Page 90 of Deliria

I gulp, clenching my fists, already bracing for the horror of this. The pain too.

But it could be worse.

Christ, what have I gone through to even think that?

Vincent is quick to get behind me, to lift my body up and position me so that I’m in his lap with his cock pressing into my back.

He spreads my arse cheeks wide enough with his bony hands that he can thumb my arsehole, and I hiss at the intrusion.

“When was the last time she shat?” He asks. “I don’t want her smearing her shit all over me.”

“If she does then she can lick it off like last time.” Alex replies, glaring at me as if daring me to say something.

A vision hits me. A memory of being held down, pinned over the billiard table in this damned house as Vincent fucks me. As the fabric burns my cheek, my breasts, as the edge of the wood digs into my hips with punishing blows.

And then being slapped, being insulted and then being forced to do just that, forced to “clean him up” because apparently it was my fault he didn’t prep me properly.

“You piece of shit.” I snarl, clenching my fists, tasting that foulness as if it was there, back on my tongue.

Vincent laughs into my ear as if he can see that flashback too, as if we’ve both just time travelled back to that moment.

And then he pushes himself into me, forcing my body to accept him while he lets out a satisfying groan.

It hurts, it hurts so much as he forces his way into me, as he stretches me, as he practically rips me open. I don’t doubt he’s made me bleed. I don’t doubt he’s done some serious damage. That they both have. No way could I have endured what I have, could my body take as much abuse as it has without serious consequences. I can feel the way I’m violently shaking, the way the shock and adrenaline is starting to override everything.

“I do love her arse.” He says over my shoulder with his arms wrapped around my torso to pin me against his body, “It’s almost as good as her greedy cunt.”

Alex smirks. “See what you think once she’s full of us both.” He states before moving to get between my spread legs.

“Don’t,” I gasp. “Please don’t…” I can’t take any more. I know I can’t.

He tuts, slapping me hard enough on my pussy to make me cry out. “When I say I want you to beg for it, wife, it’s meant to be because you’re desperate for it.”

“She is.” Vincent says, “Little whore just likes to play hard to get, that’s all. Her mother was the same. She used to cry and plead, but she always took my cock all the same.”

No. No.

I try to block those words, try to drown them out, but the echoing sound of Vincent’s groans don’t help at all.

Alex spreads my labia wider, staring at where I’m on full display. “So pink and flushed.” He grins. “I wonder how bruised you’ll be by the time we’ve finished with you today.”

“Please…”

Vincent reaches up, clamping his hand over my mouth before Alex lines his cock up and then forces his way into me.

It’s too much. Too full.

He doesn’t give me a moment to adjust before he slides out and then pushes his way back in, demanding space I don’t have.

I moan, I wail under the hand that all but suffocates me.

“Fuck.” Alex growls out in obvious pleasure. “Fuck. Why didn’t we try this before?”

Vincent sniggers, adjusting me a little so that more of him slides inside me.

I scream out as the pair of them start gyrating, start thrusting in unison.

“Fuck,” Vincent gasps. “It’s even better than last time.”

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