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From Mother To Daughter (And Back Again)
🕑 Added 2023-08-18 16:59:02 +0000 UTCSex with Schneider was a dim, distant memory, even before they’d divorced. Greta recalled it as infrequently as possible. When he’d gone to bed with her, it was for perfunctory sex—Greta felt like she should’ve won Best Actress just for making the right noises, the right moves underneath him.
If he’d even gone hard and fast, pumping until he came, she might’ve been able to make something of it, but he seemed to barely work up any enthusiasm before he wearily rolled off her. Like he’d had all he could eat, but felt compelled to clear his plate to sate an angry parent.
Cannon was the exact opposite. He hadn’t even made the most fleeting gestures at affection or romance, the way Schneider had attempted, but he’d pounded her so hard that Greta could almost climax just remembering his prick and how his cockhead reddened and swelled up when she turned him on, like it was angry at her for getting through his stoic façade.
And that rage seething under his poker-cool exterior got to her. God, did it ever! She was turned on just thinking about it—she didn’t have to remember or dream or imagine.
But when he came back into her life, he did it so casually and so expectantly that Greta felt put out. No sooner had he said hello to her then he’d slipped a big, brawny arm around her shoulders.
“I’ve heard you and Schneider are quits,” he said. “Well, so am I. I’m gone from the agency. Now that I’m a free agent, I intend to take up some old hobbies—such as you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Greta fumed. “And do I get a say in this?”
She tried to lean forward to escape his grip, but with one curl of his powerful fingers, Cannon had her trapped.
“You had your say when you screamed my name, time and time again, instead of your husband’s,” Cannon chuckled. “I let that little prick off easy for all the shit he made me swallow, having to put up with him so I could go on assignment. But now, I’m going to have the wife he couldn’t keep, eating out of the palm of my hand. He couldn’t tame you—I intend to.”
Greta relaxed her struggling and leaned against him. There seemed nothing she could do to escape him anyway. And she’d by lying if she said his proposal didn’t strike a note of intrigue, and lust, within her.
She’d given some damned fine years to Schneider. He hadn’t done anything to hold onto her or be worthy of her, and when their marriage had ended, he’d judged her for sleeping around on him despite his own carrying on with Edna. It would serve him right to now be Cannon’s…
If only there wasn’t something so off-putting about his confidence, his self-assurance that she would be his. Like a rancher, cockily sure he could break in a wild horse.
“And just how do you think you’re going to tame me?” Greta demanded, equally confident that no amount of orgasms could make her put up with the sort of shitty treatment she’d gotten from Schneider, not again.
“Easy. I’m going to fuck it into that little blonde brain of yours how much you need my cock. Clearly, you need reminding if you’ve forgotten already. It used to be you’d beg for my cum, beg and plea for every minute you could keep me inside you. Guess this time I’ll really have to make sure you know what that cunt of yours is for.”
Shudders convulsed the stricken woman—a rage she couldn’t quite summon up, a fear she couldn’t wholly commit to. A lust she didn’t know if she could either indulge or satisfy.
Having said his piece, Cannon picked up the pace, marching her down the sidewalk the rest of the way to her condo. He forced her to the front door, herding her against it like some dumb beast of burden, all but pressing her up against the door with his hand on the back of her neck, holding her tight as a noose.
“Unlock that door, Greta. I could kick it in, but I want it closed behind us. Locked and bolted. No one’s going to bother us while I show you your place. You might’ve been able to get away with twisting Schneider around your little finger, but the moment we walk in there, it’s myplace where I fuck my woman.”
Greta cringed, suddenly remembering with crystal clarity how overwhelming sex with him could be. How she’d even been afraid of the mountain of passion, violent passion, ever-present in the man. Assuaged only by how cool… how psychotically cool… he presented himself as.
Without that chill about him, she could only associate his volcanic desire with that of a raving lunatic!
Yet her fingers did nothing to delay the inevitable. Barely shaking, they worked the key into the lock until the door swung open. Cannon gave her a shove between the shoulder blades, jamming her into her own home like a knife into a scabbard.
Greta suddenly felt overwhelmed by it. There was no comfort, no relief in this homecoming. Here was where she was cut off from all help, at the mercy of Cannon’s decision to break her in!
She felt dampness wash against her pussy, caught by her panties and then clinging warmly to her labia. “Cannon, I…”
“It’s too late now,” he interrupted her. His teeth ground in a kind of fury and his face wore an expression of bestial anticipation. “I expect you to be grateful for my loving; eager to serve. We both know I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had. You’re going to pay for forgetting it, you little bitch. I’m sick and tired of the mere idea that I have to win a slut like you over. I’ve had all a man can take, you spoiled bitch. Here’s where you get made into a proper woman; you’ve damn sure got a proper man to be one to, now.”
Greta backed away from him all while he talked, steadily shying away from his air of sexual malevolence the same way she would keep her distance from a blazing fire. Finally, her back hit the door to her bedroom and she realized she’d been seeking it all along.
She smiled sweetly—reached behind her—gripped the knob. She twisted it. The door opened. Panicked, she threw herself through it. If she could only close it, then she could lock the door, then she’d have something between herself and Cannon’s domineering intentions.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cannon snarled, lunging across the room.
He grabbed the door by its opposing doorknob and flung it open, pulling Greta back into the living room. Before she could regain her balance, he bore her down to the floor.
“Alright,” Cannon fumed, his anger tightly controlled in his voice and expression, but coming off him like the heat of a furnace about to melt, reddening his eyes. “No more kidding around. You’re too much of a whore to think you need to be seduced. It’s that simple. Take off those panties and let’s have our first round. Then let’s see you tell me you don’t want it.”
Greta glared at him. She felt like telling Cannon that she belonged to Schneider exclusively, that she wasn’t going to let some adulterer touch her. It was fun for her to throw herself at him, but what gave Cannon the right to demand what he’d once turned his nose up at? He really was no better than her ex-husband—just a better lay.
“I’m not playing games either,” Greta said. “You—”
Cannon slapped her across the face. Greta dropped down to the floor, stunned, and Cannon looked her in the eyes as deadly as a snake’s gaze before it stopped.
“I’m not interested in what you have to say. You’re a cock-holster. I’m going to use you for what you were made for. Your cunt. Your ass. Your mouth. Stop pretending you’re not wet as a melted popsicle—I’m going to feel for myself in a moment.”
Greta was so absolutely shocked by the combination of his physical violence and his degrading words that she did nothing as he flung up her dress and ripped her scant black panties off her hips. Then he forced her down flat, pancaking her abundant buttocks, and wrenched her legs open.
The blow hadn’t been hard enough to dizzy Greta, but she still felt unable to coordinate her movements. She lay there, as Cannon had placed her. Her legs spread, her bright slot exposed to his scheming eyes.
Cannon unzipped his fly. He brought out his stiff, red erection.
He spoke harshly: “I expect this to be the last time you say no to me.”
Sprawling out over her downed body, he began lowering himself on top of her. Greta knew he wouldn’t stop until he was deep inside.
Comments
Keeper
Also is the Sarah mention supposed to be there? It reads like it should be Greta
Keeper
For a second before I caught that it was a Cannon story I thought it was about Greta Garbo or Greta Gerwig
