I swallow as he yanks my panties, tugging until the front of them rubs against my clit.
“Mm. Four,” I let out around a shaky breath.
“Your little pussy is probably about to explode. Isn’t it?”
I nod.
Smack.
“Mm,” I whimper. “Five.”
Smack. Smack.
“S-six. Seven.” I groan.
“You didn’t say: Yes, Sir.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He uses both hands to grip the thin string that keeps my underwear together and pulls until they rip. “Just obey,” he continues while weeding the torn material from between my legs, the fabric still teasing my sex.
“Mm. Mm.”
Easton steps around me, bringing my panties to his nose. He inhales deeply, his eyes rolling back. “Do you know how good you smell, Arloe?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir.”
He fiddles with them, our gaze landing on the wet spot in the center of the crotch at the same time.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?”
“No, Sir.”
He drags his eyes to mine, his pupils appearing inky black in this dim lighting. My pussy muscles clench because I already know where this is going.
“Hold out your tongue and spread your legs.”
I do what he says, and he runs my arousal over my tongue. First, it’s sweet. I let out a moan, surprised at my own taste. I can see him grin, like he’s enjoying this more than me. He pushes the fabric onto my tongue harder, giving way to a more earthy taste of myself. I moan again, then he stuffs them further into my mouth, using them as a gag. Fear builds in my chest; silencing me can only mean it’s going to get harder. How can I use my safe word if I can’t speak?
But I remember that he told me to trust him, and I know that he’d never do anything to purposely hurt me. So I push my nerves away and stand in place, waiting for him to have his way with me.
Easton strokes the side of my face before grabbing my neck then dragging his hand down to my right breast. He slaps me there—hard.
“Eight,” I manage to mumble around the makeshift gag.
“Good girl.” He pecks my cheek while slipping a finger between my folds.
The memory of him fingering me on his brother’s desk resurfaces, and I feel myself growing wetter.
“Gahh,” he grunts. “You’re thinking about the first time I made your pussy come, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I mutter.
“You’re ready to come now, aren’t you?”
I hum again while looking up at him.
He continues to rub his digit over my clit, using my arousal as lube. Then he’s on his knees in front of me, his mouth only inches from my cunt. He sniffs me then spreads my lips apart with his thumb and index finger. A cool breeze hits my swollen exposed clit, and I shudder, my sex clenching in response.
I watch him stick out his tongue and lap at my pussy, one long, slow drag from my hole to my bud then back down. Easton holds on to my thigh with his free hand, his nails digging into my flesh so hard that I’m sure I’ll be marked later. He sucks me into his mouth and massages my clit with his tongue.
“Ahhh,” I moan loudly.
He must enjoy the sound because he does it again. Over and over he tortures me by alternating between sucking my gem and blowing on it. Either way, I’m going to come. My orgasm builds, and I find myself rocking against his mouth, chasing that high that only comes from ecstasy. No amount of alcohol, no drug, or anything amounts to the rush you get when you come.
He pulls back with a loud pop, a sinister grin forming over his wet lips. I miss him there, bringing me pleasure, but I know I can’t ask him for more. This is his show, and he’ll give and take away whatever he sees fits. My mind is clouded, but I’m instantly brought back to reality from the sting that shoots over my clit.
He spanks me on my pussy with his belt. Tears prick my eyes, falling before I can blink them away. After several deep breaths, I gather myself.
“Mm. Nine,” I manage again.
But he doesn’t stop there. Easton lashes my pussy three more times, and by now, my face is drenched. It’s not just pain, it’s more than that, and we both realize it the moment I lose my balance and fall against him.
“I didn’t give you permission to come, amore.” He sounds angry, and for a split second I want to run.
Trust. Trust him, Arloe, I mentally tell myself.
He’s back on his feet, hoisting me to stand upright. Somehow, I manage to get my legs to cooperate, though my breathing hasn’t gotten the memo just yet. Easton spins me around abruptly and shoves me to the register. As he bends me over, I hear him unzip his pants and feel his dick at my entrance in a matter of seconds.
There’s no warning, no warm-up, just his hot breath against the back of my head as he slams into me. I cry out, from both pleasure and shock. Easton slaps my ass, the sound echoing through the room.
“Stubborn little minx. You want me to punish. Don’t you?” His words come out clipped, matching each hard thrust. “Answer me,” he barks and yanks the damaged panties out of my mouth.
I lay with my cheek pressed into the hard surface, my face still stained from my tears.
“Yes, Sir.”
His strokes quicken right along with my breaths, and by the way he’s now tugging on to the restraints around my arms for support, I know he’s going to come soon. But so am I, and right now I want to scream.
“You’re so fucking tight, amore. Your pussy is so Goddamn wet for me,” he says huskily.
“Can I come please?” I say in a weak attempt to follow his rules. And I hope he gives in, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop it. “Ah… Easton. Please, please, let me come,” I beg.
He doesn’t answer but continues to fuck me, pounding into my sex like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. One thrust…two…three…four—I count them in my head, hoping it’ll help distract me and push my orgasm back.
Easton slaps my ass again, this one weaker than the others, and I imagine it’s because he’s close, too. “Yes. Come, amore, come all over my dick.”
“Mm. Thank you,” I blurt with heavy breaths. “Yes… Oh my—I’m coming, baby. I’m—”
“Fuck,” he yells, coming at the same time that I do, then he slumps onto my back.
I wince from the weight of his body against my tender flesh, but it doesn’t last long. Easton stands back to his full height and helps me up then rubs his palms gently up and down my arms. Once my breathing returns to normal, he unties my hands and takes special care in massaging my wrist, all the while keeping his front to my back.
He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing each finger then turning my palm upward and doing the same to the purplish bruises. Next, he repositions my bra, and almost like he didn’t just fuck me for anyone who walks by to see, he makes me face him and uses his body to shield mine.
It’s amazing how he went from that to this. And if I’m being honest, this is the softest he’s ever been around me. Now I can’t help but wonder if it is like this for all the women he plays with, or is he attentive because it’s me.
“Go get dressed, I’ll take you home.”
“I can—”