Page 5 of Shame
“Seems so, sir,” says the other man.
“I like it,” says the monster behind me, and connects his belt with my skin again. And again. And again. A series of punishing hard smacks raining down on tender skin.
“Please,” I scream, my whole behind feeling like it’s going to melt off my body. “It hurts!”
He does stop then. A large palm covers my butt, caresses back and forth, the touch making shivers race across my back. He dips his fingers in the cleft between my ass cheeks, past my tight little hole, to my pussy. As he rubs his fingers up and down my slit, heat floods my cheeks when I realize I’m wet. Like really fucking wet.
“Your hurt is the point, Carmen. It’s what gets me off. And your job is to get me off tonight. Again and again.”
My stomach clenches at his words and my head spins. I didn’t sign up for this! I expected fucking, probably brutal, probably with more than one man, but not to be beaten. Yet I don’t dare to move. I have no right. I’ve sold myself to this man and his whims.
Salvatore is almost tender, his fingers rubbing over my clit, making me gasp, then along my folds, a long finger pushing deep inside. I whimper and arch. Beating aside, maybe this will be enjoyable after all? The brute holds my wrists numbingly hard. I wish he would ease up. It’s not like he needs to be that rough with me. I am here to obey, aren’t I?
“Miss Moreno, I believe I’ve failed. You fucking like it.”
I shake my head. “No—” Then I remember myself and jut out my ass instead, wiggling it. “Of course,” I say in the most sugary voice I can manage.
Salvatore pushes his finger in and out of my pussy, then adds another. He’s rough and I force myself to relax. It could be pleasant. It’s borderline pleasant, if I look past the feeling I have that he actually wants me to hurt.
“Is it no, or is it yes, Carmen?”
“I—” I don’t even remember the question. Yes seems like a safe bet in this situation, whatever it is he wants. “Yes.”
He pulls out his fingers and slaps my ass again. A wail rises from my throat. I feel flayed, like there’s no skin left.
“I hate it when they lie,” he growls. “I hate it when they say whatever they think I want to hear.” He slaps me again, and again. I rise on my toes, squirm, try to get away, but I’m pressed flush against the desk, my arms held down, a hand heavy on my lower back.
“Please,” I scream hoarsely.
“Do you still like it?”
“No!”
The rain of hurt stops.
“Good.”
I hear a rustle of fabric. A zipper. The thick head of a cock pushes at my entrance, resting there, rocking a little back and forth.
“Do you think she can take it without screaming? Or will she lose it when I ram it to the hilt?”
“I think she will scream, sir.”
My heart rate doubles in an instant. Wait? What? Why? Does he have thorns? In the next second it feels as if I’m ripped in two as he thrusts his enormous cock all the way, deep, too deep, hitting things inside me that shouldn’t be savaged so brutally.
He rests there a moment. I gasp, clenching my hands into fists, my wrists numb from the vice-like grip. Now I know why he wanted the guard. I’d have tried to claw his eyes out. Or at least tried to run. Now I can do neither.
“She screamed. No one surprises me anymore.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
I gasp as he pulls out and shoves his cock back inside again. It feels as if he hits my tonsils.
“Do you know why I fuck whores like you?”
A tear trickles from the corner of my eye, dropping on the surface of his desk as he thrusts again.
“Because you’re property. I own you all. You have no say.”