————
He had a penthouse suite – but what else would he have – and after our foray of high class, jazzy sex fun – my bad, the proper word is obviously sensual – that’s where he took me, taking me up an elevator and laughing at whatever ridiculous shit I was spouting off. Maybe it was the absinthe, maybe it was that my body was starting to catch up with my eyes and I was getting used to the beautiful sight of him. I wasn’t sure but after watching a burlesque show with him, it was impossible to not feel amped with the sex he had injected me with over the past three days.
He closed the door and turned to me with a predator’s look, taking off his jacket and tie and throwing them over a chair while his eyes stayed on mine, his smile wicked. It reminded me of the absinthe all over again and I shivered, horny and eager. “Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
He winked and lifted a remote until music played throughout his wide living room. But his music wasn’t jazzy, no. It was edgy and dark, industrial rock that pulsed both sex and violence. “Your turn to tease me, baby.” He lifted the dress over my head, his hands stroking down my sides, his gaze hot when it moved over the sheer bra. I turned with his motions when he manipulated me and my body was forced into a dancing rhythm to the beat from his surround sound, but it was a kind of dancing rhythm that brushed my ass against his cock and I moaned, feeling the length as hard as it was. My body took over from there, arching erotically in his arms because fuck, was I riled up to insanity. It was so easy to tease him like the slut he obviously wanted when I felt so slutty and needy. “More,” I moaned when he pulled away.
He chuckled and came back, but he didn’t grind his cock against me again. Instead I felt my collar at my neck and he clasped it and locked it, having already removed the necklace to place back in its beautiful box. It was mine, he’d said, but I asked him to hold onto it because he could match it while I couldn’t and I was terrified of having something like that, terrified of hurting it. “Such a horny fucking girl you are. But I want a nice tease for me and my little slave serves, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, master.” I practically purred those words while he pulled me to the middle of the room where a chair was and sat down. If it were anyone else I would feel stupid and find a reason to stop. But I didn’t dare stop with Flatline, didn’t dare rebel anything he demanded. I was eager and hot all over, my pussy alive with need, and it was impossible to not feel like a sex object. And then the last reason I couldn’t feel stupid like this?
Flatline never let me have control, never let me take any reins, and he didn’t start with this. Like with everything else, he took over and he didn’t ask. He just did, taking of my body as he willed. His hands moved me to the rhythm and he purposefully arched up so that I felt his cock brush me, which made me whine and grind and tease him as he wanted. When he wanted me bent forward he reached up to stroke over my tits in the bra. I moaned with greed and arched to his touch while he spoke, low and encouraging and fucking filthy. “That’s it. Be a horny little whore for me. My little set of holes to use as I want.”
When he turned me to face him I was insane for him, actually out of my mind. I couldn’t think past the pure need that screamed in me and now that I could see his eyes, had permission to look on his face? I moaned and straddled him like he guided me to, my ass lifted like an animal in heat. I arched the way he wanted and, oh yes, I teased. I licked my tongue across his lips while he growled, his eyes holding me captive. He raised me higher, his gaze traveling down my body with hunger in it, until my pussy was right at his face, the rhythm shaking me. His nose skimmed my sex so that I cried out, breaking. “Please! Please!”
He snarled and undid his suit pants beneath me, pulling them down even while he impatiently pulled my thong off, leaving me in the garter and heels. And he switched up from the chair to his couch, throwing me back onto it, sideways, while he crawled over me. One hand locked over my wrists on the armrest and held them still while the other stroked up my back first and then reached down to guide himself inside of me.
His cock head against my slit made me arch with cries of desperation. I writhed upward, a wild thing in heat, and I thought that after his cruel edging and the show and the absinthe and the pure sexual sensation of getting to see his face and my God, dancing for him? I thought I might have attacked him. As it was my hands made clawing motions in his grasp and my body fought his, but not to get away.
He laughed above me. “Aw, look, you’re like a little cat caught by the scruff of its neck. Are you my horny little pussy, baby?”
I moaned up at him, arching for him, and I was in pain. Actual pain. Everything hurt with anticipating need. “Yes, master, I’m your horny little pussy!” I would agree to anything, do anything he asked, for his cock.
And he knew it. He held still above me, his eyes watching in greedy pleasure at my mindless agony from his build. “You seem to want some cock. And yet…” He mock sighed. “I haven’t even hurt you yet. Let’s make a deal then.” I moaned in fear and dread because I was going to bow to whatever it was and regret it later. I was too far gone to think past anything but the burning need. “I’ll be a kind master and give you this orgasm for free, but each successive one is going to cost you a compounding interest of pain. And needless to say, I’ll be deciding how many you pay me for.”
“Yes! Yes, master!”
He laughed above me. “You’re going to regret that, horny little slut. By the end of the night, you’ll wonder why you didn’t beg for weeks more of denial and edging instead.”
I shivered at the deliciously ominous words and stared up into his eyes as they glinted with twisted deviancy at seeing me brought low, to this point where I would have agreed to anything, absolutely anything. He might as well have been a god-king of my world right then. And I did agree.
He watched me struggle for one more minute and then grinned evilly, thrusting inside of me so abruptly I squealed with the sudden feeling of being impaled on his massive size. But I ignored the pain and thrust up against him. It took two strokes and I howled with release while he grunted, my pussy constricting and milking his cock with my hunger.
And then came what he’d promised. The pain. He stopped his thrusts to bend down and bite my nipples between his teeth until I keened under my breath, hissing from the way he continuously worried the peaks. He alternated back and forth in a circuit until they were sore and then he still kept going until I wished it were the clover clamps instead. But then his next thrusts were bliss that sent me spiraling again. I tried to make it last as long as it could, whimpering in fear even when I finished, knowing that the next pain would be worse and now I was able to think clearly and realize that he was going to make this go for a long, long time. It was a special night, our first real date, and he’d shown me his face.