Anne
The rope grew taut, digging into my wrists.
I’d never given foot strength a thought until now.
I’d seen the change in his eyes—his anger leading to his version of punishment.
It probably wasn’t the right time to tell him that his dominance turned me the fuck on.
Pain had always grounded me. It kept my mind from splitting into shreds.
He moved around me toward the trolley, but I didn’t hear him lift anything from the metal surface. His hands found my buttocks, massaging in slow circles before pulling them apart.
“Are you ready for the monster?” he hummed close to my ear.
I released a slow, steady breath, only to inhale sharply again. My breathing turned ragged. Anticipation—for a cut or a fuck, I didn’t know which I needed more.
“You know I am,” I panted.
His response was instant. The warmth of his hand curled around my hip, over my belly, and dipped lower. I let myself sag against the hook holding me up just as his fingers reached my pussy, growing sodden and slippery as they rubbed me hard.
I was lost in the sensation when his laughter erupted, deep within his chest. A laugh I recognised. Maniacal. The way I felt before a kill.
Hot lips grazed my neck, and his other hand traced along my hip, snaking around my ribs until he palmed my breast. The urgency in his touch, his laboured breath working up my cheek, made me shudder. The soft cotton of his shirt pressed against my back.
All this while he had a man stuffed in his boot for paying me a little too much attention. This was the kind of madness I could live with. I felt myself trickle over his fingers.
“Look at her,” he rasped, tugging on my nipple.
I’d forgotten all about Eva.
“This is how they see us,” he murmured, licking his way back down my neck.
Fear, disgust and hatred.
Eva’s muddy eyes stared at us, and anger rose in my chest. She shuffled back, but for whatever reason she couldn’t look away. Probably so she could see her attack coming.
His lips pressed against the back of my shoulder blade before he stepped away, taking his warmth with him. I twisted my head around to watch him tug off his bow tie and fold it into his pocket.
I rolled my eyes. Such a control freak.
He started on the buttons of his pristine shirt. I shuffled on the tips of my toes, but it only relieved the ache for a few seconds. He didn’t even remove his trousers—just unzipped and pulled that huge cock free.
My breath hitched as he pumped himself. Up and down. Hard. Precum glistened at the tip.
“Ethan,” I groaned, closing my eyes and facing forward again before I pulled a muscle.
Filthy teasing fucker. He knew exactly what he did to me.
“I rather like you strung up like this for me, Anne,” he said, cupping my cheek.
I opened my eyes to find him standing before me.
“Ready to take me in any hole I wish,” he said with a boyish smile that didn’t reach the darker recesses of his eyes.
The perfect set of knives he’d brought me. The ones I’d once planned to use on him. I’d never suspected a single gift of acceptance would lead me to this very basement.
“Fill me up, Ethan. Take my holes,” I said, my voice low and hoarse with need. “Fuck me like a ragdoll.”
He leaned down and licked along the seam of my mouth.
My lips parted, and he came back, slipping that hot, wet tongue between them.
I tasted the remnants of champagne as he slid his cock between my thighs.
I moaned into his mouth. My head began to tilt back, but his fingers bit into my nape, keeping my lips on his.
The girth of him moved between my damp thighs, that hot, hard length rubbing against my pussy. The first cock I’d never felt the need to detach from the body of a man. Well, not yet.
It would be difficult to find a live replacement for those nine inches. Plastic didn’t feel quite as good, and it involved far more work on my part.
“That’s my girl. Get me nice and wet,” he murmured against my lips before taking them again.
I decided I hated being tied up. The need to touch him, or myself—just to touch something. Sporadic moans burst out of me as he thrust his hips. He reached behind me and cupped my backside, his gaze boring into me, forcing me to feel the intimacy of the moment.
I twisted my hands to grip the metal hook and wrapped my legs around him. He didn’t blink as he guided his cock to my entrance. His grip on my arse gave me a reprieve from the rope cutting into my wrists.
“Yes,” I whispered, sinking down onto him, letting gravity do its job.
His fingers spread across my cheeks, and before I could sink too deep, he held me in limbo until I glared at him. When I tried to push down, his lips tugged at one corner.
“Patience, Anne,” he murmured, and I let myself fall against his chest, arching my back to rub my breasts against him.
His grip tightened on each cheek, and he began hauling me off his cock only to slam me back down. I heard each grunt in his chest before his words ever reached me. I could barely breathe, let alone contend with words, as he drove in and out of me.
“My personal little cocksleeve,” he growled. “Yeah, fucking take my cock.”
Each time he dropped me back down, he thrust upward as if to drive his point home. I could feel him in my belly, the way he stretched me open. I let myself dangle, and when his lips brushed mine, I glanced at Eva. The hatred aimed at us made my pussy clench around him.
He moaned into my mouth as he fucked me so hard I bounced off his pelvis. I kissed him back, probing with my tongue, gasping into his mouth. The lewd sounds of our grunts and moans, the wet slapping, echoed around us.
“My sexy little slut,” he groaned, yanking me off his cock.
Before I could protest, he was whispering at my ear.
“Let’s show her what a good assfuck you are.”
This wasn’t my usual hate fuck—driving men to the edge of insanity while I directed their performance to my requirements. Ethan didn’t need anger to give me what I needed. His intensity matched mine.
My toes touched the cold cement as he moved behind me. His fingers probed my arsehole as he worked the lube in. My attention drifted to Eva’s deep cuts, running from her lips to her cheeks. The perfectly spaced cross-stitches that enhanced her face were still inspiring.
Grotesque, and ours.
She stared back, eyes darting between Ethan and me.
I smiled when I felt the head of his cock press against my arsehole. Despite herself, Eva’s gaze dropped below my waist. Then again, it did get boring down here. No entertainment. We were so good to her.
I winced as Ethan pressed further inside, stretching me open. I gasped and jerked forward. His fingers spanned my hips, holding me in position as he forged his path into my arse.
“Such a wet, tight arsehole,” he mused, pulling back and thrusting forward again, fingers biting into my skin. “I don’t know why I kept cutting theirs open.”
Eva’s eyes widened, and she cowered in her cage. I’d have ended up just like her had I not fought to survive. Trying to crawl into the shadows to fade away from my tormentors, dragged back again and again, until I became this thing that no longer felt.
Ethan scooped me up by the backs of my legs until the base of my spine nestled against hard muscle. His hands shifted their grip, and he began pumping me up and down, his cock sliding in and out of my arsehole.
The friction. The pain. It was all so wonderful. It held me in place.
“Take a good look,” he said, disdain clear in his voice. “This is a real woman.”
Eva gaped at my pussy, and no doubt at the fat cock still piercing my arse.
So romantic.