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I use my two thumbs to spread her lips and can hardly believe how swollen her clit still is. She’s desperate for this.
Leaning over her, I put a hand on the mattress by her shoulder, holding myself above her while the other gathers wetness at her entrance. Circling her clit with my thumb, I relish the moan she doesn’t bother suppressing.
“Can you hear me?” I whisper in her ear, unsure of how present she is.
Her nod is so subtle, I wouldn’t have noticed it if I was not observing her so closely.
“Then hear this. I will undoubtedly break you. That’s a promise. I will break you over and over again, and when you’re nothing but a pile of dust from the woman you used to be, I will put you back together slowly, painfully, and exactly how I want you.”
I push two fingers inside her, feeling the way she tightens around me. She’s soaking wet, welcoming me home like she missed me all day long. Her mouth drops open, and while she doesn’t have the strength to talk, I see the slight shake of her head.
“Take me, little sunflower. Let me show you how much you love this.”
My fingers curl, rubbing against her G-spot, pressing and forcing her stomach to tighten. Her moan is long, almost pained. Her eyes flutter open, and our gazes cross for a millisecond. Fear, despair, lust. She’s feeling all kinds of wrong and an infinite kind of great.
She’s beautiful, desperate, on the edge of being a broken little thing.
“Stay aware,” I growl as I rub harder against her inner walls. “Stay with me while I use you, Kayla.”
She whimpers, her body curving to the rhythm of my movements. I don’t think she realizes her hips are moving with me, rolling to meet my thrusts.
“You’re my dirty little masochist. Mine.”
She gasps when I retreat. Instead of my fingers, I run my painfully hard dick through her wetness, and when I press myself at her entrance, she freezes.
How bad is one meant to feel when they’re abusing someone while they’re barely conscious?
I’m guessing at least a little bit bad. Or, surely, they shouldn’t feel this good. I’ve always known that everything about me is wrong. I’ve hurt people for the pleasure of hurting them. I’m a sinner in the most literal sense of the term. I've manipulated, used, and killed even the sweetest souls. There is absolutely nothing redeemable about who I am.
At least I’m self-aware.
So why do I not care in the slightest?
I never thought it’d come to a point in my life where the person facing me would be so responsive to my destructive behavior. Kayla King needs to be ruined. The weight of her life is too heavy on her shoulders, or why would she be so ready for me to tear her apart? She’s breaking at the seams with the need to be controlled, taken over, owned.
“N-nate.” It’s barely a whispered whimper, but I hear her. I hear her plea.
I grab her face roughly, my thumb gripping her left cheek, my other fingers digging into her right cheek.
She’s shaking like a leaf, fear making her so wet she doesn’t control the goosebumps on her skin.
“Tell me no,” I growl, barely able to hold myself back at her entrance. “Beg me to stop. You know you love it.”
Her glassy eyes don’t even take me in. She’s in her own world. “Stop,” she mumbles. “D-don’t do it.” She can’t even articulate anymore, too far gone, but she gets wetter anyway. I can feel her dripping down my cock.
I don’t want to know if it’s the pleasure or the fear, the exhaustion or the need for me. I need to feel her. I need all of her like I’ve never needed anything else in my life.
I’m scaring myself, terrified of what I’m feeling at this moment. Of the fact that I’ve lost all sense of self-control.
I push another inch inside her. “Again.” I don’t recognize my animalistic voice. “Tell me how much you hate this. Tell me I’m forcing you.”
She doesn’t. She moans instead, bucking her hips. But I don’t want her to move. I don’t want her consent. So I slide my hand to her neck, pressing against her windpipe.
“Don’t,” she chokes. “Stop…s-stop.” Something flares in her eyes, and that makes her come back to life.
“There you are, my pretty wife. Can you feel your cunt swallowing me? Can you feel how much you want me to own you?”
She nods despite her inability to breathe, let alone speak.
