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He doesn’t know how, does he? Doesn’t know how to fuck your little asshole raw... Doesn’t know how to stretch you all the way open... until you’re riding his fist like a wanton fucking whore and grunting for more... Ever had a tongue deep in your ass, Lydia Marsh? Ever had someone force their fist all the way inside you? Ever pissed down someone’s throat while they tongue your greedy little slit? Have you ever been hurt, Lydia? Really hurt? Anyone ever fucked you up? Slapped your tight little cunt until you cry? Ever gagged on cock until you puke, Lydia Marsh? Ever seen your titties swell
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I pointed her attention back to the stage where Vix was still getting her face fucked, rivulets of tears and spit dribbling down her chin. Beautiful. Lydia turned to face me, eyes wide and so fucking gorgeous. “Were you serious?” she said. “Are you really going to fuck my throat like that?” “No,” I said. “I’m not going to fuck your throat like that.” I smiled at her confusion. “It’s going to be a whole lot fucking worse.” I wasn’t joking.
He rammed his cock inside my mouth so hard I gagged on impact, cheeks billowing out in desperation for air. He didn’t let up, forcing his length right the way to the back of my throat while I retched and spluttered and strained against him. I felt my eyes watering, tears streaming as I fought for breath. He fucked my mouth like a man possessed, hissing and groaning in effort while Raven held me tight.
“What happens to bad girls, Lydia?” She raised her eyebrows, floundering for words. I raised myself from my seat, grabbing my dick through my trousers. “Look what you’ve done to me, Miss Marsh. I think this requires a disciplinary.” I threw her the key to my door, and she caught it in nimble fingers. “Lock it.” She did as instructed, and I caught her hands shaking. It sent a shiver down my spine. “Come here,” I hissed. “I want you over my desk.”
You love me for it. You love me for it. You love me for it. Of course I didn’t love him for it. I definitely didn’t. That’s what I wanted to say. That’s what I wanted to feel. A rough anal pounding over a desk at work does not equal romance. White knights don’t show up with red roses and metal rulers all ready to slap you on the clitoris. Ow, it still fucking hurt.
“I don’t want them to see me, Masque, I don’t care if they’re hard for me.” I pulled his hand around to my breast, moaning as he twisted my nipple. “Tell me,” he hissed. “What do you want them to see?” His hips slammed into my bruises and it felt so fucking good. “Tell me, Lydia. Look at them and tell me what makes you wet.” He changed his angle, and his cock strained inside me, pressing on all the right places. “I want them to see this,” I moaned. “I want them to see you inside me. Show them how I belong to you...”
“I’ll take you out, Cat, if you’ll piss in my mouth next weekend.” I pulled away in shock, blinking up at him. “Are you serious?!” “Deadly, and don’t act so surprised. I could have asked for a lot more, and I will. Believe me, Lydia, I’ll ask you for a lot more than that.”
Maybe white knights did turn up to slap your clitoris, after all? Maybe that’s what true love is all about? I hoped so.
