Taylor observed you from head to toe with an indifferent expression on his face as you stood outside his door, your eyes puffy and red from crying, drenched from the rain. Even you didn’t know why you’re here, but when you caught your boyfriend having sex with another girl less than 30 minutes ago, the only person you felt like you could go to was Taylor.

Taylor leaned on the door frame, his eyes still roaming your body. The silence was too loud and You felt like you were under a damn microscope. Maybe he was enjoying seeing you in pain, maybe he saw it as a little victory for himself. After a long and painful silence, he finally spoke.

"What's your deal?" his voice was gravelly and cold but not entirely dismissive.

Thoughts: Jesus fuck, they're going to catch a cold. And why did they think it was a good idea to drive here during a storm. What a dumbass.

A cruel smirk crept on Taylor's lips as he heard your desperate words. For all the hate he had for you, this made him feel a little powerful. He looked you up and down again before stepping closer, reaching out to touch your cheek gently with his thumb and index finger. You flinched at his touch but didn't pull away.

"You really think that'll make it all better?" he asked with feigned pity in his voice. "Cum here and try crawling on my lap."

Taylor felt a surprising surge of heat in his pants as you climbed onto his lap naked and started rubbing your soaking wet pussy against his foot. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the arousal that was building up inside him. "So desperate," he muttered under his breath. "It's pathetic."

The feeling didn't go away though; if anything it grew stronger as you moaned and pleaded for attention, making no secret of your desire to have him touch you the way he used to touch yourself when no one was looking. "You know I can make that feel better," he growled finally, wrapping his hand around your hair and guiding your head towards his crotch."

You shudder when his hand touches your hair but you don't pull away. You close your eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hardness pressed against your cheek. He's still hard despite how much of a cold bitch he's been acting lately and it only serves to arouse you more. With a shaky breath, you open your mouth and take him inside, gripping his leg tightly as you begin to suck and lick at him eagerly.

Taylor growls deep in his throat, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through you. He slips a hand into your hair, gently pulling you closer as he starts thrusting his hips against your face, fucking your mouth with abandon. You moan around him, feeling the tension starting to build inside you. He's possessive and rough, claiming you completely as his own in this moment.

Taylor growls again at your words as you attempt to please him more by taking his entire length into your mouth. His grip in your hair tightens and he fucks your face even harder, grinding against you roughly. The sensation of being controlled and owned like this is unlike anything you've experienced before; it makes you want to suck him off until he can't walk straight anymore.

His body tenses violently as he approaches his climax, groaning hoarsely into the back of your throat. You feel his thick hot cum spurt onto the back of your tongue and down your throat, filling you up in a wave of pleasure that causes your own orgasm to crash over you. Your pussy convulses around his foot, your back arching as you come hard while he continues to milk your mouth with his seed.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he releases

When the last spurt of his cum is finally gone and your orgasm has subsided into little shudders and aftershocks, he lets go of your hair with a rough tug. "Good girl," he says with derision, as if you'd done something pleasing for him. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the damp hair clinging to your skin, the redness of your mouth from his cock and the sticky mess between your legs. The arousal is gone now, replaced by a cold detachment that makes you shiver slightly.

He finally speaks up, voice still rough with lust. "You can clean yourself off in my bathroom." He points to the door leading to his small bathroom. There's no warmth in his tone, no indication he cares if you want to or not. You obey wordlessly, feeling numb and exposed as you stand up and

Taylor watches you carefully as you step out of the shower, water streaming down your naked body. The damp trail it leaves across the floor is almost hypnotic, and his fingers twitch in anticipation of being able to trace it with rough, possessive touches. He smirks when he sees how vulnerable you are right now; wet and naked and completely at his mercy.

"What do you say?" he asks, voice smooth as silk as he holds out a needle and ink. "Want to be my permanent little reminder of tonight?"

"Oh, nothing much," he replies casually as he starts to dip the needle into the ink. "Just something to remind you who owns your ass and when I'll be taking it back." He grins wickedly at the thought before pressing the cold tip of the needle against your lower back, just above the waistband of your underwear. You suck in a sharp breath as he begins to draw out the first stroke, feeling a jolt of pain shoot through you as the needle pierces your skin.

"Fucking lovely," he mutters under his breath as he continues to work on your body with harsh, practiced strokes. "You're just so perfect for this." The pain seems almost forgotten as the needle carves out word after word onto your skin; it only serves to heighten his arousal, making him hard once more beneath his pajama pants. He doesn't bother asking if you want him to stop or slow down, knowing full well that you won't complain either way.

The tattooing process takes longer than expected and by the time he's finished with your back, the room is filled with a distinctive tang of blood and ink. The needle clatters to the floor as he stands up, looking down at his handiwork with satisfaction. "There," he says quietly. "Now you remember."

As he continues to ink you up, the sensation is almost indescribable; pain and pleasure mingling together in a carnal dance that leaves your body tingling and your mind reeling. His hands move expertly over your skin, drawing out word after word in an intricate pattern of dominance and possession. You feel completely helpless under his touch, unable to do anything but arch your back and whimper softly into the ball gag.

The last words are finished with a harsh jab on the inside of your thigh, making you cry out sharply around the thick rubber between your teeth. He steps back, admiring his handiwork once more before turning to grab a towel from the bathroom. Without a word, he presses it against your throbbing wound, forcing out a muffled groan as the cold compress soothes the stinging pain. Finally, he wra