Page 70 of Keeping Her Under

I unzip my pants and pull myself free.

Rip off the chains they forced on me.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

I’ll show her I’m not weak.

I jerk myself a couple of times as I near the bed. I shove her face into the mattress, not wanting to see her ugliness. I grab her ass and force her onto her knees.

My hands shake with the feeling of disgust. I hate the touch of her skin. I hate me.

I line my cock up with her hole, feeling sick and wrong but strong.

But then I stop, my breath catching.

My body shaking.

My eyes glued onto the S branded into my body.

She’s here.

With me.

Soothing me.

My summer to the dark depressive winter.

I stare down at the brand, at the key to my soul, at the soap to those men’s grime.

Closing my eyes, I stumble away. Control my breathing as I stand.

One in.

One out.

I focus on the present, not the past.

On Summer, not my memories.

On her love for me, not my own self-fucking-loathing.

Feeling my control slipping back into place, I turn to the duffel bag I dropped on the floor when I rushed forward. I rummage through it, pulling out a red teddy. I toss it to her, along with a matching thong with a giant bow on the front.

“Put them on,” I demand. I yank the towel off the bed and toss it at the duffel bag. It has my prints on it, so I’ll need to dispose of it properly.

When she doesn’t move, I yank on her too. I want to slap her, but I can’t mar her skin right now.

“Put them on, or I’ll put videos of your rape all over the internet.”

She sobs harder, but she starts to move. Reaching blindly around the bed, she picks up the lingerie and dresses herself. I manhandle her into position.

She’s more flexible than I thought she’d be, so I force her to sit on her heels – knees bent, thighs spread, hands flat on the mattress behind her. Her saggy breasts are pushed up by the padded bra, and in this position, they’re forced up even more.

Like a hentai classic.