Traded for Love Read Free

grace.
    When I heard his zipper, I thought my heart would burst. I was no better than a bitch in heat, happy to get her share of his affection.
    “I bet you'd love to have both holes filled, wouldn't you?” he asked, punctuating the question with a dark laugh. “Fine. I'll give you what you want.”
    The hot head of his cock, slick with precum, pressed against my asshole. I was sure I'd died and gone to Heaven. It'd been so long since I'd experienced double penetration that I'd almost forgotten what it was like.
    He stroked my clit with his fingers until I was slick enough to lend him some of my wetness. Without wasting any time, he shoved the head of his cock inside my tight asshole. The burn was both amazing and painful. The frigid bottle contrasted sharply against the heat of his dick.
    I clenched. He only chuckled and gave me more. Hissing and wincing, I let the pain roll over me like a wave. My experience was that the pain went away if I relaxed, so I did my best to do so. It was easier said than done with my nerves tingling and my skin stretched around the glass.
    Using me as he had many times before, he began using my ass to pleasure himself. He gave absolutely no thought to my satisfaction. In the Master/slave transaction I was nothing more than an object, a sex toy. As he thrust into me, he continued sliding the wine bottle into my pussy, deeper and deeper until I began feeling my orgasm building again.
    I was sure I'd never been so full, or so utterly stretched, before.
    He was surprisingly quiet as he sodomized me, a fact I didn't pick up on until he slowed his pace.
    Sitting back on his haunches, he withdrew the wine bottle and set it aside. Exposed and stretched, I hoped he would finish inside of me. The act of filling me with his come was incredibly intimate to me. It'd been how we'd created our daughter, how we'd cemented our bond. To me, there was nothing hotter than that rushing sensation of fluid inside of me, especially when it was from someone I loved as much as him, my husband, my Jack.
    He cleared his throat and moved around to the other side of the chair and a part of me curled up and died. Maybe it was the hope that we'd get to share a special moment after having gone so long without one.
    Instead of giving me an orgasm, it appeared he was only interested in being serviced.
    His erection bobbed in front of me, and like the dutiful slave I was, I opened my mouth wide. His hips were eye-level with me, so I tipped up my chin, so my gaping mouth was at just the right height.
    With his right hand, he reached down and closed his fingers around my wrists. Now I was totally immobile. His left hand guided my head forward and took my ponytail captive.
    I flattened my tongue and shut my eyes.
    He seated his entire length between my lips, pressing deeper until the tip brushed past my uvula and touched the back of my throat. My eyes watered and my gag reflex almost engaged. It'd taken me a long time to train it not to trigger, but I'd been successful.
    My mouth responded naturally, generating lots of spit for him to glide effortlessly between my lips.
    His pace quickened and his balls slapped rhythmically against my chin. I stole breaths every time he pulled out, but he was so fast that it was hard to keep pace with him. It became difficult to breathe as his shaft spent more time blocking my airway than I wanted.
    I mentally begged for him to come. I was sure I couldn't take it anymore.
    Finally, he shoved himself in as deep as he could go and sprayed his cum all over the back of my throat. I could feel it sliding down into my stomach, could taste the evidence of my own sluttiness on his skin.
    Though I hadn't gotten to have an orgasm, I'd still gotten to experience part of him that I hadn't in months.
    Tied to a dining room chair, my pussy freshly fucked by a frosty wine bottle, my ass sore and probably a little torn—used and bound, I realized I was happy to have been the object of his attention and affection,