A Game of Dress-Up

Then he pulled his cock out of her mouth. She swallowed and tried to catch her breath. "Mr. Taylor, please!" she whined. "I'm not like this. Don't!"

She felt the bed sag as he climbed between her legs and got on his knees, and she looked up to see him aiming his big prick at her twitching cunt. As soon as she felt him make contact with the outside of her labia, she gasped.

"Yeah?" he challenged her, "You don't want this? You don't want my cock in you? Then tell me to stop, Vanessa. Tell me you don't want my big cock inside you reaming you out, you slut! Tell me no!"

She knew she had to stop him, that she had to tell him to get dressed and leave her alone, but she just couldn't. She couldn't say anything at all. His cock felt so good pushing against her and spreading her pussy, almost inside her. She could feel it throbbing, ready to plunge deep inside. She felt deliciously helpless, at his mercy, just like in her fantasies. She couldn't fight it—she wanted him; wanted him badly.

He laughed with contempt at her inability to answer, then he pushed into her, stretching her open and filling her with his incredible hot, virile hardness, and she groaned at her body’s reluctant surrender. Taylor snarled like an animal as his cock bottomed out in her tight sheath. He levered himself up on his hands and looked down to where her tight pussy was stretched around his invading member, and without giving her a moment to adjust he began to fuck her, hard and deep, already almost out of control.

"You hot cunt! You little slut! Is this good enough for you? You like this big prick?"

She couldn't speak, it just felt so good, so right, and his savagery was just what she wanted. She was tried of fighting. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tight. Her trapped fingers clawed at the bedspread beneath her as she pushed her tits up for him to plunder and abuse, and all the while her hips were fucking with him, up and down on his stiff pole, sending pangs of raw pleasure through her feverish body.

It had been so long since she'd had a cock inside her, and never like this, never as she'd dreamed it would be someday: tied and taken by a man who wouldn't let her escape, wouldn't listen to her excuses. He was driven by his lust for her, and what could she do but let him fuck her like this, let him use her body for his own pleasure?

"That's my little whore!" he hissed at her as she raised her pussy to him again and again. "Now you're fucking like you mean it! You are a slut, aren't you Vanessa? You love it, don't you?"

"Oh God, yes!" she spit the words out from between clenched teeth. "Yes, I'm a slut! I'm a whore, I’m whatever you want! Just fuck me! Fuck me!"

Her words inflamed him and he pounded into her with renewed fury. This was her bed, her childhood bed. Her collection of stuffed animals was crushed between her and the wall as she writhed against him, her hands pinned beneath her. It just added to her excitement, as if they were forced to witness her own humiliation, the corruption of their childhood playmate.

He groaned above her. "You sweet bitch! You're gonna make me come! I'm gonna come in you, baby. You want it? You want it? Tell me you want it, whore! Tell me!"

She couldn’t control her excitement any more.

"Oh God yes I want it!" she cried out as he bucked on top of her, making her breasts shake. "I want your hot come! I want all of it!"

Again and again he beat into her, the slick sound of his prick pumping in and out of her wet pussy loud in her ears, along with the frantic creak of the bedsprings, the banging of the headboard against the wall.

"Oh Fuck!" he moaned, "Oh Christ! Oh Jesus Christ!"

His body went suddenly stiff, ramming her deep and she screamed as she felt his fingers claw into her breasts. Her pussy was crammed with cock, and she felt him throb hard and knew that he was shooting his semen into her, filling her with his hot load.

Her head spun with the erotic nastiness of it. She cried out, and then she came too, thrusting her hips up at him in a spasm of release as his seed poured into her. She arched her back and her bound hands clawed the bedspread as she trembled beneath him, the blood roaring in her ears.

She never wanted to come down from that orgasmic high, never wanted to open her eyes again. How could she ever face the shame, the humiliation of letting this family friend reduce her to a submissive whore, begging for anything he wanted to give her. Maybe Mr. Taylor knew her shame, or maybe he was ashamed too, because he didn’t say a word as he slowly withdrew from her aching body.

He climbed off her, still panting, rolled her onto her side and untied her wrists. Vanessa just lay there, unable to move, her humiliation mixed with a feeling of deep sexual satisfaction like she'd never known. She had never come like that before. It had been an orgasm that involved all of her, body and soul, and she didn't know what to make of it, what to make of herself now. Was that truly who she was?.

Mr. Taylor was staring at her as he caught his breath. He reached out and ran a hand appreciatively over her trembling body.

"So it wasn't just a game, was it Vanessa?" he asked her softly. "It was something you wanted, wasn't it?"

She didn't say anything. She was too ashamed, too confused.

He got up and put on his shorts and pants, picked up his shoes and his shirt. He paused at the door and said. "This never happened, did it, Vanessa?"

She shook her head, her eyes still closed so he wouldn't see the tears.

"I’ve got the kids all week, but the bitch picks them up on Friday." he said as he put his shirt on. "I'll see you then. You know where I live, right?"

She nodded.

“You wouldn’t want your mother to know about what you keep in your room, would you, Vanessa?”

She shook her head.

”Good,” he said. “Then we have an understanding.”

He stood there and watched her for awhile. He couldn’t help but see the tears as they squeezed out between her eyelashes. even though she refused to let him see her cry.

He walked back over to her, bent over and kissed her on the cheek. "You feel sick and ashamed, don’t you? But mostly ashamed. You really lost it there, Vanessa. Most women don’t come that hard, but you were fantastic. It’s not something you find everyday. It’s a real gift and you should be proud of it. You’re quite a woman.”

Vanessa finally broke down. The excitement, the orgasm and shame were just too much for her. “I liked it,” she sobbed. “I loved it! I’m not a woman. I’m a slut!”

Taylor stood up and walked to the door. “You’re still young, Vanessa. You still think there’s a difference. There isn’t.”

Vanessa didn’t know what he meant, so she said nothing.

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. You're all that and more, Vanessa. You'll see. You don’t know the half of it yet. You're that and a whole lot more."