Caught Jerking II

He didn’t let me catch my breath.

The second his cock slipped free, a thick trickle of cum followed it(slowly) down the crack of my ass. I tried to close my legs. Tyler’s hands clamped around my knees and shoved them open again, wider than before, until the stretch burned in my hips.

“No,” he said, calm and absolute. “Keep them like that.”

I glared up at him, chest heaving. “Fuck you.”

He smiled like I’d just handed him a gift. “We’re past that part now, princess.”

He reached sideways, yanked the belt from the jeans on the floor, and before I could twist away he had both my wrists crossed above my head. Leather bit into my skin tightly to the headboard. The knot was quick and somehow practiced. My arms were locked. I jerked once and hard but the belt held.

“Tyler—”

“Quiet.” One open palm cracked across the inside of my thigh. The sting was sharp and immediate. Heat bloomed under the skin but I sucked in a breath through my teeth. He did it again, higher, closer to my cunt, and the sound that left me was not a protest.

He watched my face the whole time.

“You’ve spent years talking shit with that mouth,” he said, voice low. “Now you’re going to use it the way I tell you.” He dragged two fingers through the mess between my legs—his cum and my own slick mixed together—and held them up so I could see the shine. “Open.”

I kept my lips pressed shut. Another slap landed on my other thigh, harder. I gasped. The second my mouth opened he pushed the wet fingers inside.

“Suck.”

I hated him. I hated the way my tongue moved without permission, cleaning every trace of us off his skin. He fucked my mouth with those fingers slowly, eyes never leaving mine, until I was drooling around them.

When he pulled free he wiped the rest across my cheek.

“Good girl,” he said, and the words made my stomach twist with something ugly and hot. “Now stay still while I look at what’s mine for the night.”

He sat back on his heels between my spread thighs and just stared. My wrists pulled uselessly against the belt. My T-shirt was rucked up under my armpits, tits bare, nipples tight and aching. Cum was leaking out of me in slow, thick pulses.

He reached down and pushed two fingers back inside, scooping what was trying to escape and forcing it deeper.

“Clench.”

I did. The wet sound was way obscene.

“Again.”

I clenched harder. He hummed like he was pleased with a well-trained animal.

Then he shifted lower.

I felt his breath first. Then his tongue came down on my clit—hot, flat, deliberate. My hips jerked backwards against the mattress as he licked, slow and filthy.

“Mhmm… you smell nice,” he whispered against me, voice rough with amusement. His tongue delved deeper into my folds, lapping at the mix of my juice and his cum, thrusting in and out while I thrashed against the belt. The leather creaked loudly. My thighs trembled around his head.

“Ohhh… fuc—”

He clamped my mouth shut with one hand, hard enough that my teeth pressed into my lips. His eyes flicked up to mine, dark and warning.

“Fucking keep your moans low.” The order came out fierce, low, and it only added more heat to the fire already burning through me. He didn’t stop licking. If anything he went harder—tongue fucking into me, nose pressed against my clit, the wet sounds filthy in the quiet room.

I was shaking. Tears pricked my eyes from the overstimulation and the sheer helplessness of being tied and eaten like I belonged on his tongue.

He pulled back just long enough to speak again, lips shiny.

“I wanna fuck you.”

Then he yanked my hair, forcing my head back, and licked a wet stripe up my cheek before his mouth crashed onto mine. The kiss was brutal—kissing, nibbling, biting, sucking my tongue so I tasted myself on him. My own juice and his cum mixed between our mouths. I moaned into it anyway.

When he broke the kiss I was panting.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, the words scraped raw out of me. I turned as much as the belt allowed, trying to present my ass, desperate and hating how desperate I sounded.

He didn’t make me ask twice.

He flipped me onto my stomach with easy strength, hauled my hips up until I was face-down, ass in the air, wrists still bound to the headboard. One hand spread me open. The thick head of his cock nudged against my used entrance.

“Still hate me?” he asked, almost gentle.

“Yes,” I breathed into the pillow.

“Good.”

He slammed in to the hilt in one long thrust. The stretch burned worse the second time, feeling raw, deep, perfect.

I cried out and he immediately clamped his hand back over my mouth, muffling the sound while he started fucking me in earnest--hard, deep 'n short strokes that made the wet slap of skin on skin fill the night.

Every thrust forced another messy pulse of cum out around his cock. My tied wrists pulled tight till the skin there went white. My ass stung from the earlier spanks every time his hips met it.

He kept the hand over my mouth and used the other to deliver sharp, open-handed smacks to my already-red cheeks in time with his thrusts.

“Take it,” he growled against my ear. “Take every fucking inch like the hateful little slut you are.”

I came hard—sudden, violent, walls clamping down so tight he cursed. He fucked me straight through it, never slowing, chasing his own release with punishing rhythm until he buried himself deep and flooded me again Releasing hot, thick pulses that I felt in my stomach.

He stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing hard, hand still resting possessively over my mouth. Then he slowly pulled out. I felt the immediate rush of his cum leaking down my thighs.

He unbuckled the belt and my arms dropped, tingling and useless. I stayed face-down for a few seconds, body still twitching, before I forced myself to move.

Tyler watched me the entire time I sat up, found my T-shirt, and pulled it over my head. His eyes were half-lidded, satisfied, and still hungry.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, voice lazy.

I didn’t answer. I just stood on shaky legs, feeling his cum slide down the inside of my thighs with every sticky step. The hallway was dark and cool. My door was only a few feet away.

I slipped inside, closed it as quietly as I could, and leaned back against the wood. My wrists were marked. My ass burned. My cunt was swollen and leaking.

I could still taste myself on my tongue.

Outside, his bed creaked once. Then silence.

I stayed against the door until my legs stopped shaking, then crawled into my own bed without cleaning up. The sheets felt too soft, too empty.

I hated him.

I could still feel him.

And the night wasn’t even over yet.