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Fuck Me Harder

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Slap. Slap. Slap.

Harsh pants burdened with exhaustion match each uncensored connection of flesh. On his hands and knees with you commanding the rear – quite literally, Jimin adds to the explicit composition with a selection of shameless “ahhs” and “ohhs” and the occasional throaty “yes!”.

The punishing pace persists a minute longer before subsiding to an eased rocking, your hips rolling forward languidly. You are nearing the limit of your stamina, feeling the demand of the session fatigue your body and mental endurance. But you will not falter yet. There is too much at stake. A whine illustrates Jimin’s disappointment at having abandoned the vigorous pace. Someone is impatient tonight. Jimin preferred a long, hard fuck and conveniently forgot the physical demands of such an undertaking, but you were always keen to accept the challenge with the bonus of exploiting personal gratification. An internal debate ensues to determine if the slip should be tamed immediately, as was common practise, or let it pass without heed; a most generous and merciful act on your part. But when he whines again, louder and incessant, and pushes back against you in search of lost friction, the decision is made. Such uncouth manners is unbecoming, yet you are equally delighted by the opportunity it now presents.

You cease movement, still buried within him as your eyes narrow on the blonde crop of hair. You want him to feel the severity of your gaze as you scrutinise his vulnerable form, for him to feel the weight of his mistake, to remind him of his place.

‘Did you say something?’ The inflection of your tone making him flinch. He is obediently silent, acutely aware of his error. 'If you don’t tell me, how will I know what it is you want?’

You delight yourself in imagining the internal conflict as he contemplates your offer. No doubt he understands the risk verses reward depending on how he articulates his response, and you were curious as how he might try to negotiate his way out of the predicament while minimising punishment – oh, and there would be punishment. It did not always necessitate the crack of your riding crop, no, there were more delicate and delectable methods, and you appreciated the art of subtleties.

You have wondered on occasion if Jimin also desired to be reprimanded and purposely provoked to incite your wrath, and you suspect he was privy to your particular enthusiasm and played on your inclinations. It was a characteristic becoming of a brat, and he was exhibiting an increase of brat-like behaviours that could be contributed to a deepening of his trust and comfortability. The prospect of your relationship with him entering this stage was warming and validated your efforts to establish such rapport. However, such thoughts were for another time, and you focus on the task at hand.

As you wait, the intermission provided if only a brief moment to rest and sharpen your mind however, as the seconds draw longer and without a response from Jimin, you begin to interpret it as silent indignation furthering your suspicious of his inclination for rebellious behaviour. Before you curtly address his silence, Jimin saves himself from swift consequence.

'Please.’ The small voice mumbles.

You hear it fine enough, but feeling vexed by his behaviour until now, you are not inclined to dismiss his mistake leniently.

'Speak up,’ you command, 'I won’t continue until you do.’

'Please,’ he repeats louder.

'Please what?’

'Please fuck me!’

The honest declaration is laced with lust and desperation, and it takes a generous amount of restraint to prevent yourself from laughing. Very good, you muse. It was a matter of whipping him back into line – figuratively. Though, however honest and obedient he may be, he would not receive what he desired, not until you deemed him worth of receiving it.

Schooling your demeanour to erase all traces of enjoyment, you question innocently, 'But that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. Are you dissatisfied by my efforts?’

He chokes, startled by what is insinuated, and stutters, 'N-no never!’

'Then what is it?’ you bark.

'Fuck me harder!’ And wicked grin twists your lips at the confession.

Jimin’s body stiffens in anticipation of a repercussion for his outburst, and you relish in the manipulation and desire that controls him. Many ideas, tantalising fantasies whisper suggestions of how you should proceed next; some deliciously cruel and others with a gentler, more forgiving approach.

You reach out a hand, trailing the sweat slicked back which shivers at the touch to fasten in his blonde locks. Then wrenching his head back, you lean forward to whisper sweetly, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

'I want nothing but to give you what you want, Jimin. And for being so honest, I’ll grant you this.’ And a feverish shudder breaks past his full lips.

Realising his hair, you place your hand between his shoulders and bear the weight of your body to encourage him down. Head down and ass up, the position both optimised deep penetration and offered full control. Exposed and vulnerable, Jimin’s surrender is a testimony of trust that he has chosen to bestow you – and you would do it justice.

‘Hands where I can see them,’ you instruct. Since the last incident, Jimin would not forgot any time soon what would happen should his hands wander in want of release. The memory flashes vividly and you recall the event fondly as someone might attribute to a family memory.

As instructed, his hands splay out then curl to grip the sheets in preparation for the fucking he so desperately sought. You devour the sight before you, committing it to memory.

Your hands smooth up and down his back then cup the mound of his ass, testing the ripeness of each cheek. In the revealing light, his skin is unmarred, evenly toned and lily white which serves as a reminded that he was probably past his due date for a beneficial flogging. Today’s session reaffirmed such. Humming involuntary at the thought, you make a mental note to rectify your tardiness.

With a firm grasp of his narrow hips, you withdraw carefully, watching the process until it can be visually confirmed that only the tip of the dildo remains concealed. It is neither too big or too small, but Jimin had previously expressed enthusiasm at the prospect of expanding his limits. Your attention remains transfixed as the strap-on is guided in slowly, loving how his cute ass takes the length. Jimin inhales deeply as the foreign object invades his body and releases a shaky breath. Once buried to the base of the harness the action is repeated. Unconsciously, you bite your lip in concentration on easing in, aware that the excruciatingly slow pace is driving Jimin insane. But like a well-behaved boy, he holds his tongue, biding his time to reap the reward of his patience – he just had to suffer first. On the third entrance, you angle the appendage up and on hearing a shallow gasp you know you have hit his sweet spot. Before fully sheathing yourself, you retract slightly only to snap your hips forward. Jimin cries out in both surprise and pleasure, and you smirk triumphantly.

And with that, it was time to set the pace.

I need to make this hard and quick, you rationalise in preparation for the physical bout. With two rough thrusts, you commence a steady rhythm, mentally counting each thrust to one second. Jimin’s rejoice at the quickened momentum is uttered on a breath, and he continues to sing at the back of his throat. The bed creaks intermittently or when a thrust is driven harder than usual. It is taxing work, and the fatigue masked from the brief reprieve has again set into your muscles. To counter your waning stamina, one hand fastens hold of the head board to brace against the momentum of your body while the other remains attached to Jimin’s hip for guidance. Your fingers are guaranteed to leave imprints days after and that would not be the sole reminder.

Thrusting forward, you slam into his ass and are rewarded as he recoils from the touch. That’s better, you note. He had felt that one. Again, more forcefully this time, you rely on the weight transferred into the headboard to assist driving forward to hear the slap of your pelvis as it meets his backside. The quality of the sound urges the desire to hear it again. That alone could make you wet. Maintaining a sharp, consistent rhythm, you pound relentlessly. Jimin moans and mutters incoherent pleasures into the mattress, his agape mouth panting like an animal in heat, and the sight inspires you to fuck him harder.

'Louder!’ you growl.

And on cue, the unintelligible whimpers transform into a chorus of explicit moans. God, yes! It is music to your ears. With each angled thrust his moans pitch higher as the silicone cock strikes his core, inching his arousal to climax. Come on! you grunt, feeling your energy wane with each motion of your body. Abandoning the headboard, you reclaim his slim hips with both hands to slam his ass backwards as you motion forward. He yelps, body jerking at the swift change in tactic. Again! You pull him hard onto you, gritted teeth to contain the effort of the task.

With a succession of four, quick fucks, the heighten pleas for release spill on the bed and from his lips as Jimin’s orgasm is unearthed. A final wave of sloppy thrusts milk him of his worth, whimpers dying on his lips as you finally stop, flushed against his abused backside. Your breasts motion with every harsh breath, your thighs quiver and sweat prickles your forehead. Perhaps Jimin would not be the only one feeling it later. His limp body quivers with the aftermath, matted bangs shielding his eyes. You allow a pause to bask in the moment, feeling the exhilaration and exhaustion.

However fond of the position you dominate, you are mindful that Jimin necessitates your immediate care and attention to appropriately conclude the session. Since adorning the strap-on, you fully withdraw with a wet pop and Jimin grunts softly. With swift and diligent practise, the buckles are unfastened and the strap-on discard on the bed, and immediately your attention returns to Jimin.

You assist him to rearrange into a comfortable position and lie with him, stroking his hair and face as he comes down from his high. You coo and reinforce what a good boy he has been, how proud you are of him. Influence by the gentle ministrations, his eyes close. You watch the transition of his expression, committing it memory. The uncounted seconds pass without recognition. It is not until you are satisfied with his transition do you pause, eyes trained on his sweet face. The cessation of your fingers that delicately caressed his cheek causes Jimin to regard you, perhaps in silent want of you to continue. Jimin, for all he flirted and teased, there was much that remained unspoken. That intrigued you all the more.

Your head tilts in assessment, trailing over his quiet expression before asking, 'How do you feel?’

He remains silent longer still but his eyes reflect contemplation, formulating a reply.

'Thoroughly fucked.’ He rasps.

'Good,’ you comment softly. 'Should you wish to continue our sessions, I have something exciting planned for next time.’ Your comment hangs with illicit promise and Jimin’s eyes widen slightly, excited by the prospect. Oh, there would be a next time. Together, you were only beginning to fulfill each others desires, those desires surfacing slowly with time and trust.

As gracefully as your spent body will allow, you rise from the bed and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Concluding a session is equally rooted in routine as you would prepare for one. A damp cloth cleanses the product of your labour and remnants of arousal with promise that you will have your due on return home.

Once refreshed, you exit the bathroom and begin dressing, meticulously adorning each piece of discarded clothing. Meanwhile, Jimin rearranges himself, flopping about on the bed, shameless in the exhibition of his nakedness. He stares and although visibly tired, a lazy grin thins his otherwise plush lips. You meet the stare, quirking a brow until at last you can not bare to restrain yourself.

You are all over the bed,’ you comment, although lacking its usual curt tone.

The grin broadens and you muse that you probably have enough energy for that belated flogging session, time however, did not allow for it. Instead, your lips purse as he sprawls out without care of the mess he made. You will not give him the satisfaction of scoffing at his childish antics, no matter how much the urge provokes it.

'You don’t strike me as being shy of getting a little dirty,’ he teases, eyes sparkling cheekily.

Your dominate hand twitches involuntary and a thought strays to the location of your riding crop for a mere second. In effort to maintain composure, you breathe in through your nose and out past your lips before replying.

'You mustn’t be shy of anything in this line of work.’ Your tone matter-of-fact although a smirk lightens its effect.

With that said, you retrieve the few remaining items scattered about the room. The strap-on is wrapped in a sanitary bag with the intention of being sanitised later. Packed and ready, you stride to the bed, the mattress dipping as you sit upon the edge. Your gaze wanders over Jimin’s face, noting its innocent characteristics. How many people he must fool, but you knew him better, perhaps better than most. Perverse boy, but then again, you both were.

His breathing has evened and expression exhibits contentment. A minute more and sleep would overcome him. You brush his bangs again, more so out of habit than necessity.

'Clean yourself up and change the sheets,’ you say, one last command to conclude your time together. Without waiting for his acknowledgement, you rise and stride toward the door with your bag in-hand. You need not to glance back to confirm if he will obey your last instruction. He was still learning but had learnt day one you were not to be disappointed.