My Killer

A cold shower

"Pleeeassee..."

I wasn't sure if I was begging the monster before me to stop what he was doing or if the out of breath sounding word leaving my lips was in truth me asking him for the exact opposite, to never stop. I couldn't tell the difference anymore, nor did that ugly fact faze me. I was beyond caring, he had pushed me beyond reason.

Fingers, lips, cock, teeth. Those were just some of the parts of Michael that left me feeling breathless. He wielded them all like he would wield one of his weapons of torture, with either extreme precision or ruthless disorganization. Every touch, or lack thereof, was carefully designed by him to elicit a certain type of response from me, a response of his choosing. Be it the way his teeth dented into the soft flesh of my neck as he planted kisses that walked the fine line between being a bringer of pleasure or pain, the way his lips pressed ever so gently against my collarbone, the way his cock brushed up against me in its heated eagerness, or the way his right hand collared my throat, a constant threat which he had yet to act upon. They all played their part in pulling moan after moan from my lips, making my core contract, and my back arch outward as my body silently begged for more that he had decided to give. But in the midst of it all, it was his other hand, or rather his other set of fingers, that wretched the worst havoc within me. Michael made sure to let his long fingers linger around my begging aureoles, forcing whimpers from my lips at his designed lack of direct contact. He was so close yet never close enough. He made my core scream out in wanton anticipation as he played with me in this cruel teasing manner, his mouth wiped clean off his usual delighted grin. Michael had slid his hand down toward my core in a teasing manner more times than I would care to count, only to track back, leaving me breathlessly begging him for more.

Please...

The way Michael refused to touch me the way I suddenly yearned for him to made my core flare-up, his devious refusal made it clench even harder than if he had just gone straight in for the kill, for the anticipated caress. Michael knew what he was doing, he knew how to turn my own body against me.

Please...

I had given in to him, I had kissed him as a way to accept my fate, as a way to make this ruinous act seem almost okay, as a way to somehow hold the reins still. But his touch, his burning gaze, and his growing presence robbed me in a way. He robbed me of my choice of reaction, the one thing that had been left to me, as he forced my own body to comply with him, to react for him the way he wanted me to.

I...

Ahhh...

Please...

To hell with what I wanted. It didn't feel like much of a choice when all he filled me up with was pure lust. My acceptance should have made things easier to bear, only it didn't. My own body craved this monster to the point of it being painful, yet that wasn't something I had paved the path to. No, Michael had forced me down that uneven dirty road at what felt like gunpoint. And the fact that I had come seemingly willingly was killing me in ways I had yet to understand.

Ahhh...

His hand tightened slightly around my throat as he slowly pressed his hard body against mine, grinding me up against the cold wet wall behind me. The constant spray of water from the showerhead up above soaked us in a comfortable heat, as well as cloaked our labored breaths. He was breathing just as heavily as me right now. His cock strained to the extreme.

"Ahhhh..."

The moan that Michael pulled from my lips flew up over the top of his head. His lips had finally found their way down to the peak of my begging nipple, touching the sensitive flesh his deft fingers had refused to reclaim for the longest time. His teeth bit into and pulled on the hardened flesh only to let it go moments later.