“That’s right,” he says, and his voice is cruel. “I forget that this beauty can’t even do that right.”
To prove his point, he touches me himself. Jacking himself off with one hand while he fingers me with the other.
I don’t want to like it.
I try my best to stay numb. But my body is a war zone of pleasure and pain. Humiliation and want. My legs fall wider, and he praises me again before criticizing me in the next breath. He says I don’t deserve to come.
But still, he fingers me. And still, I am wet. So wet for him- for this- that I can hear his fingers slapping against me.
He hears it too. And he likes it whether he can admit it to himself or not. Because his breath is guttural. Broken and agonized. His hand squeezes the life out of his cock, jerking so violently I am certain he is punishing himself too.
But I can’t focus on any of it. Because molten heat is surging inside of me like a volcano.
I try to fight it off. To resist. To focus on anything else. But I can’t. I fracture around his fingers with something between a sob and a wail. My eyes fall shut, and I succumb to the pleasure, my ears ringing and my vision dancing with flashes of light.
Javi comes too.
Releasing himself onto my breasts with a long, tortured growl. He empties his cock completely and then smears the evidence over my skin. Leaving it to dry like last time.
Marking me.
Claiming me.
And I think this is it. I am humiliated but sated. Hungry. Starving. Now I will get my food.
But when I open my eyes, the temperature in the room has plummeted. Javi is erratic. Enraged. There isn’t time to question or predict his behavior. He flips me over and pins me down with the weight of his body, settling onto my lower thighs.
My adrenaline spikes and my muscles lock when he removes his belt from the loops of his jeans.
I try to wiggle away. His hand crashes down onto my ass cheek, searing a hot palm print into the flesh.
“Stop.”
The command is simple. Deep. Terrifying. And I obey.
But then he grabs my foot, and the terror is real.
“I did what you asked. I did everything you asked.”
“But you didn’t please me.”
It’s a lie. And I know it’s a lie. This isn’t fair. I can’t play the game when the rules keep changing. When he punishes me for doing exactly what he asked of me in the first place.
I try to tell him so. But the words get swallowed down my throat when he lashes the bottom of my foot with his belt. It is an agony unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
It is raw. Scorched nerves. Fire and hell. He doesn’t hold back when he does it again.
And again.
And again.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I try to move, but he is too heavy, and his grip is unyielding. I try to beg him, but the words don’t make sense. And I’m crying now.
A sniffling, inconsolable mess.
When I think it might be over, he starts in on the other foot. I am so certain that I am bleeding. Flayed wide open. But when he stops and climbs off me, my feet are bone dry.
I scurry as far away from him as I can. Huddling against the corner of the bed.I rock back and forth like a lunatic trying to comfort myself.