“Y-yes,” I manage to gasp out, my vision beginning to swim as my body fights to process the overwhelming sensations. “Please, don’t stop.”
He chuckles darkly, his hand never leaving my throat as he continues his brutal assault. I feel his free hand come up to my breast, slapping it hard before pinching my nipple between his fingers. The pain sears through me, but instead of overwhelming the pleasure, it only serves to heighten it.
“You’re such a filthy little slut, Jane,” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear as he continues to drive into me. “You love this, don’t you? Love the pain, the humiliation, the complete and utter loss of control.”
I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips in response, my body betraying my mind as it seeks out the pleasure in every sensation. The tension within me builds to an unbearable peak, and I know I can’t hold back any longer.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from the strain of the evening. “Please, let me come.”
The relentless pounding and the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain push me closer to the edge, the tension within me building to a crescendo. I can feel the stranger’s grip on my throat, the pressure intensifying with each second, the fire of his touch branding my skin. His voice, a dark symphony of lust and desire, fills my mind as my body trembles, teetering on the brink of release. I can feel my body tensing, every muscle coiling as my orgasm builds, an unstoppable force that consumes me.
“Come for me, Jane,” he murmurs, his voice almost gentle as he commands my release.
And then, the dam breaks, and the wave of ecstasy that has been building since the moment he entered the room crashes over me, obliterating everything in its path. It’s an all-consuming, earth-shattering climax that threatens to tear me apart, and I scream wildly as I surrender to it fully. I feel my body convulse uncontrollably, spasming with the intensity of my orgasm as if it has a mind of its own.
His thrusts continue, bringing me through the aftershocks of my climax, each one a delicious echo of the intensity that has left me shaking and sated. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he pulls out, and I feel the hot, sticky warmth of his release coating my body, a testament to the passion that we’ve shared.
For a few moments, we both lie there, our breathing ragged, our bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of our coupling. Slowly, the fog of pleasure begins to clear from my mind, and I realize that my wrists and ankles are still bound, the ropes cutting into my skin and serving as a reminder of the trust I’ve placed in this stranger.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and weak from the intensity of our encounter. “Can you please help untie me?”
There’s no response, only the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wait, hoping that he’s simply catching his breath, that he’ll release me once he’s recovered. But as the seconds tick by, and the room remains silent, a new wave of fear begins to creep over me, chilling me to the bone.
“Hello?”
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