She pleads

Natasha’s voice breaks under the next deep thrust.

“Stop… please… it’s too much… you’re too big… it hurts… the way you’re fucking me… I can’t…”

Her soft body is shaking. Tears sit at the corners of her eyes. The thick 8.5 inches keeps driving into her with the same relentless force, the head slamming against her cervix on every stroke, the wet sound still loud and punishing. Your hand stays firm at her throat. Another open-handed slap lands when she tries to turn her face away.

“You don’t get to decide when this stops,” you tell her, voice raw. “You spent six months deciding I didn’t get to touch you while you let a coworker fuck you. You don’t get to plead now. Keep talking. All of it.”

You don’t ease the rhythm. The full weight of every month of rejection pours into the next series of hard, deep thrusts. Natasha’s legs are still locked around you despite the pain she is naming. Her cunt is still wet and gripping the thick length even as she gasps and begs. The pleading continues between the impacts, soft broken requests for you to slow down, to stop, that it hurts, that you are too much…