Page 41 of His to Enjoy
“I… yes, sir… I mean… no, sir… please… I’ll… I’ll do it!” I moved to the bed with alacrity, my hands still behind me in case Scott decided to punish me for my initial reluctance.
“Take those hands away,” he ordered from behind me. “Put them flat on the bed and arch your back. I told you not to cover yourself.”
I looked back over my shoulder, a plea in my eyes that met only the certainty in Scott’s gaze as he advanced toward me.
“Eyes forward,” he told me. “That little ass belongs to me now.”
I felt my hips twitch. My heart pounding, I turned toward the bed. As if in a trance, I obeyed him, bending, laying my hands on the silken comforter cover, pushing my bottom out. Scott’s left hand curled around my waist.
“Good girl,” he said, and then he spanked me six times, left-right, left-right, left-right so hard that I was screaming and writhing by the last one.
When he let me go I collapsed onto the bed, clutching my bottom, rubbing hard.
“Are you going to obey me, Grace?” Scott asked, his voice calm but somehow still menacing.
I scrambled to position myself as he had instructed, the blood immediately rushing to my head as it dropped back over the side of the mattress. From this inverted angle, I watched him strip completely, his cock already hard again, thick and intimidating as he approached my upturned face.
“Open,” he said simply.
I parted my lips, and he pushed inside without preamble, the angle allowing him to slide deeper than I’d ever taken anyone before. My throat constricted around him instinctively, but he didn’t pull back, holding himself there until tears streamed from my eyes into my hairline.
“Breathe through your nose,” he instructed, beginning to move with slow, deliberate thrusts. “That’s it. Let me use your throat the way a good little fuck toy does.”
The position left me completely helpless, unable to control depth or pace. He fucked my face with the same methodical intensity he’d shown earlier, each thrust pushing deeper until I was taking him to the base, feeling my throat bulge with his thickness. The lace-topped stockings on my legs felt terribly lewd in this position, the only clothing left on my thoroughly used body, surely just accentuating the bareness of my pussy’s tender cleft.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re taking my cock so well. You’re just a pretty little whore, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t answer, could only make desperate sounds around his length as he continued using my mouth. My world narrowed to his strong, furred thighs, his swaying scrotum. My hands clutched at the sheets, my body trembling from the intensity of the submission. When he finally pulled out, I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering.
Before I could recover, he was repositioning me, pulling my body to the foot of the bed. He pushed me onto my back, then hooked his hands under my knees, spreading me wide and lifting my legs up and apart until I was completely exposed, completely open.
“Look at me,” he commanded, positioning the head of his huge cock at the entrance to my vagina and pressing just enough to make me sob.
I met his gaze as he pushed inside my pussy with surprising gentleness, the tenderness of it after such rough use making my eyes well with fresh tears. He moved slowly at first, each thrust deep but careful, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Watch,” he murmured, his hands shifting to grip behind my knees more firmly, angling my hips so I had a perfect view of where we were joined. “Look down, Grace. Watch me claim what’s mine.”
I lowered my gaze, a whimper escaping at the sight of his thick shaft disappearing into my bare, swollen flesh. The visual was overwhelming—seeing myself stretched around him, watching the slow, deliberate way he withdrew his enormous, rigid shaft almost completely before sliding back in. My pussy lips clung to him with each movement, glistening with my shameful arousal.
“So pretty,” Scott said, his voice reverent even as his pace remained torturously slow. “Your sweet little cunt takes me so perfectly. Tell me how it feels.”
“Full,” I gasped, unable to look away from where he was splitting me open. “So full, sir. I can see… oh, God, I can see everything.”
“That’s right.” His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh behind my knees, keeping me spread impossibly wide. “This is what you are now. A set of sweet openings where I fuck. And you love it, don’t you?”
Before I could answer, his rhythm changed. The tenderness evaporated as he began pounding into me with brutal force, each thrust driving so deep I saw stars. My breasts bounced with theviolence of it, and I had to grip the sheets to keep from being pushed up the bed.
“Keep watching,” he commanded when my head fell back. “Don’t you dare look away.”
I forced my eyes back down, sobbing at the obscene sight of his cock pistoning in and out of my pussy. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with my desperate cries and his satisfied grunts. When his thumb found my clit, circling it with practiced precision, I shattered completely.
The orgasm ripped through me like lightning, my whole body convulsing as I screamed his name. He fucked me through it, never slowing, until a second climax crashed over me before the first had even finished. Only then did he bury himself deep with a growl, flooding me with his release.
The next morning arrived too quickly. Scott’s driver delivered me to my apartment at seven-thirty, my body still aching from the night’s use. Every movement reminded me of him—the soreness down there, the tender spots on my bottom where he’d spanked me, the rawness in my throat. I showered quickly, chose a modest gray dress to go over the terrible belt, and made my way to Selecta headquarters.
Melissa Mitropoulos’s office occupied a corner of the thirty-second floor, far more elegant than I’d expected for someone in alternative content. She answered the door herself when I knocked—tall, stunning, with Mediterranean features that commanded attention immediately.
“Grace,” she said, her voice warm, but with an undertone that made me feel slightly faint. “Scott’s told me a lot about you. Come in.”
