Page 60 of Depravity

My entire core seems to hunger for it, seems to beg for it. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

“You will, Brynn. You’re going to come for me. Right now, you’re going to come for your husband and once you do, you’ll want to do it again. You’ll want to keep doing it. You’ll want me here, every minute of every day. Touching you, teasing you, fucking you until you can’t even think straight.”

No. I don’t want to. I don’t… all my desperate, panicked thoughts turn to mush. All his fancy words and nasty taunts, all of it seems to fizzle out as my head explodes.

I scream. I arch my back as something intangible, something incredible takes me. Just as I’m desperately trying to catch my breath Conrad is there, sliding his dick into me, groaning about how wet I am.

For the first time, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least it doesn’t hurt as much. He’s still massive, and I’m still brutalised from all his previous abuse. But as he thrusts into me, I can feel it. I’m slick, moisturised even.

He curls his arms up beneath where mine are still strung up, and while he’s propped on his elbows, he starts fucking me. He starts telling me what a good girl I am, what a good wife I’mbeing. How if I behave, he’ll make me orgasm again. As if I’d want that, as if I’d welcome him forcing me to sin further.

His dick slides in and out, and to my horror a moan escapes my lips. I don’t want to make that sound. I don’t want to enjoy any second of this.

“Fuck, Brynn,” He groans, “You’re doing so good. You’re so perfect, so fucking perfect.”

Tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t want to be perfect either. I think right now I’d take his fists, take his anger, rather than have to face what he’s making of me.

It feels too good. It feels too nice.

He picks up pace and I don’t know when but he puts his hand between us, slides it right there, touching that awful incredible part that makes me lose all control.

“You want to come, wife?” He asks.

No.

Yes.

Nooo.

I can’t do it. I can’t say those words. I can’t want that. I’m not going to give in that damned easily. I’ve barely even put up a fight, and already he’s beating me.

He starts massaging, manipulating my body and the last of my rational thoughts leave me. I shut my eyes, clench my fists, but it’s too late. It’s all too damned late.

He’s still fucking me but it feels different now, more intense. Like he’s trying to hit some spot inside me.

I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T…

I scream. I thrash, my wrists pull at the bindings and I can feel my skin tear, but it doesn’t hold me down. Nothing holds me down.

Something cataclysmic, something euphoric explodes in my head. My body moves on instinct. I writhe, and I moan, and Ibecome some creature possessed. Pleasure overrides everything, every thought, every breath.

And then it stops. All of it stops.

I slump back with his body on me, in me. I can taste his scent. I can feel how horrifically strong this man is. I try to get my breath, and I practically choke on it.

I can feel his come inside me, I can feel it collecting there.

As he slides out, his lips are pulled into a devilishly attractive grin and I hate the fact that out of everything, I still see his beauty. How can a man as evil as he is, even be beautiful?

He leans down, catching my mouth and I do my best not to react, not to kiss him back.

He runs his hands over my breasts, admiring them the way one does a precious work of art, and then he pulls himself out of me and gets up.

It’s hard not to squirm, not to flinch. I’m still laid here, spread eagle and instead of letting me go now that he’s gotten what he wants he just stands there, right between my legs. Watching me, watching howheis leaking out of me.

“Fuck,” He groans, pulling out his phone as he snaps a picture while I can do nothing to stop him.

“Please uncher-chain me.” I beg. “You got what you wanted.”

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