I groan in frustration, the vibration making his cock twitch. He rewards me by thrusting deeper, hitting the back of my throat again. My gag is loud, wet. His fingers find my hole, circling the tight muscle with lube-slick pressure.
“Relax,” he commands, but it’s not a request. It’s an order. That I’m more than happy to follow.
I try. I really fucking try. But he’s pushing in before I’m ready, one finger breaching me with a sharp, burning stretch. My body resists, clenching around him. He doesn’t stop. Just works it in deeper, twisting, scissoring. The lube eases the way, but it’s still too much. My nails dig into the silk sheets. A second finger joins the first, stretching me wider. The burn is white-hot, but beneath it, there’s something else—something dark and hungry, unfurling low in my belly.
“Fuck,” I hiss around his cock, the word muffled.
“Please… Daddy… it’s too much… I can’t…”
“Daddy? So you are a whore after all. And don’t worry, I know I’m too big for you to take me whole, but I know you can do it baby.”
He chuckles, low and dark.
“But you’ll take it. Do you want to make Daddy feel good? I know you do, baby.”
I can’t say it with words, because my mouth is busy with his cock, so I just nod in agreement with what he says.
His fingers crook inside me, pressing against that spot that makes my vision blur. My cock leaks, a steady drip of precum painting my abs. He notices. Always notices. His free hand abandons my shaft, reaching for the lube again. The squelch of the bottle is obscene. Then his fingers are gone, leaving me empty, aching. The sound of him stroking lube over his cock is a wet, rhythmic slap.
The condom wrapper tears. He rolls it on with practiced ease, the latex gleaming in the red light. My pulse spikes. I know what’s coming.
My hole clenches in anticipation, still sore from his fingers. He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me. No warning. No mercy. Just the slow, inexorable push inside.
I cry out. The stretch is brutal, my body fighting him even as my cock weeps. He doesn’t stop. Just sinks in, inch by agonizing inch, until his hips press flush against my ass. His breath is ragged, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck, Angel” he grunts.
“Your pussy is so tight.”
I can’t answer. Can’t do anything but breathe through the burn, my body adjusting to the intrusion. He gives me a moment—just one—before he pulls back and thrusts in again. This time, it’s easier. The pain bleeds into something else, something darker, heavier. Pleasure curls in my gut, twisted up with the ache.
His rhythm starts slow, deliberate. Each thrust drags against that spot inside me, sending sparks up my spine. Mycock is rock-hard, leaking, desperate. But he ignores it. Focuses on fucking me, on making me take every inch. The headboard slams against the wall with each snap of his hips. The sound is violent.
Then his hand is around my throat.
Not tight enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind me who’s in control. Who owns me. Who I belong to. His thumb presses against my pulse point, feeling the way it jumps beneath his touch. His other hand grips my hip, fingers sinking into the muscle.
“You’re mine,” he snarls, thrusting harder. The words are a growl, a promise.
“Say it, Angel.”
I choke on the command, my voice raw.
“Yours.”
“Louder.”
“Yours!” The word tears out of me, desperate. Needy.
His fingers tighten around my throat. My vision spots at the edges. The lack of air makes my cock throb, my balls drawn up tight. I’m so close. So fucking close. But he knows. He always knows.
He pulls out suddenly, leaving me empty, gasping. My hole clenches around nothing, aching. Before I can protest, he’s flipping me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. The position forces my ass into the air, my face pressed into the sheets. His hand cracks across my ass cheek, the sting sharp and sudden.
“On your knees,” he orders.
I scramble to obey, my limbs unsteady. The moment I’m kneeling, he’s behind me, his cock pressing against my hole again. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t ease in. Just slams home in one brutal thrust. I scream, the sound muffled against the silk. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back.
“Who do you belong to?” he demands, his voice a dark velvet rasp.