He controlled all of my most sensitive spots, and he wasn't treating any of them gently. Regardless of what I knew deep down in my bones about my lover of almost eighteen months, my fight or flight response kicked in without me authorizing it and I sprinted - still wanting to giggle at the impulse at this point - towards the bathroom door. No hope there or anywhere, and he was rapidly closing what distance remained between us, the casual way he draped the loose tie around his neck at odds with the ferocity of his other movements. What I wanted didn't matter. I was so intent on my task that I forgot to worry about where he was for a second. This was Tom, after all. And, to my abject mortification, I contracted once, very hard, my body grasping at him, clutching at him.
There was something about his posture, the way he was holding himself that put me on edge, however ridiculous that seemed. And making me confront head on the ultimate, humiliating truth I had always suspected, but never really wanted confirmed - at least not to this extent. My eyebrow rose as a surprising, unfamiliar jolt of pure, raw fear ran up my spine. He should have been. But it definitely wasn't, and what he was doing to it didn't help. I didn't want to cum like this. I didn't want to reward him for the way he was treating me. Until suddenly I found my legs parted again, just as rudely as they had been before, only this time it was his hips that I couldn't close them around as he moved carefully up me, almost as if he was stalking me again, and I could feel the length and strength of him - the raw menace of his enormous cock - being dragged against the insides of my thighs as he marked his territory with a moist trail of pre-cum - and soon I felt that familiar pressure against my entrance. He was a big man. He sat on top of me, legs on either side of my hips, and I could plainly see, as I looked up at him from within the frame of my own useless arms, just how much he was enjoying himself. This was Tom, after all. From Tom, for God's sake! I didn't just like it, I loved it. He practically slapped his hand up into that delicate area he was keeping so exposed, making me jump and him chuckle just slightly, in a thoroughly unpleasant manner I'd never heard from him before and I hoped I never heard again. Only it was completely unlike any other time he'd ever touched me. He had me, in every possible way a man could have a woman - bound, beneath him, held open for his penetration, the slickness of my obvious arousal easing his possession of me, my tortured bud manipulated and manhandled until I could feel the inevitable, tingling fringes of the beginning of the end of my sanity. His savage snarl - and his oh so potent choice of words! If he wanted me - and judging by the huge bulge in his pants, he definitely did - he was going to have me. Amazed and horrified both at the impulse itself and the fact that I couldn't seem to resist the urge, I did my best to cover myself, holding my breasts in my hands, hiding them from him. I stopped myself from bumping into him - somehow instinctively knowing that I didn't want him to touch me in the mood that he was in - barely, swerving away from his reaching hand towards the door he'd locked, only to change course again, mindlessly mid-flight, and instead combat rolled to the other side of the bed, but there was really nowhere to go from there. You need to be reminded - frequently - whose you are, and what, exactly, it means to be mine, and in a manner that you'll enjoy entirely too much for you to bear. He possessed me more completely than anyone ever had before in my life, never easing back, never letting up, forcing me to accept his thick, imposing presence within me. But then he stripped me of that - however tenuous the illusion of safety - too, driving his big hand between them, until I was almost hung up on his arm as his hand reached the wall, then pinching his way down the tender insides of my thighs, making me yelp and try to get away from those painful caresses, which was exactly what he intended. And then I felt my braid yanked viciously again from beneath me, his free hand coming up to cup my throat, squeezing just enough that I could feel the absolute power those slender fingers had over me as he rammed himself into me again, just once, seating himself again so deeply that I moved my legs automatically - trying to get purchase to arch myself away from him - as if they were planted on the mattress instead of held uselessly in the air. I could not believe how he was acting. As if I hadn't been already. Something wasn't quite right.
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