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That was the sickest part.

I remembered nights in the group home fantasizing about Milo sneaking into my room and fucking me. I guess this was similar, except everything was different.

“I’m not going to let you slip away from me again, bluebird,” he grunted as he pushed in harder. I gasped and squeezed around his pulsating cock.

“That’s right,” Malakar growled, “take it. Take all of me.” He rammed into me with immense force, like he was trying to pound the meaning of him into my bones, my skull, deeper than marrow.

There was no air. No time. Just the crushing sensation of him splitting me open, over and over, the pain radiating out like cruel sunlight.

I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Just breathless, broken moans. Just noise. My hands clawed at the sheets. I couldn’t feel anything except him. His cock, too thick, pushing me to that sick edge of pleasure and pain.

My body remembered him, even if my mind was still screaming. His hand covered my throat, squeezed. Black dots swam in my vision. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he hissed. “You make me lose my mind.”

He fucked me harder, impossibly harder, like he was trying to smash his way through the inside of me and carve his name everywhere flesh would let him. I arched into him, feeling every nerve ending burn. My mind went white. I could see nothing. Nothing but the mask. The darkness. The way his hands claimed me, owned me, even as shame and need chewed me alive.

Was this what I was? Just a thing to be used? Was it what I wanted? Or was it just all I’d ever known? Did it even matter? I couldn’t tell anymore.

His hand snaked under me, rubbed my clit. I lost myself in it. Maybe I was always lost.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you’ll never leave. Tell me you’re mine forever.”

I gasped, vision swimming, fingers digging into the mattress. “I’m yours. I’ll never leave, I swear. I only want you.”

“Good, bluebird.” His body slammed down, hips jerking against me, cock tearing me apart. The world broke apart, splintered into pure sensation.

My cunt clenched again. I couldn’t stop it, the wave crashing over me, obliterating thought. I moaned, the sound ripped from my lungs.

He groaned, his fingers bruising my hips. He fucked me through the aftershocks, every thrust so punishing that the air sizzled in my chest.

There was so much pain, but the pleasure was strangling it. My eyes rolled back. I could feel him swelling inside me, everything in him going tight and monstrous.

He fucked into me with one last thrust, groaning as he ground my face into the sheets. I felt him twitch and pulse, cock jerking inside of me. He filled me up. Hot, filthy, and I choked on the wrongness of it. I could feel every spasm, every drop.

I shuddered, tears running down my cheeks. But I liked it. I wanted more. I wanted everything he was. He leaned over me, the mask pressed into my hair, his breath burning behind my ear.

My head was a balloon, string cut, floating far above the sick little bedroom where monsters came to fuck what they owned. My heart fluttered. I was gone. I was his, forever, and the world could burn as long as he never let me go.

I laid there, breathing hard. I was trembling, unable to even move. He slithered his hand up the back of my neck, stroking my skin. “Good girl. You did so good, bluebird.” He kissed my shoulder, gentle for a moment, like a wolf licking blood from the wound it just tore open.

I waited for him to disappear, to get bored, to leave me alone in the dark. But he didn’t. He crawled up and lowered his face to mine. He pulled off the mask. He looked at me like he was starving.

I reached for his cheek, fingers shaking. He grabbed my hand, slammed it to the mattress. He dragged his body up, cock already hardening again.

My body went cold, then hot, some wild panic tearing through me. I could see the dark rising up in his eyes, the old rage pouring back in.

He grinned. “I’m not done. Not until you’re broken for real. Not until you beg me to stop.” I whimpered. He forced my legs apart again, this time pushing them so far I thought my hips would snap. He lined up his cock, and shoved in again.

The pain was unreal. I whimpered. “That’s what I want to hear,” he said, fucking up into me hard enough to make the bed creak. He started moving, deep, punishing strokes.

He pressed my head into the pillow, the world shrinking to nothing but his hands and cock. He slapped my tit, leaving a handprint.

His hand squeezed, then let go. I sucked air, cried out again. I was so wet, so destroyed, the friction was a burn that made my vision white out at the edges.

He fucked me. Harder and harder. He leaned down, lips at my ear, voice soft. “Did he ever fuck you like this? Did Brandon ever make you feel this insane, Starla?”

“No,” I sobbed. “No, he never did. Only you, Malakar.”

He slowed for a second, rolling his hips, grinding against my clit. It was too much. I moaned his name, body locking up around him. My walls clamped down, milking his cock.