Devoured Tongue: A Wet Submission

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof, a relentless, insistent drumming that mirrored the frantic throb in my core. He’d been pacing for what felt like an eternity, a coiled spring of barely contained energy, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. The ropes biting into my wrists, the coarse wool of the blanket scratching against my skin – it all amplified the raw, primal hunger radiating from him. My body was a taut, trembling canvas, painted with the desperate plea for release.

The first sign of his intention came in the form of a low growl, a rumble deep in his chest that vibrated through the damp earth beneath us. Then, the click of metal against leather, the familiar sound of his belt loosening its loops. A surge of panic, quickly followed by a wave of ecstatic anticipation, washed over me. This was it. The inevitable descent into the depths of his pleasure.

His hands, thick and calloused, moved with practiced efficiency, stripping away the last vestiges of restraint. The ropes snapped, releasing me from their grip, and I collapsed forward, my face burying into the muddy ground. He knelt before me, his gaze intense, predatory, as he began his assault. The initial thrusts were slow, deliberate, a calculated exploration of my most vulnerable point. Each movement sent a delicious shiver through my body, a symphony of sensations that threatened to overwhelm me.

As he gained momentum, the rhythm quickened, becoming more insistent, more demanding. My muscles clenched involuntarily, a desperate attempt to control the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume me. The wetness of my arousal intensified, slicking my skin and clinging to the coarse blanket. I moaned, a low, guttural sound of submission, lost in the throes of his domination.

Then came the anal play, the element I’d simultaneously dreaded and craved. The scent of his arousal, thick and musky, filled my nostrils. He positioned himself above me, his weight pressing down, and the anticipation turned into a white-hot blaze. The feeling of his fingers tracing the edge of my entrance, the slow, deliberate penetration, sent electric jolts through my body. The pain was exquisite, a sharp, burning pleasure that intensified with each agonizing movement. I cried out, a strangled scream of both agony and ecstasy.

His tongue, rough and demanding, entered my rectum, coating my sensitive tissues in a slick, warm layer. The sensation was both repulsive and utterly captivating. The grinding, scraping movements, the forceful thrusts, left me breathless and trembling. My muscles writhed in protest, but I found myself unable to resist his control. It was a surrender, a complete and utter yielding to his will.

He didn’t pause for breath, continuing his relentless assault. The rhythm escalated, becoming more frantic, more desperate. I felt my body losing all sense of control, my consciousness dissolving into a primal, instinctual urge. There was no thought, no resistance, only the overwhelming pleasure of his touch. The heat intensified, spreading throughout my body, igniting a fire that consumed me from within.

Then, a change. The pace slowed, becoming more languid, more sensual. The thrusts were gentler, more deliberate, each movement a caress against my sensitive flesh. The feeling was different now, less violent, more intimate. I felt a strange sense of calm descend upon me, a peaceful resignation to his dominance.

He shifted his position, bringing his weight directly onto my body. The pressure was intense, forcing me to arch my back, to stretch my muscles to their limit. The pleasure was still there, but it was tempered by a sense of vulnerability, a feeling of being utterly defenseless in his grasp.

As he continued his assault, a new element entered the equation. He produced a small, cylindrical object from his pocket, a metal cap filled with a viscous, clear liquid. He carefully applied the lubricant to my entrance, coating my tissues in a slippery, warm film. The sensation was both refreshing and electrifying, a welcome relief from the intensity of his penetration.

The rhythmic thrusts continued, each movement sending waves of pleasure through my body. The sounds of our mutual arousal filled the air, a symphony of moans, gasps, and grunts. The rain outside intensified, mirroring the escalating frenzy within us.

Suddenly, he pulled back, withdrawing his penis from my rectum. He let out a satisfied grunt, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. Then, he retrieved another object from his pocket, a thin, flexible latex sheath. He carefully stretched the sheath over his erect penis, creating a tight, secure fit.

The second wave of penetration was even more intense than the first. The increased friction, the restricted movement, amplified the pleasure to an unbearable degree. My body convulsed, my muscles clenching and releasing in a desperate attempt to control the overwhelming sensations. I screamed, a primal cry of both agony and ecstasy.

He continued his assault, pushing deeper, harder, until I felt as though my body was about to shatter. The pain was exquisite, a sharp, burning pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. But I couldn’t stop, couldn’t resist the intoxicating power of his touch.

Finally, he released, pulling himself from my rectum with a final, forceful thrust. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his chest heaving with satisfaction. I lay there, gasping for breath, my body trembling with exhaustion.

He turned his attention to my face, gently stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. The touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the brutality of his penetration. He leaned in close, whispering something in my ear, something I couldn’t quite make out.

As he pulled away, he retrieved a small, sharp object from his pocket – a pair of tweezers. He meticulously removed the latex sheath from his penis, discarding it without a second thought. Then, he proceeded to mark his territory, using the tweezers to leave a small, precise stain on my skin.

He stood up, brushing off his trousers, and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, turning back to face me one last time. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He knew he had conquered me, broken me, and claimed me as his own. And as I lay there, trembling and exhausted, I realized that he was right. There was no escape. I was his, and he was my predator.

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