Submissive Desires

Eight

He was a passionate and insistent kisser. His hand was in my hair and he forced kisses from me, while his other hand swept down my back and forced my body against his, over and over. I'd have been fine if I hadn't been on the verge of orgasm when I fled from him earlier, but now my body was in flames and I couldn't think. He knew exactly what to do with a pretty girl; lots of practice, I assumed.

Suddenly he spun me around and pulled me backwards against him. "Let's start over from the beginning," he hissed in my ear. "Feel my hands. Feel the way they touch you."

"No," I whispered, but it was only a word and he ignored it. For years I'd been taught that No means No and it's not ok to ignore No, and any boy that didn't honor that was a rapist. It was infuriating to hear myself say no and realize that I didn't mean it so why should he believe me?

He cupped my breasts, and then he snarled. "Padded bra. As if you needed one." His hands were under my sweatshirt and he hauled the bra up, roughly, and then his hands were on me, feeling, squeezing, his palms grinding against my nipples. Those hands had spanked me and somehow that changed everything. His hands mattered. I arched into them, and then my head went back and he kissed my mouth again, lips and tongue forcing my mouth to give him what he wanted. "Can't think," I said, dazed, against his lips, and he growled at me for speaking. And then one hand dove into my pants, and a finger forced inward.

My knees gave out entirely. We sank to the floor and he pinned me down, violently taking my mouth with his tongue and my pussy with his finger, and I learned what happens when you almost come and stop and then are touched again. I was out of control, my legs opened and my hips tilted. His fingers moved to my clit, then back inside me... everything ached and burned and it was all I could do not to beg for more. The late night fantasies were back, but now I was living one, the man who took, demanded, forced a young girl to feel things she didn't know about – my hips tilted up further, he twisted around and sucked a nipple roughly, painfully, and every muscle in me tensed, I couldn't stop, there was only more and faster-

I came in that slow, violent way that takes away all control of your limbs and slams you again and again against the floor. My noises were guttural and raw, and when my eyes were closed all I saw was his dark, demanding gaze.

Then I was panting frantically and he was straddling me, his cock was out, and he snarled "cup your breasts." I did and he came on them, quickly, forcing my head up so I had to watch the thick white splashes mark me. As soon as he was done he curled back against the side of my bed, pulled me to him, and ran his fingers over my breasts until they were sticky, and forced me to lick them clean. I was shuddering and gasping, not with desire, simply with shock. He was overwhelming. Then my face was against his chest and his eyes closed.

"Better," he whispered.

"B-better than what?"

"Than feeling hungry and interrupted and frustrated. Now a little quiet please, I just want to feel you curled against me."

"I can't, cuddling does things to a girl-"

"So will the flat of my hand, on your ass, if you can't be silent for a few minutes."

So I cuddled, feeling myself being drawn in to him, but too shattered by the experiences to stop it. I had a lot to say and holding my tongue was very, very hard. He wasn't much for pillow talk, I thought wryly.

After a few minutes he said, softly, "good girl," and he kissed my ear. I hid my face in his chest; I could not look at his eyes.

"You're not supposed to treat women like that."

"If I wasn't supposed to, you wouldn't respond so very, very hard. I get it, Clarissa. You're terrified. You've never had someone else call the shots, as you put it, and you are very shocked to find you respond the way you do. But I'm not surprised."