Painful Yells

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Mr James was a strange man and Lucy was aware of it but because he was a rich man who could pay her rent, she was more than happy to please him and his friends sometimes and it seemed like today was one of those days. He just barged into her apartment and was doing whatever he liked.

Cheating, incest & kinky things. Do I need to say more? Anything you can imagine just a click away!

She was silent as he squeezed her neck just tight enough to pull her away from the wall, pushing her in front of him as he stepped behind her and walked her toward the bed. With her legs pressed against the side of the bed, he released her throat and instead pushed on the back of her shoulder, bending her over at the waist. She responded by giving a little gasp and putting her hands in front of her, palms-down on the bed.

"Little girl,I think it's important that we establish some ground rules." His left hand reached down, grasping the hem of her skirt. "You're here, now. You belong to me. Do you understand that?" He traced his fingers up the back of her left thigh, dragging the skirt with it until he could see her black panties peeking out from under the skirt.

"Yes," she replied, her meek voice sending a tremor through his chest.

He hooked his finger under the waistband of her panties and pulled them slowly over her hips "Step out of these, then sit on the bed."

She acquiesced, slipping her shoes off and stepping out of the panties before turning to face him. She straightened her skirt then sat down. He stood in front of her, folding her panties and putting them into his pocket.

"If you're good, I'll give them back later," he said, reaching his right hand into his pocket, searching for something.

"I don't want them back," she said slowly, her mouth turning up at the corners into the faintest smile. He loved that about her, and it drove him wild. He turned away, unzipping a pocket in his duffel bag that sat on the dresser. After a moment, he held a handful of thick zip-ties.

"Wrists, Brat," he demanded, stifling his own smile. She presented her hands, and he wrapped a different restraint around each wrist. With a zipping noise, he tightened them till they were snug--not tight against her skin, not digging into her flesh, but tight enough that no amount of wiggling or thrashing would be earning her release from them.

"Not together?"

"Don't question me." He produced a knife from his pocket and, holding her left wrist, he flicked it open and pressed the flat of the blade against the flesh of her forearm. Staring into her eyes, he watched her pupils dilate, and another surge of electricity coursed through him. "Hold still."

Two quick cuts from the sharpened blade removed the excess plastic from each of the zip-ties around her wrists. In one quick motion he closed the blade and it disappeared again.

"So what now? I'm not very restrained," she asked, raising her arms and wriggling her wrists to taunt him with her freedom. He smiled and stood, walking toward the kitchenette between the bathroom and the bedroom. Moments later, he returned with the empty ice bucket and thrust it into her lap.

"Go fill it." She looked away from him, at her shoes. "No." She looked back up at him. "No shoes, no panties, and keep those on your wrists." It was a formality, really; he knew she couldn't get them off. "Oh, and you're not filling it up here. Go to the first floor."

She squirmed on the bed, obviously a little uncomfortable with the idea, and he smiled. Perfect.

"Why the first floor?" she said, a subtle pout forming on her lips.

"Because I want you to be seen, and wanted, but we know..." He got very close to her, whispering in her ear, "...they can look, but only I can touch."

This time, when she knocked on the door, he was not taken by surprise.

The entire time she was away (it felt like an eternity) he paced the room, thinking. Feeling. The ache in his chest, the dull throb of his cock pressing into his jeans, and the memory of her--wiggling her ass for him as she walked out the door, confident and smug and bratty. She knew he wanted her. She knew he'd been dying to taste her for months, maybe years. She thought she knew how this was going to play out.

Oh, how wrong she was.

The door opened with a click--he had given her the second key before she left--and she stepped inside. As it latched loudly behind her she said "Here, I have the stupid ice..."

Before she could finish, he was on her. He grabbed the ice and bucket and they sailed through the air, crashing into the bathtub as he grabbed both of her wrists with his other hand and pressed her body against the door.

He heard her gasp--no, he felt her gasp as he pinned her against the door--as he quickly slid another zip-tie through both of her makeshift cuffs and locked it in place to bind her wrists together.

"Let go of whatever you think is about to happen, little girl," he said to her, standing behind her again and forcefully leading her toward the bed. "Up, and on your knees."

She obediently climbed onto the bed, her bound hands in front of her, her knees slightly apart, her ass facing him. He stood behind her, savouring the anticipation she must feel, taking his time as he walked around her. He saw her eyes travel to the bulge in his pants, and he slowly unzipped his fly. He pulled his boxers aside until his cock was free.

"You hungry, little girl?" Standing at the edge of the bed, he reached behind her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her mouth to his cock. There was no struggle, she accepted him eagerly as he guided her. "Get it good and wet," he instructed her, and she obeyed. He didn't have to keep hold of her hair, but he did anyway, savouring the resistance in his hand whenever their rhythm's would differ. He stepped back as he held her head still, pulling out of her mouth. "Now spit on it."

She spat. "More," he demanded. "Get me so wet." She spat on his throbbing, wet dick a few more times and, satisfied, he pushed her head down to the bed. She let out a low moan as he held her face against the top sheet.

He walked to the other side of the bed, behind her now, and grabbed her hips. With a yank, he dragged her ass to the edge of the bed. He lifted her skirt slowly--savouring every inch of skin revealed by the retreating fabric--until he could see her, fully bared.

"Do you feel exposed?" he asked. She said something that he couldn't hear, but he was already pressing his spit-covered dick against her ass, rubbing it back and forth, satisfied at how slick it was becoming.

"I'm going to take you from behind, right now, and you're going to be mine forever." She began to say something, but he didn't wait. She cried out a little bit as the tip of his cock began pushing into her tight ass, and he slowed his pressure. "This is why you had to do a good job making it wet," he said as he braced his hands on her hips. He edged away, relieving the pressure, and could almost hear her sigh in relief--which he took as a sign to begin again.

This repeated--press, wait for her to whimper, or gasp, then release, until he felt dry skin-on-skin. Kneeling, he pulled her hips back to his mouth, where he spat on her and watched it drip down over her ass, down to her pussy. He wanted to taste her so badly, but not yet. Not now. He quickly positioned his dick and pulled her back onto it. This time, he could feel it, this would be...

He felt a gentle pop as the pressure against the head of his cock gave way and he knew he was in. She moaned, and he saw the sheet being pulled away from the pillows as she clawed at it.

"You like that, you little slut?" he asked, easing his way mostly out before slowly pushing back into her. "You like knowing that you're mine now, forever, marked by me?"

"Yes," she whimpered as she pushed her hips back against him, taking him deeper.

He pulled out of her again and brought his right hand down to slap her ass. The sound reverberated through the small room.

"Does my little girl like offering her ass to me?" he asked, his words punctuated by her ass slamming into his legs, the hungry girl burying him as deep as she could as she twisted and ground against him.

"Yes, Daddy," she managed to choke out, and that did it. He fought for breath, his muscles betraying him, as he pulled her hips against him as hard as he could. Fingertip-sized bruises on her thighs would remind her of this moment for the next week as he exploded inside her, shuddering and struggling to stand. Exhausted, he pulled out of her, wiping the cum off of his dick with the inside of her skirt.

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