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My fingers manhandle her roughly, forcing her where I want her without waiting for agreement, and keep going until I’ve had my fill of hearing that noise landing on skin by my own hand. She cries after a while. She cries and she moans and she tries looking back at me, perhaps searching for the man she knew who behaved like a gentleman. He isn’t here now. He’s gone and lost. The man who is here is taking bitterly if necessary. I’ll bite into whatever I want, and take whatever it is that I want out of her and this night, because it will be over after this.
The hits to her ass alter after a while, my aim striking upwards at the cunt she presents so well while her shoulders and arms are giving way. Vicious. Unforgiving. Unrelenting. A low smile stretches across my face, as I watch her shiver under that torment and come again. My fingers go straight into her, needing to feel that clamping, feel the need of a woman all around me. I’ve denied myself this for years, watched and done nothing other than touch myself and none of them.
Not this time.
My clothes get discarded and the belt goes to her open mouth, my hands shoving it across her teeth. “Bite down, this will hurt.”
It does hurt her. It’s endless, as I drive myself into her ass again and keep stretching that pussy wide open. I find a dildo from the racks and use it, harshly opening her ass up as I fuck into her, and then I use the belt again on her back, ribs, shoulders. She’s yanked, tugged, pulled into any position I can think of using and fucked again from a new angle, all the time keeping her eyes forward so she can keep watching the men fucking like she said she wanted. She gets that.
I get this.
My mouth moves over her raw skin, biting, licking, sucking. Ass, cunt, nipples and bones. Anything I can get my teeth to or taste with my tongue is devoured and not given fair warning for the pain that’s coming because of them. Warnings aren’t for people like her or me. Not now. She knew. She felt the power of me in her, on her.
And yet still she pushed for her dance.
Her one dance.
Each time I come it blends into the next eruption, brings a new sensation because of her voice, tone and pleas egging me on for more, regardless of her same pleas for leniency. She’s not getting any. Not here. She’s got her fantasy to watch, and I’m using mine for as long as I’m able. Ferocious, feral thoughts push me onwards, years of holding back and containing finally finding freedom to commit sin after sin after sin. I’m fogged over, misted in animalistic lust for her skin and unable to hear anything but her and her desperation, whether that be for more or less.
I eventually drag her limp body from the floor and push it towards a wall, not finished regardless of coming repeatedly inside her, on her. It’s in her mouth, in her hair, on her face and in her ass. And I’ll go again and again until I can’t move anymore and I’ve come more times than I can remember.
She groans and hangs onto me, letting me use and abuse anything I feel like using on her. Every hole, every thought delivered without remorse or guilt or shame. She’s hitched upwards, body pressed back on the old walls in here so I can fuck her some more. Both holes. In one, out, into the other. Over and over again until she’s mewling on my shoulder and I can feel the slick trickle of her tears lilting along my spine.
One hand pushes her neck back so I can look at her face, the other holding her ass up as my body leans onto her. She’s a mess of tears and exhaustion. Eyes swollen. Lips bruised and battered, torn. I kiss at them again, forging my tongue in and revelling in the small whimpers and moans that still keep coming from her.
Beautiful, and for now, mine.
The pained sense of coming again rises through me eventually, building and growling for more. It hurts. I’m as battered as she is. Every shunt inwards feels like needles stabbing into me. And every pull out feels like a loss I won’t accept. My muscles groan and ache, as my legs begin giving way under my own torment. But her nails keep me going. They’re clawing into me, pulling me by the shoulders to keep going, move harder and faster.
I grunt at the feel of it rising, my mouth softening on hers if only for a few seconds, and groan loudly as it pulses into her for the last time. I pant hard at it and rest my head against hers, barely able to move. Everything aches. Every bone. Every fibre of me. And yet, if I could, I’d fuck her again and again for the rest of this one night.
Instead, at least for now, I let her fall through my arms down to the floor and walk backwards away from her so I can feast on that vision for a while. Memorize it some more. Drool over the looks, feel, smell and taste of her around me.
My ass drops into the chair, breathing laboured, as I gaze and reach for my cigarettes. She’s the picture of broken pieces down there, her body torn and used, and her fragility languid and lazed by the old bench. A frown drops on my face, as I watch her breathing through the things I’ve done to her, and suck in some smoke.
Still, I trace the stripes and welts with my eyes, both annoyed and pleasured because of them. She took everything from me that I’ve kept pent up for years, begged for more of it, or less, and then kept pushing back. And I can still feel that now, regardless of this space I’m forcibly putting between us. She’s all over me. Her thoughts, her body, her hands.
I breathe deeply and memorize her there, let the image of something so beautiful, so rare and prized to me resonate as deeply as it can for as long as it can. Dark hair wet with sweat. Dark eyes haunting my every thought, pulling me to places no one else ever has. Those damned lips should be rewarded for their bravery, or sectioned for their stupidity. And I should be condemned for my culpability in something I should have stayed far away from.
The gold chain lies out to the side of her, twisted and tangled and yet still attached to her. I frown at that, too, wondering what protection I’ve just given her. None. None from the man I am here, and none from the man I will be again when we’re done.
“Gray?” she whispers after a while. I don’t answer. I keep watching, enjoying the view of my deeds all over her skin. “What does this all mean?”
My brow arches, a smirk settling as I watch her attempt to pull herself upright and then give up trying. Her finger taps the floor, bouncing lightly against the dirty linoleum that’s bleached of cum and sweat each day. “You and me?” she murmurs. It means nothing. Can’t mean anything at all other than what it is while we’re here. Still, I lean forward and keep staring at the only thing that’s intrigued me into this. No one else but her. “I don’t know what it means.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Hannah.” Her head turns to look at me through the smoke I’m blowing out in her direction. “This is nothing but a distraction from that world we’re heading back to. I told you that.” She nods and scuffs her face on the padded bench, rubbing it back and forth in some motion of her own. “It’s not real. Nothing here ever is.”
I watch the finger tapping again, the listless way her body hangs lifelessly. Reddened knees. Reddened marks all over her from my handling. Another blow of smoke filters into the air, clouding her from me for a few seconds, and then she’s back again in full view, naked, exhausted, and extremely real.
“You also told me you wouldn’t touch me.” Accepting that rational argument, I do the only thing I can and remain silent. There’s no counter to it. No logical rebuff. She’s correct. I did. And I have failed at honouring that statement to myself.
“If it’s not real, why no pills?” she asks, quietly.
I flick the cigarette and lean back, throwing my irrational thoughts with it. “Maybe I hoped it was for a while. It isn’t, though.” And no amount of me playing, enjoying, or taunting myself with more of it will make it any more possible than it was before we arrived.
I stand and get dressed, still watching her body as it tries to find energy neither of us have anymore. Attractive. No sinister left there anymore. She’s drained of it. Nothing but flesh and bones that labour in their fatigue.
“You should eat. Sleep,” I mutter, walking to her.
