Tell Me Where It’s Going In
For a while, there was nothing in the room but silence. Only the wet slap of our bodies colliding rough and hard, her thin moans breaking off and returning again as if they might snap at any moment, and the thick, lingering scent of heated arousal hanging in the air where even stillness seemed to sweat.
Under the hotel’s soft lighting, Na-yeon’s body glistened with sweat, and every time she drew in a ragged breath, the smooth line of her back rose and fell in a way that kept dragging my eyes back to her. She had both hands clenched in the bedsheets, hips thrust up high. Down in that private place, slick fluid kept spilling out without pause, mingling with me and making those filthy, sucking sounds. There was nothing she could do except take my raging cock with her whole body and whimper under the force of it. Each wave of pleasure whitened the fingertips gripping the sheet.
From behind, I fixed her waist in place as if I were locking her down, then shoved a hand brutally under her thin white T-shirt and seized her full breast through the bra. I kneaded the soft flesh bulging between my fingers, and she gasped—half scream, half moan—trying to lift herself from the bed. I didn’t let the opening pass. I drove in deeper. I pushed as if I meant to reach a place no one could ever reach, mercilessly working her, pinching the stiff nipple that stood out through the cup. The mix of pleasure and pain arched her back like a bow.
"Ah, ahh...! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come..."
She cried out with her head thrown back, right on the edge of climax, at that decisive instant when every muscle in her body seemed to seize. Then, all at once, I shoved her forward roughly and yanked out of her in one motion.
"Ahh—!"
Thrust into the mattress without warning, she collapsed into the inner side of the bed. The pressure vanished so abruptly that her whole body trembled with a miserable, helpless shudder. Her face, half buried in a mess of hair, was flushed bright red, and tears had gathered wetly at the corners of her eyes.
Still lying face-down, she turned her head to look at me. The place where I’d just been buried was still lewdly fluttering and wet, and she stared at me with a stunned, almost tearful expression, as if asking why I’d suddenly pulled out. I sat at the edge of the bed, breathing hard, and looked down at her coldly. It was jealousy, twisted into pettiness.
As the Owner of this relationship and the Dom who controlled her, the fact that she was still maintaining a connection to another man blackened my insides with a slow, ugly burn.
"Was that your boyfriend? You were supposed to meet him tomorrow?"
When I questioned her like that, she lowered her head. Not denying it was the same as admitting it. Roughly, I caught her chin and forced her wet gaze up to meet mine.
"Were you going to spread yourself like this for him too? Huh?"
The humiliating words struck her ears. Na-yeon said nothing, only let her lips tremble with a mix of shame and desire. It was a vile, sharpened line she could hardly believe had come from the mouth of the man who had always cared for her with a gentle smile, the “uncle” she knew so well. The usual kindness was gone; only a cold hunger for domination remained in my eyes, and she was utterly overpowered by it.
Na-yeon was seized by a huge, nameless fear. This violent possessiveness from a man she couldn’t fully understand felt as if it might swallow her whole. And yet, perversely, that fear fused in her mind with the most primitive pleasure. Those filthy words, which morality should have forced her to reject, only heated the emptiness below her even more.
A disgusting desire surged up in her—one she could hardly believe herself capable of wanting: that this man would rip apart the clean, innocent shell of the female college student she appeared to be. Her lower body was still pulsing, slick and abandoned, as if it had lost its owner. The obscene movement of it made my eyes sharpen even further.
"You got wet just from me touching you while you were on the phone with your boyfriend, didn’t you? Hm? You were almost done on my fingers even while you were listening to that bastard’s voice, weren’t you?"
Na-yeon refused to answer, but her eyes had already confessed everything. Stronger than shame was deprivation. The desperate need for the pleasure that had just been cut off was written all over her gaze. I kept digging into that weakness of hers with patient cruelty.
"You wanted me to fuck you like this, didn’t you? From the first day we met, you’ve been imagining only this moment every single day, haven’t you?"
I pressed my condom-covered cock back between her thighs again. But I didn’t thrust in right away. Instead, I dragged the slick tip slowly, cruelly, over the edge of her clit, coated with lube and her own juices. Her body bent back like a drawn bow once more, and she let out a moan she could no longer contain. Trapped at the brink of pleasure, her body had become so sensitized that even the lightest touch sent it into convulsions.
"You want it deeper? Say it."
With tears collecting at her lashes, she opened her mouth in a tiny, whimpering plea.
"Fuck me... fuck me, please..."
Unsatisfied, I squeezed her breast hard through the T-shirt, crushing it in my fist.
"Beg harder. Tell me exactly who you’re asking and what you want."
"Uncle... please... fuck me more... I feel like I’m dying... please..."
The plea broke down what little pride she had left. Only then did I align myself with the mouth of her wet hole and drive all the way in at once.
"Aaaaaaah!"
Her scream tore through the room. As if I meant to devour that cry whole, I began hammering my hips like a madman. But I had no intention of letting her finish easily, not the way she wanted. This wasn’t simple sex—it was so-called orgasm control, a method of seizing complete command of her mind and nervous system.
Just as Na-yeon’s breathing turned ragged and her eyes started to roll up, just as she reached the threshold of climax, I would mercilessly slow down or stop altogether. It must have felt like being shoved back from the edge of a cliff and seized by the nape before she could fall. Na-yeon clawed at my thigh with a hand that had been flailing in the air and begged as if she were screaming for her life.
"Uncle, please... please don’t stop... okay? I’m gonna come, please..."
I bit her wet earlobe, smiling coldly. The silence that came suddenly at the summit of pleasure, when her brain felt like it might burn white, was a punishment more cruel than any physical pain. The itchy, maddening tension of pleasure that kept almost arriving and then being denied drove her insane. I waited until her body shook with desperation, then touched her again—slowly, infuriatingly, just enough to tease.
I repeated it three or four times. The more often I forced down the pleasure right before release, the more unnaturally sensitive her erogenous zones became. By then, even the lightest graze made her scream, and her body had become a passive thing, hungering for nothing but my permission.
Na-yeon was no longer in her right mind. Her pride, her shame, even the existence of the boyfriend she was supposed to meet tomorrow had already been erased from her head. She was no different from a slave, thrashing beneath me and waiting only for one explosive release to end this hellish thirst. Her mind was filled with nothing but the overwhelming thickness and heat of my cock.
"Uncle, I’m really... really losing my mind... this is too much... please, let me cum... please?"
Soaked in tears and sweat, she hugged the pillow to herself and clung on in a way that was almost pathetic. The sight of her begging for pleasure was both miserable and disturbingly erotic. I looked down on her as if I owned her and asked in a low voice,
"Where is my cock right now?"
"Inside... inside me..."
She gasped out the answer at last, but I wasn’t satisfied with that.
"Inside you where?"
"My... lower part..."
"Say it properly. Where exactly is it buried? You have to say it with your own mouth if you want me to let you go."
She trembled on the edge of tears, lips quivering, unable to bring herself to voice the obscene word because of shame and embarrassment. It was the kind of filthy term she would never normally have dared to say. I pressed harder, grinding her down beneath my hips.
"Tell me properly where it is. If you don’t say it, I’ll pull out right now. You can stay like this all night if you want."
Terrified, she finally managed a desperate whisper, loaded with need.
"Pu... pussy..."
"Whose pussy?"
The moment I finished speaking, I started thrusting hard and deep, driving the answer out of her. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room even louder and clearer than before.
"Aaah! Na-yeon’s... Na-yeon’s pussy!"
"Whose is Na-yeon’s pussy? Answer me properly."
It was a question posed at the very brink of total surrender. Na-yeon could hide nothing anymore, and she screamed the answer out.
"Aaaaaah! Yours! It’s yours, Uncle!"
As I savored her pitiful pleading, I began branding my existence into the deepest part of her soul. This was the complete possession I had wanted. The image of “uncle” carved into her mind had now been replaced—not by a gentle protector, but by an absolute master who held her pleasure in his hands. I bit back the urge to blow my load with superhuman restraint and drove into a final sprint.
Under the brutal rhythm of my thrusts, Na-yeon screamed and shook, and I did not stop until she finally crossed the limit. At last, her whole body convulsed as she crumbled miserably into the climax I had allowed her.
