“It’s not going to work,” I add. “You’re not going to sow chaos throughout my life. I won’t allow it. If I find one more argument with you attached to it, I will take a belt to you.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time,” she says through a mouthful of biscuit.
I step into the room and close the door behind me.
“You’re going to forgive me one day,” I tell her. “You’re not going to be able to help yourself.”
“You have some nerve, and ego. Have you checked yourself for psychosis? Seriously. You might have it. You’re fucking deluded.”
“You wouldn’t be working so hard to get my attention if you didn’t want it. I saw you down in the training room. I saw the way you were watching me.”
“I was watching you like I hoped they’d get you. I wanted to see someone hurt you the way you hurt me.”
She hates me. I am not denying that. I don’t think she is pretending to be angry with me. I think she is seething from every pore at the sight of me. And I think her nipples are hard, her face and chest are flushed, and she is ready to be fucked. Nina has a high sex drive. She's a horny, desperate, dirty little thing, and there's only one cock she's allowed now.
“You looked like you wanted to be thrown down on the ground and taken.”
Her flush deepens as her outrage grows.
“How much do you wish I was really the monster you think I am? How much do you crave me right now, over you, inside you? Deep in your interior, invading that hot, wet little cunt?”
“You’re filthy,” she whispers, but with hitched breath and gleaming eyes.
“Yes.” I grab her by the arms and pull her up to her feet. “I am. But so are you. You're angry that you hate me and yet you still want to fuck me.”
“I don’t.”
She’s lying. I know she's lying. I am tempted not to fuck her, just to teach her a lesson about truthfulness or lack thereof, but it has been too long. I need to be inside her. I need to join with my perfectly twisted little angel.
"Fuck you,” she hisses. "I hate you. I…"
Her words deteriorate into a shriek as I sweep her leg out from under her and take her to the ground. Face down, ass up. That's the way I’m going to fuck this tormented wench.
Her skirt is already riding up over her hips. I rip at her stockings and underwear, tearing them asunder. I have been rough with her before. This time I am going to show her just how rough I can be.
My cock is already hard. I rub it over her slit, that puffy little sex of hers already damp with arousal. But that hungry little pussy is not going to get the benefit of my cock.
Instead, I push the head of my rod against the tighter, smaller, filthier hole between her cheeks. The one a girl like her refuses to give up. She doesn’t have a choice now, not with her angelic lubrication making it easier for the rough head to push inside this much tighter, hotter, and altogether more twisted hole.
Nina
He’s going to fuck my ass. He’s fucking my ass. Those two thoughts come hot on one another's heels, one true, and then giving way to another truth. Bryn has always been a bastard. Now he is buggering me with short, punishing thrusts, working his unfortunately large dick into my virgin ass.
I know he wants me to whimper and complain. I think he probably wants me to cry too. He wants this to hurt. He wants to break me. But sex won't break me. Not even perverse sex like this that is more about my pain than his pleasure.
My pussy is tingling, clenching, and my hips are rolling. My body knows how to deal with rough intrusions. I have transformed pain into pleasure too many times to count now. He has trained me too well. He has made me his little fuck toy and that means I can take his cock in any hole he pleases.
“Cry for me,” he growls in my ear, just as I suspected. “Cry as I fuck your poor, sore, tight little ass like the monster I am.”
He is almost all the way inside now, filling me all the way up. When he hits the deepest part of my ass, his balls slap against my pussy as he starts to fuck me hard. This is not how you do anal. You are supposed to be careful and gentle and reassuring. Bryn is making this as unpleasant as possible. He’s taking my need for him — and his need for me — and punishing us both.
I don't cry, but I do wail. One of his hands wraps around under my throat, further exerting control. He is so desperate to get me under his thumb again. He wants me wandering the halls of his home as a starry-eyed collection of hot, tight orifices ready for his cock. He wants me to ignore his sins and pretend as though I do not understand what lies at the core of his ardor.