Flesh and Friction

Chapter 1

The heavy oak front door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of a brutal, grinding day. I stood in the entryway, tension still coiling tight in my muscles, when she rounded the corner.

Maya looked incredible. She had decked herself out completely for me, her voluptuous, BBW figure spilling out of a tight, low-cut satin dress that strained against the heavy, soft swell of her breasts and clung to the deep roll of her belly and wide hips. She was a vision of absolute abundance-lush, painted lips, dark eyes, and a body made of warm, pillowy flesh that begged to be claimed. She came closer with a soft, hopeful smile, tilting her chin up, intending to be the gentle escape from my torment.

My mind, though, was running on a completely different tune.

As she closed the distance and pressed soft, hesitant kisses to my forearms, her large, juicy lips making wet, welcoming sounds against my skin, my internal monologue took over. I wasn't feeling sweet. I was thinking about the sound my hand would make when it slammed against her fat-magnificent layers of soft, pillowy flesh that I've always adored. There is nothing in this world that captivates me quite like a large woman; the lush abundance of a thick, heavy body, the way it fills every space, and the sheer, yielding warmth of all that softness. I was imagining the heavy give of her skin under my palms and the choked noises she would make when my big, strong hands squeezed her hanging flesh, relishing every single inch of the plush weight that belongs entirely to me.

Tonight, I didn't want her pretty. I wanted to make a mess of her.

"How are you feeling tonight?" I muttered, my voice low and dangerous.

"I'm here for you, Sir," she breathed softly, her eyes shining with eager devotion."

For a fraction of a second, her soft-eyed expression flickered. Then, as she caught the dark promise vibrating beneath my words, her demeanor shifted instantly. She knew that tone.

A sudden, breathless suspense hung in the air, making her lush chest heave. The sweet smile melted away, replaced by a delicious shiver rolling down her spine as she braced herself for a twisted evening.

Without another word, my hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back with a sharp jerk, stretching her smooth neck wide. Maya let out a sharp gasp at the sudden whiplash.

"Ah-Sirr..-" she whimpered, her body instantly going slack and compliant.

Acting on pure impulse, I kicked off my right shoe, letting it hit the floor with a thud, then the left. As she groaned softly under the pull of my grip, I yanked off my socks one by one.

"Open wide," I commanded, shoving the fabric straight into her open mouth. "Swallow your place, fat girl."

Maya's hands instinctively flew up to claw at the fabric, trying to yank the obstruction free, but I caught her wrists with a rough grunt, pinning her arms wide apart. Defenseless, she was forced to let her tongue handle the thick, invasive intrusion. I held her head back, watching her eyes water as she frantically shifted her tongue around. For a brief, hopeful second, her body went still, thinking she had adapted.
"Not even close," I grinned down at her, letting her delusion last just long enough to shatter it.

Instead of leaving it at that, I drove my fingers right into her mouth, pressing against the balled-up fabric and shoving it aggressively deeper down her throat. The damp, salty sweat from the cloth was now forced directly against the back of her windpipe, choking off her breath and triggering a violent, helpless gag. I leaned in, reveling in the wet, suffocating sounds she made and the exquisite, miserable discomfort of knowing she belonged entirely to my mercy.

No more noise now.

I hauled her around, marching her backward until she hit the heavy wooden chair I was sitting on, shoving her down with her back pressed firmly against the seat.

I wrapped my massive hand straight around her throat, choking her tight. Maya thrashed instantly, her feet banging a frantic rhythm against the floorboards as she fought for air. With my free right hand, I grabbed a handful of her painted lips, squeezing hard and smearing her bright red lipstick across her flushed cheeks in a chaotic streak.

"Look at you," I growled down into her ear, leaning my heavy frame over her, pinning her completely against the wood. "So big, yet so completely helpless.. Look how beautifully miserable you are."

Her eyes widened in a panic, swimming with tears and desperate, masochistic delight as my words sank in.

"Going to scratch me, fat girl?" I taunted, tightening my grip around her throat until she could barely pull a fraction of air past the obstruction. "Think that little bit of claws is going to make me let you up? Try harder. Show me how pathetic you really are."

Her choked, suffocating screams died completely, muffled into pathetic, wet whimpers against the fabric packed deep inside her throat. Her fingers clawed frantically at my forearms, her sharp nails digging deep and scratching wild trails into my skin. I felt the hot, sharp sting, but instead of pulling away, I leaned in harder, letting her taste the blood and sweat of her own defiance.

"That's it," I whispered roughly against her temple, my voice a dark, gravelly command. "Scratch all you want, but you belong right here under my thumb. You're my soft little punching bag, aren't you? Nod for me."

Her whole body shuddered violently beneath my weight, her chest heaving as she fought the gag and desperately bobbed her head in frantic obedience.

Without breaking the pressure on her windpipe, I shoved my free hand straight down the front of her low-cut dress, ripping the thin satin aside. I wrapped my palm around one of her heavy, pillowy breasts, grabbing a massive, soft handful of flesh and squeezing with the absolute fury of a starved predator.

"Look at these fat tits," I snarled, twisting the heavy flesh violently. "Overflowing for me, aren't they?"

I wanted this. She wanted this. My fingers alternated between viciously squeezing her plush, massive breasts until she bucked against the seat, and winding my arm back to deliver a punishing, echoing slap against her thick, soft belly. The heavy, flat smack of flesh against flesh filled the quiet room.

"Does that belly fat sting for you?" I mocked, my hand crashing down again."

Every sharp blow forced a muffled, pained groan out through the gag.

I ripped the socks from her mouth, but before she could drag in a full breath, I captured her lips, sucking and smoking whatever air she managed to pull in. I bit down hard on her lips, tasting her lipstick and sweat, while my hands continued to ravage her belly and breasts like a wild beast.

"Your breath is mine" I hissed against her mouth.

With her throat blocked, I freed both hands, sliding them up to meet her breasts. I hovered my palms around those massive, heavy mounds-teasing them, barely not touching, savoring the wait. I loved the anticipation, the way the plush weight of her breasts bounced slightly over my skin, the way she shifted subtly beneath me, desperate for the contact yet trembling with the fear of what was coming. That fine, agonizing balance was everything.

I leaned in, capturing her lips completely, making sure her mouth was fully sealed against mine so that not a single scream could escape. Then, with my hands still hovering, I took only her hardened nipples between my fingers, pinching them with a harsh, biting pressure.

She violently arched her back against the chair with the sudden, fiery rush of blood. All she wanted was to yank her mouth away and scream at the top of her lungs, but I wasn't that kind. I pressed my shoulders forward, using my weight to keep her face firmly locked in place and her mouth glued to mine. Her desperate screams flowed, but they had nowhere to go except straight into my mouth-hot, vibrating, and intoxicating. The taste of pure obedience.

I pinched harder, twisting the sensitive flesh and keeping the pressure locked down for as long as I possibly could, drowning in the muffled, frantic noises of her torment. Only when she was trembling on the absolute edge did I finally release the grip on her nipples, diving back in to ravage her heavy, aching breasts all over again with relentless, hungry hands.

God, how I loved her breasts, worshiping every heavy, lush ounce of them even as I punished her. I squeezed the heavy globes, treating her soft, yielding flesh like my own personal stress toy, a living absorbent for the raging energy humming through my veins. Every time the rough torment peaked, she tried to scream or gasp around the damp fabric blocking her throat, a muffled rush of air pushing straight into my mouth as I devoured her lips. Tasting her frantic breath and feeling her whole body shudder beneath my hands, I looked down at the messy, breathless, completely surrendered wreckage I had made of her. What a beautiful piece of art.

Every time the rough torment peaked, she tried to scream or gasp around the damp fabric blocking her throat, a muffled rush of air pushing straight into my mouth as I devoured her lips. Tasting her frantic breath and feeling her whole body shudder beneath my hands, I slid my hand down, pressing it firmly against the damp satin of her dress to check her arousal. She was soaked through, leaking hot and ready for me.

Without breaking the rhythm, I drove my fingers deep inside her, setting a brutal, relentless pace. Her hips bucked violently against the chair, a choked, frantic cry muffled against my mouth as the pleasure and degradation collided. I pushed her closer and closer, feeling her walls contract, her breathing turning hyperventilating and frantic as she careened toward a massive, shattering climax.

Right as her body went rigid and she hovered on the absolute precipice of release, desperate for the drop-I stopped.

I yanked my fingers out, leaving her completely unfulfilled, aching, and dripping, trembling in a state of exquisite torture.

"Not yet, Darling " I growled against her lips, denying her the mercy of a release.

Finally, I released her hands and yanked her upright, spinning her back around to face me. She looked up from the chair, chest heaving, eyes blown wide and swimming with a mix of absolute degradation and desperate adoration.

"Please, Sir.. please use me..." she gasped out, her voice raw and shaking.

I reached out and pinched her cheeks, pulling them apart to force her jaw open.
"As deep as you can" I commanded softly.

As her mouth parted, yielding completely, I thrust my hard length straight between her lips, treating her mouth as the ultimate vessel for my control.

In that friction, our minds collided just as violently as our bodies: she burned with a fierce, aching horny energy, trapped on that delicate, exquisite edge where the raw ache of her denied orgasm warred with her overwhelming, desperate need to please me. While her psyche spun in that dizzying, unfulfilled haze-dripping wet and yearning for a release that I had locked away-I used her total, breathless submission to scrape the raw, jagged edges of my own dark lust. Every ounce of her frustrated, buzzing heat was meant for me alone. Settling back heavily into the chair, I let out a long, slow breath. I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts go completely blank as her hot mouth went to work, tasting, licking, slurping, funneling all that trapped, frantic arousal into fierce, unquestioning devotion, finding her ultimate peace in the raw, consuming reality of my control.