9. #3
"Seems she likes it rough," Richard said. "You ever hit her, Tyler? You ever make this beautiful, intelligent, sensitive woman scream like this?"
He slapped my other cheek, harder this time. My skin burned.
Tyler had nothing to say.
I couldn't fight it anymore. I surrendered to Richard Davies.
I came so hard I lost all control of my limbs. My spine arched, my head thrown back, and I screamed, I actually screamed, spasming around his cock like there was no reason or rhyme.
My arms lost all their strength.
I collapsed onto the rug, but Richard held me up by the hips, refusing to break his brutal rhythm.
"Oh god, yes!" I sobbed incoherently, tears streaming down my face. "Yes, Richard! Yes!"
He pounded me through my orgasm, forcing me into another one almost immediately. I was totally wrecked, sobbing into the rug while he hammered my wet hole.
I looked at Tyler through a blur of tears.
His face was twisted in horror and shame.
A mask of absolute misery. But as I stared at him, my vision blurring slightly from the pain and the sheer physical shock of Richard's assault on my cunt, I noticed something else.
He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands gripping the edge of his seat.
Yes, he was sobbing, but his eyes ... his eyes were locked onto my face.
My boyfriend was watching me take a brutal, rhythmic pounding with a horrific intensity.
And then my eyes dropped.
The grey fabric of his athletic shorts was tented. Not just a faint bulge, but a hard, stiff erection pressing against the material.
He was hard. He was watching his girlfriend get hate-fucked by a billionaire, sold like a livestock, and he was fucking turned on.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It wasn't just that he was weak, or cowardly, or desperate to save his own life. It was worse. It was fucking sick. He was getting off on this. He was watching me get destroyed by a man more than twice my age. He was watching my pain and my shame, and it was turning him on.
And then I watched him as his hand slowly, hesitantly moved to his lap.
He didn't pull it out. He just pressed his palm flat against the erection straining against his shorts. He began to rub.
He was masturbating. Right in front of me. Right in front of the man who had bought me.
The absolute loser.
I watched him rub himself, his face a grotesque mask of weeping and lust. I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of disgust that burned hotter than the sting on my ass cheek. That bastard was nothing. He was less than nothing.
But beneath my disgust, the engine of my own body was revving hard. Realizing that I had become pornography was the final, devastating trigger my pussy needed. I was a fucking animal now, bent over and beaten and pounded on a rug, while my terrified ex-boyfriend got off.
Tyler's face contorted. His hand clamped down on his shorts. A dark, wet stain began to spread across the grey fabric at his crotch.
The bastard had come in his pants. Just from watching me being destroyed.
Behind me, Richard groaned, and then he grabbed my hips with a vice-like grip, driving himself as deep as he could possibly go, and held himself there, his body rigid.
The first jet of his cum hit like a bullet of boiling water.
I gasped, a ragged, wet sound, my body convulsing as he flooded me.
As he pumped pulse after pulse of thick, heavy cum deep inside my cunt, claiming me in the most primal way.
It felt like he emptied his balls completely.
It felt like he filled me until I was going to burst.
When he was finally finished, he released my hips, pulled out, and stepped back, leaving me to collapse completely onto the rug, a puddle of sweat, tears, and leaking cum. A thick, pearly white string of his load escaped my gaping hole and slid down my thigh.
Richard stood over me, panting slightly. He didn't look at me. He reached into his suit jacket, draped over the sofa, and pulled out his phone.
He dialed a number and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the glass coffee table next to the briefcase. The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
"Yeah?"
"This is Richard Davies," he said, his voice calm, cold, and dripping with authority. "I'm calling regarding Tyler Jensen's debt. The forty thousand."
"Mr. Davies," the voice on the other end said, suddenly respectful. "We didn't know you were involved. We..."
"I'm not involved," Richard interrupted sharply.
"I'm concluding it. The money will be sent.
The debt will be settled. You will never contact Tyler Jensen, or anyone associated with him, ever again.
If you do, the next call I make won't be to you.
It will be to the DA, and I will personally fund the task force that dismantles your entire operation. Do we understand each other?"
The silence on the line was thick with unspoken threats.
"Crystal clear, Mr. Davies. We're done."
The call disconnected.
Richard picked up his phone. He looked at Tyler.
"Your debt is paid," Richard stated flatly. "You are free."
Tyler sagged against the chair, letting out a massive, shuddering sob of relief. "Oh my god. Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Davies. You saved my life."
Richard shrugged like Tyler’s life was worthless. He pulled a slim white envelope out of his jacket pocket. “Five thousand dollars,” he said. He tossed it into Tyler’s lap. "Take it and get out."
Tyler stared at the money, his eyes wide.
"And just so we’re clear," Richard continued. "You take that money, Tyler. You walk out that door. And you never speak to Sloane again. You delete her number. You cross the street if you see her on campus. She doesn’t need you ruining her life."
I lay on the rug, my heart pounding, my pussy still throbbing, waiting for Tyler to say no. Waiting for him to be a man.
Tyler looked at me. He looked at my ruined makeup, my tear-streaked face, the puddle of Richard's cum leaking from between my legs.
Then, he looked at the envelope in her lap.
He stood up and walked toward the elevator.
He didn't look at me again. He didn't say goodbye.
The elevator doors opened. Tyler stepped inside, and the doors slid shut, sealing him away.
He had sold me to save his life, and then he took a bonus to forget I existed.