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Blood rushes into my cock like a waterfall. One whoosh of blood and my cock is rock hard in this woman’s hand. And it’s the most fucking painful thing.
I slam my body up and down, determined to escape. I need to stop the pleasure in my cock beginning to roll up and down my body.
I don’t want this. I refuse to feel anything.
Hands slam down on my shoulders, holding me in place.
I can’t move. I’m glued to the chair. The adrenaline coursing through me isn’t enough to overcome the weakened state my body is in. If only my cock would listen. If only it was broken along with the rest of my body.
I try to focus on Andrea, on my hatred, on my revenge. But I’m not strong enough.
The roiling of pleasure after so much pain feels euphoric. All I want to do is let go and enjoy it.
But Rialta is here.
I love her.
I only have hours, maybe only minutes, left on this earth, and I’m not going to spend them breaking my vow of love for her. I’ve betrayed her enough.
Pleasure curls in my belly as a mouth wets the tip of my cock and a tongue swooshes over it. I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood to keep from letting a single moan of pleasure out. I’ll suffer in pain instead of enjoying this. I will not cause Rialta any more pain. I refuse.
Andrea’s grin widens as he sees the torment I’m in. And the bastard knows exactly what to do to make it worse. He grabs Rialta, pulling her under his arm and into my line of sight.
She’s so beautiful.
No, don’t think about her.
Don’t…
But it’s too late.
My dick is rock hard, aching for a release. And my throat can’t contain my groans of pleasure anymore.
It pours out of me all at once—the groan, along with spurts of cum in long ribbons onto the woman’s hand between my thighs.
I’m panting hard, my body shaking from a mix of adrenaline and aftershock from my orgasm. I search for Rialta, but she’s no longer under Andrea’s arm. Where did she go?
She hates me even more than before—I’m sure of it. This feels worse than anything I’ve done to her. I’ve had horrible things done to me—there’s a reason I am the way I am. The only reason I can do horrible things myself is because of what I’ve gone through. Pain isn’t new to me. Feeling broken is how I live my life. Last time I went through this I lost the love of my life.
I won’t do that again.
When I die, I’m going to die loving Rialta. I’m going to die with hope that she can live a better life.
The women leave me now that they’ve fulfilled their mission.
I frantically search the room. Where is Rialta? Did she leave? Was it all too much for her?
Andrea chuckles as if this is all a game to him. He’s enjoying every second of my misery.
I fight against the restraints again. My chair bounces on the ground but doesn’t break. There might have been a time that I could have broken free, but my muscles have deteriorated to nothing. Even with the adrenaline coursing through me I don’t have the strength to break the flimsy chair or slip my wrists or ankles from the rope binding me. I’m fucking useless to protect Rialta, and my instincts scream that I need to protect her.
“Hold still, you’re not going to want to miss this,” Andrea says as two guards hold me down in the chair again.
Metal bars are brought in with leather straps dangling between them, and my stomach drops.
No…no, no, no.
I buck hard, but the guards keep me in place with barely a push of their hands on my shoulders.
