Page 129
Story: Barons of Decay
She shakes her head again, this time slower. No more lies. No more pretending.
“Good girl,” I whisper, and watch the words strike her like a match. She closes her eyes, lips parting, breath catching again.
I hold her there in that stillness, not moving, not speaking, just breathing her in. Her pussy trembles around me, the telltale sign she’s ready for release. “You want it don’t you?” I stroke my hand down her hair, then around her body to the metal bar. I pull sharply and feel her pussy squeeze in return. “You wantto come on my cock, release all this pent up dirtiness you're carrying inside.” I glance at Hunter, who looks as frustrated as I think she feels, his cock is in his hand now, and he strokes slowly up and down his shaft. “If it was just me and you, I’d let you suffer, but it’s not. It’s your lucky day, doll baby. Let’s give your Baron what he wants.”
I pull back, almost fully out, before punching back in, this time faster, picking up the pace. Her breath breaks–sharp, shallow. She shakes her head, but her body tells the truth. I feel it tightening around me, pulsing. Her knuckles bend, nails digging into the porcelain as if it could hold her together. But nothing will. Not after this.
“That’s it,” I whisper against her throat, gripping tighter. “Give in. Be good for me, just once.”
And she does. Her body jerks, surrendering with a strangled cry that she tries to muffle against her shoulder. I don’t let her. I want Hunter to hear every sound. Every broken gasp.
She tenses around me, that hot little pussy strangling me with tight little clenches. I’m loud when I come, a groan rumbling deep in my chest. It’s like I’m releasing everything I’ve been holding onto for weeks.
We’re both hot, sticky with sweat, our bodies both tight and loose. I pull out, wet and slippery, and grab a towel off a hook on the wall.
Hunter’s still got his cock in his hand, stroking slowly. I lift an eyebrow. “You going next?”
He shakes his head, and Arianette’s holding herself up by draping her body over the counter. Their eyes meet, and he just says, “Turn around.” She moves slowly, but follows his order, her chest rising and falling. “Get on the counter.”
“I can’t,” she says, looking half dead. She winces as she moves, the pain from the welts probably worse than before.
“You can, and you will,” Hunter tells her, and even though I don’t think she has what it takes to leverage herself I watch as she lifts herself up, those pretty little tits swaying with every move.
I’m going to fuck them next.
For now, I step back, letting Hunter move close in front of her. “Spread apart,” he says, eyes hazy, but zeroed in on her pussy. Her fingers slip through the sticky wetness, the cum I left behind. Their eyes hold as he jerks off, hand moving along his shaft, his thumb rolling over the tip, spreading fluid with every pass.
He never touches her. It’s just the sight of her like this turning him on. The red-rimmed eyes. The messy hair. The welts imprinted in her flesh. She’s a terror, but she’sourterror, and that’s what makes this so incredibly hot.
It’s on those slick lips that he comes, thick and ropey, dripping all over her pussy. My dick twitches, wanting to be a part of it, wanting to go at her again. Wanting to take everything we can. It’s a compulsion. An all-consuming need.
But I let them have their moment, this time the observer, and watch this ruined girl slump back on the counter. We've broken her with both our bodies and words, shattering her with every thrust until there’s only one thing left for us to do.
Pick up the pieces, and do it again.
39
Hunter
We don’t saymuch on the walk back to the house. Ares trots ahead of us, although he’s looked back at the cabin more than once. I could tell he didn’t want to leave her, sprawled across the sheets, marked and used.
Next to me, DK seems lighter, shoulders loose after getting some release. I’m the opposite. My stomach’s tight. I’m not sure how I feel.
“She’ll get used to it,” he says, suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets. As if the statement absolves us of our actions.
“Yeah, maybe.” I pick up a stick and whistle at Ares. He perks up, tongue lolling, excited. I throw the stick, and he darts after it.
I sense DK’s eyes on me. “What?”
“You having regrets?” There’s an accusation in his tone.
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose. Not because I disagree–but because I remember it too well. The way her back arched. The way her eyes begged even as her lips saidno. And the way I didn’t touch her. Not the way I wanted.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?” He stops in the middle of the yard. “Because we’re in this together, and I need to know where your head is at.”
“I can’t just fuck her,” I blurt. “Not like you do.” It’s getting harder. Harder not to touch. I wish I was more like DK, able to take what I want, able to do it without going too far. She looked at me. Right before. Right after. Eyes wide, glassy, begging for something I didn’t give her. And I could’ve. That’s the worst part. I could’ve fucked her good. Felt her clench around me, but I didn’t.
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