Chapter 10: The Doggystyle Domination
The scent of sex and sweat hung thick in Emma’s pristine bedroom, a pungent stain on the lavender air. The plush comforter was tangled around their legs, a casualty of the previous frantic coupling. Tyler pulled out slowly, a wet, obscene sound accompanying his withdrawal. Emma shuddered, her body humming, feeling impossibly empty and used all at once.
He watched her, a lazy, predatory smile on his face as she lay spread before him, her skin flushed and glistening. “Look at you,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “All fucked-out and messy. I love it.”
Emma’s mind was a blur of sensation and guilt, but the guilt was distant, muffled under the raw, physical echo of what he’d just done to her. She could still feel the ache of the stretch, the deep, internal throb where he’d been.
Tyler ran a hand over his hard, slick cock, stroking himself slowly as he admired his work. Her pussy, pink and swollen, glistened with their combined fluids. “Gotta say, Mrs. Schuester,” he murmured, aligning himself again at her entrance. “Your married pussy is a fast learner.”
He pushed in, not with the brutal force from before, but with a deliberate, controlled pressure. Her body, already pliant and warm from him, accepted him with a velvety heat.
“That’s it,” Tyler breathed, beginning a steady rhythm.In and out. Smooth, deep strokes. “Fuck, you’re soaked. You’re just a dripping little hole for me now, aren’t you?”
Each full, deep penetration forced a sharp gasp from Emma’s lips. “Oh… oh, god.” It was a cry of overwhelmed sensation, her hands fisting in the sheets. The slow, grinding depth was a different kind of torture, a delicious fullness that made her nerves sing.
“You like that, counselor?” he taunted, punctuating his question with another deep thrust that made her hips jump. “You like feeling my big black cock all the way up inside you? Bet your husband never gets this deep.”
“N-no,” she whimpered, the confession torn from her. It was true. Will was gentle, loving. This was something else entirely—a claiming.
Tyler grinned, picking up the pace incrementally. The smooth slides became sharper, faster thrusts. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room again, a rhythmic counterpoint to Emma’s escalating moans. He could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to clutch and grip. “Yeah, you’re getting tight, baby. You gonna come for me? You gonna come on this dick that’s not your husband’s?”
Emma’s world narrowed to the pounding in her core. Pleasure, electric and terrifying, coiled at the base of her spine. Her cries became louder, less structured. “Ah! Ah, fuck! Tyler, please!”
Then he stopped.
He froze, buried to the hilt inside her, and the sudden absence of motion was an agony worse than any thrust. The coiled tension screamed for release, denied.
“Why did you stop?” she pleaded, her voice ragged and desperate. She tried to buck against him, to find friction, but he held her hips firmly. “Please, don’t stop. Please, just… fuck me.”
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his own breath coming hard.
“I want you to fuck me! Please, Tyler, just fuck me!”
“Since you asked so nice.”
In one fluid motion, he gripped behind her knees, hoisting her legs up and draping them over his shoulders. The angle shifted dramatically, and Emma cried out—a sharp, shocked sound of pure sensation. He was so much deeper now, spearing into a place that felt untouched, a raw and vulnerable core of her.
“Oh my God!” she screamed, her head thrashing back against the pillows. “Right there! Right fucking there!”
Tyler started pistoning into her, using the new leverage to drive himself home with ruthless efficiency. “That’s the spot, huh?” he grunted, every word a thrust. “This is the spot your boring white-bread life never touches. This is my spot now.”
The orgasm tore through her without warning, a seismic rupture of pleasure that contorted her body. She shrieked, a raw, guttural sound she didn’t recognize as her own. “FUCK! I’M COMING! FUCK!” Her pussy clamped down on him in rhythmic, violent pulses, milking his length.
Tyler didn’t break stride. He watched her face, mesmerized by the unraveling of her composure, and kept pounding through her climax. “Yeah, scream for it,” he encouraged, his rhythm turning brutal, frantic. “Squeeze my dick just like that. Get it nice and ready.”
The overstimulation was immense, a flood of sensation that blurred the line between pain and pleasure as a second, weaker wave began to crest within her. Her cries became sobs of overwhelmed ecstasy.
“Gonna fill you up,” Tyler growled, his own control shattering. “Gonna pump this filthy married pussy full of my cum. Take it!”
His thrusts became erratic, then he slammed home and locked, a guttural roar ripping from his throat. Emma felt the hot, wet pulse deep inside her, a flooding heat that seemed to have no end. It filled her, spurting jet after jet, a visceral claiming that her body accepted on a primal level. She came again, a trembling, full-body shudder triggered by the feeling of his release.
The flow was intense. As he finally, slowly, pulled out, a thick stream of white followed his cock, dripping down onto the cream-colored sheets and tracing a warm, sticky path through the crack of her ass.
He stood beside the bed, looking down at the wreckage of her—the heaving chest, the glazed eyes, the proof of his possession leaking out of her. He touched himself, smearing the last drops across her trembling stomach.
“Perfect,” he stated, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Your pussy is fucking perfect for my cock. Made for it.” He gave her hip a light slap. “Now get on your hands and knees. We’re not done. I want to fuck you like the slut you are. I want to see that ass in the air and watch my cum drip out of you while I take you from behind.”