Page 44 of Exposed
She bites her lip, seeming to consider it, but then the poor cunt looks away. Tears bead her eyelids, and after a few moments, those first drops fall. I scoop them up with my finger and lick the salty liquid off of my skin.
I love the taste of her sorrow.
I unlock the top of her cage and open it. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”
I graze my knuckles along her neck and breasts. Heatblooms in my chest, spreading down to my cock. Arousal flushes through my system.
Violet’s body reddens.
“You’re eager to learn, aren’t you?” I ask.
Her chin jerks, a refusal to admit her desires, but we both know her truth.
I remove my clothing. I’m a toned man, and my exterior is patterned with scars from years of experimental sadomasochism. The shallow knife wound over my heart from when she attempted to stab me in the cemetery has already begun to scab over, forming a purple cap. I’m tempted to keep digging at it until it forms a scar.
My long cock bobs between my legs, the wound on the tip oozing a light green pus. Purple, engorged veins loop around my shaft, and tough white patches of callused skin patch the length from scarring and overuse. I admit, my length is quite different from the typical man’s, but I embrace that part of myself. I crush my shaft; threads of pain thread through my spine.
Violet gazes at my cock, my abdomen, my neck, my eyes. I climb into the cage, sit on top of her, and pin her shoulders underneath my knees. It must be excruciating to have my weight on top of her; the metal cage must be digging into her skin.
She can refuse me all she wants. Her words don’t mean anything.
I own her.
“Now, imagine I’m your father,” I say. “You can pretend, can’t you, Violet?”
“Are you insane?” she cries. It’s obvious from her tone she knows the truth. She knew it before she even steppedfoot on the asylum grounds. She raises her voice: “Fuck you, you fucking?—”
I slap my hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen, her pupils incredibly large. My dick bounces between us, engorged with blood and the need to fuck the life out of her.
“Don’t talk to your father like that,” I warn with a frown. “If you want the ability to talk, then you will speaknicelyto me.”
Her eyes fill with water, but her venom swims to the surface too, ready to tear me open.
I welcome it.
Surrender falls onto her frame, and her body sinks into the metal bed. I grind my ass into her lower half. I want her to endure my entire weight.
“Answer my question,” I say in a low voice. “Who am I to you?”
“My father,” she whispers.
“I think you can do better than that.” Her bottom lip trembles. I wink at her. “Try again, my love. Who am I to you?”
Her tongue darts across her bottom lip. “My daddy,” she cries.
Hunger ruptures my self control. I want to taste her need. More importantly, I want her to tasteme.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
I spit, letting a glob of saliva drop onto her face. The bubbled liquid trickles over her cheek. I slide my flattened palm over her, smearing my spit. She shudders, her shoulders hunching, then she twists her neck to avoid my saliva.
I grab her chin and force her to open her lips. Hertongue stretches out instinctually, and I laugh. She can’t even deny it: the bitch is ready for my spit.
“You are such a greedy, nasty thing,” I say. I spit directly onto her tongue. She swallows it, her eyes glazed with lust. “Who did you get that from? Certainly not from me. You must have gotten it from your whore mother.”
Rage flashes across her expression. “Fuck?—”
I slap her cheek, stopping those words.
