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I’ll admit, the fear and the chase have done a little something to me. The knife adds a whole different element. He sits between my legs and just pounds me with that knife as the blade slices his hand. Like a fucking psychopath, he pulls so much pleasure from the intense pain.
And like a fucking psychopath, I kind of like it, and my hips rise off the grass.
As he pulls out of me, crimson shadows his flesh. “How much of my hand can you fit inside your pretty whore cunt, huh?”
“I don’t know!” I whimper. I’ve never had anyone put more than a few fingers inside me.
“Let’s see if my blood helps grease the wheels, eighty.”
His bloody fingers push inside me. Two. Then three. He draws back his arm and forces a fourth in. Warmth spreads through my core, and I accidentally moan, which he follows with a rabid groan. I’m so full, but by his estimation, I’m not full enough. He draws back, presses his thumb to his palm, and makes me take that too. He’s up to his knuckles inside me, and it’s almost more than I can take.
“Such a good whore. So easy to train. Spread your legs a little wider for me.”
I do as he asks and part my thighs as far as they can go. He slowly twists his hand and applies firm pressure inside me. Left and right, pushing into me as he does. When he finally pushes past his knuckles, a sharp burning sensation builds around his fingers. I scream out, but once his knuckles are inside me, it feels like the worst is over. It feels like he’s pushed the biggest sex toy known to man inside me. Something worthy of being a gag gift at a bachelorette party.
Something that should never actually be inside a person.
He twists his wrist, wriggling more of his hand inside me until I’m certain I can’t take another millimeter. And it feels so good. Too good for something I’m being paid for. Instead of fighting the feelings, I close my eyes and lose myself to the motion of his hand inside me. Warmth works its way up my legs and runs a finger up my spine. I bear down on him as the intense pressure builds, and my come washes away the blood as he pounds me with his hand.
“Oh god!” I scream.
His eyebrows rise. “There’s no god, eighty. Only me. Christen me with your come.”
I have no clue what he means until he pulls out of me, leads me over to a tree, and lies down with his head against the trunk.
“Put your back against the tree for support and squat over my face,” he says.
So I do. He grips my ankles and positions my feet on either side of his head, then he pushes his hand back inside me. It’s a little more difficult because of the position, but he’s too determined to quit. Hovering over his face with his entire hand inside me, I feel like a fucking puppet. And he’s the puppet master.
I try to hold back the pressure when it builds again, but honestly, fuck this guy. I let go and squirt all over his face. My come sprays into his open mouth, and he gargles it before swallowing.
Yeah, he’s a fucking freak. And not just because he thinks he’s three different people.
He pulls his hand from me, unfastens his pants, and pulls out his cock. He pushes me down his body and holds me over his dick. When he pushes me down on his lap, I take him inside me.
“How do you still feel so good after having my entire fist inside you?” he growls, thrusting up to meet my core.
He grips my hair and puts the bloody, come-coated hand that was inside me in my mouth. Salt and copper tangle across my tongue. He fingers my face, and I gag until tears form at the corners of my eyes and slip down my cheeks.
“Good girl, eighty. Cry for me.”
His hand pulls back enough to keep me from throwing up before he’s back to fucking my throat with his fingers. Tears stream down my face as I struggle to keep from vomiting. Each time I gag, he groans when the added pressure teases his cock.
“I’ll give you this. You sure know how to fuck to save your life, don’t you?”
I’m not stupid. I know when to give in to a man to survive. I know how to win them over with my body. This is merely a life preserver. If I have to ride his cock for another chance to escape, then I will. Coming was just an added benefit this time.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Fuck, you squeezing my cock like this is going to make me come.”
As his hips buck against mine, I look over at the knife lying in the grass. If I just lean a little to the left?—
“Don’t even think about it.” His grip firms on my hips and completely eliminates any chance of leaping for the knife. “I like that you considered it, though. Would you kill me as I came, whore?”
“Yes,” I pant. His thrusts feel better than I wish they did.
His hips stutter against mine as he comes, probably to the thought of me stabbing him. He’s such a sexual deviant, my god.
