He grinned at her eagerness to put herself to that test. Even though he didn’t want to break her—not yet, anyway—her words prodded him on, and he couldn’t help but take hold of those hips of hers and line up his bulging cock, with that prominent crown, along her slit.
“We’ll see,” he remarked with a smug grin, digging his thumbs into her so hard as he held her in place that she’d undoubtedly bruise. In one swift motion, he stabbed his massive girth into her like a dagger, impacting deep inside her as he hilted. The noises of his grunts and the squelching of his dick with her honey and his come from his last orgasm filled the room as he began to pump into her.
There was no easing into it again; he’d been without so long, and she was begging for it. Begging for it! Such an eager bitch, he marveled inwardly as he built up his pace, that hard ass of his clenched as he bucked his hips.
Despite the fact that she knew what had happened to the last girl. The last person who had tested her ability to take it, to keep him satiated.
She’d pleaded with him for the story, for every gory last detail. She’d wanted to hear it, and it only made her hornier.
Vivian was sick, and he loved that about her.
Her legs wrapped around his ass, and she drew him in. “Tell me again!”
Thirty years old, successful, more gorgeous than any woman had a right to be, and perverted to the core. Sean couldn’t help but grin in rapturous delight at his good fortune as he rewarded her depravity with a harder stab of his cock, slamming his crown against her cervix with each jarring impact.
“You wanna hear about how I fucked that little bitch’s womb open?” he said between grunts, the slap of his balls against her ass growing louder and louder. “How I smacked her pretty lil’ face around to get her to stop crying? Or just how I choked her with my bare hands while I was still inside her little twat?”
The questions were teasing, giving her some of what she wanted while being such a controlling prick about it.
“All of it!” she pleaded and begged, her legs taut around his ass, her body arching and writhing beneath him. He was driving her crazy with his own sick perversions. Though really, she’d brought it out of him. Moved him past any negative feelings, any shame, any regret, and just turned his horrific past into arousal.
Pure, disturbing arousal.
He couldn’t help but moan, his cock swelling within her, forcing her narrow little canal out wide as he plunged into her and yanked out with the strong, smooth motions of his well-defined hips and ass, her heels digging into his buttocks as he continued his merciless pace.
With one hand he grasped one of her breasts, clenched that fleshy, supple mound. With the other he reached up and slid his powerful fingers around her neck slowly. “Or do you just wanna feel what it’s like personally?” he said in a dark, ominous voice.
He bent over her, his fingers tightening around her neck, choking off her breath almost entirely. “She wasn’t even the first, y’know.” His confession was punctuated by the slick noises of cock sliding along puffy, tight folds, honey-soaked balls striking her fleshy ass.
Her eyes widened, but with glee. With excitement, and even though she could barely breathe, she nodded. Encouraged his story.
“They never found out about the other,” he confessed with sick pleasure, angling his hips so he jabbed his steel-hard weapon of a dick into her, causing her free tit to jiggle and sway with the jarring impact.
He bit his lower lip to suppress the deep, loud moan his body insisted on emitting, muffling the sound before he continued. “She was such a tight little treat too. Much like you, my sweet pet,” he said in such a growling voice, moving his thumb up over her cheek even as he continued to choke off her air.
He could see the panic begin to play behind her eyes, behind her excitement, and knew that only added to her pleasure. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He’d read about it in one of the psychology books, about people who craved fear and pain. They needed it, like he needed to give women those things.
His lover’s deep satisfaction was echoed back in him, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His manhood twitched, and his scrotum tightened up beneath his ass.
Such a loud, rumbling roar of satisfaction traveled up out of his broad chest, and he hammered out another spine-tingling climax, the thick rivulets of come shooting up against her cervix, coating her insides and adding to the last explosive unleashing as he loosed all he had.
It wasn’t u
ntil he was done that he softened his grip and let her breathe again, to fall atop her voluptuous form and pant.
He wasn’t sure how many hours had gone by, filled with dark pleasures. At some point he must have passed out, though, as there was no way he remembered the feeling of tight pressure around his bare wrists and ankles.
Cold steel cut into him, and he opened his eyes groggily to stare at his bombshell with a Taser pointed right at his chest.
The cold smirk told him all he needed to know. She elaborated anyways.
“You’re mine now,” she purred in that once-sensuous voice, “and you’ve got two women’s lives to pay for. All in your new cell.”
Playing with Fire
Tamsin Flowers
Cassandra watched as her sister got dressed, gingerly pulling the clothes up over her bruised flesh, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was pale and scrawny thin. The dark rings around her eyes made her look like a panda, and her red nail polish was chipped halfway down her bitten nails. It seemed such a short while ago that her kid sister had been a happy, healthy coed, going off to college with her friends, bubbling with laughter. Now she was a wreck, a shadow of her former self with track marks on her arms. And Cassandra held one man responsible.