Page 61 of Deviant

“No,” she moans beneath my brother’s cock, but I can feel the effect I’m having. I know she came for me earlier. I know inher half-broken state she submitted, but this time will be so much worse because she has no excuse.

This time she is fully aware of herself, she isn’t blinded by shock, or by anything else for that matter.

The servants stand still, all twelve of them, like mute little statues, watching on as we violate her.

Conrad starts to jerk, slamming more haphazardly and as he comes, he pulls out, covering her face, smearing it over her lips where it clings like syrup.

She lets out a muffled cry, but I can see the flush on her cheeks. I can see the way she’s starting to react to my ministrations.

Yeah, my little whore is going to come. She’s going to perform.

“Come on my cock.” I order. “Come on my cock like the good little slut that I’m making of you.”

“Fuck you.” She gasps.

I can hear it, the way she speaks, the hint of breathlessness. I knew I was making progress. I knew I was succeeding.

She starts, biting her lip harder, shaking her head, trying to silence the sound, but she can’t hide how her body feels. How it’s clenching around my dick so tightly it might just snap.

God, she feels so good.

She feels incredible.

I could die right here, and I’d be a happy man.

“Miss Goodey Two-Shoes.” I taunt, slapping her breasts hard enough to leave a livid mark behind. “Look at you now, what a whore you’ve become. And you’re a murderer, too. Just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you.” She spits. “I’m nothing like you.”

I groan, slamming into her harder. It’s just too damn good. I never want to grow tired of this, I never want to lose this feeling, I want to tether her to me, keep her by my side so that whenever I need her, I can simply pick her up and within seconds I’ll be in the heights of nirvana.

I lean down, capturing her breast in my mouth and I bite as hard as I can.

She screams out. She bucks and it’s enough to send her cascading right over the edge. Her orgasm makes her eyes roll back, her body flails like it’s suddenly lost all coordination.

And as I fill her up, I revel in the knowledge that once more, I’ve won. Once more, she’s submitted.

I’m dumped back into that same awful cell.

Maybe I ruined it, maybe I should have played docile. I could have been so clever, pretending that I’d given in and when the moment was there, I would have gutted him just as I gutted Saul.

Only, I couldn’t do it.

I wouldn’t do it.

I’m not going to simper, take his cock, and pretend that I want it. I refuse to do that.

I wipe my face, wipe the disgusting remnants of the last few hours as best I can.

But Saul,fucking Saul.

I can’t believe he would do that. I can’t believe he was that vindicative. My eyes drop to my hands. The blood may have been washed away, but it still feels like it’s there, sticky, coagulating between my fingers, marring my skin.

Iama killer now.

I’m a murderer.

I don’t know how to reconcile that fact. I don’t know how to be at peace with it. Saul may have betrayed me, but that doesn’t make what I did okay, that doesn’t justify stabbing him over and over.

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