Page 60 of Loving the Liar

All it takes is his hand on my head, his thumb caressing my temple, and for him to pull out and back in. This time, I feel it, the safety, and I relax around the object. It takes me a while to take it all in, but once he bottoms out, he stops moving.

I have no idea how long we stay like this, one hand in my hair, one holding the dildo deep inside me.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even feel real.

I moan, clenching around the dildo. If I could, I would beg him with all I have.

He gives me a slap on the ass before holding the sex toy again. I don’t understand what he means the first time, but when he does it again, I move. And when he doesn’t punish me for that, I get it.

He wants me to fuck myself. To show him that I’m not only enjoying this, but that I am a willing participant. And since nothing in this room feels like reality, I do it.

I struggle to go a little more on my knees, my cheek still flat on the pillow, to give myself more space. And just like he silently ordered, I start to move back and forth while he keeps the toy in place. I fuck myself. It’s not only the girth that drives me insane. It’s not only the depth, and it’s not even the way it makes me feel like I can’t breathe through the pleasure.

It’s his low growl that has me falling apart. I explode around the thickness, feeling myself tightening again, and pressing against the mattress. But in one violent movement, he pulls my hips back, pushing it deeper, and he slaps my ass.

I do it again. I push back against it. I exhaust myself giving him what he wants and drowning myself in desire.

He makes me do it again, and again, and again, until I’m so spent, tears are collecting behind the tape and likely slipping down my face. My body gives up, and I collapse flat on the bed, my figure only slightly bent because my wrists are tied to my thighs.

“Please,” I sob behind the gag. I don’t know if he can hear it. “No more.” They’re just muffled words, but it’s clear I can’t take it anymore.

Finally, he pulls it out. I’m a sweating, shaking mess, and I feel like the pleasure has rendered me completely dumb. My brain can hardly function, so I lie there, feeling my pussy clench around nothing, and hoping this is over. Not because it’s been painful. But because it was overwhelmingly good.

It’s not over. I feel something press against my entrance, and I understand too quickly that it’s not the toy this time. It’s him.

The tip pushes inside me, and the pleasure comes back tenfold. This time, he doesn’t let me fuck myself on him, he grips my hips painfully and thrusts inside me with a delicious violence. I cry out from behind the gag, not understanding how I can already feel another orgasm building. He feels better than the toy. So in control of his own body as he hits the perfect spot over and over again. The way I tighten around him when I reach my orgasm is probably what gets him over the edge. He pulls out, and a second later, I’m feeling his thick, hot cum on my lower back.

I whimper when two hands touch the back of my head. He unbuckles the gag, and my jaw feels like it’ll dislocate when he gets it out from behind my teeth. Something presses against my mouth, and I recoil before understanding it’s a bottle of water. I’m only now realizing how dehydrated I am. In my position, I slightly choke on it, but it doesn’t matter. I need it. He pulls the bottle away, and the next thing I know, he’s pushing something inside my mouth.

Is that a pill? Am I being drugged again?

But then the sweetness hits. It’s candy. I roll my tongue around it, feeling its shape. It’s a love heart. The sugar is helping with the shaking. I suckle on it as I feel him move some more. He undoes the spreader bar, but not the thigh straps or the tape around my head. He massages my neck, my shoulders, my ass cheeks. I struggle to relax at first, my muscles too tight. But after a minute I’m forced to give in, my body relaxing even though my mind is still racing.

And then he walks away.

The next thing I know, Carla is back.

“It’s over,” she says softly as she undoes the cuffs around my wrists. “Here, let me get started on the tape.”

After two turns, I take over. I want this off my eyes now, and she’s being too careful. I practically rip it off.

“Is he gone?” I rasp.

“He is.”

“So what he—he fucks me and then he leaves? He doesn’t talk to me? He doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t what?”

Take care of me. Spend the night with me.

I’m so used to Chris’s brand of torture that I expect to be put back together after someone breaks me down. It’s not the case here. I’m just an Aphrodite. I’m used and discarded.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

My pussy feels raw, and I wonder if I’ll even be able to sit down properly once the adrenaline has settled, but I shake my head. “No.”

“Was it nice?” She winks as she helps me off the bed and wraps me in a silk robe.

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