cherished.
Why can’t it always be like
this?
She could walk, but she still
wanted to be carried, and so she feigned extreme fatigue from the sex, which
was not far from the truth. Her wrists and ankles wore the red bands of the
cuffs, and he seemed quite taken by these marks of his domination over her.
“So you see, this is the lounge,”
he said, still smiling. “Do you like it? Do you want to lie on the couch? Or do
you want me to take you upstairs to the bedroom?”
“Bedroom,” she mumbled against
his chest. She imbibed his sweaty scent.
“OK. Bedroom it is.”
His smile suggested that he knew
she was pretending, and he was letting her pretend for as long as he saw fit.
It was an intense psychological
game, one that she was not very adept at playing. Unfortunately, she was
already mired in it and she had to ride it out. The trouble with relationships
founded on sex was that they didn’t quite know how to behave when they were not
having sex. Or maybe it was just her, and he was behaving the way he had always
behaved in all his relationships founded on sex.
Sometimes, she found the incredulous
thought flitting through her mind:
This is my Professor.
This is the man/superman shifter
of my dreams.
And at other times, she had to
tell herself to get over it already. So she was a cinder girl who had gone to
the ball and was picked by the handsome prince. You are in the fairytale
already. Get over it.
He carried her upstairs. It was a
penthouse, after all. Upstairs, he brought her to a large room on their left.
It had a small sitting area and a large king-sized bed mounted on a dais, as if
it was a throne. The bed was all done in white – silk coverlet, damasked
headboard, pillows and all.
He laid her upon it and stood at
the foot of her bed, looking down at her with a curious expression in his eyes.
“Did you like that?” he said.
Like what? Being carried? Being
fucked by him in both holes without a condom?
Yes!
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
He laughed and slapped her thigh
lightly.
“Quit pretending to be a wilting
lily and get up. Let’s shower and we’ll go for dinner.”
She had to smile at that.
The bathroom was cavernous and
all done in white tiles and marble with grey streaks in the slabs. The bathtub
was an old-fashioned one. It was supported by four brass legs in the shape of
dragon claws. There was a shower cubicle as well as a bidet.
Rust led her to the shower
cubicle. He fiddled with the knobs on the wall, and a warm rain shower
instantly poured from apertures in the ceiling, drenching both their naked
bodies.
She giggled in delight, and he
smiled broadly to see her so happy.
“Come on,” he said, “let me bathe
you.”
In his eyes was a strange light
that she could have almost mistaken for love. But not love. He wasn’t
capable of loving someone like her. Not the likes of him .
He soaped her all over, focusing
especially on her tits and pussy and ass. His soapy fingers even wormed into
her pussy hole to clean it out thoroughly. Then she washed him, pausing
significantly at his cock and balls. His cock immediately got hard again when
she was soaping it.
“Ready for another round?” he
said in a husky voice.
Then he pushed her back against
the wall.
“Straddle me,” he commanded.
She put her arms around his wet
neck and he lifted her by her waist. She wrapped her legs around his hips and
eased her pussy down onto his ramrod cock. He speared her easily, pushing apart
her pussy walls as though they were paper.
Using the wall as leverage, he
rocked his hips against hers, once again fucking her with an intensity which
drove her mind into delirium. Her back thudded against the hard, smooth wall,
as did her soft buttocks. His cock pummeled into her, slamming her hips against
the wall in a wet slap-slap-slap of rhythm.
She could only gasp under the
cascade of warm water and let him ride her to another oblivion of stars and
whirly planets and bright colored lights.