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I nodded. I clung to the darkness of his hands, of his rage, because there was nothing else in the world for girls like me. Nothing but the bad things.

He yanked my pants down. Underwear, too. Cold air hit the backs of my thighs. My cunt pulsed.

He ran his hand over my ass, hard enough to make me jump. “Still so soft,” he whispered. “Still my perfect bluebird.” He spanked the flesh, so hard I flinched and whimpered.

Malakar picked up my underwear and shoved it into my mouth.

He spit on his fingers, shoved them inside me. The pain made me dizzy. I braced my elbows against the wall, fighting the desire to scream.

I was so wet it was humiliating. He knew it. He laughed under his breath. “You filthy girl. I could fuck you anywhere, couldn’t I? You’d always open up for me.”

He gripped my hip, lining his cock up behind me. The head pressed against me. He shoved into me. My body tensed and my mouth itched to make a noise. I staggered forward, banging my head against the glass.

He clamped a big palm over my mouth, crushing the noise out of me. He started moving. The bench screeched under our bodies. My stomach curled in on itself, nausea spiking, but I didn’t want him to stop.

Every thrust burned. My nails scraped the paint off the wall. He bent over me, the mask kissing my hair, his other hand slipping around my throat.

“Stay quiet,” he said. “If you scream, I’ll make you cum in front of the whole store.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The world shrank to the hot sensation of his cock splitting me open, the mask’s stitched mouth leering in the glass.

He pressed my cheek hard to the mirror. “You look so pretty like this.”

I saw myself. Eyes rolling, lips parted, tears streaking down the side of my face. Panties in my mouth.

He found my clit, rubbed it fast, nasty little circles. My guts twisted. I jerked against him. The orgasm crept up behind my ribs, black and cold. It hit and I almost screamed, but his hand caught it and turned it to nothing.

He didn’t stop. He wanted more from me. His grip got tighter; every thrust shoved me up on my tiptoes. The world spun, blurred, faded to the heat of his hips grinding into my ass, the mess already running down my thighs. I wanted to fight, to tell him to stop, but all that came out was this awful high noise, broken and desperate.

Malakar barely made a sound. He was a ghost, a shadow behind me. If anybody walked past, if anybody listened, what would they hear? Little gasps, the low sound of him fucking me, the wet slap of bodies together.

He grabbed both of my hips and rammed into me. I looked at his head through the mirror. His mask covered his face, but I had the image burned into my head of what his face would look like while he fucked me.

Every time he thrusted forward, my body was pushed into the mirror. He slapped my ass, then again, and again.

He jerked out and spun me around, back to the mirror. I slid to my knees, dizzy, numb. He shoved his cock in my mouth. He held the back of my head, shoving me on until it hit the back of my throat. “Swallow it, bluebird. Show me how good you can be.”

His hips rolled. I gagged around him. My eyes watered. I grabbed his thigh, fingers digging in, just to keep from passing out.

He fucked my mouth brutally. The nausea became worse. I didn’t want to vomit on his cock, so I focused as hard as I could to control my gag reflex. He groaned and grunted above me.

My eyes fluttered up. I could see his scarecrow mask staring down at me. It should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. It thrilled me.

Malakar came, the taste filling my mouth. He held my head until I swallowed; not a drop spilled. I shuddered. My stomach lurched again. I swallowed and swallowed, anything to keep from gagging in the dressing room.

He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “That’s it. Good bluebird.”

I sat there, shaking. My thighs were sticky, my chest ached, and my head spun harder than before.

He was gone in a heartbeat. I didn’t even see him move, just a flicker of the burlap mask, a squeeze on my jaw, then the curtain moved ever so slightly. Gone.

I could hardly breathe. I leaned forward, hands braced on the filthy floor, waiting for the world to right itself. It didn’t. I wanted to puke, but nothing came up. I sat there for a while. My body didn’t feel like it belonged to me.

A knock at the door. “You done in there?” Brandon. Voice full of impatience.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, stood up on trembling legs. I yanked my pants up. My panties were ruined, so I tossed them into the trash bucket that was in the corner.

The shame ran deep. My whole body still throbbed with need.