The Madwoman of Thu Duc – Part 10

I should tell you that I resisted, shouldn’t I? That when Etienne pushed me to the foot of the bed and pressed my body into the mattress with his own, I struggled or fought or at least protested? I wish I could say I did, but I won’t allow myself that dishonesty.

The caress on my cheek had been tender, the kiss had been passionate, but what followed was, somehow, a battle of sorts.

The sheer weight of his body on mine made me writhe and arch upwards to confirm that delicious feeling of entrapment. I could not help myself. My fingers entangled in his hair, I pulled him down, kissing him as if I were underwater and would suffocate without his mouth on mine.

But Etienne met my passion with something that grew increasingly stranger: for every rock of my hips, for every devouring kiss, was echoed with a rising savagery, until his hand was at the hem of my wrinkled, slept-in dress. Instead of moving off me to raise it, or allowing me to remove it myself, he wrenched at it with such force that, finally, the seam ripped, stuttering as the stitching came away. Above me, Etienne exhaled a satisfied groan when my bare skin touched his. He grasped my thigh with bruising purpose and pulled it up.

I would have happily removed my clothes, eagerly spread my legs… but I sensed that was not what he wanted. My acquiescence only seemed to make him angry.

He pulled away from my kiss and stared at me, searching for something – I didn’t know what – in my face, while below, his hand wormed between us to search for underclothes that were not there.

“You have no shame,” he growled as he probed my wetness with his fingers.

It wasn’t a question. I did indeed have shame, but the hunger was stronger. Instead, I shuddered and pushed my hips against him. I could feel his cock, hard against my bare thigh. I wanted it inside me, as deep as it would go. All I could think about was being filled. Nothing else in the world mattered.

I would not get what I wanted without payment. His free hand closed around my covered breast. The squeeze was gentle at first, but quickly became a brutal grasp. Even through the silk of my dress, I felt his fingernails dig into the skin.

Only then, only when I whined in pain and tried to squirm away, did he enter me. And then it was with a single savage thrust. So hard that it took my breath away. For a moment, feeling my bruised interior walls spasm at the shock, I could not make a sound. He lay still, hilted, shaking.

“Why?” I gasped.

He looked down at me and said nothing. Quite gently, he laid his palm on the side of my face, turned my head away from him, and began to fuck me.

Somewhere inside, I screamed as the shame flared up and burned, but the ever-present devil didn’t care that Etienne did not want to look at me. It only cared for the delicious carnality, the exquisite sensation of being penetrated, of feeling Etienne’s pubic bone grind against the tender knot of nerves above where he impaled me, breaking me open with each successive thrust.

Too quickly I felt his body start to shake. I growled in frustration at hearing his breath choke off, at feeling the heat of his seed flooding my cunt.

“No…not yet…” I knew from sex with Robert, the only man I had ever been with before, that once a man had his pleasure, it was over.

But Etienne did not withdraw. For a few moments, he lay on top of me, panting. Then he slid a hand beneath my hips and, pressing his mouth to my ear, said: “Come on, sweet Elise. Move for me. You know how.”

I rolled my hips and felt him move inside me. Slowly, sinuously, as rigid as he was before, his warm seed spilling out of me as we stirred. The hand beneath me coaxed my hips to rock in just the right way. And all at once I was panting and arching, clawing at his naked back with my hands. Every nerve in my body rang like crystal on the verge of shattering. I thrust myself upon him with reckless, shameless greed, pleasure saturated every cell, until I came. Jagged sobs ripped from my chest until the spasms passed, and became gratified whimpers.

Only when he pressed his lips to the crook of my neck and sigh, did I remember his words. I covered my face with my hand and cried.