ᯓ★ Sir John experiments with you, this time by trying to be the dominant one in the duo. Will you be able to resist being swept by a wave of desire which only John could spark in you?
Pairing: Sir John x f!Reader || Emanuelle
Warning: dom!Sir John, unprotected p in v, spitting, +/- cunnilingus, degradation, light choking, implied power play
˚₊⊹ masterlist: Dominant ✧ Tumblr | Ao3 ˚ ₊⊹
word count: 2.1k
"Talk to me... darling? Why don't you ever talk to me, hm?"
John's hand remained lodged between your thighs, pressing roughly against your bare cunt. This position of his permitted him full control and dominance over your body, while you would be able to continue to pretend he meant nothing to you.
You were on your fours on his bed, knees apart and ass up as John had insisted he wanted you to be. Your upper body was comfortably resting on the mattress, your arms crossed and forehead resting against them as you hissed. When he was submissive, it was far easier to ignore him, but now? Oh, this was difficult. His knees were forcing your thighs to remain apart wide enough for him to see your cunt bare and dripping for him.
Sir John exhaled, a pleased sound as his thumb glided against your arousal, pressing into your hole, just enough to make your toes curl and your hands to clutch lightly at the sheets. You were soaked, a sign that you couldn't hide. John didn't mind it; it was your direct attention that he craved to play with, your body instinctually becoming aroused wasn't ruining his game in any way. After all, he was aware this was a game. That you wanted this as much as he did.
He sighed.
He did it to tease you, to pretend he was bored too, middle finger barely grazing at your clit while the thumb remained positioned barely inside your cunt. The slight sensation of your nerve bud being touched made your hole squeeze around his thumb, and he snickered, taking his hand away.
"Darling... You love this, every moment of this... Look how your body responds to me..."
You couldn't see why he did it, or what he planned to do. Turning to face him would mean breaking the spell of the game, so you continued to ignore him. Your body, however, was anxious to receive another touch of his. And it came, sooner than you expected, in the form of a spank that made your butt tense up and your nails dig into the sheets.
Sir John rubbed over the red marking in the shape of his palm, then leaned down to place a kiss on it. From the stinging red marking, his kisses migrated lower to the back of your thighs, and once again higher up. His hands forcefully separated your butt cheeks, exposing your cunt further, and he licked a long line between your lips, then leaned back. He let a low rumbling chest, a primal, needy grunt as he spit on you and watched how the saliva trickled down across your crack and lower to your cunt. Before it could drip lower onto the mattress, he forced his palm into your crotch again, squeezing your cunt in his palm, this time his middle finger drawing small circular motions against your clit that made your back arch just an inch.
A small victory for Sir John, who took that as a sign to taunt you. He did so in an attempt to use this weakness to break you.
"Is this too much for you, darling? All you have to do is tell me to stop... talk to me..."
While his right hand worked on your cunt, his left hand went to his own trousers, undoing them. He was sloppy with his attempt, already solid, painfully erect and dripping at the tip, trying to wriggle his trousers off while teasing your clit was a far more difficult job than it looked. But he lowered them enough for his cock to spring out.
With his eyes on the way your cunt reacted to his ministrations, his other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it while observing his power over you. Despite you ignoring him, your body was so eager for him that the thought alone of how wet and hot your hole was made him twitch. He couldn't wait to show it to you, to show you how good he was beyond using his mouth. If you liked that, then you'd be seeing heaven on his cock.
His hand worked a tad faster on himself, gathering his own arousal and coating his cock with it, making each stroke glide easier, more fluid, quicker. There was the question of protection, but beforehand, you had agreed on you being on the pill for him to be able to fully enjoy himself with you, so the thought of a condom was gone as quickly as it came.
He squirmed behind you, dragging himself closer because, as he had teased your clit, your body had inched away from him in an attempt to avoid being overstimulated by the caresses. But now? Now he wasn't going to allow you to move any further. His hand left his cock and clung to your hip, keeping you in place while he applied a tad more pressure in the caresses, the circles he was drawing also gaining a little more motion to match the way your body attempted to escape them.
"Of course, a little bitch like you wouldn't talk. All you're good for is letting men like me use you, hm? I bet you're into it as much as I am, isn't that right?"
You were, because only by his fingers owning your clit, you came, body squirming and tensing, spasming underneath his as he watched it take place, devoured the sight of his victory over your senses and mentally praised you for being so good as to still ignore him despite having just climaxed.
But he wasn't done.
Not yet, not this time. This time, Sir John would show you his dominant side.
He removed his hand from your cunt and grabbed your shoulder with it, forcing your upper body to be fastened into the mattress, while with his hand that had been holding your hip, he reached between your bodies, guiding himself to your hole, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.
He grunted, looking down at the way your bodies almost connected while his hips moved forward just enough for the head of his cock to disappear into your cunt while you dug your nails into the mattress in trying to resist the urge to moan. Sir John let you wait, not pushing in or out just yet, just lingering with the head of his cock lodged into your cunt, which throbbed greedily around him, almost as if pleading to be fucked.
To be owned by him.
To be used by him.
To be destroyed by him.
Unable to resist the urge any longer, he snapped his hips forward with a sudden jerk, his hand leaving the base of his erection to clamp down on your other shoulder, forcing your body down as his crotch was snug into your ass with his erection bottomed out inside you.
The moment he felt the softness of your bum press into him, he gasped, his hands tightening their hold on your shoulders, head dropping down while he panted. The panting wasn't out of exhaustion, because Sir John had plenty of that, but the sheer result of his lust overcoming his senses the moment he felt his cock inside of you, the raw sensation of owning you. It was as intimate as it was erotic and lewd, especially with how you continued to pretend you weren't into it.
Sir John licked his lips and eyed the back of your head.
He would make you cum for him so many times that you'd have no choice but to acknowledge him. You had to; he had to break you. There was hardly any woman who managed to resist and arouse him for so long, and that proved fuel to the wildfire in his heart, mind and groin.
The man started fucking you like you were his mere toy. He wasn't going easy; he wasn't giving you time. He was keeping you down into the mattress, squeezed between himself and the sheets, while he claimed your cunt. He momentarily leaned back and fucked you while holding your hips, but that was short-lived. Too distant for him to enjoy.
No, he had to slither himself into your soul while you fought to remain indifferent.
He lowered himself on his elbows, his chest against your back, with no weight on you just yet, however, keeping you alert because you could feel now the way his skin was hot and sweaty against yours.
"I know I'm right, but you fucking bitch just wouldn't confirm it. Fuck... can you feel it? Hm? Oh, I know you do feel it. No matter how hard you try to ignore me, I can hear those fucking moans you're trying to hide. Come on, give in... tell me you want me."
The man grunted.
You were doing a great job. That allowed John to play around more, to push you further. One hand reached around your body, squeezing possessively at your breast, trapping the nipple between his middle and index, which he suspected would be enough to finally make you break. His hand groped and fondled, alternating between rough and gentle motions, between squeezing and teasing the nipple with feather-light touches, anything that he considered useful in earning your attention.
But you didn't.
With your attention still forced on the sheets rather than him, John grinned. If your tits wouldn't do the job, your neck would. His body leaned over yours, your back supporting the weight of his chest as he pushed his weight down on you. He removed the hand from your breast, using it to prop himself on the bed in his elbow, his other going around, sneaking under your throat, grabbing it so confidently that for a mere second, so mere he didn't even notice it, you flinched.
Sir John's hand held your throat, fingers firmly pressed into the skin, thumb angled under your jaw, pressing up whilst his other fingers cradled the side. As he hovered over you from behind, with his hand possessively on your neck, he forced it back against him, pulling you closer until his lips were right by your ear. The firmness was enough to momentarily stun your breathing as it pressed into your windpipe, but he wasn't doing this to choke you, per se. He did this to dominate you, to show you that you'd move however he dictated.
"Tell me you want to worship me like every other slut I paid to have, come on. I dare you, say it, say you are my bitch, and you want nothing more than for me to allow you to kiss the ground I walked on."
Even with his hand around your throat, with his voice coursing through your veins like a sweet poison that lured you to give in and spurring you to lustful abandon, you still fought the urge to give him the attention he was trying to earn. If you did give in, if you told him what he wanted to hear, the game would be up, the pleasure would cease, the challenge itself was the source of the lust and bliss.
You fought to keep yourself steady, to look away and dismiss the way your body was thrust forward with each rough snap of his hips as he punished the way you refused so adamantly to give in. Sir John was becoming erratic in his thrusts. His lips by your ear were giving way to the most frantic growls of passion, of euphoria as he was allowed to use you as his slut while you, like a good girl, fulfilled his every wish.
He'd spoil you.
He always spoiled you before and after these sessions, and he was throbbing at the thought of hearing what this made you feel. Sir John was torn between the way his cock felt as it claimed your cunt and the thought of hearing your impressions over dinner afterwards. To hear you tell him that he almost satisfied you this time. All the while, you carried that mischievous glint in your eyes, and licked your lips and eyed him as if he were a foolish dog willing to fetch if you asked him to. You made him your bitch, and yet here he was, playing this dominant game only to know that you had him wrapped around your finger.
With his voice breaking, his cock throbbed as it pounced with eager thrusts now, sharper, swifter, deeper. It felt as if John was trying to force himself to completely enter you, not only with his cock, but with his whole being as he kept you in his body by your throat. So tightly was his hold that it felt as if he was afraid letting loose would mean you'd vanish.
"Am I not good enough for you? Is that it? Fuck, maybe if I ruin that pretty cunt of yours, maybe then I will be good enough to have your attention."
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