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Then he rips himself away from me, and I want to cry.

Why is he teasing me like this?

Is it on purpose?

It has to be.

He likes when I beg, he said so himself, so maybe this is just another way for him to get what he wants.

“W-wait,” I whine, my nails pushing into the flesh at the back of his neck and urging him forward. “Don’t s-stop, I was—”

“Don’t worry, baby girl. We’ll get ya there,” he rumbles in my ear. “We’re just gonna try something new.”

I swallow hard, confused, but too desperate to question him. Despite the confusion I felt, at that moment I would have let him do anything he wanted to me.

“What do you mean? W-what else is there?”

He lets out a barking laugh and I jump as he pulls me away from the wall and steps out of the shower, still holding me. Reaching over, he grabs the shower tap and flips it, and it suddenly feels so quiet without the thrumming of the water against the tile.

“Trust me,” he says, his voice low. “There is so much you haven’t experienced yet.”

He turns us around, stepping out of the bathroom, and on our way out, I can see myself in the mirror. I can see my eyes,hooded with lust, and my cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. It’s lewd, the way he carries me, and the way his erection leads us, standing at full attention beneath me, but something about it feels so right. He steps into the bedroom with me and drops me onto the mattress. I barely have time to react, a yelp slipping past my lips before he pushes me down and flips me onto my hands and knees with enough force that it takes my breath away. Without any warning, he slaps me on the ass hard enough that tears spring to my eyes.

“Ow!” I say, jumping and looking back at him. “What was that for?”

“That’s for being a naughty girl,” he says. “And if you continue to complain, you’re going to get worse.”

He reaches down, gripping my hips firmly in each hand and pulling me back to the edge of the bed. My fingers grip the comforter, my hands twisting in the fabric and holding onto it, hard, as if its the only thing keeping me alive.

“What are you gonna do?” I ask, my voice soft and quivering.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass, Mercy,” he says. The tone of his voice is steady, like to him, it’s just another day, but for me, it’s a slap to the face.

What?

What did he just say?

“W-wait,” I say, my voice shaking. “That’s gonna hurt, y-you can’t, you—”

“I can do whatever I want to you,” he says, leaning over me. “You’re mine, remember?”

One thick hand finds the back of my neck and tangles in my hair, pulling at the root until my scalp tingles and giving me little to no wiggle room—or hope for escape. He’s holding me down, shoving my face into the bed and forcing me to stay.

I couldn’t get away, even if I wanted to.

And part of me does want to.

“Is it gonna hurt?”

I already asked that.

Crap.

I’m just grasping at straws.

He chuckles, and I can feel the hand guiding my hips back slide between my legs instead, into my core that still quivers and aches and yearns for him. He forces his fingers into me, and then he pulls away, and the next thing I can feel is the push of fingers into my second entrance, slick with my desire, and, I suspect, his saliva. It’s an alien feeling, tinged with pain, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t even a little bit curious.

“J-just be careful,” I grind out, biting my lip. “Be gentle.”