31. Lola #2
The heat under my skin is panic, humiliation.
My cunt is soaked, aching, desperate. It’s disgusting.
It’s fucked. I hate that I want it. He’s brutal.
He shoves my thighs wider with his knee, then grabs at my waistband.
Yanks it down, everything, rough. The air hits the mess between my legs and I want to die.
He jams two fingers inside, dry. I scream, it rips the edge of my throat.
“Take it,” he snarls. “You always take it. You always wanted it rough.”
He fucks me with his hand. Every pump sets my brain flashing, pain and pleasure and shame scrambled together. My hips jerk. I try to twist, but his grip just bruises deeper. Unforgiving. He wants me humiliated. Pinned and used. There’s an ache under my skin, not pain, just a wild sick heat.
He’s breathing hard behind the mask. Skull-white, grinning, black eyes swallowing all the light in the room. He wants to see me shudder. He wants to see me break myself for him.
I can’t stop grinding on his fingers. I can’t stop leaking for him. My body is a traitor. I am soaked, desperate, sick with need even as the shame burns red up my ribs. I clamp my jaw. I want to fight. He doesn’t care. He just moves his hand harder, fingers curved up to drive me out of my mind.
My toes curl on the floor. My knees nearly buckle. Brody rips my head back by the hair, forces my mouth open. The mask hovers inches from my lips. “Look at you. Fucking mess.”
I just moan. Wet and wrecked. Hips flexing on his wrist, chasing the filth he shoves inside me.
He drops my hands only to slam them back to the wall, wrist above wrist. The pressure sets my chest heaving.
My pussy clenches around his fingers, fighting to milk every last inch, even as the humiliation chokes me.
All I see is the mask, white smeared with red, jaw gaping over me.
My feet lose the floor. Brody hoists me up, pinning me to the wall. My thighs split wide around his hips as my back arches, tits out, neck bared, nothing hidden. He crams my wrists together overhead, one-handed. His other hand tears at his jeans.
He spits a grunt, and then the thick head of his cock is crushing into me.
He forces every inch deep, splitting my cunt open, and starts to fuck.
It’s violence. That’s all there is. The pounding of hips against bruised skin, the sound of breathless fury.
He pushes in and out, never slowing, never hesitating, just taking and leaving nothing for me but the mess he makes.
My mouth is open, panting, moaning for him even as my brain scrapes NO NO NO across every splintered neuron.
He loves it. It’s written in the clutch of his hands, the way the mask leers. I hate that I’m soaked. I’m leaking down my thighs. So close. I feel it. Pressure and shame rising so fast it almost blinds me.
He slaps my thigh. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to fucking cum unless I say so.”
His hand clamps on my throat. The skull mask eats up all the air in front of my face. My body jerks, desperate and out of control, but he just holds me there and fucks into me. The wall jumps with every thrust.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I am split open.
He slams in deep, punishing. My wrists are trapped above my head in his grip.
My mouth hangs open. I hate him. I hate him.
He fills me all the way. My body stains itself for him.
I squeeze my eyes shut and see stars. His hips are relentless.
The wall shudders as he drives his cock deeper.
Over and over. Nothing sweet, nothing soft.
He wants me pinned, helpless. I am. Fuck.
My cunt chokes on him. I can feel every inch.
My toes barely touch the floor. I hear myself, my moans. I want to stop. I can’t.
“Fuck Bambi, grip me just like that,” Brody huffs against my ear.
His free hand rips my shirt all the way up. My tits bounce every time he slams forward. His fingers grope my nipples, twisting and circling. The mask covers his face. No human left. Only hunger. Rage. He owns me.
He pushes my legs wider around his hips, knees stretched, cunt bare and dripping, soaking down my thighs.
He watches every twitch, every silent shudder.
My brain is gone. My body takes over. He shoves two fingers in my mouth, making me gag.
Slobber drips down my chin. He loves it.
His cock hammers into me. My body clings to him, shaking, wet, hot.
The skull mask stares down into me. That’s all there is.
That face and the darkness and his dick breaking me open.
He hisses in my ear. “You feel that? That’s mine.
All this mess, all this sweet cunt, it belongs to me. ”
His cock pounds deeper. I choke on every thrust. Any second I might explode, but somehow I don’t. He holds my jaw open, thumb splitting my lips. It burns. My tits ache from the roughness. My nipples go hard as stone.
Brody starts to groan. It sounds like hate.
Or hunger. My hips try to run but he just fucks me harder, pins me up until my heels float.
The only thing real is his body controlling mine.
On and on. My pussy grabs at him. The wet is cascading.
I can feel his cock bulging inside, pushing the air out of my lungs.
He moves me how he wants. Bent over. Legs spread. Pussy leaking. It’s sick. It’s so good I want to scream, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. He already owns every sound I make.
Brody’s hand fists in my hair. He yanks my head back. “Fucking slut,” he says. “You squeeze me so good. Fucking helpless and bent over. Just for me.”