Before Breakfast

I watched you sleep, your eyelashes barely fluttering as your chest surged with every languid breath.

I loved you in that moment, fresh white morning glittering across the bleached linen, dusting bright pearls of light across your naked torso. I could watch you for hours; I did. I laid still, my own breath shallow, so not to wake you. And I blinked slowly as your fingers twitched, a happy itch in sleep, your mouth wound slightly at the corners.

And when I finally couldn’t lie any longer, I took a deep, salubrious breath and slid from the bed, a fallen sheet, a playground jaunt, without real substance or sound. I stood and padded to the bathroom, ignorant of your stirring, your eyes flickering across my creeping frame, my skin undulating heat in a cold room. You could taste me—milk and honey, velvet clover—before you could see me.

You heard the bathroom door shut; I rinsed my face, brushed my teeth. Yanked a flannel skin over my head, down my belly. Pulled a pair of clean panties up my legs, wreathing my darling pleat. I shook my hair uselessly in the mirror, fluffing with my fingers and smoothing through the nest with a frown. I turned the light off first, cracked the door by inches, leaving you to the wall of silence around your dreams.

My hand was on the doorknob when you spoke, “Where are you going, little one?”

I froze; the sound of your voice bringing an extra half-beat to my pulse. Was I scared or was I thrilled? I couldn’t tell the difference anymore, but you were already up, shifting onto your hips at the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes with your fists.

Scared. My fingers fumbled the doorknob and your face snapped up, catching mine, my hands; you were out of bed before I could turn the sweaty piece of iron in my palm. Your nearly nude body slammed me from behind, ironing my naked legs to the wooden grain, your mouth, cheek scuffing my neck as your lips joined my ear; you hissed, “You wouldn’t be leaving me, would you, my girl?”

My lips curved upward, eyes closing as my body turned and sagged against you. You caught me by the wrists and pinned the backs of my hands flat against the door jamb, your mouth feeding from my tongue, teeth, chin, as my back arched toward you, pressing my chest against complying flesh. When your fingers dug a trail down my arm, my collarbone, clutching my breast in a cruel, tormenting grasp and grinding my nipple through the waffled cloth, I moaned in your ear, your name, your title.

“Good girl,” you purred, twisting my mulberry areola with a ruthless grin. You were amused at the pain in my eyes, flattening the same hand then against my belly and crushing the dip of my back across the lacquered grain. I grunted, my eyes wavering just below your gaze. You watched my mouth, my lips split and gleaming where you had departed your flavor. My hand slid down the jamb, and I winced as your rough fingers swam into my panties and sloughed down across my swelling clit. My mouth was butterflies, whimpers dipped through an entreating pucker.

“Good girl,” you shushed, tapping my plumped button.

My legs shook as you leaned down, your mouth followed your pioneering hand, carving out a groove in my supple skin, melted heat and imprinted with your groping lips. My panties disappeared. I gaped, eyes flickering listlessly in my lust.

You were on your knees in front of me! Oh, oh.

I saw the contradiction and my heart beat twice in one, feeling somehow off, for a breath. But you were so adept with your tongue, suckling my slippery lips as I bucked hard against you, gushing sweetness from my rubied hollow.

My leg inched up your arm. I draped arrogantly over your shoulder, shutting your blessed mouth against my twat, writhing in a song of gurgling moans. You sucked me harder, tongue slapping around my tender bud as my hips jabbed forward. My hands found your head and twined knots in your short hair, fastening your face to my lap, your mouth and chin dripping with spicy syrup. I blinked slowly, an aching orgasm building between my hipbones.

I was weak, I trembled.

Oh, oh. You knew how close I came, your mouth ending immediately and a brief, forceful smack finding its way across the side of my thigh. My trickling moans became an explosive yelp.

“Don’t be a greedy cow,” you grunted, grabbing the crest of my hip and turning me around with surprising force. You stood, pressing your happy lap against my ass, your hands invaders, snaking up my body, one hooking into the neck of my shirt and yanking it downward. My cheek burned down the door, the peach cleft of my backside unfolding, my cunt cached slippery wet between. You groaned softly, the heat from my thighs palpable.

When you let go, you wrapped your fingers around the back of my neck and pinned me there, legs apart, cunt dewy and full. Your other hand was inches from my slit as I shook; you thrust your fist between my thighs, opening them both, little finger and thumb gouging my sensitive flesh as the rest were sunk, knuckles deep, into my cunt.

“Sir!”

The gasp was involuntary, my slit saturated as you fucked me, nearly your whole hand stretching and hammering my misused pussy. I loved every second of it, hiccupping my appreciation, mouth clinging to a fat, wet smile. My hips shifted against you and I turned, gaze skipping across your face. You were a dream. Your face was closed, but your eyes more open than I have known; they ate me alive.

You pounded me while I cried, wailed, screamed. My tits were crushed against the door and your hand tightened on the back of my neck. I couldn’t turn to look at you anymore; I couldn’t see anything but fading lights, anyway. Your fingers were thick, furious intruders and I was going to cum; I was going to cum and I couldn’t do a thing about it. My heart jumped, pummeling my ribs and my breath disappeared. I heard your growl, a low alarm. My cunt collared your hand, snaring you in my glossy hollow.

I heard you growl again, louder.

“Fuck!” I whispered as you ripped your hand away and smacked my ass, your palm splayed and brutal, shamefully soaked. You left wet, staining fingerprints on my insolent backside. I howled, my body slamming from heaven to earth once more.

Pounding the door hard, I whined your name.

“Fuck me,” I cried, petulantly, sullen. I pressed my ass out farther, grinding it against your lap, pleased to find you absurdly hard. I smiled to myself but got only four more bruising slaps to my naked end for my trouble.

“You don’t deserve my cock in your filthy, ungrateful cunt,” you spit at me, hand spidering up my head to rest snugly against my scalp, punctuating your proclamation with savage tugs. You pulled my head to your mouth, bit my jaw, your breath forced through gritted teeth. Your expression not as contained as I knew you hoped.

I moaned, knees bouncing impatiently. My cunt was sweltering and you could taste me in the air, unmistakably. Even though you were controlled and focused, your hips could not resist seeking to sink your swelling into my throbbing pussy meat; you resolved, instead, to take me back to the bed, bending my hips over the side with pinching fingers.

You groaned as my lush, ripe ass was spread for you across the steam-white duvet. I caught myself on my forearms, crawling onto the bed, but you encircled my ankle with a ready grasp before I could escape, scolding, “You almost came again, didn’t you, slut?”

I was heaved backward, belly scraping along the sheets as I whimpered. Your solid, unrelenting hand was spanking against my already sore cheeks. I nodded, moaning as my backside cherried under your remorseless tirade. I was near tears, biting them back with every fiber of will I had left.

"I'm sorry, Sir! I'm sorry! I'm sorry," I gulped, earnestly.

You loved it. You loved watching me squirm and thrash, my ass owned and exploited, dominated entirely by your caprice. I was helpless and it was how you liked it. Would I bruise? Would I bleed? I was at your mercy. I knew better than to beg.

My bottom was swollen, like my face, my eyes, my lips, my cunt. I was a bursting pink posy, fuschias, pomegranate, lavenders and wine. I was ache, my body shaking, knees spread and curled into my shoulders. The linen had soaked with tears, and where my mouth had rested, blubbering open.

You stopped, breathing hard, fingers still clutching my ankle too severely. You thought about sinking your teeth into my raw ass. Fuck. I was rocking myself slightly, sucking hard on my palm, keeping my eagerly soothing hands from my punished backside.

You ran your hand through your hair, let me go in disgust, “How dare you—after I had forbidden it! Gluttonous cunt! Your pleasure is mine to negotiate. Mine. So now, I’m taking it.”

I saw your hands twitch at the corner of my eye. I was afraid, watching you strip your boxers from your body, but I couldn’t look away. If I looked away, you would pounce. You were the creak, the dark, the monster in my closet. You were forcibly naked, your thick, purpling cock, with its glistening plum head closing in on my pussy. Yes, yes. Please. I turned my head, my tongue silent as blood pounded yesyesyes through my ears.

I shrieked when I felt your hands on my beaten flesh, climbing behind me, dipping your shaft beneath my sopping pussy and sliding it along my clit. You were sticky, my honey slit lacquered your cock; you nudged my tight asshole in warning. My back bent fiercely as you held me; I twisted hard, groaning my refusal.

“Shut up, cunt,” you snarled, simply, fingers tensing, flinching, burrowing into my soft hips, the heels of your hands unfolding my ass. I grabbed the covers, spine bowing, rounding as I begged, loudly, futilely. You were deaf to my cries as you plunged your cock into my unwilling cleft, spreading my tight ass roughly as you fucked me.

I whined your name, gasping in ache, my body writhing against yours with desperation. I would bruise. You loved me like this—subject to your every urge. You nearly came at that thought and you shook me for it, gripping my hair like a bridle and riding me harder.

I shrieked as your dick slammed into me, gradually shifting to resigned moans, then pleading prayers. Fuck me. Fuck me.

“Fuck me,” I begged, my hips bucking against your lap, “Cum in my slut ass, please Sir.”

“You wanna cum, cunt?” you asked, never slowing as you plowed my shuddering body, breaking me with a satisfied nod. Your teeth caught the skin below your lip and you lunged into me, your balls slapping my soaked cunt lips. I threw my head back and groaned, swallowing hard and trying to open my eyes. My thighs were rolling my hips on your cock and I was panting thickly.

“Pleeeeease,” I hissed, shoulders pitched forward as I bent my face into the sheet, ass high and meeting your deep plunge. You grinned.

“No,” you said. It was crushing, devastating, ruinous. I wailed, long and loud, as you continued to fuck me, lickety-split my split, sawing into my crevice without thought or concern. You were going to fuck my aching, eager asshole until you filled me. I wanted it; I wanted to be satisfying for you. I screamed inwardly with frustration, but thanked my lucky stars, pennies, and clovers that you would still use me, in any capacity.

I groaned, scrambling up off the sheets, my body closing around your thumping cock. Your fingers drilled my hips while you grunted, jaw locked tight, your balls tensing…and then with a jerking moan, releasing hot, gummy cream into my puckered hole. A shiver ran through my body, my cunt achingly plump.

“Thankyou thankyou,” I whispered, as you slid still, slower, draining your balls in my ravenous cleft, leaking from my stretched opening down my tingling lips. I reached between my thighs and slid my fingers through milky cunt sap.

You caught my hand just before it reached my wicked pout, lips dipped open and mouth watering.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you murmured, catching your breath, your weight falling down on me, dick still swallowed by my greedy body. I flinched, opening and closing my hand, uselessly, unhinged with desire.

“Please,” I begged, with desperation, spreading my hand and watching my wetness spin silken webs between my fingers, “Please Sir, please say yes.”

My voice was wavering; you were merciful, “You may taste, little one. You may lick your hand clean, suck your fingers—but that is all. Your cunt and ass stay as they are, wet and dirty and used. Do you understand?”