“Tell me why. Tell me why I should have this. Convince yourself for me.”
(True story) - His voice was low and gentle. His large hands wrapped around my hips and held me steady on top of him as he fucked me.
“I can’t. I...uhn...mmh...don’t like it.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. I wouldn’t lie to him. I never do.
“Let’s start there, then. Talk to me.” His pace was methodical, deliberate and unhurried. He watched my face patiently and waited for me to find my words while he casually caressed my tits in front of him.
“Well, it’s my spending money. I've always been able to...unnf...ah...use it whenever I want because I earned it at...mmm...my job. I worked hard for it.” I explained.
“You did work for it very hard, sweetie. But you didn’t earn it for yourself, did you? You earned it for your family - for me.” His cock continued to pump in and out me.
“But…! Uhnf...fff…fu-…my salary is higher than yours! I went to school. I have a degree for this job. Ah-ah...mmh...it’s a good career, my colleagues respect-"
He cut me off. “Does any of that change a thing? Be honest. Does it matter at all if you’re educated or people at work think you’re respectable? I still tell you what to wear, what to do, what to say. So does it matter? Tell me.”
“No...ah! mmh...no, it doesn’t change anything I suppose. But both names are on the account. I could withdraw my spending money on my own. Uhnf...the bank...ugh…would let me.” The sound of my sloppy cunt - my body carelessly betraying me - offended my ears.
“Yes, your name is on the account," he conceded thoughtfully. "You have access to your body too. It’s attached to you, isn’t it? Does that mean it’s yours? Can you make it orgasm?”
“Can you change it without permission?”
“Do you decide when and how I use it?”
“So does it belong to you?”
“No, it doesn’t belong to me,” my voice wobbled.
“Then why would your bank account be any different than your physical body? I own you and that means I own every little thing that you do. Everything that’s yours is actually mine.”
I could feel him pick up his pace. He moaned out the next words: “Tell me why.”
I stifled the start of tears. “I hate it because it’s oppressive and it’s wrong.”
He groaned and I felt his cock stiffen as he pumped into me harder and faster. “Why is it wrong?” he goaded me. My cunt was a mess.
“Ah-ah-ah!...Because that money is mine!” A small sob. “It’s my spending money. And I earned it, it’s from my career, and it’s mine. And I feel pride.”
“Oh. It’s okay, sweetie,” his tone was compassionate. He smiled at me gently and settled me down onto him for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll break it. Just give it a little time. You’ll feel better.”
Another little sob. I rubbed my eyes to stop tears and tried to catch my breath. I could feel every thick inch of him inside me as I straddled him. I looked into his calm and measured expression, seeking mercy there. I began again with my plea: “But that money is mine…”
He wrapped his fingers tightly around my arm, pulled me in close to him, our foreheads nearly touching. He began to pound into me, his eyes locked with mine. I felt my thoughts scatter across the surface of my mind and I scrambled to pick them up again.
His voice was suddenly dark. “Nothing is yours. Not your body or your womb, not your mind or your vote. And neither is your money. You give it all to me. Do you understand me?”
I began to cry into his neck, little sobs mixing with pathetic moans. “But I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it...”
“I know, sweetie, I know. But I want it.” He pressed on that weak spot of my mental armor, waiting for the inevitable break.
“You want it," I repeated, my voice was small.
“Yes, I want it. That’s enough of a reason. And you want to give it to me, don’t you? Nothing makes you happier than giving yourself to me, isn't that right?”
I moaned into him in assent.
“You know I get what I want. So just relax. Just go with it. Enjoy saying yes. Say yes to me - that you’ll give it to me.”
“I’ll give it to you.” Tears were in my eyes and smearing on his skin.
I could feel him throbbing in anticipation of my mental undoing. He slowed his pace again, drawing out his finish. “That’s a good girl. I’ll take care of it. And you can be a good whore for me to earn my money. I'll tell you to send me photos and if I like them, you’ll hear ping! and a few dollars will come through Apple Pay for you for being a good girl. If you want to buy something, you ask me first. I might say no, but I bet there’s a way you could earn it.” He smiled, lazily fucking me, toying with what was left of my ego. I could sense the power high he was riding and it made me drip. Even so, I felt my pride scrape itself off the pavement for a last ditch effort.
“Wait...you’d say no? Like with orgasm? So I would want to buy something with my money and you’d stop me? But, I-"
He distracted me from my question momentarily by pulling me forward over him and enveloping my nipple in his mouth, his lips teasing the sensitive skin. He picked up speed.
Again, my thoughts were tossed carelessly about and I rushed to compose myself. Before I made much progress, he placed his fingers on my lips; without thinking, I parted them to welcome him in. He gently pressed on my tongue as he pushed his fingers toward the back of my throat. I instinctively loosened the tension in my jaw and sucked on them, lapping with my tongue and coating them with saliva. He murmured his praise. Then his fingers were gone.
His thick, drool-coated forefinger pushed into my asshole without warning. An inhuman sound escaped my throat. His finger and his cock on rubbed against each other inside me as he fucked me with both.
I was crushed against him under his other arm. His voice darkened. “You think you’re even capable of owning money?” he said sharply, growling the words in my ear. "You don’t even own your holes, you whore. I can do whatever I want to you and you couldn’t stop me if you tried. Everything you have is mine because you are mine and that includes your money. I decide how you earn it back and how much, and you will thank me for it.”
I nodded dumbly, glassy-eyed, mumbling yes on repeat. A string of drool from my slackened mouth pooled on his pillowcase. The fullness in both holes overwhelmed me. He praised me for my obedient acquiescence and rocked into me to finally empty his balls into my cunt.
His cock pulsed as his orgasm faded and he groped my tits and hips at his satisfied leisure. I leaned over him with half-lidded eyes, noticing the drool stain on his pillow. I vaguely pondered if I’d be punished for making a mess, but nothing else in particular came to my mind. He smiled with what appeared to be pride, and I smiled back.
Pride looks so good on him, I thought.
