Page 68 of For Fillies and Monsters

“Maybe I wasn’t clear. I am going to fuck you. Here. Tonight. And I will spread that tight little cunt on this bar if you beg me to.” She sucks in a breath, her chest fluttering rapidly. “But I don’t like to share, and I’d much rather fuck you where I won’t have to kill every other person who sees what’s mine.”

She whimpers, the sound sending a spear of heat straight to my cock, but she doesn’t pull away, and she doesn’t say no.

Not that it would stop me.

She nods, just a small tilt of her head, and I let go of her hair, snapping into motion. Grabbing her arm, I steer us toward the back, where the private rooms are located. People watch as we pass, their eyes hungry, but they must know better than to stop me.

THIRTY

AUGUSTUS

January 15th, 2020

We stepinto the room at the far end of the hallway, its door open, the room untouched. The walls are painted a dark gray with small lights hanging on them, warm light casting shadows in ribbons over the massive four-poster bed covered in black sheets and drapes of matching colored fabric falling in curtains around it. Next to the bed is a small dresser, no doubt filled with toys, but I pay them no attention. Nothing but my cock and belt will be touching her skin tonight.

I let her arm fall to her side and stare at her. Chest heaving, wide crazed eyes taking in me and the room, plump pink lips parted, sucking in lungfuls of air. She looks as wild as I feel, but timid, like she doesn’t know what to do. The thought makes me smirk, and her silver eyes lock on to the small movement.

I’m done fucking waiting.

“Get on the bed and take off that fucking dress.” There’s zero room for argument in my voice, and she hesitates only a second before walking to the edge of the bed and sits down. She slowly pulls the thin straps of her dress over her shoulders and down her arms. She pauses, looking back up at me with mock innocence, before removing the silk from the globes of herbreasts, their rounded tops glowing in the dark lighting. A growl tears from my throat and her lips part once more.

Having her this close, this willing, is a greater test of my will than I anticipated.

“Shouldn’t I know your name at least?” Her voice is shaky, and I know the nice thing to do would be to comfort her, but I don’t. There will be years to do that. Not to mention, I still vividly remember this little brat withholding her name the first time we met.

Karma is a bitch, baby girl.

“Fuck no. I don’t need to know your name to know that pussy is already weeping for me. If you need to scream a name tonight, you can call me Beast or Monster, because that is what I am.”

She flushes and then relents, pulling the fabric down to her waist. She stands up, and the dress falls in a pool of ink around her ankles.

My dirty little filly—naked underneath. I take her in hungrily, my cock throbbing with a heartbeat of its own, and lick my lips, ready to devour her. She shifts nervously, her hands fidgeting with the ponytail, and I prowl toward her, gripping both wrists in a punishing grip.

“Lie back.” She doesn’t hesitate, lying flat on the bed. I tut in response. “So desperate.”

Using one hand to pin her hands above her head, I reach between us and yank at the black leather belt around my waist. My knuckles graze over her soft flesh and I groan at how silky it is against my roughness. I can’t wait to put my marks all over her. Shifting as I lean my full body atop her, I thread the belt in a figure eight around her wrists, then secure it to a loop on the wall. She writhes against the belt, her brows pinching together.

Perfect.

I step back and admire my handiwork, her skin so paleagainst the black of the sheets, a pink flush spreading over the surface of her chest and neck, naked and trembling beside the glittering mask still covering half of her face.

Would I rather see all of her face? Sure. But this isn’t all about me and my needs, and I know Stetson feels more powerful when she thinks she’s anonymous.

“Please,” she whispers, and I meet her eyes with a savage smile.

I know I look like a monster towering over her—nothing more than a shadow going to swallow every ray of light she might produce.

“What do you want? Tell me.” My voice is full of command, and she rubs her thighs together.

“I-I want you to fuck me,” she stammers, and I shake my head, the black hood shifting with the motion.

“Try again,” I growl, still looming over her, fully clothed beyond the button of my jeans undone. This is about making her admit to her desires. I want her to beg me to do the filthy things that she thinks she should be embarrassed about, or ashamed of, so that I can show her how innocent they are compared to the truly heinous things I plan to do to her.

“I want you to fuck my mouth with your cock. I want to taste your cum on my tongue and feel it running down my throat.” She’s panting, squeezing her eyes shut like she can hide from me, from this, from herself. I reach out and pull on a rosy pink nipple, making her cry out, back arching, eyes flying open.

“Don’t you fucking hide. Tell me.” I have to remind myself not to call her Stetson or Little Filly; I can’t ruin this illusion. Her lips wobble before she sucks in a sharp breath and turns determined eyes on me.

“I want you to fuck my pussy, hard and punishing, until I’m coming around it. I want you to use me—fucking use me.” She’spissed, her voice growing more hysterical with each word. And I revel in it.

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