Revenge – Part 8B – Name Games

Sex stories post: Revenge – Part 8B – Name Games

“Look at me.” I said, looking down at her.

She quickly opened her eyes.

“Do you like being used by me?” I asked, pinching her cheek with my left hand.

She grunted and hummed in response. I slapped her hard on the cheek, flinching as I felt her teeth press against the base of my cock.

“Answer me, whore.” I said.

She let out a high pitched squeal and I felt her resist my grip, desperate to obey. I laughed darkly as I shoved her down even harder. I held her there for a few seconds, flexing my cock inside the slick passage of her throat, before quickly yanking her off.

She lifted her head high and breathed deeply, trying not to cough.

I yanked her back to my crotch and slammed my cock against her lips. Her whole mouth was covered in spit, and there were a few strands of saliva connecting her lips and chin to my cock. She was swaying her hips back and forth urgently, obviously desperate for contact.

“Tell me what you want, slut.” I growled.

“Use me!” she shouted, her voice hoarse, “Please, please cum! Fuck my throat! Use me, Sir!”

I fed her my cock and pushed her to back to the base, hard. I pumped the last few inches in and out of her for another few minutes before I stopped trying to hold the pleasure back.

“Swallow.” I ordered, grunting as I ejaculated into her.

She let out another piercing squeal, and the depth and humiliation of her submission had triggered her own orgasm. We came together, with me firing shot after shot of sperm down her throat, and her pussy twitching and convulsing without even being touched. I let out a shuddering sigh as my orgasm ended, and slid my thoroughly spit-drenched cock out of her mouth. She pressed her head against my thigh, and her body continued to shake.

I threw myself forward and reached behind her. I grabbed her bruised ass hard, digging my fingers in deep, and pulled her towards me as she let out another shriek. She quickly straddled my thigh and dug her face into the crook of my neck, still gasping and shaking. She wrapped her arms behind my neck and gripped tight.

“Sir…” she gasped, “Sir, I…I…”

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” I whispered, kissing her on the neck.

She emitted another squeak of pleasure and writhed her hips, grinding her hot, wet, pulsing pussy against my leg. I kissed her neck and slapped her ass with both hands, causing her to jump forward. Her heavy boobs pushed into my chest, and I could feel her hard nipples poking my skin.

“I’m…uhhuuuuh…” she moaned, “Oh God…Oh God!”

Her body stayed taut and tense against mine as she humped me, coating my thigh in her juices. I smiled and bit down hard on her shoulder, revelling in how every new sensation seemed to prolong and amplify her pleasure. Her orgasm went on and on, and seemed to last forever. I grounded myself in the moment, determined to remember every gasp, every sigh, every thrust of her hips. This moment was all the evidence I needed that Jessica was made to be dominated.

She eventually slowed her frantic pace and let herself rest against me. Her hips would still thrust irregularly every few seconds.

I leaned back looked at her. She was incredible. Her face was blushed deep red, and her eyes were wide and dazed. Her mouth and chin her still coated in a shiny layer of spit. I grabbed her jaw and aggressively licked her lips before sliding my tongue downwards and licking her chin clean. Without breaking contact, I slid my tongue back up to her lips and slipped it between them, kissing her deeply. She moaned lustfully into my mouth, and I felt her body sag wearily.

I broke the kiss and she let her head rest on my shoulder.

“Sir…” she whispered, her body twitching, “I’m…I’m still-”

She cut herself off with a final high-pitched gasp before completely collapsing against me. Her body still made little thrusts and shakes as her orgasm finally faded. I’d never seen it last that long. For a few minutes we both stayed silent, basking in our pleasure.

I lay down and took her with me, settling her head on my shoulder.

“Did you have fun, sweetheart?” I asked, smiling.

She giggled, exhausted.

“Mm hmm.” she said lightly. “Thanks for letting me suck you.”

“You mean, for using you?” I asked.

I kissed her on the head, and she squirmed against me.

“Did you like being used by me?” I asked, “Hm? Did you like it when I fucked your little throat?”

“Yes, Sir.” she sighed happily, “I love being used by you. I love being yours.”

“Good girl.” I said.

She kissed my neck and laughed gently.

I knew she had to leave soon, but I didn’t want her to. And there was something else I needed to talk to her about, before I forgot. She’d called me “Sir” by accident, at the cafeteria, in front of her friends. She covered it pretty clumsily, but luckily no one had noticed. It couldn’t happen again.

“By the way,” I said, “You can’t call me “Sir” when we’re not alone. You’ll have to get used to using my name.”

I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard her say my name. For so many years she’d just called me “Faggot”, or “Kid”, or “Bitch”.

“Right,” she said uncertainly, remembering why I was bringing it up. “Um, I guess that’s fine.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well?” I prompted.

“Oh right, I don’t normally use your name at all, do I? So I guess I’ll call you…” she said.

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, but then smiled.

“Steven.” she said.

That was weird. Hearing her say my name in that seductive, adoring voice made my heart skip a beat.

“Steven Bale.” she said, as if tasting the words on her tongue. “Yeah…that works.”

It seemed like it had been a while since she’d thought about me with that label too. Even in her head I was probably just “Roses’ Brother”, until I was “Sir”.

“Steven owns me.” she admitted quietly.

I immediately felt my pulse quicken, and a strange heat flowed through me. It sounded so different when she used my actual name.

“I love you, Steven.” she said suddenly, nuzzling into my neck.

I tried to stop my body from stiffening in surprise, and I let out a strange stunted laugh. I was glad the light was dim, because I knew that I was blushing. Why did it affect me so differently when she didn’t call me Sir?

She wasn’t just infatuated with some dark persona I displayed to her. She was in love with me. Me, the same awkward, lonely guy that she’d mocked for years. It was suddenly real in an oddly profound way.

“Good girl.” I mumbled.

She looked up at me and smiled. I think she suspected that hearing my name used like that had startled me, and she kissed me lightly on the cheek with a small laugh.

“I want to be a good girl for you, Steven.” she said lightly, almost thoughtfully.

She ran a finger along my collar bone, caressing me absent-mindedly.

“I don’t understand so much about…whatever it is you’re doing to me. But I know that much.” she said, smiling. “I want to be your good girl. It’s kind of weird how much I want it, actually.”

I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed, suddenly. She seemed too calm and content. So far I’d only seen her struggle with these feelings but now she was coming to terms with them, in a way. She was starting to really accept the labels I’d given her. That worried me. I’d only called her these things to hurt her, to make her suffer.

Slut. Whore. Even “My good girl.” had a condescending possessiveness to it. Did I really want her thinking of herself in these terms? This proud, strong, beautiful, intelligent woman. Did she really deserve to be treated like this?

But…she’d answered that herself, hadn’t she? At every push from me, she had eventually yielded. She degraded herself in submission to me. She accepted any punishment I had to give, and even admitted to enjoying them.

I shook my head at myself. I was being stupid. Now wasn’t the time to second-guess myself. I wasn’t threatening her or blackmailing her. She allowed herself to be treated this way because that’s how she wanted to be treated. I, with all my darkness and anger, made her happy. She loved me for it.

She was a slut, and a whore. She was submissive and a masochist. Her new comfort with these ideas shouldn’t have shaken me the way they did, but there was something about her actually being ready for all this that unnerved me. But it was exciting, too. She was discovering new depths to her submission, even as I was with my domination.

“So we’re not going to see each other for a while.” she said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.

“What?” I blurted out.

“Christmas.” she said.

My mind was a little slow to interpret her meaning.

Christmas was less than a week away. A few days after that, everyone would leave for their winter vacation.

My mom and dad were going on a romantic get-away to God knows which sun-soaked island a million miles away. Basically they headed to wherever was hottest, as neither of them could handle the cold.

Jessica’s mother Alice would be taking she and Rose somewhere together, and Jessica’s father, Bob, would be heading out hunting or fishing or gambling; something typically masculine. He took his wife’s absence as a chance to spend some male bonding time with his buddies.

Everyone would be gone for at least two weeks, usually leaving a few days after Christmas.

And me? I was staying at home, alone.

It was something of a tradition. It had started two years ago, when I was 16. I used to relish our family vacations, as they were the only time I got alone with Rose away from Jessica. However that year Bob and Alice seemed to be having a bit of marital strife, and needed some time apart. We were always on first name terms with Jessica’s parents, even as kids, but we weren’t trusted with the full details of why they were taking separate vacations that winter.

Anyway, Alice had the great idea to invite Rose along with her and Jessica. This left me with the pretty dire situation of being alone with my parents for two weeks. The point of the vacations were usually for Rose and I to spend time together doing fun kid stuff while our parents did whatever they seemed to enjoy doing so much alone in the hotel room.