“Only if you’re a good girl and let me do whatever I want to you.”
Whatever he wants—that sets off alarm bells.
“What do you want?” I lean up clumsily, trying to silently urge him to kiss me.
He leans down like he’s going to.
My lips part.
Maybe if he kissed me, I’d give in. Let him take my mouth, then my pussy. Be his good girl.
Be completely his.
But he doesn’t. He just grabs the back of my hair, twisting it until I yelp.
“I don’t want to make love to you, that’s for fucking sure.” His teeth graze my collar bone. “I want to fuck you so hard that you beg me to stop. I want to use you like a little sex doll then throw you away. I want to fill you up with so much cum that you forget what it’s like not to have my cum leaking out of you.” The hand tightens in my hair.
“I want to break you until the only thing you know how to do is bend over and spread your legs and take my cock.” His hand is back between my legs, rubbing me through the layers of the dress.
“I want you to remember that your only purpose on this planet is to be a warm, tight cunt for me to shoot my cum in.”
I punch him in the mouth.
“Fucking—”
His fist slams the floor next to my head.
It’s enough of a distraction that I can scramble up and run screaming away from him.
I run, losing my other shoe and clapping a hand over my mouth.
I need to get out. I need to find the front door.
The lights flicker then go off.
Blindly, I turn right, then left, then right again, feeling my way along the walls. Somehow I’m turned around. There aren’t any windows. I’m deep into the interior of the penthouse.
These penthouses have service access, right? The help doesn’t just come in through the front door.
I feel around. There’s another door.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to be locked up here in the dark, just taking his cock over and over again.
Or do I…?
Maybe he’s just joking?
Yeah, maybe.
But I don’t really want to find out.
You sure?
My pussy’s wet; my panties are soaked. So some part of me has no survival instincts.
I am in way over my head.
The floor under my feet has changed. I’m definitely in the service wing. I think I might be in the catering kitchen. It’s got cold stone floors. There has to be a back exit somewhere. I maneuver through stainless steel tables and shelves.
