She furrows her brows and then nods enthusiastically, forcing a laugh from my chest.
“Now answer me. Do you want to be my darling?” I say, leaning forward and grazing the head of my shaft against her lips, smearing my pre-cum across them, “Or do you want to be my little whore?”
“Your whore,” She responds without pause, opening up her mouth widely for me.
With a grunt, I shove my cock inside of her spread, pouty to fucking perfection, lips. With a few thrusts and an exhale, I seat myself at the entrance of her throat, loving the feeling her gurgling sounds make on my cock.
“Breathe through your nose,” I soothe, a contrast to how hard I’ve begun fucking her throat.
Tears drip down her face from the force of me, and I can’t help but admire them as they fall. There’s something about watching her cry, watching her shatter at my hands. It fulfills me in a way I never thought I could be fulfilled.
Thrusting and thrusting, I fuck her throat hard, not caring if it will leave her raw. Her broken screams are my favorite when she’s being fucked.
I smear my thumbs across her tears.
“You're the most beautiful creature,” I whisper down at her with a grunt, feeling my balls tighten as I watch her struggle.
She’s licking me as best she can, trying to wrap her lips around me and suck, but it’s hard for her with how fast I’m going.
After a few more thrusts, I rear back, “Tongue out”, I instruct as I grab my cock in my hand and come all over her breasts and the lower half of her face and tongue.
The most beautiful, horrified look crosses her face. I stare for a few moments too long, savoring the way shock and intrigue wrestle behind her eyes.
“Good girl,” I murmur, “Now thank me for my cum.”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, sliding that pretty pink tongue over the mess I’ve left there, and smiles. She fucking smiles at me and says, “Thank you, Hayden.”
I take my fingers and smear the cum into her skin, pulling it down over her breasts. Loving the look of her covered in me. She's sticky and flushed, her eyes are glossy with need.
She bites her bottom lip again, that familiar, involuntary tell of hers, the one that betrays her curiosity, even now. She wants more. She wants too much.
I climb off of her and help her up, suddenly full of the need to reinforce her fear of me. Show her something that reminds her of who she belongs to. Who has had her for longer than she knows, and has more power over her than she could ever comprehend.
“Open the nightstand,” I say, my voice low but firm. “Top drawer.”
She sits up slowly, unsure if she’s dreaming or walking into something she’ll never come back from. Her fingers hesitate on the brass handle before pulling it open.
Silence.Then,“Hayden…what the fuck?”
Her eyes land on the collection of my favorite things, kept perfectly next to my bed—little silk and lace trophies of my wife.
Her voice trembles. She’s staring down at the drawer lined with her panties, all soft, most dirtied, all familiar. The ones specifically from Eulogia are folded with the kind of care you reserve for something sacred—my small tokens of her, collected over time.
“I’ve been watching you longer than you realize,” I say, stepping closer.
She spins around to face me, eyes wide, voice full of equal parts awe and concern. “You’re sick.”
“Maybe,” I say, shrugging. “But I never took anything you didn’t already give me.”
Her breath catches, fury and desire colliding in her chest. She doesn’t know whether to slap me or kiss me, and I can already tell which impulse is winning.
I step in a little closer, voice low. “Does it make my darling whore wet to know I came with her panties wrapped around my cock, for years before she even knew my name?”
Her mouth parts like she’s about to say something —maybe scream, maybe run—but I’m already there. Inches from her. My shadow swallows hers.
“You thought you had a choice,” I say, voice sharp as a blade wrapped in silk. “That’s always been your problem. You believed you were the one deciding how far this would go.”
She backs up a step, but I follow. Slow. Predatory.
