The more she gags, the less she Nags.

*****Another story that was submitted that I loved****

“I’m sick of your shit,” I said as I opened the door, “get the fuck inside.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you said as I shoved you in through the front door.

I don’t know when the tension started, when the distance between us grew. I’m not even sure when my confusion gave way to anger at you, but it had in the hours we’d been out at a dinner neither of us had really enjoyed, making small talk with people we didn’t like.

“Shut up,” I said and locked the door behind me. You stood in the living room, staring back at me. You were fuming about something, what I didn’t know. And as I looked at your angry eyes, I realized I didn’t fucking care. I walked up to you and grabbed you by the throat.

“What the fuck is with you, anyway?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, trying to pry my hand off your neck.

“Good. Because I don’t want to hear it.”

“Let go. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care,” I said and kissed your unwilling mouth. You didn’t open it.

“Open for me,” I growled and squeezed your throat. I could feel you gulping for breath against my hand, I could feel your pulse. Your heart was racing. I kissed you again and you still didn’t open for me.

“Fine,” I said, “be that way.”

I dropped my other hand to the hem of your dress and roughly pulled it above your waist until I could grab you by the cunt. I cupped it in my hands. It was hot. Wet. You might have been angry at me, but I knew what you really needed. I massaged it entire, my hand gripped and cupping and stroking over your lace panties, soaking them with your cunt juice until they were rippling between my fingers and I could feel the folds of your cunt slip around the ends. You moaned and when you opened your mouth, I slipped my tongue roughly inside, fucking toward the back of your throat with long, wet licks. You whimpered.

“Stop.”

“Shut up, Isabelle. I’m not interested.”

I pushed you back by the throat, my hand still clutching it and spat in your open mouth. I shook you a little and spat again, this time it struck your cheek. I licked my spit off your face and drooled it into your open mouth. I shoved you to your knees and unbuckled my belt and slipped out my hard cock. You stared at it.

“The fuck do you expect me to do with that?”

“I expect you to suck it.”

“I don’t want to. Let go of me.”

But I had you by the hair now and I wasn’t going to let you go. I think you knew that, deep down, that I wasn’t ever going to.

“Are you going to suck that cock, or am I going to have to pin your arms to something and force you?” I asked in a low voice.

“Fuck you. I hate you.”

I bent down and got in your face, one hand in your hair and the other wrapped around your neck again, squeezing, pulsing.

“Good. Because I’m going to make you suck that cock like you hate it.”

“Mmmph,” you said and gulped. I stood up and pried your jaw open with my fingers and shoved my cock deep into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat. I thrust my hips back and forth, fucking you deep while you gulped and gasped and heaved. I could feel you rebelling against my hard shaft in your throat. I let you breath, but not after making you fight for it. You lurched back gasping, spit running off your chin.

“You asshole,” you said, but there was a hint of a smile around your lips.

I bent down and smacked you. You whimpered and stared up at me with those big pretty eyes.

“If I wanted to hear my little cumslut speak, I’d tell her what to say.”

You slapped my cock, hard. I pinned your wrists above your head and drove you back until you were sitting with your back against the fridge, legs played out. I bent my knees, lined up my cock with your mouth and went to work on your, fucking your throat like it was your cunt. Drool ran down your chin, from the corners of your mouth. I reached down and ripped your dress off your shoulders. Tears ran down your face. You gasped.

“Please, I need to breathe.”

I pulled my cock from your throat, and you sat coughing and whimpering. I bent down and grabbed you by your slippery chin.

“Look at me,” I said.

You did, still defiant.

“Who’s are you?”

You mumbled something. I slapped you.

“Whose are you, you little cunt?” I asked again. “Who do you belong to? Who owns every inch of you?”

“You do,” you said in a small voice.

“I can’t hear you,” I said and reached down and roughly slid two fingers into your cunt and crooked them, almost lifting your hips. You cried out.

“Who?” I asked again.

“You do, You do, baby. I’m yours. Yours. Yours. Yours.”

“Good girl.”

I grabbed you by the arm, dragged you protesting into the bedroom and threw you facedown on the bed, collapsing on you like something I’d chased down and tackled. I shoved my cock into your cunt in one rough motion and fucked you hard and fast, my cock pistoning in and out of your swollen wet cunt. I rammed it back and forth, holding your hips down with one hand and then sliding it up your back to grab your neck. I fucked you there, pinned beneath me. You cried and moaned and begged me to slow down.

I did not.

I had you the way I wanted you. It didn’t matter what you said. You were mine to use, to fuck, to fill, to possess.

To own. I had to remind you, since you seemed to have forgotten. I fucked you without a hint of art, just the beast rutting inside you. Filling you. I bit the back of your neck, lay all my weight on you, and fucked you even harder. The bed shook and creaked and slid away from the wall with the force of it. I bottomed out inside you and you yelled as my cock reached deep. I thrust again and again and again, holding you down and wrapping my hand around your throat to pull you up. You were past even moaning. All you could do was pant and drooled while I treated you like my little scrap of fucktoy.

I roared and emptied myself into your cunt in hot, fast splashes. You howled. I howled. I thrust and thrust and thrust as my orgasm crested and fell. I lay across you as my cock softened, both of us panting. You had a little smile on your face. I kissed the corner of it.

“Oh my god, you fucking animal,” you whispered and feebly tried to kiss me back.

“Shhh,” I said. “Still mad at me, kitten?”

“No, daddy. I wasn’t ever mad at you.”

“What?”

“I was only playing, daddy.”

“You fucking bitch,” I chuckled and kissed your happy, slack little mouth.

“Oh, my god that was good.”

“You’re not done.”

“What? I need a break!”

“You fuck with me, kitten, you don’t get to decide when it’s done.”

I rolled you over, but gently this time, kissing you all the while as my cock slipped from your fresh-fucked cunt. 

 You whimpered and I kissed you sweet and gentle and loving. “Shh, kitten. Daddy’s got you. Just lay here with me.”

I cradled you close to me, in the crook of my arm while I worked you with my fingers

“Yeah?” I whispered in your ear.

“Mmmph, huh,” was all you could manage.

I could feel the tension of your climax building. I kept the pace steady. I could feel your edge approaching. I held you there with slower strokes for just a moment. I kissed your mouth gently, with none of my earlier anger.

“Cum for me, kitten,” I whispered and with my fingers pushed you over the edge.

You convulsed, your muscles clenched in a silent, negative space just before you screamed and bounced against me, thrashing in the cage of my arms as you came hard as a storm, I continued to stroke you through it with the same, gentle touch and pace. You whimpered and pushed my hands away and nuzzled into my chest, kissing my skin and whimpering. I held you close.

“Shhh, kitten. Shhh. Stay here with me. Just here.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered and settled into a half dose. I gathered you close to me and kissed your sweaty brow where it met your hair.

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