Page 12 of Depredation

I stared up at the rafters in the ceiling as he maneuvered me into the straps, a sob lodged in my throat.

“You can scream as loud as you want. In fact, the louder, the better. No one will hear you down here. You can beg, too; I loved hearing you beg.”

Which was precisely why I didn’t. It was a small win, not allowing my misery to entertain him.

He pulled me closer to the edge of the chair, lifting a shaky limb onto the left stirrup and tying it down before doing the same to the right.

As he did the same with my arms, he pressed his solid cock into my apex. When they were secured to the point I could barely move them, he wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to make me feel uneasy.

Lowering his mouth, he whispered softly into my ear. “You’re nothing but my fuck toy. You’re going to let me do anything I want to you, at any time, on numerous occasions.

“If I want to take your tight little ass until it bleeds, that’s what I’m going to do. When I want you down on your knees sucking my dick until your throat is swollen and your tongue is sore, that’s where you’ll be. You belong to me now. Every inch of you.” He touched his lips to mine once, twice, before running the tip of his tongue along the bottom one, seeking entrance I couldn’t will myself to give.

“If you keep saying no, what use do I have for you?” he asked against my mouth, squeezing my throat a little harder.

I tried to digest his words, unable to fathom that this was my reality, that any of this was actually happening to me. If this was an ultimatum, what were my choices?

Do or die?

There was only one correct way to respond, and I loathed every fiber of my being for it.

I took a mental breath to calm myself and forced my lips to part. He didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue inside, sighing as if I’d just lifted some great weight off his shoulders

I hated how soft his lips were. The taste of Listerine and menthol seeped into my taste buds.

The kiss was aggressive; he refused to let me turn away for air. I felt like he was breathing into me.

He pulled away without warning and looked down, slowly perusing every naked inch of me. “I’ve been craving the feel of your pussy on my face since yesterday,” he divulged.

I clenched my jaw to snuff out the protest as he moved down.

He lowered his mouth and, without preamble, licked me right up to the center, back to front, and then back down.

My bound hands found the edge of the chair and curled around it.

He used his fingers to pull my pussy lips apart and pushed his tongue as deep inside me as it could go.

“I can taste your piss, Harper” he breathed, delving in and out.

I was disgusted with myself for not fighting back more, for ending up in this position in the first place. For being bared wide open to this twisted fuck.

I kept my focus on the ceiling as he ate me like a man starved, alternating between tongue fucking me and suckling on my clit.

My body reacted like most bodies being stimulated would. I grew wetter the more he continued.

Arousal mixed with saliva pooled between my spread thighs and ran down the crevice between my ass cheeks. I let out a shaky breath, fighting against a budding orgasm. Fresh tears burned in my eyes.

When he rose abruptly, the first thing he did was free his thick, veiny cock from his slacks. I hadn’t gotten to see it when he forced himself inside me the day before.

“I’m going to fuck you now, and I want you to watch,” he said simply, easing himself inside me.

He reached up and grasped the black chain dangling above my head, slipping it around my neck like a noose, tightening it just enough that my airflow was impaired.

With my four main limbs tied down, my body was forced into an upward arch, every muscle straining to hold the position.

J pulled out slightly, then thrust back in, burying himself to the hilt, forcing a grunt from my mouth.

“There we go,” he encouraged, repeating the motion until I was groaning with almost every stroke.

I gritted my teeth to keep quiet, squealing when he lurched down and bit my lower lip, not letting go until he tasted blood.

“I want to hear you,” he demanded, picking up his pace.

The chair rattled beneath us, the cool vinyl slick from our mess of body fluids.

My pussy began making a sloshing sound every time he drove in and out of it, my arms aching with each jostle.

I could feel my orgasm building, and from the way my muscles started to tighten, so he could he.