Chapter 23 Antonio
Isee the look of horror in her eyes, and it’s fucking priceless. “I told you. I’m going to ruin you.”
I pull her around, forcing her to lay flat on her back, her full tits bouncing as she lands against the sheets. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes already red from all that crying.
Will she be a good girl and cry some more if I fuck her hard enough?
She’s fucking beautiful. All soft curves and warm skin, her body lush and womanly.
I reach up, kneading those breasts, enjoying how big they are. My other pets are tiny in comparison and right now, I’m loving the size difference.
“Please…” She whimpers, because I’m not being soft. Not being gentle.
She is mine to use. Mine to abuse. Soon she will learn that.
I lower my head between her legs. My tongue is on her, lapping at the mess we made, licking into her with a fervour that is almost religious. I eat her out like a man starving, taking my time, swirling my tongue on her pierced clit, flicking the metal, sucking it into my mouth.
I know the overstimulation will be agony.
Will be ecstasy.
She’ll hate that she wants it, she’ll hate that this is making her feel good.
Little whore. Do you realise what you are now?
Her hands dig into me as her body tries to get away, but I won’t let her move an inch.
“Ruby.” She whispers. “Ruby.”
The word brings a smile to my lips. Poor little thing, did she think that offer would be an open one, that she could spit in my face and then expect me to honour it later?
“It’s too late for that.” I reply. “I gave you a chance. You were too stubborn to take it.”
“Please, no, please, I can’t…” She gasps.
“Oh but you can, and you will. You will take everything I give you, and you will be grateful for it.”
“Anto…”
I don’t let her finish that sentence, don’t let her finish speaking my name. I latch onto her clit again with such force she screams.
She thrashes beneath me, sobbing my name, completely undone by my mouth.
I bring her to another climax, this one swift and sharp. It’s another lesson, another point I’m making. I own her now, I control her. I decide when she comes, how she comes, and how many fucking times too. She doesn’t get to speak, she doesn’t get a say in any of it.
I control her. I control all of her. Every fucking part.
I flip us again, pinning her wrists above her head.
Above, the noise of the crowd has dimmed. I can’t tell whether they’ve grown bored of this performance, or whether I just don’t give a fuck about them.
I fuck her through another orgasm, and then another.
The world has narrowed to this bed, to this woman, to the relentless cycle of pleasure-pain I am orchestrating with my body.
“No more. Please, no more.” The words are a prayer, a begging, a desperate plea.
And it does fuck all, because does this bitch not listen to a word I say?
“I decide when we’re done. I decide when I’m finished with you.” I growl. Besides, there’s one hole I haven’t yet claimed. One part of her I want to fuck and savour before this night is done, and my dear sweet little Grace has to begin her training.
I shift on the bed, my weight causing the mattress to dip a little.
She lays still, almost petrified as I study the landscape of her used body, as I turn her over and inspect all of her.
My fingers trace the curve of her waist, down over the swell of her hip, coming to rest on the sore, heated skin of her arse cheek where my palm landed earlier.
She’d look so good on her knees. She’d look so good, all red and welted after I spanked that fat arse of hers.
My hand slides lower, dipping between her thighs from behind, sliding through the sticky mess leaking out of her.
She flinches at the direct contact on her oversensitive flesh, a weak sound catching in her throat.
She tries to push herself up, she tries to move and I lift my hand, bringing it down swiftly onto the peachy flesh.
“Stay still.” I growl. I didn’t give her permission to move but I keep my hand on her hip, holding her in place. Ensuring she stays put.
My free hand moves down the cleft of her arse. I know they cleaned her, that they ensured her back entrance was ready for me because I gave clear instructions for it to happen.
She tenses immediately.
“Relax,” I command as my finger starts probing, starts preparing her in a way that is both clinical and deeply violating.
A whimper escapes her, her fingers clutching at the black sheets, twisting the fabric. “It’s too much,” she gasps, pressing her face into the mattress. “Please, I can’t…”
I tut back.
She can, and she bloody well will.
Her body will be made to fit me. If I have to tear her, if I have to rip her open, then so be it.
I spit in response, spit right onto that puckered flesh and with my fingers I work her open with a ruthless efficiency that brooks no argument.
“You can,” I grunt as I start thrusting more forcibly. “You will. Be obedient for me.”
Before she can brace herself, my hand comes down on her arse. The sharp, stinging smack makes her cry out and jolt forward.
“Antonio…”
I line myself up, pushing against the resistance and with my hand I slap her again, slap her harder.
She screams out as I force myself in, as I demand acceptance. I can feel her insides giving way in a manner that tells me there will be blood, there will be damage, but that’s okay. I’m okay with that. I’m happy with that.
I want her to remember this. I want her to wake tomorrow and have every inch of her flesh be carrying a reminder of how I fucked her.
“That’s it,” I murmur, “Take it. Take my cock. Bleed all over it.”
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.