“What’ll it take for you to understand, McKenzie? What? I’m fucking sick of your nauseating selflessness! Where’s your breaking point? You goddamn martyr.” Michael, her Master for several months now, snarled the comments as he loomed above her.
McKenzie waited him out, head down, eyes on the floor, submissive. Master had been working up to this for weeks now, pushing harder, trying to push her away, force her to make the choice to leave, like all his other women. But she wouldn’t do it, despite how he kept ramping up the punishments for every real or imagined slight, kept her prisoner in the apartment and denied any other human contact. Forbidding nearly everything enjoyable, expecting everything and anything sexual whenever he wanted, with no thought to her pleasure, being a total asshole. And while she sometimes hated him for his behavior, McKenzie knew why he was acting that way. Master loved her and the realization scared him shitless. The selfish, self centered, arrogant sadist had succumbed to Cupid’s arrow and was fighting the awareness every step of the way. She knew she was so much smarter in the matter of the heart, and loved him far more than hated him, so she kept her own counsel while waiting for him to figure it out.
Master stormed out of the room and made a phone call, speaking in cold, measured tones, although making out the words wasn’t possible. It didn’t bode well. Returning, he crossed to push into her space, pulling her head back with a solid yank on her hair. She hissed with pain, and he looked down into her eyes with fury and resignation. In turn she studied his beautiful face, those sculpted features and sensuous lips imprinted in the depths of her brain, golden eyes with the hits of onyx staring right through any attempts made to shield her thoughts.
Unzipping his pants with his other hand, he pulled his cock out, already hard and weeping for her. McKenzie opened her mouth wordlessly and he fucked her face without mercy, stretching her lips to the point of pain. His length pressed against her palate, stuffing her, forcing her to hold her breath, although she knew he was aware of her limits. Nose ground into the zipper and jaw aching, she endured and he finally erupted, pouring himself down her throat with a stifled groan. Pulling away, tucking his sated cock back into his jeans with shaking hands, he stared down with less rage but more resignation. Her thighs were soaked and she longed to rub them together and ease such need. He must smell her arousal. She waited. As she had been waiting. Maybe now he would do the right thing.