THIRTY-THREE: Such A Good Girl

I shudder as his grip on my arms finally loosens.

My arms drop slowly to my sides as I take a step forward and turn around to face him. Reaching behind myself, I unzip my skirt and slowly push the fabric down the sides of my thighs. I stare at his face as he watches me. His jaw is clenched as his eyes follow the fabric down the supple skin of my legs.

He swallows thickly as I step out of the skirt and kick it to the side. Crossing my arms at my waist, I then bring my sweater up my ribcage and above my head. I keep my movements slow, giving him a bit of a show – not so much to be a tease but not so little as to rob him of the pleasure of watching me. I hold back a smirk as I watch him revel my nearly-bare body, my modesty covered only by a bra and underwear.

I reach behind myself to unclasp my bra. It tumbles from my chest and down to the floor, leaving me bare and exposed.

Next, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, dragging them torturously down my thighs, maintaining eye contact with him as I bend forward to do so. I see the muscles in Harlan's jaw tense even more tightly. He flinches, as if he is about to take a step forward, to punish me for being a tease. But I'm not disobeying him; he stands still the moment I turn around and crawl onto his bed, propping myself on my hands and knees.

Suddenly, I don't feel like teasing. Positioned like this, I feel vulnerable. And that vulnerability opens the floodgates for fear. I swallow thickly as I hear Harlan approach... slowly.

Listening, I track the sounds of his footprints around the room, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder.

I can hear him – sense him, even – stalking behind me at the foot of the bed, pacing behind me to admire every indecent angle of my indecently-positioned body. I can hear the sound of his breathing. I can hear that the sounds of his inhales and exhales are even and controlled. But so close to tipping over the edge – almost too controlled. So close to collapsing, to abandoning sense and restraint.

My breath catches in my throat as he rounds the side of the bed and climbs behind me. I feel the buzz of his warmth just as his fingers barely-skim the skin of my ass. He rolls the flesh beneath his palm.

I hear the smack of skin before I feel the pain, and the scream tumbles from my lips before I even know I'm going to cry out in the first place.

I feel the buzzing of a handprint blooming into a red mark on the skin of my left ass cheek. It still isn't enough time to brace myself for the next spank. Harlan brings his hand down on the same cheek, stacking one layer of pain on top of the previous. Within the same instant, he brings his hand upwards on the right before bringing it down from the top. I cry out again. The sound of three smacks falls upon my ears in rapid succession, loud enough to fill every corner of the bedroom. The force of the impact is enough to tell me he is exerting energy. But I'm quickly learning that Harlan isn't the type of lover that will ever go easy on me.

I release a sob, arms trembling as I try to remain sturdy.

My head drops downward, hair trailing the duvet cover. I think that he likes the sound... the sound of me deep in pleasure, but also in pain. Any indication that I'm breaking underneath his touch.

He presses his palm to the round of my ass, already tender from his brutal handiwork.

"This is exactly how I want to see you." Harlan says, voice dripping with authority and command. "Wet and eager. Desperate for my cock. Still so innocent," he contemplates softly, almost to himself, running his hand down the curve of my back. "So confident you can take me. All of me. Stupid girl," he sneers.

My stomach drops. He’s so... cruel. Cruel, but rousing. I silently curse at the wetness I feel pooling inside of my cunt, mounting with overwhelming arousal all over again. I wonder if, with Harlan in my life, it will ever stop.

Eager and desperate, I writhe my hips against him, earning me a tight grip around my hair. Harlan yanks me upward by my locks and I cry at the pain, but my hands still find his hips from behind me, holding myself against him. I feel his hardness against the back of my ass, and I whimper in desperation.

"Beg for it, if you're so desperate," he spits harshly against my ear. "I'd like to see you try and handle the fuck I'm going to give you."

I whimper in response. I've never begged for anything. I want to give Harlan everything he wants. But when he asks for something like this... I just don't know how.

He chuckles darkly at the soft, whimpering mewls that escape my lips, feeling their vibrations reverberate at my throat as his palm laces calmly around it.

He gives me a moment. When I don't respond, he tightens his grip, jolting me against him.

"P-please," I whisper.

He chuckles again, the fingers of his free hand stroking my hair. The gentleness of the gesture puts me on edge.

"I've heard that filthy mouth of yours beg me to make you cum before, when I have you so, so close," he mutters, voice soft and breathy against my ear. In an instant, it turns steely and cold. "Don't pretend you're something you're not. A filthy slut with a filthy mouth," he spits.

When I'm on the brink of orgasm, it’s different. It’s easy to shriek out my deepest desires when I'm blacked out, possessed by an unfamiliar, animalistic side of myself that I'm only recently coming to recognize. I'm connected with that person now. All I have to do is search within myself for what I want. All I have to do is reach out and touch and.

Name it.

"Harlan, please," I groan. I'm reaching back, reaching for him, nails digging into the sides of his thighs. "Please, you're all I want. I want you inside me. I need it."

"You. Need. What?" Harlan's voice is barely above a devilish whisper, each word hitting me like a smack.

"I need your cock," I cry, finally letting myself go, letting myself cry out for him in the desperation that I feel and can no longer conceal.

I groan as Harlan drops the grip on my hair, and I flop forward, catching myself as my palms hit the mattress.

Harlan suddenly yanks at my waist and scoots me back to align my hips against his. It should have been enough warning, but I'm never truly ready to take his insultingly large member. Before I can process what is happening, Harlan is fully hilted in my pussy, shoving himself mercilessly inside me with a deep, drawn-out growl. That sound – it indicates a man starved.

An image in my mind flickers: earlier that day, in his office. I wonder if he'd been painfully hard all day, thinking about how he'd finger-fucked me behind his desk.

I hope he has. I hope he wants me so badly that it aches.

Harlan pulls out slowly, dragging his cock out of my pussy at a glacial pace. Slow enough for me to feel every painful length of his cock stretch my cunt and become slick with my arousal. I hiss in pain; at first penetration, the sheer size of him is always just too much to accommodate.

I close my eyes, focusing on adjusting to his width. But without warning, Harlan snaps his hips forward. I cry out again, the sound mixing with the excruciatingly loud smack of his hips against my ass. He groans once more, the sound gravelly and rough as it rips from his throat.

Once again, hearing it kindles me with exhilaration and lust. To hear Harlan lose control is one of the most beautiful experiences I can name. It has to be the eighth wonder of the fucking world.

I press my lips tightly together and moan as Harlan finds a brutal pace. Even though he is stretching me more than what seems feasible for my tight cunt to handle, the pleasure I feel is undeniable. Immediate warmth floods my core, striking me as deep as Harlan's cock. And he doesn't hold back his own arousal. He moans depravedly, cursing as he watches my ass bounce against his hips.

With each thrust, I hear the unforgiving smack of skin. He pulls all the way out just to slam back inside of me, forcing me to take every inch of his length. I can feel how deep he is, the pressure settling in my lower belly. But my mewls and whimpers and moans don't stop him. On the contrary, Harlan fucks me harder, his fingers digging into my skin as he white-knuckles my hipbones. The marks I'll have in the morning...I can't even imagine.

But the thought of Harlan leaving secret marks on my skin, marks to savour, marks that will be a reminder of the obscene things he is doing to me tonight... I want him to hold me tight enough to leave welts forever.

"Tighter," I beg. "Harder, hold me harder."

"Needy little slut," he hisses, pressing his digits harder against my skin and giving me a particularly deep thrust.

I scream in response, drawing a breathy, animalistic laugh from Harlan as he continues to pound me relentlessly. Dipping his arm down, he wraps it around my neck and yanks me upwards. With a failed gasp that catches in my compressed windpipe, I arch the middle of my back, my shoulder blades pressed against his upper abdomen as he holds me in a chokehold and continues to snap his hips against me, driving his cock ceaselessly, ruthlessly into my cunt.

"Yes," he hisses into my ear.

I moan, choking on the sound that catches in my tightened throat. The pleasure is as real as the fear and intensity. I feel my wetness begin to seep down the backs of my thighs. And of course, nothing is lost on Harlan.

"Fuck, look at you. Dripping for me already." Harlan's free hand moves to my chest, fondling my breasts roughly as he continues to fuck me. He grips my tits tightly, rolling both of them tenderlessly in his large hands, handling them with such force that I'm positive they will bruise too, and the possibility delights me. "Always such a... mmmhmm, fuck... such a needy whore for me. Fuck! Say it!"

He loosens the grip on my neck, just slightly, so I can answer his request. As soon as the slightest amount of air can escape my throat, I groan, open-mouthed and uproariously.

"Say it!" he roars, raising his palm in front of my face and snapping it back towards me, landing a rough smack to the side of my cheek.

My head whips to the side and I could have sworn I feel another wave of liquid arousal roll down the backs of my thighs.

"I'm a needy whore," I sob, eyes squeezing shut, breaths laboured and heavy, my chest heaving. "I'm a whore for your cock."

Satisfied and snickering through the loosening reigns of his control, Harlan's hand moves from my throat to my clit.

"You want to cum again, then so be it," he says, echoing his warning from earlier.

Harlan's fingers work rapid circles around my clit as he expertly rams his cock into my pussy, thrusts still even and unforgivingly rapid and deep. His fingers press hard onto my swollen clit. With the arousal already mounted inside of me, I know I will soon be a lost cause.

I moan as Harlan continues his thrusts. I'm woozy and lightheaded, my cunt and clit aching from the roughness of it all.

Harlan is pounding me into oblivion.

His lips are at my ear, almost bringing me back to the surface of reality.

"Do you want to cum?" he hisses, undoubtedly chasing his own release by now. “Tell me what you want, slut.”

"Yes! Yes, please, Harlan, make me cum."

Satisfied, Harlan bites into the skin of my neck before drawing away, dragging his tongue over the angrily blooming redness where his teeth have assaulted my skin.

"Fine. Cum for me, whore." He orders.

Everything crashes.

My whole world shatters as Harlan's impossibly rapid fingers draw my release, tearing it from my bones and smashing it against the walls. The back of my head leaning up against his chest, I let myself scream but I don't hear the sound. I lose myself in total darkness, seeing, feeling, hearing nothing but the sharp, overwhelming pleasure overtaking my body, mind, and soul.

A mounting, uncomfortable pain draws me from my stupor. When I come to, I'm crumpled forward on the mattress, my ass still high in the air as Harlan continues to fuck me to his own release. His hand, I realize quickly, is still working torturous motions over my cunt. As soon as I can move again, I twist and wince, crying out in defiance.

"Harlan, stop!" I cry. "I ca-I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he snaps mercilessly.

My second orgasm of the night is hanging in the air, the aftermath of its tremors still vibrating against my clit. And Harlan is overworking it now, the overstimulation agony against my sensitive nerves.

My legs are shaking uncontrollably, my body a vessel for his pleasure. My cunt, still being brutalized with his thrusts, is impossibly wet.

"Harlan," I moan writhing underneath him, desperate to escape the pressure.

"Yes," he says, watching my futile attempts to reach for release, for escape. "Fuck, you look so... oh fuck."

I moan, the sound breaking on its way out. I feel his cock twitch inside me, and I know – I know.

Harlan's cock buries deep inside of me as thick ropes of cum lace the inside of my pussy. He roars through his orgasm, erratic thrusts milking every last drop of his cum and emptying it inside my wet, used, brutalized cunt. I'm still collapsed on my chest, face pushed into the mattress as he works every last second of pleasure. I listen to the laboured, gravelly breathing that settles in his chest as he comes down from his high.

For a few moments, he’s silent. Watching me. Looking at the beautiful mess he's made. I lay beneath him, spent and overstimulated, and finally, finally, tired and satisfied enough to rest.

That is when I feel his hands at my hips once more.

I yelp as he yanks me up and flips me around, tossing me on my back with my head against his pillows. He swings his leg over my waist to straddle me from above, eyes glued to my own. He is still breathing heavily, clearly tired and spent.

But the darkness in his expression makes it entirely clear that he still isn't done with me.

I feel his cum dripping out of me as he lowers himself on top of me, hand dipping towards my cunt.

"Harlan. Harlan, I can't!" I whine, wriggling underneath his weight.

"One more."

"I can't!"

"You can," he says darkly, eyes narrowing as they hold my gaze

I quickly find myself lost in his eyes. It is just me and him. The only two people left on the planet, as far as I'm concerned.

I exhale through wet, kiss-swollen lips as his fingers find my cunt, sliding inside, feeling the mess that he'd made inside me. He smirks, thumb rolling over my clit. I wince in pain when he makes contact. I can already feel the bruising from two rough orgasms. My body is so spent and worn and sore that I almost doubt I have another one in me.

The sound of Harlan's fingers sloshing in both of our cum mixed inside my cunt is enough to make me optimistic. Tilting my chin upwards, I moan. His touch is gentle now, finally, and it feels amazing. Peaceful. He works his fingers in and out of me slowly, thumb giving me slow, deliberate rolls.

"Harlan," I whimper. "It feels so fucking good."

He hums in response, eyes taking in my naked body as he works me through my pleasure.

His eyes skim my face, one of my cheeks red and angry from where he'd slapped me, before moving to my neck, the skin red and inflamed from his bite-mark and handprints. My breasts and hips have suffered the same fate, splattered with hot fingerprints.

"That's a good girl," he murmurs, eyes glued to my fucked-out body as his fingers work me.

With each passing moment, Harlan increases the pace. My breath hitches in my throat as I buck my hips up towards his working fingers. "Still so eager for me," he breathes, smirking.

I moan, lips parting. Somehow, inexplicably, I'm already close.

Harlan watches the pleasure mount on my face and begins to thrust his fingers deeper and work his thumb more roughly. I feel the twinge of my sore clit and groan in pain. But the pleasure doesn't subside. I whimper, still feeling the overstimulation but unable to deny the obvious pleasure that will soon hold me hostage. I whimper his name again as I feel myself growing increasingly warm, my muscles tight.

"One more," he says again, wide eyes staring intently down at me.

My third orgasm hits unexpectedly.

Erratic jolts and stinging pleasure roll through my blood. My hips buck upwards as my wetness drenches his fingers as they work madly to pull me through my peak. I ache. I burn. I'm floating. I hear myself crying out and can't stop myself. My body comes down from its high and so does my mind, growing foggy and clouded.

He's wrecked me. Just as he said he would.

I lay practically lifeless on his mattress, whimpering as my fingers reach for any part of him just to pull him close.

I can't find him. I'm blind and lost. Collapsed. Spent, wet, and brutalized, I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress with each pulse that throbs in my reddened cheeks. Somewhere, I hear Harlan whisper my name. "Such a good girl."

Did I imagine it?

No. The last thing I feel before drifting off to sleep is a kiss to my forehead and blankets tucking around my shoulder, an arm around my waist.