at the thought.

Look at yourself.

My eyelids didn’t want to open, but I forced them to anyway. The voice hadn’t led me astray yet, after all.

Look at what a whore you are. So desperate you’d fuck anything, wouldn’t you?

God…

Fuck your fist, that’s it.

You’re such a needy little bitch.

Desperate for a good dicking, aren’t you Pinkie?

---