Page 8 of Beautiful Nightmare

I don’t tremble or panic. This is something I am all too familiar with, sadly.

Fighting only gets him harder.

He’s lost his power. It happened after he killed his parents all those years ago, so this is the only power he can claim to have, but power is not what I give him.

Prince has been doing this since I turned of age. He is a year older than me. Perhaps he also wishes to be commended for such restraint, waiting for as long as he did, but those words of praise will never leave my lips. What he does is vile, and his reasons are invalid. He isn’t a man; he is a coward.

As a teen, I caught him many times peering in when I was relaxing in the bath or looking too deeply into my eyes. Lurking in the shadows if I was to go out, threatening anyone who dared to look at me for too long.

In his mind, this behavior is acceptable. It’s not.

His hips grind against me, and his cock hardens. “Forever mine, sweet, beautiful girl.”

I will never be his. But I grind my hips in return against him. Prince likes the fight, and I will never give him the satisfaction.

His soft, strong hand inches its way down my chin and around my neck. He squeezes, then hisses as I lean farther into him.

Next, I hear his belt unbuckle, and the unzipping of his trousers follows. His hips shimmy against my body, encouraging his trousers to fall and bunch around his feet.

At the same time, slowly, the delicate silk of my dress slides up my legs and over my backside. Prince holds it tightly, gathered at my hips. I don’t have panties on, leaving me exposed before him, vulnerable, just how he likes me.

The tip of his hard cock bobs against my skin. I feel the precum leaking from his tip before I bend over slightly, preparing for his intrusion.

There is no point in trying to stop him.

Prince pulls me tight against him, angling my hips higher and leaving me on tiptoes.

Looking down, my heart drops, and adrenalinekicks in. All it would take is his release, and I would be falling headfirst into my own demise.

What an ironic turn of events that would be.

My neck is freed, but his phantom touch stays as he lines himself up with my pussy.

He is not one to play with a meal before devouring it whole.

The vile sound of that man spitting, not once but twice, onto his cock sends chills up my spine. Prince wastes no time, forcibly thrusting into me. His movements are rough as his pelvis slaps against my bare ass. My pussy reacts, and I grip him instantly while my breath hitches.

Something I learned years ago is that I may as well make the most out of it and use him in return.

“Sweet girl, you always feel so fucking good,” he praises with his raspy voice. Both hands are now holding my hips, holding me still while he fucks me mercifully, dominating me.

His movements are hurried as he has one goal in mind: mark me, claim me, own me.

Loud grunts echo around us, and my own moans follow. Bringing my fingers to my clit, working myself and adding to my insatiable need to come.

I love coming. I love fucking. My preference is tofuck myself, but a helping cock will never be denied. But I hate that it’shiscock.

A part of me is convinced Prince also knows this, that he’s watched me before while I am alone in my room in the middle of the night. But I have never caught him. And now he can bring his vile fantasies to life. How he lurks in the dark, stalking me, prowling, then pouncing just as a predator would his prey in the wild.

Thrusting into me harder, his cock hits all the right places, damn him. My mind and body battle, but my body always wins.

My toes scrunch, sliding against the hardwood as the all-too-familiar tingling sensation builds.

With my thumb and forefinger, I squeeze my sensitive nub. Fuck, I am addicted.

I will always be an addict to this feeling.

Jolts of electricity flow freely through my limbs, and each breath taken has turned into panting breaths. The walls of my cunt grip him harder, and my orgasm ripples through me, causing my body to tremble, giving in to the sweet release.