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Like I just did. With her.
Fuck, it’s a hell of a rush.
That said, I’m not a monster. Well, not that kind of monster. My tastes may be fucked up, but they always involve a willing participant. It’s what’s kept me alone for most of my life. Most women are easily weeded out, because they’re attracted to the “good” Gabriel. Some maybe get a peek or a tease that there’s more to me. A few even suggest they’re into the same shit.
Not one of them ever is.
I’ve never met my match, and the few I’ve allowed to see that part of me and shown the beast to, have all but run screaming. Some literally do run screaming. And after all the dust settles and all the iron-clad NDAs are signed, I’m back to square one.
My kitten isn’t anything like that. And perhaps that’s what makes this even more dangerous.
Looping my shoulders and stretching the muscles of my arms, I stand and pad naked, barefoot and still hard to the table behind the couch. I smirk at the night vision goggles before I clean them off and place them back in their case next to the toys I was, sadly, unable to use tonight.
What? So I cheated.
I couldn’t help myself. When I saw that lavender-silver hair again, my dick was instantly hard. My monster awakened. My devil starving.
The need to fuck this girl is frightening. All-consuming.
Rolling my neck once more, I walk back to the couch and sit down, my thoughts swirling.
I needed that. I need to purge the darkness from my heart.
Slowly, my lips curl.
I know you’re not supposed to see the dress, but how about savagely fucking the bride before the wedding? I smirk as I reach down to my still-hard cock and run my finger up the underside of it. I bring the finger to my lips and suck it clean, tasting Fumi’s sweet little cunt.
We’ve only just begun, Kitten…
19
FUMI
I’m dimly aware of the photographer clicking away, and the man next to me talking calmly and solemnly. I’m aware of the people watching, and the light breeze in my hair, and the sounds of the city around me in the distance.
But the only thing I can think about is the question burning a hole in my chest as my lip worries between my teeth.
Is it wrong that he doesn’t realize it’s me?
Is it immoral, or even in some fucked up way assault, if he doesn’t know who it is he chased around that dungeon and then savagely fucked like a rag doll, but I do?
Maybe. Then again, it’s not like I’m pretending to be someone else. It’s not like I gave him a fake name.
I’m simply not telling him who I am. That can’t be wrong, can it? I mean, fuck, he’s the one going to a kink club for anonymous sex.
Rough, wild, primal, anonymous sex, no less. Sex that involves chasing a girl in the dark and pushing her every limit.
Consensual non-consent is the more politically correct term the internet has come up with for this fucked-up kink of mine.
But I’m not sure I hate the term “rape kink”.
There’s something so vicious-sounding when it’s called that instead CNC. Something so much wilder, more violent, more exciting.
Something so much more real.
I’m not confused about why I am this way, nor mystified how it is I came to have this depraved kink. I saw a therapist for a while after…what happened…and it took her all of ten minutes in one of our sessions to figure it out, when I blushingly mentioned the kind of porn and fantasies I was slowly gravitating to more and more.
It’s simple, really: I was assaulted. Things were done to me without my consent, without even the ability to move or fight back.
