A choked sob tears from her throat, and her nails claw at the sheets as she tries to get away. Her body fights me, clenching tightly against the invasion.
Tears stream from her eyes, soaking into the silk below her cheek. She is very image of ruin right now, the very depiction of despair.
Christ, I can’t get enough of it.
I can’t… I start picking up pace, slamming into her, forcing her hips into a better angle as I fuck her arse.
The need is all-consuming. Right now, she is a thing to be used and finally, finally it feels like she truly understands what that means.
I own her, I am claiming her, possessing her, and every pair of eyes above us is watching as I violate her.
“Fuck… so tight… my dirty little whore.”
My hands roam her body, not with tenderness but with a frantic, possessive greed. I’ve waited so long for this moment, so long to finally have her. I grab at her breasts, pulling on those piercings until her skin is taunt and about to tear. I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her head back to arch her spine. I slap her arse again, and the sting radiates through my palm as if we’re sharing the pain, revelling in the delicious sin.
“This is what you are now,” I snarl, my voice ragged as I pound into her. “This is what I own. Every. Last. Inch.”
The gallery, the witnesses, they fade into a distant murmur. There is only this. The raw, animalistic reality of my body using hers. The slick, filthy sound of me taking what I need. The smell of sex, sweat, and her blood too.
She is my dirty little whore now, and there’s no denying it. No changing it.
I lean down, grabbing the piercing around her clit, playing with it, manipulating it, manipulating her. I know the shame she’s going to feel; I know that tomorrow she will wake bruised, sore and bleeding, and none of that will compare to the knowledge that she came for me. She came all over my cock not just once, but over and over again.
I used her, I fucked her, I showed her what she really is and no amount of crying can deny that her body submitted to me. Her body wanted this, wanted every second of this humiliation.
Her body starts to coil tighter and tighter. I can feel it, I can feel the way her insides are clinging to me. My rhythm becomes more frantic, losing its measured control.
“That’s it,” I pant. “Come around my cock again, whore. Let them see you come from being used like this.” I grab her hair, wrenching her head around so everyone can get a good look at her face, so they can revel in her shame.
Her climax rips through her with a violence that seems to steal the very air from her lungs. It’s a silent, screaming convulsion, a pulse of pure sensation that has her clenching around me in rhythmic, agonizingly tight waves.
I let out a roar that is part triumph, part surrender. I let my own release go, let my come pour into her, searing her, fucking brand her insides.
She slumps back, her eyes rolling into her skull and she lays so still I think she might be dead.
I lean over her, patting her face and realise with a smirk that the girl is done. She’s passed out. Un-fucking-conscious.
I almost want to kiss her, because what a perfect end. The perfect climax to the show.
Instead I get up, turning to the crowd, to the people that have stayed to the very last.
“Fuck off all of you.” I growl. The deed is done. I’m not their fucking entertainment anymore.
Once they disperse, once they see it really is over I stalk across the room, get dressed and grab the bag I had Conrad ensure was placed in here before my arrival. I pull out the small case, returning to where my new pet is laying.
With a little pop it opens, and I pull out the prepared syringe. In one quick movement I stab it into the fat of her bottom, pushing the plunger down. For all I know Grace could be out for hours but I don’t want to risk it, and if she wakes up mid-flight that could certainly cause problems.
No, better she is sedated, better she wakes alone in the dark, exactly as we planned.
Between her thighs my come still trickles out. It’s tinged pink from her blood. I grab the needle, dipping it into the mess and I pull it back, sucking up a good few millilitres before securing it back in the case.
Maybe I’ll turn it into a souvenir of some sort. This beautiful little mix of her virginity and my come.
My lips curl. That would make quite a trinket. Maybe I’ll turn it into a necklace, and I’ll wear it next time I hate-fuck her mother.
The drive home is silent. I keep the radio to a minimum, happy to be lost in my own thoughts.
The flight back wasn’t long, only a few hours and I managed to get a little shut eye before we landed.
