This is partially fiction, based on true events.
"You know I can't stand being away from you, right?”
“What?” the question stung my ears, causing my ears and face to burn. “I-I’m sorry, I'm not sure what you mean.”
He let out a soft sigh with a playful grin perched on his lips.
“I love you. Haven't you noticed?”
I felt my breath stop in my throat.
He loved me? He loves me?
Yes, I noticed him always catching at the scent of my perfume, complementing the clothes I wore, always seeming to have a hand on my waist or shoulder or hip. I'd never even entertained the thought that someone like him could like someone as plain as me. I have memories of the nights he'd strip me down to nothing, pushing his face into my chest. For hours he'd complement my perfume, his perfume, until he was asleep, drooling on my breasts. I never thought of that as anything more than an experiment. I never thought he'd loved me, not from that. I thought an infatuation at most.
But love? What a ridiculous thought.
“I…” Love isn't real. Not from him.
“How else could you explain all the things I've done for you? And all the things I've had you do for me?” Thoughts of us tangled in bed, rocking and groaning, shot through my vision.
All the things I did for him.
I worshiped him, I sacrificed for him. Not a memory of him sacrificing for me went through my mind. I had loved him. Me. I don't believe him when he says he loves me.
I tried to speak, to say anything, but no words came. They all got stuck on their way out.
He watched my neck as I swallowed.
“God, you're so beautiful,” his hand reached out, his thumb rubbing the vein on my neck as he kissed me. It was difficult to breathe.
He kissed me again. Deep, slow, hard. Intimate. His tongue was everywhere in my mouth. He pulled back, just enough to say, “Take off your clothes,” and I obeyed. If this is all I had to do to keep his attention, keep his focus on me, I'd do it. Every damn time, I'd do it.
“I…” I started again, but no words followed.
He shushed me, a gentle brush against my lips.
“I know. You don't have to say it,” His hands traced my curves, pinching at sensitive places, smacking my backside. A sharp moan escaped my lips. “I know this is what you want.” Our eyes stayed locked. My green ones on his brown ones.
He wasn't wrong. This is what I want. To be used. To be used by him. To make him happy. To give him release from whatever it was in his life that distracted him from me.
I wanted to tell him. Tell him the thoughts I have of him when I'm so far from sleep that I have to tire myself out. Tell him every time I've touched myself thinking of him. Every time he's fucked my mind.
“On the bed,” he took a small step back. Enough for me to feel how cold the room really was. “Now.” I felt my spine tighten. Would he get mad? Would I mind if he did? Would I encourage it? I slid past his slender frame and took my place on his bed.
Always his bed, never ever mine.
Flat palms and bent knees. I held my plank.
I felt his fingers over my neck, shoulders, back, breasts, stomach, waist, then finally my hips. He gripped hard, pulling my ass against his cock. He rubbed me with it. Teased me.
“Is this what my filthy slut wants?” One hand stayed on my hip, the other slapped his tip against my entrance. I pressed my lips together. I managed a short “Mm-hm,” and nodded, no words daring to ruin the moment.
He smiled, devilishly. His teeth parted slightly and his lips curled up. His dark eyes were so hungry, so filled with greed at all he can do to me and all he knows I wouldn't care if he did to me.
A pressure pushed between my legs.
I moaned and I felt him laugh, short and sweet.
He leaned over me, his chest on my back, skin to skin. His warmth filled me.
“How do I feel? Filling your empty pussy?” My arms gave way to him. My arms stretched out in front of me, hands softly gripping the sheets.
“It's what you were made for.”
He reached around me and grabbed both of my biceps, pulling my arms behind my back. He held my wrists together with one hand as the other whipped red hand prints on my backside. Every time I winced and moaned, knowing how much more wet it made me.
“Oh, Y/N, you're soaking wet,” he said through a smile. I smiled into the mattress.
“It's all for you,” I managed to whine. He pulled my hair, lifting my mouth off the sheets.
I swallowed, hair stuck to my face already.
“It's all for you,” I tried arching my back more. “Daddy.” He smiled between my shoulder blades and bit me. He forced hickeys across my back as he slammed all 7 inches into me. Over and over.
I couldn't help but moan. It hurt, but it felt so good too. I knew I was too small to take all of him but I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me. Make him feel as good as he could feel. My fists clenched tighter as he sped up more and more.
He grabbed my neck, gripping bruises into my hip, slapping his balls against my skin. Oh my god, that sound. He rutted faster and faster, bruising deeper between my hips. Both hands wrapped around my neck now, squeezing, pulling me over him over and over and over.
My eyes rolled back. My voice was hoarse. I couldn't breathe.
“Is this what my slut wants? I'm gonna breed this pussy. I'm gonna fill you with my cum,” I couldn't breathe. He squeezed tighter and tighter. I couldn't breathe. I tried to pry his grip but just scratched my neck.
“Fucking worthless slut. Nothing but Daddy's fucktoy.” I felt my vision start to go. Spots at first and then everything went dark.
I heard his climax and felt him fill me. He whined a high-pitched whine. Everything was fuzzy when he pulled back out of me, dripping with his ‘love’. My head buzzed and burned. I couldn't move. I found myself holding my breath, I forgot I could breathe freely now.
He slapped my ass once more and I hear his footsteps walk down the stairs and the shower turns on.
I cry. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm so happy. I have him and he has me. The shower is on for an eternity. I just lay there, feeling the ghost of his palms strangling me.
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