“You were a good 3-hole girl today,” he said, as I got out of the bed and made to leave the bedroom. Tired and sore, I pouted at him: “I didn’t want to be!” but inside I beamed–I’m such a slut for a little praise. Even when I really didn’t want what he wanted to give me, even when that praise is, “You got all your holes fucked by me–good job!”
I liked it that he didn’t leave for his trip without using all my holes, even my asshole, which I resisted, whimpering and pleading with him not to. I really didn’t want to get fucked in the ass, I was (as stated before) tired and sore from two nights and mornings spent enduring his other ministrations…but he will own all of me, even the parts I want to withhold.
And maybe sometimes those parts more than others.
He had used my cunt so much those two days…fucking me and making me fuck myself…thrusting into and through my panties, as I lay in a stupor of post-bondage subspace, fucking me in spite of my tenderness, and only that morning pushing me over to my side in my shackles, pinning me beneath him, and slamming into me over and over until I thought I might break beneath him.
And then, holding me down with one hand, he forced himself into my ass, ignoring my protests, ignoring my body’s efforts to repel him, bent on taking every part of me, of making sure I would be thinking about him while he is gone.
I have been.
I don’t know why that combination works so beautifully, but it does: chains and his body pinning me, binding me, holding me helpless even as I struggle, his cock in my ass and his hand holding my own hand against my soft, tender clit, pain and something akin to anger flashing through me, heating me, setting me afire. I had a shattering orgasm, one of those that I fight even as I am climbing toward it, that is torn from me, forced upon me like everything else he does.
And then, after, pushing my head towards his cock, telling me to suck him off. Using all three of my holes.
