Page 40 of Trapped for Her Blood
His cock twitches inside me, like it has an opinion on the matter. In my imagination, his cock’s on my side and wants us to connect while we perform this act too. But I suspect the rest of him disagrees.
Without changing our positions, he pumps into me a few times, fast and jerky, like he’s trying not to do it.
“I cannot…” He pumps faster, more erratically. “Too long… No control…” His thrusts continue, almost like there’s an outside force running the show. But I can’t tell whether that force is fighting to increase or slow his speed.
The action’s less machine-like now, less rhythmic, but no less impersonal.
The force of his fast, unpredictable thrusts fill me completely, as they work with his hands and body to hold me captive, impaled and trapped on his driving cock.
“I… do… not…” He thrusts very quickly a few times and then stops inside me. “Want to hurt you. “ He sounds like he’s the one who’s in pain.
He starts pumping quickly again and I want to reassure him, to argue that while he’s not really hurting me, I’d be more comfortable on my back or straddling his lap, but I can’t speak. It’s partially our position but also the intense pleasure that keeps stealing my voice with each of his drives, so I try to relax, to let him set the course for what happens.
Because even though it’s not what I really want, it does feel good, and it’s not like I have any way to change things, except by asking, and that didn’t seem to work.
His hand releases my neck and then, reaching under my chest, he raises my torso. My head and upper body lift, and I’m lightheaded, suddenly upright after so long inverted.
With my back now against his kneeling body, I’m impaled from behind, my body in a quasi kneeling position, except that only the tops of my feet graze the ground.
Using my breasts like handles to keep me upright, he thrusts again. My bound hands flail in front of me as I bounce uncontrollably, absorbing thrusts that are unbelievably hard and fast given his kneeling position. His fingers abrade my tight nipples through the thin fabric of my dress as he slams up and into me, over and over.
As much as I’d like to turn so I can see him, I’m distracted again by my pleasure, by another orgasm rising, and my eyes close tightly as he takes me hard and fast, and his fingers, now tight on my nipples, heighten the pleasure and hasten the inevitable climax inside of me.
One of his hands vacates my breast to find my clit, and I explode, crying out, thrashing, and marveling at how he can keep my writhing body supported and trapped, impaled on his thrusting cock, with only one hand fondling my breast and one pressing against my clit.
This climax is ferocious and violent, and just as I think it’s subsiding, he simultaneously squeezes my nipple and clit—hard.
I scream.
Intense pain reignites what I thought were the last waves of my orgasm. It starts all over again, as the pinch-induced throbbing radiates to mix into my pleasure.
I can’t begin to decide whether what he’s doing is hurting or feels good. I can’t understand what he’s doing to my body. But I don’t care. I don’t want him to stop and couldn’t even if I tried.
My contractions slowly subside, his pressure on my two sensitive nubs relents, and I start to regain the ability to think, even if no part of my body can possibly move.
I wish that I could see into his eyes, that I could form a connection between us and better understand him as we endure this intense pleasure. Because it must be good for him too. He’s the one driving our actions so it must be what he wants. Right?
I wish I knew what he was thinking, but can’t speak as he continues to bounce me over his cock, in way that I’m both hoping and fearing will never end. My insides are burning now, each of his thrusts both too much and not enough. It’s like my body wants to take more but also squirm away from him, simultaneously loving and hating the unrelenting, inescapable friction.
Realizing my eyes have been tightly closed—at least since my last orgasm—I open them, hoping to turn my head enough to see Zuben’s face.
But instead I see Axe, naked in the arched cave entrance, his massive erection bobbing against his ridged abdominal muscles, his face flushed as he looks into my eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Ember
“Zuben,”I say, barely able to get his name out as he thrusts, bouncing my now sore body over his hardness. “Zuben. Stop.”
He stops instantly. Like a switch was turned off.
“Forgive me.” Axel backs into the darkness. “I interrupted.”
Zuben lifts me off his cock and my gown falls down around my legs as I somehow land on my feet. My legs are so shaky they barely support me as I turn back toward Zuben.
He’s already fastened his pants and is casually brushing them off. He reaches for my wrists and quickly undoes what looks to me like a complicated knot, and then slings his tie around his neck, popping up his collar to tuck it under, like he’s dressing at the beginning of any normal day.
“You are Axel,” Zuben says, walking forward as he pulls up the knot of his tie. “I am called Zuben.”
