The Virgin Market: A Dark MFM Romance

by Dark Angel

  “Yes, yes, Damien,” I say quickly. “Please…and thank you,” I say with every bit of politeness I can muster. Emily Post doesn’t exactly cover this, though I get the feeling that she should add a chapter.

  A thrill runs through me.

  I didn’t know what I was missing all this time, being a virgin.

  Of course, Damien said I could come, not that he would fuck me. But regardless every experience with him is so intense that it almost feels like the rest of my life isn’t in color. I shouldn’t think about it this way. Shouldn’t think about him so kindly. But I can’t help it when I’m about to explode because I’m so close to having an incredible orgasm.

  Damien pulls me off of him and lies me down on the table. He stands in front of me and licks his fingers, then presses them into me. His face goes down to my clit. He furiously pumps and licks and strokes and tears everything out of me but he hasn’t actually said I could come, and even though I'm close, I don't.

  “Now, come for me now,” Damien moans against my pussy.

  Oh God, yes, I'm going to come so hard now. I slam my eyes shut, squeezing my eyelids shut and clamping my pussy around his fingers. I fist my hands into his hair and hold him close to me.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whimper as I breathe in and out and the sensation courses through me. There’s a fire in my veins that’s tearing through my whole body. Molten arousal heats to my core and my cum is blasting out of me in large, creamy gushes, and Damien is licking them up. The wet sound of his tongue and fingers working my desperate pussy are the wettest sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. He could be splashing in a pool down there; I’m so wet. My legs are shaking furiously, flailing about as if I have no control over them. I really don’t because my body is just an extension of my pussy right now. Damien lifts a hand up and squeezes one of my nipples and I scream. A jolt of lightening from my pussy to my nipple tears through my body.

  How can he do this? It's as if my body was only in my custody before, and poorly. I mean, I’ve never made myself feel this way. I could never even come before. Until I masturbated thinking about Damien. That means…fuck. I mean, Damien owns my body. He knows it better than I do. He presses buttons I didn’t know I had, releases me in a way I didn’t know I was wound. I'm putty in his hands, and I’m right now literally melting around him.

  I’m frightened when I start to come down from my orgasmic high. I can’t feel this way about Damien, I just can’t. I can’t let him own me. He can’t control me with lust.

  I’ll be good for him as he terms it. I have to, in order to stay safe. I’ll get away, though, and I’ll forget that Damien ever did these things to my body. I’ll try to forget how they feel. I'll try to forget how he was so comfortable owning every inch of me, and how I wanted him to. I shudder. I can’t think about that. I need to erase all of this from my mind. I have to go to another place when he touches me. A place where that is okay and when I'm free, it isn’t okay and that’s fine because I'm not that person anymore.

  I don’t feel confident after I come. I want to hide my body now and the possessive way he touches me, even though he’s pulling his fingers out of my soaked pussy, I just feel so strange. How could I let this man touch me like this? How could I want it?

  He spanked me! He didn’t even fuck me and he made me come so hard that I think my head hurts from all the pressure relieved. I’m parched like a desert in my mouth, and my pussy and thighs are soaking wet like I’ve been drenched by a hose. My abdomen is sore from just how hard I came and pushed when I came. My legs are limp water balloons. I can’t let myself be rung out to dry like this at the hands of some insane rich man.

  I may not have school anymore—I’m so far behind that I might not be able to catch up; I can’t explain why I’ve been absent. I may not have my parents—I will never step foot in their house again and they are not anything to me. I may not have anything in mind, and the only thing I do want is Damien, but I cannot let this own me. I'm the keeper of my soul, and I can’t let it slide down my pussy and into Damien’s mouth. He’ll swallow me whole if I let him, and I just can’t allow that.

  “I want to take a shower,” I tell him. I wonder if I'm allowed to say that. If he’ll want to accompany me. If he’ll deny me for some reason.

  “Of course,” Damien says. He acts like this is the most natural thing in the world. It fucking isn’t.

  I scamper out of the room and into my room to wash everything off of me. I can’t wash Damien off of me anymore than I can escape him.

  Damien isn’t just touching me and erasing my past, he’s marking my future. I know now, beneath the pelting hot water that I try to get release from, that I am always going to remember what Damien has done to my body. So what? That pleasure is nothing compared to what he has done to my mind. He has become something I want. Yet, not in the throes of an orgasm or under his current control in this second, I am afraid. I feel feeble. It's like all the begging I did to come, asking if he was going to keep me, telling him that I want to be good…it's like the words I know that I said must've come from someone else’s mouth because no way could I have been the one who said them. I wash my hair, wash my body, and feel the control of my body returning to me. I’m not oversensitive anymore, and I’m starting to feel downright exhausted. I'm going to close my eyes, but then I'll be trapped in dreams of Damien. I know I can’t erase him from my mind. I have to separate this part of me later. I have to find the confidence to be this good girl and his…and then escape and peel off that person as my past…like a skin coming off a snake.

  I feel like a snake. Like I'm betraying myself.

  Because I have never felt like I belonged more than when Damien told me I was being good. I can’t let that be my strength. Damien can’t tear me down and make me feel like he’s building me up…can he?

  9

  SARAH

  I n the safety of my bedroom, I found a brazen lust within me. A confidence and a desire that surpassed my fear, nerves, or even good sense.

  Now I’ve left the room that Damien has set up as mine. I’m standing in front of a table in his foyer as he summons me. I’m shaken completely by this summoning. I have lost all the fire in me that made me push to get to come. I don’t know where I stand right now.

  But now, I'm in Damien's crosshairs with none of that confidence. None of the brazen lust could save me. I have whimpering, fearful arousal from my traitorous body and it's a torture that felt so frightening and so good at the same time that I felt I was just one second away from crying. I’m not sad. Sure, I do have things that I could be sad about. But of all the emotions that are swirling within me, sadness isn’t one. I'm a rainbow of lust, angst, fear, and anticipation.

  Damien's eyes take me in now. Dark and lust-filled, they are like the key and the lock to this maze swirling inside me. Those eyes hold the secrets to my deepest desires, and they lock me away in how he fulfills them without even taking my virginity.

  I don't know why Damien doesn’t fuck me. The little voice in my soul tells me that it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a virgin. If anything, my virginity should mean that he wants to fuck me more, right? Guys like that first-one-to-go-there thing, right?

  There is nothing about Damien that is like other guys. I could never presume to know what he’s going to do much less compare it to my already meager knowledge of men.

  I remember the tickets, now. What if he is merely sampling the wares without ruining the merchandise? That file can’t just be for Damien…he has me and knows all those things. They seem like a deed. I guess it could be just for Damien, but I can’t shake the feeling that they mean something else. That the tickets are intended to be used for offering me up to someone else. It is foolish, it is shameful, but the idea of someone else taking my virginity, if it is to be taken, is horrible to me. I want him to want to have me for himself. If nothing else, after all the sexual agony and ecstasy that Damien has put me through, it honestly just seems wrong to imagine anyone else
taking my ‘v-card.’ God that seems damn foolish to think of that way.

  I have to stop using boyfriend, normal-type things about Damien in my mind. That’s just so not the case. I mean, who has a boyfriend that tells them if they can orgasm or not? Who owns them? Fuck, everything about this is so twisted because I have this sinking feeling that I’m somehow ruined for normal. That Damien has given me a taste of something so very different…and maybe I’ll never be able to have anything different. That even if I escape that I’m still forever warped.

  I shouldn't want anyone to touch me. The truth is that Damien has awakened a darkness in me. I want to say that he has polluted me with his own darkness, tainted me with his desires and his mind games, but when I ran up those stairs and made myself come just thinking about him touching me, that is all me. That is all my own darkness. Has this always existed inside me? Does Damien unlock a secret part of me…and will he abandon me before more comes to pass? I want to act on all the filthy desires I don’t quite know how to name.

  Sure, a few glances, a grasp, a promise that I couldn't understand from Damien were all dark inspiration. But there is absolutely something deep within me, and I now plumb those depths because I met Damien. But I know that darkness is within me and isn’t new. The parts inside me that know better, that could resist, are drowned out in waves of the tantalizing pleasure of Damien's hands on me; my resistance is drowned out in imagining Damien’s touch.

  I’m contemplating my very existence over here, as if I don’t remember that Damien has summoned me and he has shown me that he can keep me out of my head. The pleasure he can bring me, and the respite from the tangled web inside my mind? I’m actually grateful for it.

  "Undress. I want to see your body, Sarah," Damien says through gritted teeth. I don’t think he is angry with me, but I know a rage has bubbled close to the surface for him. I can hear it in his voice; I can see it in the way he moves. His being seems shaken with a hostility that isn’t aimed at me. It couldn’t be because of me, right? I’ve done everything I can to be obedient.

  I tremble, my fingers barely moving.

  Damien's hand reaches out and captures my hand that has just gripped a button on my blouse. His eyes dare mine to resist, but I'm frozen. Dropping my hand, his hand reaches for my buttons now. Grasping between the opening between one button and another's gap, he tears down my blouse. My breasts bounce out, my bra getting torn in the process. His strength consumes me, the fear within me transformed into longing. If he is taking from me what I want to give him, the whole responsibility and blame for this could be on him. Not on me. I want to surrender, but I won’t. The part of me that is giving way to him right now, I tell myself that’s the other part of me that I’m separating into for my safety. Should Damien ravage me, I can color outside of the lines of reason and morality. I can simply give in to desire. Match his passion with my own.

  His mouth closes over one of my breasts, and his hand over the other. Neither touch is gentle or kind. No, Damien is devouring and fondling my flesh with the ferocity of a man having his first drink after being deserted for far too long. Knowing my body is quenching the dark desires within him thrills the deepest parts of me. Tremors of lust and need shoot through my veins. The moans flowing through my lips are so raw, so full of unbridled lust, that if I didn’t feel my lips shaking to release them, then I never would have thought that the urgent, desperate sounds were coming from me.

  "Damien," I groan his name. He doesn't respond and I don't say anything else. His singular focus is on my breasts, and his intense touch pulls back its intensity every second, so that he's no longer roughly touching me but softly. Maddeningly. I want to scream out how much I need more. I don't know what I need, but less of him is definitely not it. I am panting, moaning, making a chorus of sounds and he is barely touching me. His tongue laps over a nipple, and then rolls down, flicking my sensitive skin. Pulling back, he blows warm air on the wet skin and the cool air around us wars for sensation. His fingers are playing with my other nipple, just barely stroking circles, lines, touches that are making me so eager for what he offered before that I'm building a frustration with my lust that makes me feel like I might burst. Damien drops his hands and looks me in the eyes. He's daring me to beg. My body is desperate for me to vocalize pathetic attempts to get him to do more of something I can't quite verbalize.

  Both of his hands press firmly into my stomach, then trail up to capture my breasts. He squeezes them, and then releases my abused breasts. They ache from how roughly he's touched me. I'm whirling with the thrill of the pleasure his touch brought, and the pain. I'm so confused, and I'm so needy.

  Until just now, I couldn't really know that it would feel good. When I've masturbated to the thought of him touching me, the night that I met him, I hoped that he would touch my breasts. When I came, I squeezed my own breasts and it felt really good. But Damien's hands, touching me, are more pleasure than I can hardly stand. How can I feel so good and not be having an orgasm, I don't know, but I'm eager for his touch. The way his eyes look at me builds a pressure in my stomach that is so close, already, to an orgasm. The man is pure sex. When he touches me, I melt. When he looks at me, he drags me down into the hottest parts of hell. And every second he doesn't touch me more, I'm in the worst and best kind of torture. The anticipation could kill me with desire.

  "Sarah, you want something more, you speak up," Damien says. His voice is gruff, thick and heavy, and it makes my head spin.

  There's something about him saying my name in that dark voice full of wicked promises that makes me want to moan. Instead, I bite my lip and wonder how I should answer him. I don't know what to say. I want to tell him that I don't know what I want, but all I am able to muster up the courage to say is, "Don't stop, please," in a whimpering, pathetic voice. Will he take pity on me? Will the promises in his voice be the answers to my pleas?

  "Get on your knees," Damien says.

  Confused, I drop to my knees. It is a strange feeling to have my knees pressing into the floor, looking up at him.

  "Palms flat on your thighs," he continues to command me. He's so unreadable right now and it's maddening. Am I in trouble? What is about to happen? I'm so exhilarated, but I can't stop this feeling like I'm trying to run upstream. I'm hopelessly lost in what I'm doing, but I need to obey him. It isn't as much fear as I would like it to be. Part of me that I just don't understand, that part of me inside which I've never met before but is brought out by Damien, makes me eager to please him, draws me to obey him. I hope that there is a reward...if this is not a punishment. I wish that I knew what was happening.

  "Here are the rules, baby girl," Damien says. He looks me straight in the eyes when he calls me baby girl and my pussy soaks through my panties at the words. I see his inhale, a quick breath in his throat, like he knows. Something has passed between us, though I'm not exactly sure what. I just know that whatever it unlocked between us, I want to walk through that door. I want him to press my inside and show me every new thing that I know he can. I don't know what's in store for me but I want to feel it, explore it. I want to be whatever it is that he wants me to be. I'm ashamed at how strong my feelings are, and for a man who I think is going to sell me. I don't want to be sold. I don't think I even want to be owned, though something about Damien owning me thrills me. It also terrifies me. Could I ever be what he wants? I'm a virgin, after all. I don't even know what's going on here. I wonder how long he'll make me wait, breathing in and out with my palms pressing into my thighs almost painfully with my nerves, and I realize when I catch his gaze that he's doing this on purpose. Almost as if he can see that my mind is racing and he's trying to make sure that I suffer. It is evil, pure and simple, but there's something about his control exerted in every simple moment that is addicting. I want to know more of his control. I want to know that I've pleased him. More than anything I want to see some kind of struggle on his face, some kind of passion in his power. The way that he'd touched my breasts gave me a taste of his posse
ssiveness and the way his raw power could turn into passionate sin, and that's all I ache for. I want it any way he can give it to me.

  "You are to listen to what I say, and follow each of my commands." Damien cracks his knuckles. I look into his eyes, hoping to gauge his state of mind as he orders me, but something dark passes through his eyes and he gives me another command. "Eyes to the ground."

  I comply. I felt a palpable loss in not being able to look at him. Damien is no doubt gorgeous, but I want to drown in his eyes. I want to desperately search the torrential waves that I see behind his facade of control. But now I don't have that chance. I almost want to look at him now as much I want him to touch me. But I listen intently, trying not to focus on my sweating palms betraying how nervous I am.

  "If you obey, you will be rewarded."

  I like the sound of this, but I've learned something in the heavy air of Damien's world versus the light air of what feels like my former life. There will be a counterbalance to this.

  "If you disobey, you will be punished."

  There it is. So why does any attention from Damien make me want to jump up and down? I've got a frenetic joy at the thought of him exerting either reward or punishment against me. Like, I have been consumed by my need for him and any bit of whatever he has to offer is water to my thirsty soul.

  "You do not have a say in any of this. You are not to speak unless I have asked you a direct question. If I ask you a question, you are not to lie. If you do, I will know, and you will be punished. Do you understand?"

  I start to nod, and he slaps me right in the face.

  I'm shocked, and I cry out, bringing my hand to touch where he slapped me. I look at him, tears welling in my eyes.

  He grabs my hand, getting down to my level and into my face, and presses it back to my lap forcefully. "Do you understand? I don't like to repeat myself." I hear the power in his voice, but, undoubtedly, I hear that he's aroused. It hurt when he hit me, but my pussy is aching for him now, thrumming with need. I'm so confused, but I know I don't want him to move from out of my face. Still, I need to listen. I bring my eyes to the ground. "Yes, I understand."