He f****d my mouth that time. Tied my hands behind my back and took it without mercy, controlling my breath, my very life. It had been brutal, utterly crushing, yet it made me ache with this same agonizing arousal, made me crave more of the darkness.
I don’t fully understand why his roughness turns me on so much, why I enjoy being in his control like this. Prior to meeting Peter, my s****l fantasies rarely involved any element of force or coercion; vanilla was my comfort zone, even in my mind. Could the trauma of our first encounter in my kitchen have transformed me somehow? Maybe some wires got crossed in the aftermath, and the violence I experienced at his hands became linked with pleasure in my mind?
Either way, whatever the reason, I burn as he pushes his c**k deeper into my mouth, s
