As He Likes It

He had an odd, intense face. Everything about it seemed deliberate, from the shadows of his cheekbones to the straight slope of his nose, not in the way that suggested a divine creator's touch, but as if he did it to himself in the mirror that morning with a chisel and a paintbrush. He had powerful shoulders but a skinny torso and slim hips. His fingers were long with the bones showing through the back of his hands. His wrists looked strong, bigger than hers. She liked when his fingers closed around her wrist, the warmth and electricity of his touch hit her like a shockwave, and she was frazzled, though she tried to keep her composure. He had a mouth like Elvis Presley's, big-lipped and opening to a perfect O. She knew that from the pictures she had seen. It was a mouth that made hordes of teenage girls in the fifties scream themselves hoarse, and now this mouth was hers. She wouldn't scream. At least not yet. His mouth took hers confidently, knowingly. He didn't need to hesitate or ask questions. She was there for the taking, and it's not like she minded, though she wasn't sure he'd care even if she did.

Now both of his hands were around her wrists, and she was lost in the hypnotic movements of his lips against hers, his tongue in her mouth, consuming her. She was drowning in him and couldn't find her way to the surface. He took advantage of this, pushing her back until she felt a wall behind her. Her arms were raised up over her head and then held in place by one of his hands. She hadn't quite anticipated it, and the feelings of being restrained and taken all at once swirled together to create a sensation of pleasant helplessness that grew heavier with every kiss, bringing her new awareness of how his knee was pushing in between her thighs and his torso was holding her firmly against the wall, until the weight of the feeling traveled down to pool in between her legs, simmering there in a slow heat. His free hand first held her neck, pulling her even further into him before he reached down and yanked her shirt up, taking handfuls of her breasts in his hand. His fingers dug into her flesh his palm rubbed against her nipples almost painfully, though she did not quite find it painful. And then his mouth was on her neck, biting. She squirmed under the sting of his teeth, but his hips pushed forward to keep her still, his thigh now firmly against her pussy. She knew he could feel the aching, pulsating warmth of her, though he made no move to address it. Instead he moved his mouth down to her chest.

He let go of her wrists and gripped her throat. His fingers were spread wide, his aim not to choke, but to control as his teeth and tongue grazed agonizingly against her skin. He knew how to push her buttons, how his teeth closing around her nipple would make her ache. She couldn't help it and found herself bucking against his thigh, but he quickly pushed her hips back against the wall with his hand, the other squeezing around her throat a little tighter. That was a no no. She wouldn't be doing any of that until he wanted her to. The thought of it tortured and thrilled her all at the same time. She grabbed onto his hair as his mouth returned to her nipple, desperate for him to keep him there and at least make him stop teasing her. It didn't work. He pulled away. The hand at her throat squeezed. His lips were at her ear, and she heard him speak the first words of the night, "Keep them at your sides." His fingers were strong and unyielding. She put her shaking hands at her sides without question, though she knew it would be a trial to keep them there. His hold relaxed on her throat, and when she looked into his eyes, they were cold, steady, and clouded by something that looked dangerous.

He held himself there a moment, hand on her throat, thigh between her legs. The heat and size of him, the power of his fingers, the steadiness of his gaze, it all made her weak in the knees. She desperately wanted to move, grab him and kiss him and move him to where she needed him to be, but his imposing form and attitude kept her still, despite the overwhelming need growing inside of her. He let her go and backed away. She sagged a little when his thigh was gone, her legs shaking. He kept her gaze as he undid his belt. She felt tingles and pinpricks of nervous anticipation as she heard his fly unzip. "Get on your knees," he said with his Elvis mouth, and for a moment she was mesmerized by the movement of his lips. She did as he told her and dropped to her knees, almost losing balance with her quaking legs and arms stuck at her sides. His cock hung just in front of her, within tongue's reach. "Suck it," he said. And so she reached up to wrap her hand around his cock, only to be met with a sharp slap to the face. The slap sent her reeling, slipping off her knees. Her cheek stung red and she couldn't help the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"I said suck. No hands," he said coolly, as if reprimanding a child. She righted herself, not daring to lift a finger to blot away an escaped tear, and dutifully took the head of his cock in her mouth. She looked up at him for approval, but he did not look at her, refusing to give it. She had to shuffle her knees to get close enough and also in a comfortable position. She was naturally cautious at first, taking a few inches and working him with her lips and tongue, but then his hand moved to grab the back of her head, knotting his fingers tightly in her hair. He pushed her forward and pulled her back, yanking at her hair by the roots. He pushed her further down the shaft, barely giving her any time between strokes to catch her breath and prepare for the next one. Soon she felt like he was pushing too far, and in a panic, she pulled away and broke his grip to gather herself together again. This earned her two more slaps to the face, these more unforgiving than the last. He pulled up on her hair until she was almost lifted off her knees, bending so that his face was near hers. "Suck."

He pushed her mouth onto his cock again, giving her no quarter. Her cheeks burned with the memory of his slap and her eyes watered at the feeling of his cock pushing closer and closer to her throat, but she wouldn't mess up again. She willed herself past her natural desire to pull away and let him push her further down his shaft until she could feel that he was hitting the back of her throat. She gagged, but he didn't stop, pushing her steadily down until he was entering her throat, a feat she thought impossible. She felt helpless and breathless, her hands at her sides and her mouth dominated by his cock.

Eventually he had pushed all the way in, and her lips touched the skin of his pelvis. He yanked on her hair and pulled her off of him. She gasped for breath, coughing and taking in deep heaving breaths. He didn't seem to notice or care as he pushed his pants the rest of the way down, kicking them across the room and tossing his shirt to the side with them. "Get up," he said. She felt spent, her body desperate for a moment of peace. There was none to be found here. He grabbed her hair again so she cried out in surprise and pain as she was drawn up to her feet. He turned her around and pushed her up against the wall again so her face was pressed against it. He moved her legs apart with his knee and pushed two fingers into her pussy. She moaned, still wet and aching. His thumb rubbed against her clit for a moment as his fingers pumped in and out of her. His other hand grabbed her hands, holding them against her back. It was all too soon that he pulled his fingers out of her, but they were quickly replaced by the feeling of the head of his cock parting her lips. His mouth was at her ear again, and he said with absolute sureness, "This is mine." And then he was all the way in her, his cock pushing in and stretching her to her utmost. It was like heaven. She was his. It was a satisfying thought. He didn't bother to start slow, instead ramming into her as he liked it. She was his to fuck. She knew it, and she loved it. She came within a moment of his entering her and then once again as well, losing herself in the force of him, like the intense undercurrent of a tide going in and out.

She could tell when he was about to come. There was a slight shakiness in the fingers gripping her wrists and hip. His movements became irregular and needy. Suddenly he pushed her to the floor and spun her around on her knees to face him. He grabbed the back of her head, and this time it was not a struggle. She was his, and so her mouth was his to take. He did, fucking her mouth desperately until he came on her tongue. She swallowed without a second thought as he pulled out of her mouth. He braced himself against the wall with his arms outstretched, catching his breath. Then he pulled her to her feet. Her hair was tangled and her eyes were red from the strain of his cock in her mouth. She was exhausted from exertion and orgasm. He stroked his thumb against her cheek and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly. He pressed his forehead to hers, his heart still racing in his chest. "Good girl."