Twist Me
Page 8
For a second, I try to resist, but he effortlessly pulls my legs apart. His fingers pat me gently, then pull apart my nether lips.
And then he kisses me there, sending a surge of heat through my body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around my clitoris until I’m moaning, and then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks.
The pleasure is so strong, so startling that my eyes fly open.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and it’s frightening. I’m burning inside, throbbing between my legs. My heart is beating so fast I can’t catch my breath, and I find myself panting.
I start struggling, and he laughs softly. I can feel the puffs of air from his breath on my sensitive flesh. He easily holds me down and continues what he’s doing.
The tension inside me is becoming unbearable. I’m squirming against his tongue, and my motions seem to be bringing me closer to some elusive edge.
Then I go over with a soft scream. My entire body tightens, and I’m swamped by a wave of pleasure so intense that my toes curl. I can feel my inner muscles pulsing, and I realize that I just had an orgasm.
The first orgasm of my life.
And it was at the hands—or rather the mouth—of my captor.
I’m so devastated that I just want to curl up and cry. I squeeze my eyes shut again.
But he’s not done with me yet. He crawls up my body and kisses my mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. It’s from me, I realize. I’m tasting myself on his lips. A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through my body even as the hunger inside me intensifies.
His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates my mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between my legs. One of his hands is holding the back of my head, while another one is between my thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again.
I still don’t really resist, although my body tenses as the fear returns. I can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against my inner thigh, and I know he’s going to hurt me.
“Please,” I whisper, opening my eyes to look at him. My vision is blurred by tears. “Please . . . I’ve never done this before—”
His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. “I’m glad,” he says softly. Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward my opening.
I gasp as he begins to push inside. I’m wet, but my body resists the unfamiliar intrusion. I don’t know how big he is, but he feels enormous as the head of his cock slowly enters my body.
It begins to hurt, to burn, and I cry out, pushing at his shoulders.
His pupils expand, making his eyes look darker. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, and I realize he’s actually restraining himself. “Relax, Nora,” he whispers harshly. “It will hurt less if you relax.”
I’m trembling. I can’t follow his advice because I’m too nervous—and because it hurts so much, having even a little bit of him inside me.
He continues to press, and my flesh slowly gives way, reluctantly stretching for him. I’m writhing now, sobbing, my nails scratching at his back, but he’s relentless, working his cock in inch by slow inch.
Then he pauses for a second, and I can see a vein pulsing near his temple. He looks like he’s in pain. But I know that it’s pleasurable for him, this act that’s hurting me so much.
He lowers his head, kissing my forehead. And then he pushes past my virginal barrier, tearing through the thin membrane with one firm thrust. He doesn’t stop until his full length is buried inside me, his pubic hair pressing against my own.
I almost black out from the pain. My stomach twists with nausea, and I feel faint. I can’t even scream; all I can do is try to take small, shallow breaths to avoid passing out. I can feel his hardness lodged deep inside me, and it’s the most agonizingly invasive thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Relax,” he murmurs in my ear, “just relax, my pet. The pain will pass, it will get better . . .”
I don’t believe him. It feels like a heated pole has been shoved inside my body, tearing me open. And I can’t do anything to escape, to make it hurt less. He’s so much larger than me, so much stronger. All I can do is lie there helplessly, pinned underneath him.
He doesn’t move his hips, doesn’t thrust, even though I can feel the tension in his muscles. Instead, he gently kisses my forehead again. I close my eyes, bitter tears streaming down my temples, and feel the light brush of his lips against my eyelids.
I don’t know how long we stay there like this. He’s raining soft kisses on my face, my neck. His hands embrace me, caress my skin in a parody of a lover’s touch. And all the while, his cock is buried deep inside me, its uncompromising hardness hurting me, burning me from within.
I don’t know at what point the pain starts to change. My treacherous body slowly softens, begins to respond to his kisses, to the tenderness in his touch.
The evil bastard senses it. And he slowly begins to move, partially withdrawing from my body and then working himself back in.
Initially, his movements make it worse, only adding to my agony. And then he reaches between our bodies with one hand, and uses one finger to press against my clit, keeping the pressure light and steady. His thrusts move my hips, causing me to rub against his finger in a rhythmic way.
To my horror, I feel the tension gathering inside me again. The pain is still there, but so is the pleasure. I’m writhing in his arms, but now I’m fighting myself as well. His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I’m screaming from the unbearable intensity. The pain and the pleasure mix, until they’re indistinguishable from one another—until I exist in a world of pure, overwhelming sensation. And then I explode, the orgasm ripping through my body with such force that my vision darkens for a moment.
And then he kisses me there, sending a surge of heat through my body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around my clitoris until I’m moaning, and then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks.
The pleasure is so strong, so startling that my eyes fly open.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and it’s frightening. I’m burning inside, throbbing between my legs. My heart is beating so fast I can’t catch my breath, and I find myself panting.
I start struggling, and he laughs softly. I can feel the puffs of air from his breath on my sensitive flesh. He easily holds me down and continues what he’s doing.
The tension inside me is becoming unbearable. I’m squirming against his tongue, and my motions seem to be bringing me closer to some elusive edge.
Then I go over with a soft scream. My entire body tightens, and I’m swamped by a wave of pleasure so intense that my toes curl. I can feel my inner muscles pulsing, and I realize that I just had an orgasm.
The first orgasm of my life.
And it was at the hands—or rather the mouth—of my captor.
I’m so devastated that I just want to curl up and cry. I squeeze my eyes shut again.
But he’s not done with me yet. He crawls up my body and kisses my mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. It’s from me, I realize. I’m tasting myself on his lips. A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through my body even as the hunger inside me intensifies.
His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates my mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between my legs. One of his hands is holding the back of my head, while another one is between my thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again.
I still don’t really resist, although my body tenses as the fear returns. I can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against my inner thigh, and I know he’s going to hurt me.
“Please,” I whisper, opening my eyes to look at him. My vision is blurred by tears. “Please . . . I’ve never done this before—”
His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. “I’m glad,” he says softly. Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward my opening.
I gasp as he begins to push inside. I’m wet, but my body resists the unfamiliar intrusion. I don’t know how big he is, but he feels enormous as the head of his cock slowly enters my body.
It begins to hurt, to burn, and I cry out, pushing at his shoulders.
His pupils expand, making his eyes look darker. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, and I realize he’s actually restraining himself. “Relax, Nora,” he whispers harshly. “It will hurt less if you relax.”
I’m trembling. I can’t follow his advice because I’m too nervous—and because it hurts so much, having even a little bit of him inside me.
He continues to press, and my flesh slowly gives way, reluctantly stretching for him. I’m writhing now, sobbing, my nails scratching at his back, but he’s relentless, working his cock in inch by slow inch.
Then he pauses for a second, and I can see a vein pulsing near his temple. He looks like he’s in pain. But I know that it’s pleasurable for him, this act that’s hurting me so much.
He lowers his head, kissing my forehead. And then he pushes past my virginal barrier, tearing through the thin membrane with one firm thrust. He doesn’t stop until his full length is buried inside me, his pubic hair pressing against my own.
I almost black out from the pain. My stomach twists with nausea, and I feel faint. I can’t even scream; all I can do is try to take small, shallow breaths to avoid passing out. I can feel his hardness lodged deep inside me, and it’s the most agonizingly invasive thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Relax,” he murmurs in my ear, “just relax, my pet. The pain will pass, it will get better . . .”
I don’t believe him. It feels like a heated pole has been shoved inside my body, tearing me open. And I can’t do anything to escape, to make it hurt less. He’s so much larger than me, so much stronger. All I can do is lie there helplessly, pinned underneath him.
He doesn’t move his hips, doesn’t thrust, even though I can feel the tension in his muscles. Instead, he gently kisses my forehead again. I close my eyes, bitter tears streaming down my temples, and feel the light brush of his lips against my eyelids.
I don’t know how long we stay there like this. He’s raining soft kisses on my face, my neck. His hands embrace me, caress my skin in a parody of a lover’s touch. And all the while, his cock is buried deep inside me, its uncompromising hardness hurting me, burning me from within.
I don’t know at what point the pain starts to change. My treacherous body slowly softens, begins to respond to his kisses, to the tenderness in his touch.
The evil bastard senses it. And he slowly begins to move, partially withdrawing from my body and then working himself back in.
Initially, his movements make it worse, only adding to my agony. And then he reaches between our bodies with one hand, and uses one finger to press against my clit, keeping the pressure light and steady. His thrusts move my hips, causing me to rub against his finger in a rhythmic way.
To my horror, I feel the tension gathering inside me again. The pain is still there, but so is the pleasure. I’m writhing in his arms, but now I’m fighting myself as well. His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I’m screaming from the unbearable intensity. The pain and the pleasure mix, until they’re indistinguishable from one another—until I exist in a world of pure, overwhelming sensation. And then I explode, the orgasm ripping through my body with such force that my vision darkens for a moment.
