“Faster.”
His c**k beat my insides, shredded me, while his fingers took my hole three at a time and the heel of his hand kept a constant pressure on my clit.
“Come on, goddess. I’m not pleased.”
I grabbed my cheeks wider, slammed down on him harder, knees aching, arms on fire, ass beyond pain. Yet the pleasure between my legs grew, pressing against the agony and winning.
“That’s good,” he growled. “Very good.”
“Thank you.” I gasped, relieved, relaxed now because he was content. I heard his breaths getting shorter. I was close, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to have what he wanted. I wanted him to be satisfied. I beat down on his cock, mindless of what I was doing to myself.
“I’m going to come,” he said.
“Thank you,” I squeaked, more tears streaming.
“Come with me.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
He grunted, but it was more than a grunt, and in the second before I lost myself in pleasure I noted how vocal he was. More than ever. He released, truly, fully, losing control, pulling my hair until I thought he’d tear it out. I was washed away in it, the pleasure of his hand on my clit, the torture in my ass as my orgasm clenched it around his c**k in an undulating rhythm. I came forever, lost in it, in him, his satisfaction, in the pain. I was gone, my identity washed away in complete submission to his pleasure and his will; without ambition or desire of my own, simply enslaved, caged, collared. Nothing. No one. Not a feeling of dissatisfaction in my belly, only humility and a feeling of complete, overwhelming gratitude.
“Goddess?” he whispered when I stopped twitching.
I tried to answer, but I was blubbering. I took a few breaths to calm down. “Yes, sir?”
“Are you okay?”
“Thank you.”
He untied me. I put my aching arms on my knees and he pushed me gently forward, his dick slipping out of my ass. I sucked in a breath.
He pulled me into his lap and kissed the tears running down my cheeks. I held him and wept fully. The emotional release poured out of me as he rubbed my back and kissed my face and neck. My awareness of the world around me, my body, the chair, the room, the building, the time of day, was brought about by the softness of his lips and the way he whispered my name, goddess, goddess, goddess.
“I haven’t been what you need,” he said softly.
“You couldn’t be. I understand.”
“That’s over now.”
“Thank you.”
He put his hands on my cheeks and brushed my lashes with his thumbs. I let my eyes flutter closed.
“You can’t leave me until I destroy you.”
“If you destroy me, I’ll never leave.”
“Regularly.” He took out a monogrammed hankie and held it up. “Blow.”
I blew my nose. He pinched and wiped for me, as if I were a child.
He kissed my lips, taking them against his, owning them with tenderness and confidence. I let his tongue into my mouth, its soothing warmth, exploring me as if for the first time. The tenderness with which he kissed me was in such contrast to the beating I’d just received, that I broke down in tears again. He held me and rocked me in the soundproof studio for what seemed like hours, saying sweet things in my ear. I felt so good, so calm, so loved.
“You’d better cancel dinner,” he said. “You’re going to need some serious after care.”
“You think the guys would notice if I ate standing up?”
“Come home, and I’ll feed you in bed.”
“Yes, Jonathan. Yes to everything.”
“And you shall have everything.”