Seconds, minutes, hell hours could’ve passed before I feel myself surfacing. However long it was, it was long enough for Wesley to release me from my silken restraints and turn me onto my stomach.
His fingertips bite into the flesh of my hips before he raises my ass up, “Jesus fucking Christ, Stella.” He groans before shoving his head between my legs from behind, I feel his nose between my ass cheeks as his tongue swipes, lapping up cum from my pussy. His hot breath puffs against my swollen wet flesh, “If pussy were a food, and I could live off cunt alone I would never leave this fucking table, I swear to Christ.”
He moves, standing behind me to his full height before leaning down, “One more fucking taste,” He licks me from clit to asshole then grasps my hips, bruising them with his massive hands. “Now.” His hands slide from my hips and smoothly circle each globe of my ass before running them slowly up my back, his tongue follows in his hands wake circling and tracing each of my vertebrae until his hands meet my shoulders and grip them tightly.
His mouth stops between my shoulder blades and he roughly whispers against my skin, “Now, Ms. Reese,” his stomach muscles tense and I feel his cock slide between my ass cheeks before thrusting back and forth. When he stops he uses his torso to align the head of his cock at my entrance, “I’m going to fuck,” He wraps my hair around his fist and pulls my head back, “The goddamn hell out of you. Understood?”
The head of his cock pushes in only to immediately be pulled out. “Yes.” I try to nod but his grip in my hair tightens as he wraps it around his fist a second time. “Y-yes, sir.” The words fall out as I moan and try to push myself back against him.
I barely have ‘sir’ out of my mouth before he slams into me to the hilt. A piercing shriek is ripped from my throat causing him to still, the hands fisted around my hair and gripping my shoulder allow me no room for movement. I’m shocked when I feel tears bite the back of my eyelids. Wesley’s lips brush kisses between my shoulder blades before whispering, “You’ve been bent, but you’ve not yet broken, angel. Yes or No. Rust?”
Around a ragged moan I reply, “No, fuck no rust.” I rock back against him as much I possibly can trying to urge him to move.
I’ve never felt so utterly complete in all my life, at the same time completely split in two.
Pain and pleasure blend their colors, pride and humiliation lose their importance. All I care about and all I ever want I have right now in this moment, and I’ll beg to keep it, “Please, Wesley, baby, please.” I push back with every ounce of strength I own trying to create the friction I need and it causes the hairs to snap from their roots at the nape of my neck.
“You trying to fuck that cock, angel? Huh? You better not be trying to twist control away from me.” He removes the hand he has my left shoulder gripped in before landing an open palmed slap across my right ass cheek. “Now—I fucking break you.”
He grunts pulling almost completely out before thrusting back in, slamming into me over and over. “So fucking tight, angel. Fucking hell, yes. Goddamn it, you’re so fucking tight.” Both hands release their hold on me causing me to fall forward, and before I can get my hands under me to push up he circles my wrists with his fingers, bringing them both to the small of my back, he uses them as leverage and commences fucking the ever living hell out of me.
Instantly I feel the beginning tugs blur into forceful pulls, pushing me towards the edge. “Oh God, yes, Wesley, fuck that feels so good.”
With one hand he anchors both wrists securing them behind my back before bringing his other hand up to grab my shoulder. He growls the words between his uninterrupted thrusts, “You.” Thrust. “Do.” Thrust. “Not.” Thrust. “Cum.” Thrust. “Until.” Thrust. “I.” Thrust. “Say.” Thrust.
Speaking is beyond my scope of abilities. The pulls of ecstasy increase into yanks and shoves over the brink… I know he expects me to not only speak the answer but to obey his command, however my overwhelming disability has me in a position to conquer neither feat. Moans and mewls are all that I’m capable of as stars and Christmas lights spot my vision. I feel my body begin to convulse and use the last wisp of strength I possess to refrain but almost instantly I feel it snap, hurdling me over.
Wesley’s hands slide up and tighten around my throat, my back arches from the sheer force of his thrusts. When I realize he’s choking me, cutting off access to much needed oxygen panic seizes me, and my hands fly to his at the same time he yanks me up onto my knees, stabbing into me harder and faster, I claw at his hands not caring that I’m breaking skin. The wetness of blood makes it difficult but still I continue attempting to claw his hands from my throat.
“I will fucking choke you out before you cum if I have to, but you will NOT cum until I SAY you cum.” His hips are lunging erratically and his hold around my neck tightens. “NOW. FUCKING BREAK GODDAMN YOU!”
His control is snapping, so much it’s tangible, I can physically feel it snap. I somehow gasp a breath in and slam my body back at him, meeting him punishing thrust for punishing thrust. I stifle the orgasm barreling its way through me and with my last reserves of strength and dignity I spit the words out, “I DON’T BREAK, MOTHERFUCKER!”
BAM! I’m instantly on my back being jerked to the edge of the bed, Wesley yanks my ankles on to the top of his shoulders before gripping my waist and impaling me onto his cock.
His mouth crushes mine, each of his hands delicately cup my jaw as our mouths and tongues devour each other, he continues pounding into me as if his very life depends on it.
His green eyes lock with mine and he harshly growls, “Fucking cum on my cock, you little cumslut. NOW!”
My body responds urgently to his verbal demand and I throw myself, plunging over the precipice. Shutters rack through me causing my frame to convulse inside and out. I cum. HARD.
Wes slams into me balls deep… I hold onto to him, my nails scoring his back and cum again around his cock as his arms shake. I use every muscle in my pussy to grip and milk every drop of his hot cum inside me.
Only one thought flits through my mind before consciousness abruptly leaves me.
I’ll be damned… I may be a shitty sub, but Wes was right— A sub I am.
Chapter 15
Monsters in the Dark
I have watched from the shadows for as long as I can remember. As a child I watched for nothing more than a cure for boredom and dejection. Friends and family never held much importance with me. I tired very early on in life of daydreaming and people watching at nearby parks.
The picnics and tug of war I’d yearned for while watching families and friends interact had lost their appeal when I finally, at the ripe young age of eight, gave into the sadistic demons that had lived just below the surface since my very first memory.
The more I fed the demons the more their hunger expanded.
I started slow and small. Tricks and traps set up for my intended victims. Vaseline on the top step as I sat still in the shadows to watch as my forth grade teacher’s feet slip out from beneath her before falling hard down the stair well. The great thud sounding out after her screams stopped signaling the end.
Tricks and traps didn’t feed the demons for long. They wanted blood and they wanted it badly.
As a young boy, I never spoke and made sure to always blend in. If one were to ever recall my presence or a memory at best, they might recall a quiet boy in the background reading—nothing more.
Honestly, the only person that knew I wasn’t mute was myself. Sometimes even I had to hum for less than a second while utterly alone in order to verify that I indeed had a voice. It was just one I didn’t see any need for.
When the neighbor’s brakes gave out and she barreled into the busy intersection at the end of our street. No one noticed the boy hiding in the tree watching as Ms. Wilson was pulled the rest of the way through her windshield, practically in pieces.
That was my first attempt at jerking off in a tree. That day was a win-win in more ways than I would have ever imagi
ned.
The demons basked in their fulfillment as I went to read and study anything and everything I could get my hands on.
Astronomy, Geography, History, Biology and Algebra—They were my friends. I saw no need for human friends. Humans do nothing but take from each other. My friends, they did nothing but feed me, inform me, I gained more from my friends than you have ever gained from yours.
Though I loved my friends, it was Anatomy and Physiology that truly stole my breath away. When a ten year old boy stumbles across something as astounding as Anatomy and Physiology, something unexplainable occurs. For me, while reading and studying the subjects, learning the incredible give and take, cause and effect in its most fundamental state—the epithelial cell, the nerve cell, the muscle cell, the blood cell, THEY were the gospels in my mind. And Anatomy and Physiology were the bible.
I devoured any and every book affiliated with human science until I was certain if given the chance, I could end one person’s life with the knowledge I’d acquired and revive another if I truly applied myself.
And then? I studied even more.
I was somewhere in metastatic cancer, wholly enthralled with this cell, this singular fantastic cell that belonged with all the other cells, and no matter its cell ranking, be it an adipose cell or a neuron cell, it stepped out of line and walked away. It altered its course and went from just a cell to an abnormal cell, recruiting other dying cells to revolt, to begin a revolution in the form of a malignant tumor. All they would have to do is reach the lymphatic system, and then…checkmate.
It was her sad laughter that pulled me from the cell spell I was under. Her laugh was so incredibly melancholy it tore at my heart. After hiding my books away, curiosity led me from my window to the roof, where I continued hopping from tree limb to tree house and settling in the shadows and low hung branches atop the old abandoned shed in my backyard. Her hair was the color of real maple syrup. It was long and shiny, the breeze brushed the strands from in front of her face. I’d never seen anyone beautiful before, not even once in all my eleven years.
She was beauty embodied. Her face held an expression of despair veiled with fierce anger and agony laced together, covering her and creating an enigma.
Her voice, though child-like, brimmed full of desolation as she sang a somewhat familiar tune. In an effort to grasp the lyrics after she turned her back to me, I leaned over the edge of the crooked shingle roof shed, out of the shadow’s security to hear her words.
I may be mad
I may be blind
I may be viciously unkind
But I can still read what you're thinking
And I've heard is said too many times
That you'd be better off
Besides...
As her voice carried off into the chorus, she turned. Instantly, I lurched back for cover, trying to fall back into the shadows. Instead, the shingle under my foot slipped, becoming unhinged from its spot. My feet shuffled to gain tread only to come up short and kick the shingle from the old roof and land at beauty’s feet causing her eyes of every color to clash with mine.
If I were forced to ever explain my fervent need to expend, delving into the subject of English. Reading every written word known to mankind, searching adamantly for the words to piece together to help me interpret the thoughts and dormant emotions she evoked. If I were ever asked to name my muse behind mastering English Literature, it would be her…
The beauty with eyes of every color.
Chapter 16
Pawn to Rook
After I move Stella’s sleeping form up on the bed, I pull the sheet up to cover her before sliding into bed and curling her body around mine. I grip her thigh and hike it up over my waist, my lips settle on top of her head and I inhale the scent of her hair before kissing her.
God, she smells like a crisp winter morning.
I run my fingertips up and down her arm and cannot keep the ridiculous smile from my face any longer.
I look down at her through the darkness and whisper, “You don’t fucking break, angel?” I chuckle, “No, I guess you don’t my little angel that fights. But you sure as fuck submit.”
I have felt true pride in my life maybe a handful of times. Actually, I can fucking count the times on one hand and not use all five fingers.
My first touchdown in peewee football. My ma was cheering her ass off. I was supposed to be a backup fucking kicker. Well, that didn’t last very long. The coach’s kid, along with half the rest of the team, came down with a stomach flu. Yep. As much as I hate to admit it: My life was completely altered by a stomach virus.
See, at that point in my life I was nothing more than a poor kid whose mom had once been a VERY well known, well… whore for my schoolmates’ lack of better words. So to say I didn’t have any friends was putting it mildly. Now, on this fateful Thursday night, because of my height and my ‘unnatural’ ability to throw the perfect spiral at six years old, I led the remaining shitty half of our team out onto the field as quarterback. The phrases ‘hitting them in the numbers.’ And ‘threading the needle’ where whispered in excited shock throughout the entire game. However, when I was three quarters down the field facing my touchdown line and every kid on my team was either already on the ground or in the middle of being brought down… I tucked that ball under my arm and ran like the hounds of hell were snapping at my heels in the fourth quarter, last play of the game. I literally flipped my ass over the touchdown line being blocked by kids that were three and four years older than me. The moment the parents on both teams stood in unison to cheer and clap and my eyes landed on my ma and saw her smiling, beaming with pride as tears fell down her face - That was the first time I tasted pride.
The night I took my high school football team to state champions and won that motherfucker practically one handed. On the way out to the car, I had my arm around ma’s shoulder and her excited chattering went on and on until it was stopped by a gentleman asking to take us to Western Sizzling for a steak. He said he wanted to talk about my options, yeah… My options for which college I preferred.
That man was the assistant coach and head scout for LSU. He not only said that I’d get a free ticket to and through college, but that they wanted me in quarterback position for LSU before my Junior year in college. They also said that my mom’s living expenses would be paid as long as I played ball. That is probably one of my fondest memories as well as my proudest moments to date.
The third and last time I was swelled with pride was also tampered down with the knowledge that even though I’d taken control of JPH and turned it into a highly successful ‘smut rag’ publishing company, (my father’s words, not mine) and in less than two years turned the Jacob’s fortune from millions to billions. On the other side of that victory, that feat, was knowing either way the old fucking bastard that had left me and my mother in a shit town when I was a kid would forever reap any benefits of me kicking his ass at his own game of publishing monarchy.
So, now that you know about the few times I’ve felt pure pride in my life, hopefully you’ll understand that when I’m struck by the revelation that Stella did indeed submit - fighting the whole damn time - but she submitted, the pride I feel astounds me. The resounding effects of the unadulterated pride swelling inside my chest for the fourth time in all my thirty-one years, leaves me baffled and utterly confused.
At first, I wonder if it’s because I’ve finally tapped that, but quickly I discredit the thought. That can’t be it. I tried tirelessly for over six fucking years to get that bitch Rachel in bed. And it turned out little miss ‘No-I-don’t-think-so, Boss’ was just as irritating and ‘bamboo shoots up the fingernails’ torturous as all the other bitches I’d fucked within the first thirty minutes of meeting them.
I lay here looking down at Stella in my arms asleep with her body curled up against mine, my fingers twirling the ends of her chestnut hair that reaches the top of her ass, when an intense feeling of happiness fills me, the urge to protect her and keep her ha
ppy overwhelms me—it doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t irritate me. It fucking intrigues me.
These are all very new emotions for me. I am so deep in uncharted territory that it should scare the fuck out of me, but the only emotions I feel are curiosity and excitement.
At least until thoughts of her past come crashing in on my happy thoughts. Then irritation and seething anger mix with my need to keep Stell safe.
And I will keep my little fighting angel safe.
I only hope when I get bored with her, and I will - look at my track record for Christ’s sake - that Stella doesn’t end up hurt because she does something foolish like falling in love with me. She’s had enough heartache in her life, and I refuse to add any more.
Somehow, not anytime soon - this thing between us is too new - but at some point, we’ll need to have a little talk and I’ll let her know that falling for me is a no-no. I don’t necessarily want to put an expiration date on what we have, but I definitely need to let her know what we have is NOT forever and will never lead to wedding bells and two point five kids with a sappy happily ever after. It’s not in the cards for me. Hell I don’t even want those cards in my deck!
I don’t think I was born with the DNA responsible for a man to fall in love and be with the same woman forever. I’m not sure if I missed out on those because of my mother who never married, or my father, the asshole that only married to acquire a nice piece of life long arm candy.
I really like Stella, a lot, don’t get me wrong. I’m just not that guy, I never have been. And I’m really hoping that she’s not that girl. Because if she isn’t that girl, then this thing we have, could be fucking incredible! It could very well be the time of our lives, not forever, but definitely something neither of us will ever forget.
I wake up and immediately panic seizes me, choking me when I see Stella isn’t there. After I pull on some boxers I dart through the house looking for her. Once I reach the main sitting room I hear her in the kitchen growling before saying, “For an expensive looking coffee maker, you certainly are a piece of shit. How the hell?”
Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending Page 9
