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  • It Started on the Metro Pt. 03

It Started on the Metro Pt. 03

Right as I finished the dishes, I heard his laptop snap shut as he called me into the room. Here goes nothing. I wiped down the counter, washed my hands, and entered, nervously wiping them dry on my skirt. He looked me up and down with that appraising look I was learning to get used to.

"Strip."

"What?"

"You heard me." His eyes were lit up, but his hands were on his hips and his mouth was stern. Well, he could look stern all he wanted to. There was no way I was going to— An eyebrow shot up and his face grew more serious. I shifted my weight. His other eyebrow joined the first. Maybe stripping wouldn't hurt.

He smiled again as my clothes started hitting the floor. "Good, you've remembered what you're for. For a moment, I thought my girl had forgotten her place." He looked my now naked body up and down, then at the floor. "But this won't do. Do you know how to fold clothes? Put them on the sofa—neatly." A bit of sadism crept into his grin. "If you need a folding lesson, I'd be happy to demonstrate."

There's that look again. How does he do that? Cheeks burning, I picked my clothes off the floor while he watched. "Douchebag," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I gave him my sweetest smile.

"Did you just cuss at me?"

"Douchebag is hardly a curse word—" I protested, before a hand gripped my hair, forcefully yanking my head back. My startled eyes met his steady blue ones.

The slap shocked me. Have you ever had the sensation of spinning and tumbling while being pinned, immobile? This was like that. His voice was soft, making my stomach contract and my heart pound. "Language, girl. Language and respect, especially to Me."

"Yes sir." I tried to look at the ground, but it was hard with his eyes five inches from mine. The silence hung in the air for a moment that stretched on an on. Then—"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Good." He brought my head forward so my forehead met his lips, then released me. Those eyes stayed on me, though. I'd never thought about how blue eyes would feel caressing my skin—or maybe it was just that it was him. Maybe both.

Anyway, I folded it all neatly—no lessons required—and stood in from of him, back straight, looking straight at him. I wasn't sure what to do, really, but I wanted to please, so I did my best.

He looked me up and down for a moment. I don't know if he was savoring my body, enjoying my discomfort, planning what would come next, or all three. He gently caressed my cheek, his other hand lightly exploring my shoulder, neck, chest, and stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "How do you feel?"

I swallowed. "Excited. Exposed. Guilty for calling You what I called You. Happy. Nervous. Anticipating."

He nodded. "Just relax. Like I said, it'll be fun and you'll love it."

"How do you feel, sir?"

He grinned. "I feel fantastic. Very eager to play with my new toy."

He ran His hands over my body, caressing, exploring. With only a second of hesitation, I started doing the same to him. He was so muscular, more than any guy I'd met before, certainly more than anyone I dated. I undid the top button of his shirt, pausing to look at him for approval. He smiled and nodded, his hands toying with my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I undid His shirt and tugged up on His undershirt. He shrugged both off, letting them fall to the floor. Sure, so HE can leave clothes a mess on the floor. His dancing eyes met mine. "You can pick those up later."

Without another word, he picked me up to kiss me. I automatically wrapped my legs around his hips as he rained kisses down on my face and neck, carrying me to the bedroom. I could feel His hard cock pressing against His jeans. I smiled. "Excited, huh?"

He dumped me on the edge of the bed and undid his jeans, responding, "It's not every day I get a new slut toy to play with." He smacked my pussy, which both hurt and made my already swollen clit throb with longing. He grinned. "Is my little bitch horny?"

I groaned and grabbed His wrists, trying to pull Him on to me. Since the night He'd invited me over, I'd been ordered to edge once in the morning and once in the evening and otherwise not touch myself there except to shave. I wasn't just horny; I was desperate. He pushed me back onto the bed and barely rubbed His cock along my slit, gently teasing. I moaned and bucked my hips towards Him, but each time he pulled back just enough to maintain contact, but not enough to bring me any kind of pleasure or release. He grinned down at me, one hand on my collar and the other on my shoulder, keeping me firmly in place.

"Sir, please fuck me," I begged.

He raised an eyebrow, still not losing that sadistic smirk. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like we're moving too fast or anything." He barely dipped his cock in, giving me just a taste, before resuming His teasing.

"Sir, please," I begged. "Please, I want your cock."

He smiled and looked back down at my breasts. "Keep going," he said before kissing and savagely biting them.

What do I say?" Uh, Sir, please fuck me. Please use me really hard, please."

"Keep going."

"Um, please... please use Your toy, please use Your little slut."

"You're thinking too hard. Relax. Give up. Submit to me, tell me what you're really feeling."

I was silent for a moment. What I was really feeling? At that moment, he ground his cock against my clit for a split second, the pulled away. I moaned desperately and suddenly, the words poured out. "Sir, please please plunge Your cock into my cunt, I'm so fucking horny. I need Your cock, Sir, I need You to use me, to fuck me, to hurt me, to make me scream. Your slut needs this, Your horny little bitch really needs this."

He entered me hard and fast, making me scream and wrap my legs around him. He put both hands on my hips and fucked me brutally hard, filling me completely, bruising my cervix, making me stretch and scream—whether in pleasure or pain, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that the fear of being torn apart felt completely amazing. "Tell me how it feels," he growled as he thrust into me.

"It feels—ohmygod, it feels amazing. Holy shit, you're big, and it hurts a little, but it feels so good, like it hurts in the best fucking way. Please, please don't stop, Sir, it feels so, so good."

"Stop thinking. Keep telling me how it feels."

Stop thinking? How can I stop thinking? Did he want to hear all that—and it does hurt, I'm being honest—it does hurt, it does feel good, and gods above, He's big.

He paused in his thrusting and hooked a finger though the ring on my collar, pulling me up to him. He moved his hand to grip my hair and wrapped the other one around my throat, staring intensely into my eyes. "Stop censoring your thoughts. Stop telling me what you think I want to hear. I want you. Not what you think I want, little girl."

His eyes got more intense and his grip tighter, cutting off my air supply. "Submit."

I tried to pull back, but his hands held me firm. Gods. I can't breathe. "Submit. You're safe, I promise. You know you're safe, or you wouldn't be here. Now, take a deep breath—" he released my throat, letting me inhale deeply, before tightening his grip again—" and submit. Relax. Give yourself to me. All of you, even the parts you don't like, even what you don't want to show me. I want everything, girl."

He wants everything? But—Suddenly, I couldn't look away from his eyes. Those blue, piercing eyes. And I suddenly understood, and with the understanding came submission. I submitted, and gave, feeling the tension in my body go out with a rush, leaving only a sense of peace and an incredible, raging lust.

He must have felt something change, because he grinned and shoved me back on the bed, releasing my hair and throat. Before I could catch my breath, he plowed into me. Even stroke was amplified and every touch was electric.

"Can Your horny little bitch please cum, Owner?"

He grinned and thrust into me again, holding it this time. "Cum."

I came violently, hips bucking, grinding my cervix further onto him, legs rewrapping him and clinging to him as waves of electric, overwhelming pleasure coursed through me. When it was over, my body went limp, legs falling open, eyes closed, relaxing back onto the bed. His hands caressed my thighs and hips, giving me a moment to catch my breath. They he said with an audible smile, "We're not done yet. Look at me." I obeyed, and fell into his eyes, unable to look away. "That's my girl." Still holding my eyes captive, he drove into me again. I moaned. He thrust harder, and I screamed. Was he bigger, stiffer than he had been before? He lifted my legs up, holding my ankles together in the air as he plowed me, making me even tighter on his cock.

"Can I cum, Sir, please?"

"Cum, whore!" I came again, involuntarily bucking my hips and driving him further into me. Before the orgasm was over, I heard his voice again. "Cum." I did, almost against my will, my body quivering and shuddering with exertion. "Cum." I moaned as my body orgasmed again, the electric waves of pleasure becoming painful, overstimulating me as I fought to stay aware, to stay there mentally as each orgasm ripped its way through my sanity and rationality. He growled, "You're fighting it again, girl. You belong to me, remember? Cum." I came involuntarily, thrashing and trying to pull away from him, from his words and his cock. How is my body still going? He pulled out, lifted my ankles above his head, and gave my ass a sharp smack before pushing me back down and drilling into me. "Cum." I came, starting to lose myself in the waves that coursed through my body and the pain-pleasure that was the pounding in my cunt. "Good girl. Cum." I came, losing the battle I fought to keep my grip on reality. There was only him, and his pleasure, and his cock, and my throbbing cunt. "Cum." I came, slipping away and losing myself in the waves of pleasure and pain, the sound of his voice, the pleasure mixed with caring mixed with sternness in his eyes. Each touch was amplified again, each sensation more intense and every ounce of pain was felt multiplied into pleasure. "Cum." I came, my body a slave to his voice, exhausted muscles shaking, wondering how I could possibly keep this up.

We both sighed with pleasure as he burst inside me, filling me. I felt oddly aroused and safe, despite being at the mercy of a man who seconds earlier had been doing his level best to split me in two. When He was spent, he collapsed on top of me, making me giggle as he prevented my attempts to move out from under him. He finally rolled off and pulled me into his embrace, running his fingers through my hair and over my skin.

"You're mine, girl."

"I know, Sir. It's just hard. How did you make me cum so much?"

"I know it's hard; that's why I'm here. As to how—" he kissed my forehead "—you gave yourself to me. And what you didn't give, I took."

Goosebumps ran up and down my skin. This shouldn't feel so right. I should be freaking out right now. Why does it feel okay? What is he doing to me?

My thoughts were interrupted when He gripped my hair and forced me to meet His eyes. "You're overthinking again. Do you feel safe?" I nodded. "Do you know I'll protect you, even when I use you and hurt you?" I nodded. "Do you think any harm will ever come to you from me?" My mind raced, but I already knew the answer. I shook my head. "Then relax. You're a very good girl, and you're My very good girl. Just relax, little slut. Breathe and submit yourself to me."

So I did.

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