A battle of will, driven by passion

My hands couldn’t stay in place, I tried to keep him in place by pulling his hair, but I couldn’t word the need for him to go slow because the breath I got was barely enough to keep me breathing.

He let go of my his to use the hand to keep my hand in place but instead, he allowed me to buck against him, trashing up against him and reducing the pleasure on my neck.

“You don’t want to be a good girl, do you?” He growled. He moved away to free his tie from his neck.

Excitement bubbled through me in the hope that he was about to undress but only the tie came off. It came off him then came on me.

He grabbed both my hands and wrapped his tie around them.

“What are you doing, Xandro?” I asked, a little fear crawling up my throat. I had never been tied before, hell, I had never had sex before.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” His voice was reassuring, I believed. Then he smiled and said, “At least, not today.”

I didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but I held on to his words about not hurting me.

Then he knotted the rest of the tie that bounded my hands together to the board of the bed.

While he worked on the knot, my eyes sighted my reflection. I was sitting, naked, and a very clothed man was undressing me.

There was no mirror by my bedboard. It was my phone.

Alexandro had been recording the whole scene.

“Get your hands off me.” I never thought I could muster such ice and steel into my voice.  Shame began curling in my stomach and self-loathing brought up its evil head.

“Now’s not the time to play hard to get, Emily. I’m the one hard, and I’m not playing.” He joked, his chuckle died on his lips when he saw the look on my face, then traced what I was staring at.

“Shit.”

“You were making a record of fucking me while I was sleeping,” I screamed. Had he planned to add blackmail to the hold he had over me? What was his plan?

“Wait, Em. Calm down. It’s not what you think.” Even his voice was guilty. All my sexual turn-on died in my stomach and green shame swept through me.

My hands were bound and I felt helpless. How could I be so stupid, carried away? Two times in one night.

He grabbed the phone and ended the video. Then he threw it on the table and reached for me.

“Don’t touch me. Loose me and get out of my sight.” I begged, not because I was scared he would hurt me but because I knew my body would still welcome his touch. I had been right to stay away from him. Why had he come tonight?

“Oh, please Emily, are you asking me to touch you or not?” He snapped. The sting in his voice shocked me.

I had almost given the bastard my virginity. He didn’t even have the dignity to be nice and apologize.

“I can do whatever I want with you. You fucking owe me every hair on your head, your life, and even your father’s life. I can do whatever I want with you.” He snarled at me. “Stop trying to deny how much you want this too.”

I thought he would untie me and stomp out angrily, instead, he proceeded to tie me to the board, then held my chin so I could meet his eyes, “You don’t call the shots, Emily.” The words were cold, but they were also true. I was also under his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted with him, screaming wouldn't help.

He sat and feasted on me with his eyes. He didn’t lay a finger on me for the first five minutes, just watching, letting the tension grow in the air, letting me wonder what he was going to do to me.

I refused to fight, to pull against the board. I didn’t want to give him the joy of seeing me helpless against the bed. My fighting might even turn him on and make this pleasurable for him. Any response was welcome, even if it was that of helplessness.

We both stood still, watching each other.

Finally, he raised his finger and pinched a nipple. I bit in a moan, refusing to let it out, hating myself, withholding from him the pleasure of pleasuring me.

Yet I couldn’t hide the response my body revealed. How tight and swollen my nipples were or how wet I was getting between my legs.

All I could was press my legs together with each scrape of his finger, moans threatened to escape when he groped my breasts.

“Stop denying yourself the pleasure, Emily. We both want this.” He murmured into my nipple before taking it into his mouth. I held in the gasp what was close to escaping. Self-control was slipping through my fingers.

“Let’s see how wet my wife is.” He chuckles as his finger digs into my skin and forces my legs apart.

He scooped out my dripping juices and smiled at his hands, “How well you lie, Emily. These lips of yours are so good at lying, but these down here do not lie,” He taunted me. He pushed the finger into my mouth, “Have a taste of how much you want me, Emily. Taste the truth.”

I tasted my salty wetness and the smell of virginal.

He made another scoop, running his hands up to down my clit but nothing entered my hole, I hated how much I wanted him to dig in. With every scoop he made, I felt more and more empty and needed to be filled, and before I knew I was moving my hip in the direction of his hands.

When he finally tried to push two fingers in, pain shot to the back of my eyes, bearable but painful nevertheless.

“You’re so tight, Emily, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He murmured.

The pain came back heavy but a bit shocking as I felt him slip in, he had gone in with just one finger but I felt fucking invaded.

He had not realized what was happening, he withdrew his single finger and went back in with two. The invasion was harsh and painful.

I hadn’t realized I had screamed aloud until I felt his finger frozen inside of me.

“What the fuck was that, Emily?”