couldn't. I couldn't be responsible for that look. Not on his face. Not on anyone's face. Never again.
Then something smooth and rounded was pressing against the tight hole of my ass, and thought fled.
“What are you doing?” I groaned, lifting my head and trying to turn to see what he had in his hand, but before I could, he wound up and smacked my ass hard enough to make me cry out.
“No peeking,” he said, sounding amused. The swollen lips of my labia smarted with the impact, but when his soothing fingers returned to my pussy the pleasure somehow felt even better. The object poised against my puckered entrance pushed forward, and I was surprised at how easily and eagerly I parted before it.
Panting, I let it enter me. It was bigger than I'd thought, stretching me out, a long, aching scrape against tight inner walls. Wider and wider it went, and I gasped and forced myself to relax around it. All the while, Anton played with my pussy, tickling my clit, stroking my slippery folds. Stars spun across my vision as I tried to get enough air, but the corset held me fast, and all I could do was lie helplessly against the seat of the limo, my hands clenched into fists, my forehead plastered to the leather with my own sweat.
Without warning, the thing in my ass suddenly seemed to slip past the tight ring of muscle, and my body closed around it. An anal plug. Of course. It filled me up—even if it wasn't quite where I wanted to be filled—and I squirmed with need. Without even knowing it, my hands drifted down my body. My breasts lay heavy on the seat, my taut nipples rubbing over the leather and sending shivers down my arms. My fingers crept down over my stomach until I found my clit and began to massage it.
I didn't get very far.
Anton's heavy hand came down on my ass again, and I yelped. He clucked at me, like a teacher scolding me. “Felicia, my bride, I said that I would fuck you. I will decide when you come.” And he reached down and grabbed my wrists.
Too aroused to protest, I let him wrench my arms behind me. Easily he held me in the grip of one hand, but I wasn't inclined to fight him. The sound of the drawer opening came again, and I wondered, in the part of my head that wasn't starved for sex or air, what kind of kinky dungeon limo this was. Did this stuff come standard for bondage fetishists? Or did Anton have it specially made?
I felt the unmistakable caress of leather on my fingers and I knew exactly what he was going to do. I'd seen it when I'd looked up some of the terms of his contract on the internet. I licked my lips and held my breath.
Gently he worked a long, thin leather sleeve over my hand, past my wrist, up my arm. Then he put another sleeve over my other hand. The material warmed with the heat of my own skin. When they had reached as far up my arm as they would go, he pulled my arms together and fastened them to each other with leather straps, securing them in place. I was now helplessly immobile. My pussy burned with need and arousal.
Anton's hand slipped over the lips of my labia. “You're so wet for me,” he said. “Do you really want me that much?”
It seemed impossible that he could think otherwise. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”
“Tell me.”
He seemed to love it when I talked dirty.
“I want your cock in my cunt,” I said. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk.”
To my shock, he spanked me. Hard.
“No,” he said, and his hand smoothed over my ass again. My filled ass and empty cunt both quivered at his touch. “Tell me that you want me.”
But how can I? I wondered. I don't even know you.
One finger entered my pussy and I clenched around it, whimpering.
“Tell me, Felicia.”
I grappled for coherent thought as his finger slowly began to pump, in and out, in and out.
“I want you, Anton,” I said at last. “I want you. Please. Don't...” I couldn't think of what he might want me to say. “I want you to fuck me.”
A second finger entered me, and I
Then something smooth and rounded was pressing against the tight hole of my ass, and thought fled.
“What are you doing?” I groaned, lifting my head and trying to turn to see what he had in his hand, but before I could, he wound up and smacked my ass hard enough to make me cry out.
“No peeking,” he said, sounding amused. The swollen lips of my labia smarted with the impact, but when his soothing fingers returned to my pussy the pleasure somehow felt even better. The object poised against my puckered entrance pushed forward, and I was surprised at how easily and eagerly I parted before it.
Panting, I let it enter me. It was bigger than I'd thought, stretching me out, a long, aching scrape against tight inner walls. Wider and wider it went, and I gasped and forced myself to relax around it. All the while, Anton played with my pussy, tickling my clit, stroking my slippery folds. Stars spun across my vision as I tried to get enough air, but the corset held me fast, and all I could do was lie helplessly against the seat of the limo, my hands clenched into fists, my forehead plastered to the leather with my own sweat.
Without warning, the thing in my ass suddenly seemed to slip past the tight ring of muscle, and my body closed around it. An anal plug. Of course. It filled me up—even if it wasn't quite where I wanted to be filled—and I squirmed with need. Without even knowing it, my hands drifted down my body. My breasts lay heavy on the seat, my taut nipples rubbing over the leather and sending shivers down my arms. My fingers crept down over my stomach until I found my clit and began to massage it.
I didn't get very far.
Anton's heavy hand came down on my ass again, and I yelped. He clucked at me, like a teacher scolding me. “Felicia, my bride, I said that I would fuck you. I will decide when you come.” And he reached down and grabbed my wrists.
Too aroused to protest, I let him wrench my arms behind me. Easily he held me in the grip of one hand, but I wasn't inclined to fight him. The sound of the drawer opening came again, and I wondered, in the part of my head that wasn't starved for sex or air, what kind of kinky dungeon limo this was. Did this stuff come standard for bondage fetishists? Or did Anton have it specially made?
I felt the unmistakable caress of leather on my fingers and I knew exactly what he was going to do. I'd seen it when I'd looked up some of the terms of his contract on the internet. I licked my lips and held my breath.
Gently he worked a long, thin leather sleeve over my hand, past my wrist, up my arm. Then he put another sleeve over my other hand. The material warmed with the heat of my own skin. When they had reached as far up my arm as they would go, he pulled my arms together and fastened them to each other with leather straps, securing them in place. I was now helplessly immobile. My pussy burned with need and arousal.
Anton's hand slipped over the lips of my labia. “You're so wet for me,” he said. “Do you really want me that much?”
It seemed impossible that he could think otherwise. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”
“Tell me.”
He seemed to love it when I talked dirty.
“I want your cock in my cunt,” I said. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk.”
To my shock, he spanked me. Hard.
“No,” he said, and his hand smoothed over my ass again. My filled ass and empty cunt both quivered at his touch. “Tell me that you want me.”
But how can I? I wondered. I don't even know you.
One finger entered my pussy and I clenched around it, whimpering.
“Tell me, Felicia.”
I grappled for coherent thought as his finger slowly began to pump, in and out, in and out.
“I want you, Anton,” I said at last. “I want you. Please. Don't...” I couldn't think of what he might want me to say. “I want you to fuck me.”
A second finger entered me, and I
Similar Books
