One hand gripping my throat.
The other securing my hands together, pressing them into the pillow in front of me.
My back to his front.
His pace is punishing, driving the bed against the wall with each thrust forward.
The only light in the room is coming from above the bed, dimmed to low.
Every ounce of my concentration is devoted to staying quiet, just as with any other night.
But there is a significant difference this night. I don't hold back to avoid his ire, his sharp words like usual.
My nerves are aflame with the thought that this will end...before I come.
And if I let myself dwell on how that makes me feel, I'll break.
No, that can wait for later. When I'm dismissed. Alone with my feelings of self-loathing.
To think I ever thought I had a handle on this...
The little self-presevation I've managed to hold onto throughout this arrangement is whispering to me.
Telling me not to succumb.
To tune out the way my body wants to respond to him.
But it's of no use.
He has, whether he likes it or not, come to know my body. He'll recognize the telltale signs of my orgasm approaching. For this reason, I know that my chances of feeling the pleasure are slim.
But I don't let that matter.
Because I'm somehow in that place.
The place I've spent months fighting to stay away from. Where my common sense cannot be heard above my body's silent screaming.
Where I feel nothing outside of this.
Every thrust, every withdrawal.
The hot, wet texture of his cock driving my body weight to strain on the joints of my arms.
The way his hips jut at an upward angle every time he thrusts into me.
His words, although meant to lash and sting, have come to accomplish the opposite now.
The place that he can take my body to. Where there simply is no room for my mind to follow.
How did I get here?
How badly my mind wants to shut off...disconnect. But my body's need to feel wins out...
It's enough for me to lose myself...only for a second.
And something escapes through my teeth.
It's a primal, raw sound that comes from me. Guttural and smooth.
In any other situation, such a sound would be expected, welcomed.
A confirmation of a job well done.
But not here. Not within these walls.
I know his instruction was to stay quiet, but I'm resigned to my role. I've begun to wonder which nights are more to his liking. Those when I'm able to contain myself and follow every rule to precision?
Or those like tonight...where my body acts of it's own accord?
In an instant, his cock is gone from the place where I hate that I crave it.
"Such a big fucking mouth. Can't follow a simple goddamn instruction, can you?"
His words a soundtrack to his body's rough manipulation of mine, up and off of the bed.
We're on our feet now.
He remains behind me and holds my arms, elbow to elbow, pinned to my back in both of his hands. We're walking toward the large, floor to ceiling picture windows. One of his hands leave my arms, but I know not to alter my position.
Seconds pass and I hear a faint beep.
What the hell?
He's used a remote to draw back the automatic curtains. The twinkling city lights of Seattle appear before my eyes and my heart rate quickens. We're in a penthouse, rather high up. And despite my contradicting activities of late, there is a sliver of modesty lingering that is enough to make me hesitant. Words, hot and humid in my ear as the realization of what he's doing registers.
"Such a disobedient little cock slut. What's wrong, huh? Is my attention not enough for you? You need more?"
My right cheek is pressed against the glass of the smooth window surface. Hot flesh meets cool glass and any objection I may have contemplated is eradicated.
His voice is sarcastic...insidious.
"Hmm...that must be it. I'm nothing if not accommodating. You want to be heard? Then by all means..."
He applies pressure to the side of my head with his hand and drives his cock forward without warning.
I am pinned and impaled.
"Why so quiet now, Isabella? Don't hold out on me now. Fucking scream. I want the whole fucking city to know what a little whore you are!"
I bite my lip to stifle a moan. Surely I should feel angry? Exposed and ravaged against a window for the world to see?
Surely my self-respect would choose this moment to rear its head. To prompt the uttering of the words that would end this entirely...
But I cannot.
No. I need this.
Although I've silently spoken these words to myself hundreds of times since we met, I know that the need I'm feeling right now has nothing to do with that of our past encounters.
And later, I'll hate myself for giving in to it. For allowing my body to derive pleasure from words and actions so degrading. And even still....that self-hatred simply isn't enough to make my mouth form the words.
My heart is a thundering rhythm in my chest. My breath catches on every upward thrust he delivers. I want to find purchase somewhere, to brace myself. But my arms remain bound behind me at the elbows. My breathing is loud and harsh against the glass, causing it to fog upon every exhale.
While his actions are meant to be punishing, my body is traitorous. I can feel the sweet burn beginning.
He is silent but continual in his assault. I'm given no more time to contemplate what his reaction will be to my impending orgasm.
Suddenly, his right arm snakes around my waist and he lifts me off of the floor, followed instantly by a sharp thrust of his cock.
And I'm screaming.
He pulls back only to thrust forward harder than before.
I couldn't stifle myself even if I tried, which I was too absorbed to.
"That's it, bitch. Fucking. Take. My. Cock. "
He drives every word home with a feral jab at my pussy. My feet are dangling from the ground and it is all too much. My body is at his mercy, completely bent to his will.
"Look out the window."
His voice is winded, but firm. His pounding never falters throughout his verbal lashing.
"Turn your head. Look out the window. I wonder how many people are watching you right now. Wondering how I got lucky enough to be fucking you so hard against this window."
My entire body is flush to the glass, save for the expanse of skin his arm covers over my stomach. His thrusting becomes erratic in rhythm and I'm dropped to my feet without warning. He simultaneously releases my arms as well and I am putty.
I'm given no time to worry about regaining composure.
He withdraws his cock and I emit a sound that I'd be embarrassed about, if I only had the energy. He pushes on the back of my head, silently commanding that I bow it forward. His other hand palms my lower back just above my ass and shoves my upper body downward. My forehead is flat to the floor, as are my forearms.
Hands spread flat, wide. Bracing myself on the floor for the severe re-entry he no doubt has in store for me. He impatiently nudges my knees apart as far as they'll go and his hands disappear from my body all together.
I'm left to maintain my position. My limbs are shaky, my body exhausted.
Yet I'm still perched here and waiting, on the very edge of my climax.
How can I possibly still be on the edge?
He scoots forward until he is kneeling in between my spread legs from behind and I feel him line his cock up. His body is bowed over my own without touching.
He's always so careful...
Before he acts, he taunts...just as I knew he would.
While rubbing the head of his dick up and down over my neglected clit, he reminds me of my place, yet again.
"But we know the truth don't we, Isabella? We both know why you're here. Luck has nothing to do with it. You're just a cock hungry little whore who's doing her job. This is what you're good at. The only use I have for you is this right...here."
And with that, he impales again.
He thrusts forward so hard, my arms falter momentarily and I nearly collapse.
"Tsk, tsk. You're not tired, are you, whore? Am I wearing you out?"
His pace is strict.
Slam. Pound. Slam. Pound.
Hard, unrelenting, punishing.....and I fall.
I never stood a chance to withhold.
My pussy contracts viciously and I scream out, louder than I've ever dared to before.
But it's of little choice.
He is taken by surprise, I can tell, because his rhythm stutters as my muscles grip him...the closest thing to an embrace we'll ever share.
I'm given no chance to ride out the pleasure.
He growls out a loud roar and slams himself into me so hard that I do falter this time, and collapse.
My breathing labored an hot, my entire body is face down and flush with the floor.
But his outburst isn't the vocalization of his orgasm.
That'd be too easy.
"Oh no. I'm not done with you yet. What the fuck did I tell you before, huh?"
He grabs both side of my hips and yanks my lower body up and back, forcing me to my knees. I am useless to resist, but too spent to assist in the position. My arms are extended and limp above my head, my forehead to the carpet. There is nothing left, not even enough to brace myself for what I know will be a harsh proceeding.
And I'm proven right.
Just as rough as I'd expected, he is speared inside me again. His words aimed at reminding me of my place here.
"You. Don' t. Run. This. Shit."
Speak, thrust, speak, thrust.
He is determined to regain the upper hand. His left hand grabs my left shoulder and tugs.
"Get the fuck up."
I force myself to comply and flatten my palms to the floor. Shakily, I manage to lift my upper body once again. He plants his hands firmly onto my lower back.
"That's right, little cock slut. You do as you're told. You're here for me to fuck as I. See. Fit."
He is driving his words home roughly.
"I don't give a motherfuck whether you come. You just remember your place."
I feel him shift and he forces my upper body back to the floor.
He can't make up his mind on where he wants me.
Push and pull.
He's angry now.
My orgasm has an acidic effect on him.
I comply each time, knowing his temperament toward me will be the same regardless.
He places his left foot flat on my left shoulder blade. Bracing himself there, he slams into me.
He's taking and taking, driving into me at a furious pace.
Despite his rough handling, he's kept his word and never marked me.
Abruptly he removes his foot.
"On your back. Now."
I'm not sure how my body is still able to abide, but it does. The level of exhaustion I feel is overwhelming and once again, I think of the words that would end it all. Just as soon as the thought occurs, he pulls his cock out of me and straddles my waist on his knees.
He rips the condom off and gives his cock three harsh strokes before he is erupting.
Hot and wet laps at my stomach, my chest, my face.
I close my eyes.
The most important rule.
He seizes the opportunity.
"That's a good whore. Don't look at me. Oh fuck. Yeah, that's more like it. You look good covered in my cum. Maybe I should make you wear it out of here. Keep it as a reminder...a nice little trophy of how good you are at what you do. You'd wear my cum with pride wouldn't you, Isabella?"
My eyes remain closed, as do my lips. Everything is rhetorical. He doesn't want an answer.
My ears register him as he rises and enters the bathroom without another word. I hear the shower start and know that I've been given my cue to leave.