Warning: This story involves light breath play, cutting and a fair amount of cruelty. If this bothers you, don't read it!!
*
My new apartment is tiny. There's just the one room plus the bathroom, so it's been a little awkward managing two people while you visit. I'm always grading papers in bed while you occupy yourself reading in the only chair at the table.
Tonight, you've moved the chair close to my bed, reading and watching me work. Occasionally correcting something about me to suit you - the way I am sitting, what I am wearing, how covered I am by bedsheets. Everything in your manner communicating that I'm just here at your convenience, and when you decide to be interested in me, you will be.
Eventually you closed your book, and when I respond instantly in anticipation, hoping you would just touch me, made fun of how easy I am, how much I've been wanting you the whole time I was working. You started to touch me then, and I'd struggled to keep composure. Each time I slipped, you chided me, until finally you moved my grading out of the way, your hands quickly checked how wet I was, while I tried to keep still and keep even breathing - impossible. With your fingers in me, my hips always move on their own, the loss of control this time (like most every time) flooded my body in a deep blush and I couldn't help but breathe faster and look away from your face.
You were cold, laughing at me, how much I can't ever help it. You made me beg for everything I needed from you, and kept telling me that I wasn't doing it well enough. Grabbing my throat, you roughly moved my head to the edge of the bed, because, even though I was trying, when I can't please you, you fuck my throat and do it yourself. Completely lost in it, I moaned, my body on fire, hips moving on their own as you started fucking my face. You told me to be still, because this is what I'm good at, another hole (for you) to fuck. I'm such a slut that even this turns me on, being used by you.