Page 116 of Cherry Auction

He pulls out far too quickly, but then he shoves back in, rougher still.

But not rough enough. He’s forgotten who he’s fucking. Just because it’s the same body, doesn’t mean it’s the same girl.

“Harder!” I shout. “Fuck me like you mean it, Sir, or don’t bother at all,” I call from where I’m bent over the chair.

His next thrust comes at me like a battering ram, and I feel him everywhere as he pounds into me. The chair I’m tied to screeches on the wood of the dining room floor as he sends it forwards several inches with the force of his pounding.

“Yes,” I cry, holding on to the ropes for dear life as I brace for his next thrust.

It’s just as brutal and I love him giving into the monster he always keeps so carefully tucked away inside him. With me he can give into it completely.

“I’m not crying yet, Sir,” I taunt.

“You little bitch. You fucking slut!”

I hear the snick of a knife being released and then feel the taut line of the rope binding my left ankle free, then my right. Sir is soon quickly slicing the ropes binding my wrists, too. He doesn’t bother undoing the knots, he just grabs me by my waist and bears me down to the floor.

“I wish you were wearing mascara,” he mutters.

“It won’t matter, Sir.” I grin up at him as he climbs on top of me, two knees bracing my shoulders down as he sits on me, positioning his huge cock at my lips. “You won’t get me to cr?—”

My words are cut off by him shoving his cock past my lips. In spite of what I know he wants, he tries to take it easy at first. Just pushing his bulbous head past my lips before retreatingagain.

But that’s not what either of us are here for.

He’s got me pretty severely pinned with his body—careful not to actually lean his weight down in his crouch on top of me—but when he next bobs his cock past my lips, I can lift up just enough to swallow his shaft down my throat.

I look him straight in the eye as I do it and he gasps, likely from how good what I’m doing to him feels.

I wish I had a hand free to squeeze his balls, but that’s not the point of this, is it?

Domhnall gets to be in complete and utter control, for once in his life.

So he snarls in pleasure, grasps hold of my hair to hold my head to the floor, and starts to fuck my face. Well, my throat, really.

I choke on his cock. Spittle pours out the side of my mouth.

And goddamn him, my eyes do tear up and water pours down the sides of my cheeks before he finally lets up so I can gasp for air.

“Such beautiful, beautiful fecking tears, lass,” he growls. “Now cry some more for me.”

He ruthlessly shoves his cock straight back down my throat.

And I take it, pussy clenching in near-bliss as I stare up at him.

My dark-haired god.

My Donny.

He’s giving me everything I ever dreamed of.

I stayed so strong my whole life for this.

So I could break completely and for once in my whole existence, be weak and cry and give myself over to the beautiful boy I watched my father destroy, the one Icouldn’tsave.

But I can save him now.

Maybe just maybe, all of us can save each other. Together in this twisted knot.

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