Incubator

"You need to be overpowered. You need to be thrown down on the bed, have your ass fucked until you eyes strain from their sockets and your throat is dry from panting and raw from screaming. You want to be shaped, twisted, bent. Used."

I cleared my throat enough to force out a response. "Tied down."

She arched an eyebrow.

"You left that out. I like to be tied down while I get fucked."

She growled a deep purring laugh, fully satisfied. She squeezed my balls again, and the fabric of my jeans tore where she pulled at the crotch. She smiled that quiet smirk again and stood up. "Come with me."

And I did.

* * *

I remember little of the cab ride to his apartment. His scent was overpowering and I felt drugged. My body was jittery and excited, but my mind was a bit sluggish. I remember him whispering dirty sexy things in my ear, but not the words themselves. They didn't register that night anyway, but the sound of his voice was both soothing and arousing.

He paid the cabby when we arrived, and I followed him up to his apartment. It is a spacious two bedroom with both a formal dining room and a breakfast nook. The furnishings all looked expensive and authentic, lots of hardwood and leather upholstery. Walls and shelves filled with art and artifact. Real china to eat on, and real silver to eat with. Of course I didn't see any of it that night.

As soon as he closed the door behind us, he wrapped one powerful arm around me from behind. Holding me by the jaw with one hand he forced my face around to the right, making me lock eyes with him. Keeping that same quiet smirk on his face, he used his free hand to tear off my shirt, jeans and shorts. As my cock sprang free, he grabbed it, squeezing and pulling, compelling me to arch my back and rise up on my toes. A loud groan escaped my lips, and his smirk got a little less quiet.

He leaned down to gather up the ragged scraps of my clothes and dragged me into his living room. He led me to a padded leather ottoman and pushed me down onto it.