Page 220 of Ride With Me

“Yes,” he growls. “You can. You will.”

I think if words could melt my bones and open up my hole, these would do it. Because I don’t just want to have my choices taken away from me. I want to be forced. I want him to take me, make me, give me no option but to submit to him.

Not all the time. Most of the time, despite calling him Daddy, I want our relationship to be on equal footing. He’s a lot olderthan me, and I get a little tired of the judgmental glances we sometimes get when we’re out together in public. Like I’m just with him for his money. Or he’s only with me because I’m young, and he’ll trade me in someday for a younger, hotter model.

None of that is true, obvs. And who the hell knows what sort of deep-seated emotional trauma I don’t even remember having makes me want to be spanked, tied up, and fucked until I scream—all of which my Daddy has gladly done to me.

But I have jerked off a ridic number of times to the fantasy of being abducted and really, truly forced before having the guts to tell my Daddy about it, and I’m gonna ride this scene out as long as he’ll let me.

“It won’t fit,” I plead. “You’re too big, Sir. Please don’t.”

He heaves an amused grunt, and I can feel his sides brush against the insides of my thighs. He’s still mostly clothed. “This hole was made for my cock, boy. You and I both know that.”

He pushes and pushes andpushesagainst me. I’d struggle if I could, but I’m strapped down too tightly. And because there’s nowhere to go but in—and because my hole really is made for him—his cock forces past the resistance.

He stops right there, with the fattest part of him splitting me open. “You see?” His voice is strained, like he’s holding himself back. From coming, maybe, or ramming deeper into me, or both. “This hole is mine and I am going to fuck it until it’s puffy and red and you think you can’t take anymore, but you will.”

Which is another set of magic words, apparently, because I loosen up enough that he slides into me. All the way, until his hips are flush against my ass. In between the fabric of his slacks that rubs against my blistered inner thighs, I can feel something at the base of his cock. Something hard and smooth, something that’s not skin.

A cock ring. He’s wearing a cock ring because he’s serious about using me until I can’t take anymore. He’s already cagedme to prevent me from coming and now he’s done what he can to hold off his own orgasm as long as possible.

He pulls out, slowly, and there’s not quite enough lube, so his cock drags against my inner walls. It burns in exactly the way I need. And burns again when he shoves back in, because I’m still tight and he still has to force himself inside me.

Just the way I crave.

CHAPTER 9

He sawsin and out of my body, using his cock the way he used the belt before, and the knife before that. To claim me, mark me, prove to me that I belong to him.

And I take all of it. Everything he has to give me.

It feels a little selfish and greedy, to want more and more and more from him.

But his hands are equally greedy on my skin, clutching my sides, hooking his fingers around my hipbones so he can pull me onto his cock, dragging his blunt nails down my back.

His thumbs spread my cheeks wide and his voice is low and wrecked when he says, “Look at that. I’ll never get enough of fucking your tight hole, boy.”

It’s easier now, with our combined sweat and his pre-come slicking the way, but he’s still battering at me like a medieval army trying to break through a castle portcullis. His clothes chafe at the welts his belt left and the cuts on my chest sting every time his thrusts jolt me on the bench.

“Stop,” I plead. It’s not enough yet, though I might be getting close.

“No,” he growls.

Not close to orgasm, because the cage keeps all the blood and come that would otherwise fill my dick pooled at the base of my pelvis. But close to a breaking point in my head that I can almosttaste.

“Please,” I beg. I’m not begging him to stop. I’m not even sure what I’m begging him for. There’s something just out of reach and if he keeps using me like this, I might get there.

Even if I’m not sure I want to get there.

“I’m. Not. Done. With. You. Yet.” He punctuates each word with a brutal thrust. His cock drags over my prostate every freaking time. I’m overloaded with sensation and emotion and everything I’ve ever wanted and been afraid to want and never dreamed I could have.

He slaps my ass, hard, right on a particularly tender spot, and I literally howl. There are tears falling from my eyes, along with saliva from my open, gasping mouth, and a pool of fluid collects on the floor beneath the bench.

Two pools, actually, because I’m dripping pre-come despite the constriction of the cage.

“You fight me all you want, boy.” He spanks me again, on the other cheek, and that side is only slightly less tender. “But I have you now and I am keeping you.”

Oh, thank god. All the fight suddenly drains out of me. I melt into the support of the bench and the security of the straps holding me down.

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