25 February 2010


He's moving under me, shifting, moaning, whimpering softly. I slow the galloping of my heart and the whimpers form words, moaned and indistinct pleadings, "Please, please don't stop." His small voice hitches. "Please don't stop fucking me. ...please, I need your cock in me." there's real fear in his voice, real need, and my every instinct screams to stroke him, gentle his racing fears, but that's not how to break him.

Instead I growl in his ear, letting months of frustration harshen my already cold voice. "Beg for it, whore. I don't think you're worth any more of my fucking time, but I like to hear you beg."
His response is immediate and gratifying, writhing deliberately now against me, his muscular back against my breasts, his tiny ass cupped in the curve of my hips, the movement not only moving him along my cock but the base of my cock against my clitoris. It feels amazing, but it isn't what I told him so I wrap my hand around his throat and use my weight to press him into the bed.

"I said beg, whore, not try to fuck yourself on my cock."
He whimpers, tries to raise his hips one last time before going limp, defeated. "Please..." he whimpers. "Please..."
It's not enough, not nearly enough, but with my hand wrapped around his throat and cutting off the blood to his brain it's all he can manage and I mock him mercilessly for it.

"More, bitch. Fucking beg me for it," I tell him, slowly arching my hips to pull out.
Desperate gurgles are my only answer, and I open my hand very briefly to allow him a teasing glimpse of air- air he uses to gasp desperately, "Please fuck me!"

They're the last words he'll manage for a while.

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I am just your ordinary average every day sane psycho supergoddess