Clarissa is caught between her desire for power and pleasure.

Different methods would gain him partial access, but with his head buried between her legs and his tongue darting like a snake's, he had found the way to shatter her will power as if it were glass.

She must gain it back-the control over her basic of instincts, her raunchiest of feelings, her dirtiest of thoughts. She focused on the room. Bland ceiling, striped wallpaper, desk as bland as the ceiling, chair that clashed with the wallpaper, odd stain on the left curtain draped completely across the double windows. It had a weird shape. She couldn't seem to make it out from where she was laying. Tilting her head, she squinted closer. It was a...hands! No, not hands, it was a dog. She shut her eyes and let her head hit the pillow as he encircled her tender nipples with each of his outstretched hands.

Wreathing her body side to side, heaving her chest up and down, she shut her eyes so tight she felt her eyelids wrinkle. Involuntary movement followed; the curling of her toes, the grabbing of her hands at his sweaty hairy back and sparsely covered head, clenching her ass cheeks, her calves. She held her jaw shut tightly, so no sounds escaped. Gain the control back, she thought-stoic in the face of emotion.

She began to daze, rods and cones dancing on the inside of her eyelids. His body weight lifted off her, albeit temporarily. His hands untwisted her nipples, his tongue escaped from its client between her legs, but another tool of pleasure, the tool of her eventual demise soon replaced it. This was the beginning of the end for her.

He entered her slowly and a moan got past the watchful guard of her grinding teeth and quivering lips. The sound was but a whimper and a huff, but to her it seemed to echo and reverberate off the walls. It came back to her ears sounding of bittersweet surrender.

Sound, she realized, her last play. She tried to release her mind from his bulging member filling her insides and the feel of his lips and tongue breaking through the last defenses of her mouth. She tried to isolate the noise in the room. Her ears were the last sense she had. Her eyes would never be open again if they believed this intense pleasure came with every closing and her mouth would never close again if every time it opened his tongue stroked its insides like a paintbrush. Her hands scratched from his back to his ass and grabbed it urging him to enter her rougher, longer, slower, and deeper.

Isolate the sounds, she thought, her shallow breathing, which now was only possible through her nose, his heavy pants that rhythmed each thrust. They had left the television on; tonight's weather forecast. There was a slight almost indistinguishable vibration coming from the side of the bed. And moans, loud deep moans, but from who? She knew the answer. His tongue encircled hers, his hands had found her erect nipples once more, and buried deep inside her, he had hit the spot. Her body exploded. Pulse after pulse shocked her and her back steeped and cracked in the process. Something she would be feeling later, but for now her adrenaline was balling up her pain and pleasure and tossing it down the lane like a bowling ball. She slumped back to the bed and was immediately flipped.

His hands found her ass and he never left the warmth inside her. Still pumping, she resigned herself to her fate. She moaned and screamed and stripped off her inhibitions, much like he had stripped off her bra earlier, revealing her melon-sized breasts that now bounced freely with the rest of her body. They were slightly sagging from this position, which is why she preferred the bottom.

Her arms gave out and her head hit the pillow again.

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