There was something wrong. Something seriously, seriously wrong.
Salma flopped on to the bed – not her bed – face first, the wave of tiredness and dizziness that he’d predicted would hit her, as soon as he locked the hotel room door – his hotel room door – came into effect, with startling speed.
He had done – was doing – something to her. She could feel his power like a warm, stifling grip around her mind, forcing her to relinquish control of her body.
Salma turned, slowly, as best she could manage, in the circumstances, to face him, to look upon him, into his unwavering, steely gaze. Those eyes!
His eyes seemed to look at her, into her, through her, seeing every part of her, every fibre of her being. Examining, inspecting. He smiled, and motioned with his hand, over her forehead.
Strange thoughts, erotic thoughts, subservient thoughts, bubbled up into Salma’s mind. The overriding image was of a puppet, controlled from above by hidden strings, the body helpless but to obey the nameless’ puppeteer’s wishes.
He had straddled her now, almost sitting on her back. Carefully, he unzipped her skirt. What should have been a gasp, and a whimper, came out as a guttural moan.
“Take me…fuck me…use me…throw me away…please….”
His cock entering her from behind. His fingers caressing her back.
She was nothing more than His.
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A request by clockworksandspirals – hope you like!