Page 77 of Degradation
‘Today, I’m going to lick this sweet cunt until you come, and when you do, you’ll scream my name. Just for me.’
His mouth is hot on my center as his lips close over me, making my hips buck involuntarily.
The bed covers are suddenly uncomfortable on my back, and I squirm to find a smooth spot. He sees what I’m doing and pulls me down the bed where I’m flat and the covers under me aren’t rumpled. I sigh, focusing on what he’s doing again, the sounds of him, the sounds ofme. That coiling low in my belly.
I pull my legs together as it begins to become too much and he snarls, a glint in his eyes, as he glances at me.
‘Take it,’ he spits out. ‘You take what I give you. You moan and scream for me. You give me your pleasure.’
I make myself let my body open again. I want to feel it, even if it’s too much.
His lips find my clit and suck while the tip of his tongue finds the spot that drives my body wild.
My back bows and he pushes my legs as wide as they’ll go, holding me in place as I writhe under his tongue.
I come hard with a scream, squealing out his name just as he asked while my legs shake in his hard grip and my hands curl into his hair, pulling hard at the strands.
He grunts and lifts his head to look at me, his dark grin half-pained, half-admiring.
‘Don’t move.’
He tips down the waistband of his boxers and pulls out his hard length, fisting it quickly, his hand stroking from base to tip over and over. I stare, unable to look away from his movements. It takes only a few seconds for him to groan, his hips snapping forward.
‘Spread your legs,’ he snarls, ‘I want to see that pretty pink pussy that’s so wet for me... Paint it white.’
His words make me spread myself as wide as I can. I want him to be pleased with me. I want him to praise me. I love it.
My eyes become fixated on his face as he leans over me. His are on my core as he comes, ropes of white shooting from the tip. It’s hot as it lands on my clit and slides down between my pussy lips.
‘Stay still,’ he grunts, scooping it up and rubbing it into me.
I’m frozen in confusion, wondering what he’s doing and why.
He looks up at me and sees my expression.
‘I’d put it all over you if I could.’ He answers my unspoken question. ‘I’d cover you in it. Then everyone would know that you’re mine.’
It should scare me, this look in his eyes like I’m his. I don’t understand it. And yet I’m not afraid.
‘I don’t think I’d like it all over me,’ I whisper. ‘It’s cold and...sticky.’
He stops what he’s doing. ‘Is that your assessment from a sensory perspective?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ I say.
‘So, I can’t leave it on you?’
I wince, not liking the way it feels at all. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
He cups me with his hand again, massaging it into my skin for a few more seconds and lets out a sigh.
‘Okay. Just a sec.’
He grabs my damp towel off the floor, and I assume he’s going to use it to wipe the mess away with that, but instead he wraps it around his waist and leaves the room.
I lay on the bed, my mind whirling as I think about all the things he said, his actions, how they made me feel, how they made my body respond to him, why he marked me, and the fervor in his eyes when he did.
When he returns, I’m still in the same position, and getting more miserable by the second simply because of how uncomfortable and cold between my legs feels. I see with relief he’s brought a flannel...washcloth.
