Police Officer Wrecks My Pussy In His Red Room (7)
Klaus steps back around the bench and I twist my head over my shoulder to watch him.
He looks like a predator assessing his prey; calm, lethal, and completely in control.
He goes on his knees, eyes locked on mine as he lowers his gaze to the trembling space between my thighs.
His thick, calloused finger grazes my core, and a sudden heat spreads through me, making my stomach flutter.
I want more, need more, but the gag muffles every plea.
The gentle pressure teases me and I tremble. Not just from his touch, but from knowing he controls how far I’ll go.
Then he slips it inside, stretching me, and the sudden fullness makes me lose control.
“So tight,” he says, surprise evident in his tone. His voice rumbling low enough to sink into my bones. “You’re so incredibly tight, little mouse.”
He begins to move. Slow at first. Then faster.
The pleasure is far too intense for such a small thing.
He’s skilled. God, he knows what he’s doing.
Another finger joins the first.
My body tries to leap off the bench.
The sudden pressure is an electric jolt, too much and exactly what I need.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
“Too much, Alexa?” he commands, his fingers freezing inside me.
I shake my head violently, the muffled sound of my denial shaking the air between us.
“Good. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
He pulls his fingers out with a wet slick that makes me whimper into my gag, then his hand cups my sensitive, throbbing flesh.
He rubs the slick, swollen lips of my pussy, sending a deep shudder through my core.
His head lowers; the dark shadow of his hair dips between my thighs before the shocking, sweet heat of his mouth replaces his hand.
A moan rips through my chest, silenced by the cotton.
His tongue is a hot, relentless weapon, plunging and flicking with an expert rhythm that steals every coherent thought. He’s devouring me, not just touching but claiming me with his mouth.
One finger presses deep inside me while his tongue swirls over my clit, a dual assault of overwhelming sensation. My hips buck, a silent plea for more, more of this exquisite torment.
He pulls his mouth away just long enough to speak. “You’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you? Good girls are always dripping for their punishment.”
He rubs my soaked pussy hard with the heel of his hand, continuing his mind-erasing work, breath hot and ragged against my skin.
I’m on the verge of a silent, shattering climax when he stops.
The sudden withdrawal leaves me desperate and panting.
My pulse races, mind foggy with want, and a flicker of fear dances through me.
I glance at him, heart hammering, and can barely believe my luck as he rises to his full, towering height and slowly starts to strip away the police uniform.
The dark material falls away, revealing a body that is nothing short of divine: broad shoulders, a defined chest, and a torso honed like steel.
He looks like he stepped right out of one of my dark romance books, except he has no tattoos.
How did I get this lucky?
His trousers follow the shirt, and my focus snaps to the hard ridge straining against the black cotton of his boxer brief.
Of course, he wears boxers.
I remember reading that men who wear them instead of tight pants tend to be… impressively endowed.
When he finally drags the boxers down, a muffled, stunned sound escapes my throat, a sound of pure awe that the gag can't completely contain.
My eyes go wide. I’m not good with measurements, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen; it has to be at least eleven inches, thick and heavy.
How will a cock that huge ever fit inside me?
The thought is terrifying, yet I’m already aching for the impossible stretch.
He pauses mid-motion, eyes dark, scanning every shiver that runs through me. “I want to see your face when I claim you, Alexa.” His fingers tighten slightly on my ankle, reminding me that disobedience isn’t an option.
With a series of quick, cold clicks, he unlocks the ankle and wrist restraints, freeing my limbs. I rub my wrists, but I don’t try to move.
I am his to command.
“Place your back to the bench and raise those legs for me,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I scramble to obey, my body shaking with anticipation and lingering pleasure. I settle my back on the cold leather and spread my legs in a vulnerable, welcoming invitation.
He picks up another restraint, gathers my ankles, and wraps them firmly. Then he draws my wrists in and locks them to the same strap, folding my body into a bound, helpless position.
He positions himself between my thighs, a master of my submission.
His hand is flat and heavy as it slams against my pelvis.
SLAP!
The sound echoes, the pleasure-pain jolting my spine.
Another.
I crave the burning sting he leaves behind. I want to scream, to shatter the silence, but I can’t, not with the stuff in my mouth.
Then, a flat, stinging sensation hits my lap. Not this hand, something like a spanking paddle… and the material is cold and soft.
“Hold that position. I like you just like this.”
I couldn’t shift even if I wanted to.
The next hit lands on my left nipple.
WHACK!
A yelp is choked off, trapped in my throat.
Hot, sweet tears prick my eyes, a reaction of sheer, exquisite agony and pleasure.
He strikes my right breast just as hard.
I thrash under his strikes, but part of me craves them.
Why does his control excite me so much?
He tears open a condom wrapper then presses the tip of his thick cock against me, teasing my entrance.
I didn’t take him for the careful type.
But was I really going to allow him to fuck me raw?
God, what has come over me?
I rock my hips, silently begging him to end the wait.
With a heavy, purposeful push, he thrusts inside.
I strain against the restraint, muffled cries torn from me as he stretches me to my limit.
I feel him impossibly deep, settling into a space that has been empty all my life.
He begins to move… slow at first. Driving in and pulling back, testing my boundaries. Then the pace quickens. Faster. Harder. His body a piston of dominating force.
SLAP!
The paddle cracks against my hip.
The sharp sting only heightens the pleasure, driving him deeper. My body shudders around him.
SLAP!
Another one lands on my thigh.
I’m screaming inside. Thrashing. My pussy crying out for help and for more of the one thing that has ever made me feel free.
His pace quickens, owning every inch of me with force that takes my breath away. Each thrust presses me against the cold bench, filling me so deep it feels like he’s reshaping me from the inside out.
I am completely, beautifully, and agonizingly full.
I need to scream, to release the pressure building inside me, but the pantie gag is a cruel, effective barrier.
I have to get it out. I need to make noise.
I strain against the fabric bunched in my mouth, trying to push the material past my lips with my tongue and jaw.
I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s smirking and fully aware of my struggle.
I thrash my head from side to side, grinding my teeth against the cloth.
Finally, with a sudden, forceful wrench of my jaw, the warm, wet fabric slides free.
I know I shouldn’t have freed my mouth, but the thrill of defiance makes the ache between my legs almost unbearable.
A wet, slapping sound cuts through the quiet as he drives himself into me once more.
“Oh, Klaus!” The sound escapes from my lungs. A loud, ragged moan of pure ecstasy… the sound of surrender, of a dam breaking after twenty-six years.
Klaus freezes mid-thrust, eyes dark, a slow smirk creeping across his face as he realizes I’ve disobeyed.
“What the fuck, Alexa?” he growls, the vibration of his voice rattling through my chest. Heat burns my cheek; my stomach twists with fear and want. “You disobeyed me. You know what that means.”
He pulls out with a sickening, wet release. The sudden emptiness is a sharp shock that makes me whimper.
He moves away and starts rummaging through his toys.
A moment later, I feel a strange pressure down there; it doesn’t feel like him.
I lift my head, straining against the restraints just enough to catch a blurry glimpse of him adjusting some kind of machine with a dildo strapped to it. Something I’ve only ever seen on screens.
My breath catches.
He attaches it to the bench and switches it on. The device starts its punishing rhythm inside me.
A trembling gasp bursts out of me before I can stop it.
“You want to make noise, right?” He growls. “Now you will.”