Trust Me
“You trust me, right?” She looked up from her phone to meet her boyfriend’s earnest gaze, his eyes sparkling back at her innocently. They were curled up together on the couch, winding down from the day. A soft smile lit her face at his words and she didn’t hesitate before answering.
“Of course I trust you, silly.” She set her phone down on the coffee table and tucked herself closer against him. “Why are you asking? Should I be worried you’re plotting something behind my back?” She teased softly.
He laughed before pressing a quick kiss to her hair, “Not exactly. But I was thinking about trying something new.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes curious. “New like… a new Thai place? Or new like you finally want to come to pilates with me?”
He made a face at her because smiling. “New like… chemical enhancement… for couples” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.
Her eyes narrowed with amused suspicion. “Enhancement. That’s a very corporate word for whatever weird sex thing you’re about to propose.”
“It’s not weird!” he protested, the picture of mock-offense. “It’s science. Aphrodisiacs. The good, modern kind. Safe, tested. Supposed to just… turn up the volume on everything.”
She snorted, pushing lightly at his chest. “You’re insane. You can’t honestly believe that’s real? Where did you even get aphrodisaics?”
“A very discreet online retailer with excellent reviews,” he said, posturing with faux pride. “Come on, sweetheart. It’ll be fun. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
“You promise, huh?” she teased, a flicker of real interest behind her skepticism. “Based on what? The five-star review from ‘HornyDaddy69’?”
“Based on me,” he said, his voice dropping, losing some of its banter and gaining a layer of warm, convincing sincerity. He cupped her cheek. “I’ll take care of you. The whole time. It’s just supposed to… heighten everything. Make everything feel more intense, better. You trust me, right?”
She searched his face. His eyes were clear, affectionate, fervent.
“I do trust you,” she said slowly. “It just sounds… intense.”
“That’s the point,” he coaxed, leaning in to brush a kiss against her temple. “And if you hate it, we stop. Immediately. I just want you to feel good. With me… I want to make you feel good.”
The combination of his teasing proposition, his sudden seriousness, and his sincerity made her smile. She felt a thrill, a nervous flutter low in her belly. What was the harm, really? With him?
“Okay,” she breathed, the word barely a whisper. “Okay, you weirdo. But if I hate it, it’s on you and you have to go to pilates with me.”
His grin was brilliant, triumphant. “Deal.” He kissed her, slow and deep, a seal on the promise. “You’re gonna love it.”
He got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. One was perfectly clear. The other had a faint, almost imperceptible cloudiness to it. He handed the cloudy one to her.
“Bottoms up. Takes about twenty minutes, they say.”
She took the glass, hesitated for only a second, and drank it down. He watched her, his expression unreadable for a moment before the easy smile returned. He took her empty glass, set both aside, and pulled her into his lap, her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her middle.
“Just relax,” he murmured into her hair. “Let it happen.”
For the first fifteen minutes, it was normal. They talked about their days, his hands stroking her arms, her stomach. Then, a warmth began to bloom in her core. Not the slow burn of arousal, but a sudden, invasive heat, like a furnace had been lit between her hips. She shifted in his lap.
“Starting?” he asked, his voice knowing.
“I… yeah. It’s really warm.”
The warmth became a throbbing. She felt dampness seep into her underwear, an embarrassing, immediate gush. Her nipples tightened painfully against the fabric of her shirt.
Another few minutes. She wriggled again, a restless little movement. Her breathing hitched slightly. “Babe...”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I feel… weird. Tingly.” Her voice had lost its playful edge, replaced by a soft, wondering confusion.
“That’s it working,” he murmured, tightening his arms just a fraction. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you.”
The tingling became a buzz, the buzz became a thrum. Her body grew pliant and heavy against him, then tense with a new, gathering awareness. A small, breathy sound escaped her lips. She pressed back against him, his solid warmth making her dizzy with want.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her head lolling back against his shoulder. Her skin was flushed, dewy with a light sweat. “Babe… it’s… I feel so…”
“I know,” he soothed, but the tone was changing, hardening at the edges. The caring boyfriend was receding, replaced by something else watching from behind his eyes. “Feel how hot you are? How bad you want it?”
She nodded frantically, her hands coming up to clutch at his forearms. Her hips made an involuntary, desperate little circle against him. “Please… touch me…”
“I am touching you, baby,” he said calmly, his hands still anchored on her stomach, holding her firmly in place.
“No, please,” she begged, her voice cracking. One of her hands slid down, fumbling for the waistband of her panties. A raw, needy sound was building in her throat.
His hand shot down and caught her wrist in an iron grip, pulling it away. “Ah-ah. Not yet.”
She whimpered, a sound of pure, frustrated agony. Her whole body was trembling, strung tight as a wire. “Please babe, I need… I can’t… please, just let me…”
“Let you what?” he asked, his voice dropping into a cruel, amused drawl. The mask was off now. “Let you rub your little pussy like a desperate slut? Already?”
She froze, the words slicing through the drugged haze. “W-what?”
He laughed, a low, mean sound that vibrated through her. “Look at you. One little drop of some drug and you’re falling apart. Begging and whining.”
Tears of confusion and overwhelming need sprang to her eyes. “You promised… you said you’d take care of me…”
“And I am,” he said, his free hand sliding down from her stomach, over the soft cotton of her shirt, to cup her between her legs. He didn’t press, just held his hand there, a maddening, static pressure and an all-encompassing warmth. She cried out, bucking against it, but his other arm was a steel band across her ribs, holding her utterly still.
“So wet for me already,” he mocked, his lips against her ear. “I can feel it soaking through your panties. Your pretty little cunt must be so swollen, throbbing. Is your clit hard, baby? Is it aching?”
She couldn’t form words, just whimpered, her body arching and straining against his immovable hold. The need was a physical pain, a white-hot coil in her belly.
“Pathetic,” he whispered, the word a venomous caress. “My smart, sweet girlfriend, turned into a dumb, dripping whore by a bit of a drug. You’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you? You’d say yes to anything.”
He traced a single, slow finger along the fabric of her panties, over the aching, swollen flesh beneath, never dipping beneath the fabric. She whined, a ragged, broken sound.
“Please! Please, just fuck me, touch me, anything!”
He shifted her, pulling her back so he could see her face. Her lips were parted, her pupils blown wide with lust and despair. He smiled, a predator admiring his trapped prey. “God, you beg so prettily. It’s the best part. Watching my perfect, composed girlfriend reduced to this. To a begging, writhing thing. It’s all for me, isn’t it?”
She nodded frantically, beyond pride, consumed by the fire he’d lit. “Yes! Yours, all yours. Please, I’ll do anything.”
“I know you will.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m going to make it better. I promise. I’m going to touch your perfect little pussy. I’m going to play with that swollen clit until you scream for me. Would you like that?”
A sob of relief and anticipation broke from her. “Yes! Oh, God, yes, please!”
“Such a good girl,” he purred, shifting her again. He reached over to the coffee table next to the couch and picked up a small jar.
He smirked at her. “I forgot to mention, the aphrodisiac wasn’t the only thing I got for you.”
He unscrewed the lid. Inside was a cream, white and innocuous. “This is part two. It’ll cool the burn, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
He dipped two fingers into the cream. With agonizing slowness, he brought his hand between her legs. She gasped, her entire body arching, offering herself up to him. He smiled, a cruel, satisfied curve of his mouth.
He didn’t go straight for her clit. He painted the cream over her inner thighs first, the cool sensation a sharp contrast to the heat of her skin, making her jerk and whimper. He slid her panties down her legs, the whisper of air against her swollen, needy pussy making her shudder.
"Look at this," he murmured, his voice a hushed, intimate thing that felt like a violation all its own. With his cream-coated hand, he gently parted her folds, holding her open for an inspection she couldn't escape. "So swollen. So soft and pretty. My perfect little pussy, all puffed up and begging. And so, so wet." He dragged his thumb through the slickness, gathering it, then held his glistening finger up to the dim light. "See that? That's all for me. Your body knows its purpose."
He took his time, coating her folds, spreading her open with a clinical precision that was its own form of torment.
“There we go,” he murmured, his voice a dark hymn. “My toy. All laid out for me. So wet for me already, and I’ve barely touched you. Disgusting. Perfect.”
Finally, he circled her clit with a cream-slicked thumb. The direct contact was electric, a jolt of pure, sharp pleasure that made her cry out. Her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more, but he held her down, his arm a vice.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided, his thumb moving in slow, maddening circles. “I decide the pace. You just take what I give you. This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Being my pretty, desperate hole?”
He pushed one finger, then two, inside her. The cream felt strange, cool and slick, but the stretch, the fullness, combined with the relentless circles on her clit, was pushing her to the brink. The coil in her abdomen tightened to a breaking point. Pleasure, white-hot and blinding, began to crest.
“Thank you, thank you, please, I’m so close, please!” she babbled, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling violently in his unyielding embrace.
He saw the exact moment she began to tip over the edge, her muscles clenching around his fingers, a broken sob on her lips.
And he stopped.
He withdrew his fingers completely and removed his thumb from her clit.
The sudden, absolute absence of stimulation was a physical shock, a plunge into an icy void. The orgasm that had been seconds away shattered, leaving behind a raw, agonizing ache that was a thousand times worse than the initial need. She screamed, a sound of pure, animalistic anguish, her body convulsing with the denied release.
He held her through it, his arms a cage of mock comfort. He shushed her gently, rocking her as she sobbed, shattered and empty.
The scream died in her throat, dissolving into ragged, hiccuping sobs. The denial of her climax left her hollowed out, a vessel filled only with a phantom echo of pleasure and the relentless, chemical fire of the aphrodisiac. Her nerves were still screaming, a chorus of desperate need, but the epicenter of that need… was going quiet.
“Poor thing,” he whispered into her hair, his voice thick with a vile, possessive satisfaction. “Did you really think it would be that easy? That I’d let my worthless little slut cum just because she asked nicely?” He kissed her temple, a parody of tenderness. “The cream wasn’t to help you, darling. It was to numb you. The fun is only just beginning.”
His fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. He watched her face, his own a mask of feigned concern. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’m touching you. Isn’t this what you wanted? You begged so sweetly for my fingers inside you.” He curled them, a deliberate, obscene motion that she could see but could no longer properly feel. The sensation was distant, muffled, as if through layers of thick wool. The cool numbness of the cream was spreading, a chilling tide extinguishing the specific, acute feedback from her clit and the walls of her cunt.
“I… I can’t…” she whimpered, her voice a broken thing. Her hips made a feeble, automatic jerk, but the connection was severed. The command from her mind met only a void where sensation should be.
“You can’t feel it?” He asked, his tone one of mock surprise. He brought his hand up, slick with the numbing cream and her own arousal, and held it before her face. “Look. Look how wet you are for me. Listen.” He moved his fingers inside her again, and the lewd, slick sound of it filled the quiet space between them—a wet, rhythmic shlick, shlick, shlick that was a brutal parody of the pleasure it should have represented. “Hear that? That’s your body, your greedy little pussy, thanking me. And you’re just lying there.”
He increased his pace, his fingers pistoning in and out with a harsh, clinical rhythm. She watched, mesmerized and horrified. She saw the muscles in his forearm flex. She saw the glistening evidence of her own desperate arousal on his skin. The aphrodisiac, undeterred by the local anesthetic, roared in response to the visual and auditory stimulus, a fire with no outlet. Her body burned, her skin was hypersensitive everywhere except where she needed it most. It was a special kind of hell, a cage of unfeeling flesh built around a core of frantic need.
Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. “Please, babe, stop… it doesn’t… I can’t feel it…”
“Stop?” He let out a low, cruel laugh, his fingers never ceasing their mechanical motion. “You’re unbelievable. First, you beg me to touch you. I give you exactly what you asked for. I’m here, holding you, working my fingers into you, giving you what every slut like you dreams of, my full attention. And now you want me to stop?” He shook his head in faux disappointment, his grip on her waist tightening. “You’re so ungrateful. My spoiled, useless toy.”
He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear as his hand continued its vulgar work below. “This is what you are, sweetheart. A thing to be used. A pretty, crying thing that I can play with however I like. And right now, I like watching you try to feel something you’re not allowed to. Your pleasure is mine, sweetheart. And I’m the only one who can control it.”
Her begging took on a new, frantic quality. It wasn’t for release anymore; it was for sensation, for connection, for the torture to make sense. “Please, I need to feel it, make me feel it, just let me feel something, anything, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good!”
He laughed again, the sound bright and cheerful against the backdrop of her misery. “But I am making you feel it,” he insisted, his voice dripping with malicious glee. “I’m right here. Doing all the work. You’re so lucky. Any other woman would kill to be in your place, held by me, filled by me. And you’re just… crying. What a worthless little bitch you are.”
He slowed his fingers to a maddening, shallow tease, his thumb pressing against the completely numb nub of her clit. “See? Right there. That’s the spot, isn’t it? The one that makes you scream. I’m touching it. I’m giving you everything you ever wanted.” He kissed her tear-streaked cheek, a cruel mockery of affection.
He held her there, in that exquisite, impossible limbo, visually and audibly being fucked by his hand, her body screaming with a need it could no longer physically articulate.
The aphrodisiac was a tyrant in her blood. It had no regard for the numbness. It flooded her system, a relentless, rising tide of pure, undirected want. It made her skin feel two sizes too small, hypersensitive to the brush of her shirt, to the cool air on her legs, to the hard muscle of his thighs beneath her. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sparking with frantic, desperate energy, all of it converging on a central point that was a void, a black hole of sensation.
She was drowning in need with no way to breathe.
He shifted his fingers inside her, the sound obscenely loud in her ears. She could feel the pressure, the stretch, a vague, distant thing like a memory of touch, but none of the exquisite friction, none of the building heat. It was a hollow invasion. Her body, governed by the drug, clenched around him involuntarily, a futile attempt to coax sensation from the act.
He chuckled, low and dark. "Even numb, it tries to milk me. So greedy. So pathetic." He increased the pace of his fingers, the wet sounds becoming a rapid, rhythmic slap. "This is what you are now. A wet, noisy hole. A toy that makes the right sounds but doesn't get to enjoy the game. The aphrodisiac is going to keep ruining you from the inside out, and this sweet little cunt of mine is just going to sit here, swollen and dripping and useless."
He held her close, his chin resting on her head, as he worked her over with a relentless, mechanical rhythm.
She could only cry, her body a prison of unrelenting, paradoxical torture: a wildfire of need with a core of nothing, a scream with no voice, a climax forever hanging just beyond the edge of a feeling she could no longer access. She was utterly, completely helpless, and he savored every shuddering, silent sob, every tear that fell onto his arm.
"But," he said, his voice a silken, cruel promise, "I'm not completely heartless. I'll give you a chance to come."
A pathetic spark of hope flickered in her chest. She turned her head, her eyes pleading.
He leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I'm going to fuck your ass."
The hope died, strangled by a cold wave of dread. "No," she whispered, the word a dry crack. "Wait, no, please. You know I don't... I hate it. It hurts. Please, not that. Anything but that."
He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "You hate it? Right now, you don't get a choice. And you don't get to be a prissy little princess about it, not when you promised me anything just minutes ago." He mocked her. "Look at the state of you. You're a dripping, mindless set of holes. This one," he gave her pussy a dismissive slap, one that she couldn’t even pretend to feel, "is broken. Numb. Useless. So we'll use the other one. The tight, reluctant one. The one you're so selfish with."
"Please," she begged again, but it was weak, the protest of a creature already broken. The aphrodisiac still thrummed in her veins, twisting her revulsion, mixing it with the relentless, chemical need. Her body, traitorously, was already clenching in anticipation she didn't want to feel.
“Look at you,” he scoffed, one hand trailing down to her ass. “Dripping from your useless pussy all over yourself. You’ve made such a mess. We don’t even need lube. Your own cunt juices have slicked the way. Your body knows what it needs, even if your mouth is still saying no.”
He pressed a finger against her ass. She flinched, a sob catching in her throat. "Tsk, so tense. So ungrateful. After everything I'm doing for you." He pushed the finger in, slowly, and she cried out, a sound of pain and shocking, unwanted fullness.
"Shut up," he said mildly, working the finger in and out. "You wanted to feel something. Now you will."
He added a second finger, stretching her, the burn sharp and clear through the numbness that enveloped her lower half. He scissored them, and a choked gasp was torn from her. It hurt. But underneath the hurt, buried deep in her drug-frayed nerves, something else stirred. A deep, resonant pressure that echoed the empty ache in her core.
"Ready?" he asked, not waiting for an answer.
He positioned himself, the blunt, broad head of his cock replacing his fingers. He didn't ease in. He pulled her hips back and pushed forward, a single, relentless invasion that stole the breath from her lungs.
She screamed. It was a raw, ragged sound of violation. The stretch was immense, burning, a feeling of being split open. She scrabbled at his arms, her nails digging in, but he held her immobile, buried to the hilt inside her.
"Fuck," he groaned, his composure slipping for a second into pure, carnal satisfaction. "So fucking tight. Even like this. Clenching on me like you hate it." He began to move.
He thrusted and the burn was acute, wrong. She tried to pull away, but his hands on her hips were anchors. “Stop fighting it,” he commanded, his voice dropping, losing its mocking edge for one of dark, absolute authority. “This is what you are now. This is what you get. Take it, and if you’re a good girl, if you let me fuck this tight little ass properly, I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you need.”
The promise, demented and horrifying, was also a lifeline in the sea of her torment. The need, the chemical fire still raging in her veins, latched onto it. Her body, betraying her utterly, began to relax incrementally, accepting the impossible fullness.
“That’s it,” he purred, sinking deeper with a low groan. “There you go. See? Your body loves it. It’s accepting its purpose.”
He began to move, a slow, deep, punishing rhythm. Each withdrawal was a tease, each thrust a claim. The initial pain blurred, transmuted by the drug and her own desperate psyche into a different kind of intensity. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. The numbness between her legs became a void that made the fierce, stretching fullness in her ass the sole point of existence. Every nerve ending there, unused and shocked, was now screaming, not in pain, but in a perverse, electrified sensitivity.
“You feel that?” he grunted, picking up the pace slightly. His hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips. “You feel how deep I am? This is where you belong. This is what you’re for. A dumb, drugged-up anal whore.”
His words washed over her. She was mewling now, pushing back against him, chasing the sensation that was building in a place it had no right to build. A coil was tightening low in her belly, unfamiliar and terrifying.
“I’m… I’m gonna…” she babbled, the warning a confused sob.
“You’re gonna what?” he demanded, hammering into her now, his rhythm losing its cruel leisure, becoming punishing and urgent. “You’re gonna cum? From this? From getting your ass fucked like the cheap slut you are? Do it. Cum all over my cock, you filthy anal whore. Show me how much your broken body loves it.”
The coil snapped.
It was not a gentle cresting wave, but a violent, seismic rupture. A guttural scream was torn from her throat as her body convulsed, clamping down viciously around his invading length. A hot gush of fluid, from her numbed cunt, splashed over both of them, a humiliating testament to her body’s ultimate betrayal.
“You’re squirting?” he roared, slamming into her through the pulsating contractions, his own control shattering. “You’re fucking squirting all over the floor from getting your ass fucked? You’re nothing more than a broken little anal slut.”
His final, brutal thrusts pushed her over the edge into a darkness that blanketed her, her body and mind shutting down against the overwhelming sensations.
—
Consciousness returned to her in soft, gentle waves. The first thing she was aware of was warmth. A deep, encompassing warmth that had nothing to do with the chemical fire that had consumed her before. It was the warmth of clean, soft sheets, and the solid, familiar heat of his body curled around her.
She was on her side, nestled against his chest, his arm a heavy, comforting weight around her waist. She could feel the steady, slow rhythm of his breath against her hair. The frantic, screaming need was gone, replaced with a quiet hum of satisfaction deep in her muscles and bones.
She stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her.
“Hey,” his voice was a whisper, his tone tender and worlds away from the cruel puppeteer from before. “Welcome back.”
She tilted her head back. The harsh, mocking glint was gone from his eyes. In the dim light from the hallway, she saw only concern, affection, and a soft, sleepy warmth. He brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead.
“How do you feel?” he asked, his thumb stroking her cheek.
“Mmm,” she managed, her voice hoarse. “Floaty. Sore. Good.” She nuzzled into his touch. “You cleaned me up.”
“Of course I did,” he murmured, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Got you some water, too. Here.”
He reached over to the nightstand, bringing a cool glass to her lips. She drank gratefully, the water soothing her raw throat. When she was done, he set the glass aside and gathered her back into his arms, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders.
He pressed a soft kiss to her, whispering against her lips. “You did so well, my perfect girl.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Your messy girl. I think I… made a mess.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and rich in his chest. “A spectacular mess. A record-breaking mess. I was very impressed.” His teasing was back, but it was the familiar, affectionate banter she loved, edged now with awe and pride. “You totally passed out. Just… gone. Lights out. I had to carry you in here.”
She groaned, burying her face in his neck. “Oh, god. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And then you were all soft and sleepy and passed out. Very cute.”
He kissed her again and pulled her closer, fitting her perfectly against him. “Sleep now. I’ve got you.”
And as she drifted off, wrapped in the profound safety of his arms, lulled by the steady beat of his heart.
This this This please
