Page 40 of Corrupted Heart

“Thank you!” I sob.

“Now, beg me to let you come,” he snarls, roughly fingering my pussy as his thumb presses against my ass. He reaches underneath me and pinches a nipple, his weight sinking onto the small of my back as I start to come undone.

“Fucking beg me, slut.”

“Please!” I choke. “Please let me come!”

“Are you going to be a good little whore for me?”

“YES!”

“My willing, dirty little cock slut?”

“Please! Yes!”

My world goes sideways and upside down as he leans down and bites hard on my earlobe.

“Good girl. Come for me.”

It’s like a bomb going off. It’s like reality leaves the building and yanks the rug out after it. My breath chokes in my lungs. Every muscle in my body violently shakes and spasms, and my core turns to molten lava.

And then I’m coming harder and longer than I ever have before in my life.

The waves crash over me again and again and again. I writhe on the ground, choking and sobbing pathetically as the orgasm shatters me.

Suddenly, his fingers slowly start to slip out of me. He lets go of my nipple, and pulls his hand away.

I’m shaking all over as I curl up into a ball, hugging myself and quivering as I start to cry softly.

Jesus Christ, get it together, psycho.

I’m not hurt. I mean, I’m sore as fuck, everywhere, and especially between my legs. But that’s not why I’m crying. It’s also not because I’m scared, or ashamed, or overwhelmed.

It just feels like this huge emotional drop. Like I’ve tasted this insane high, and now it’s fading away.

The man makes a tsking sound with his teeth as he suddenly stands.

“Fuck,” he growls quietly. “Fuck.”

He sighs heavily above me as I blink back the tears and bring a hand up to wipe my eyes. I stay on the ground as I slowly lift my gaze to him.

“This was a mistake, babygirl.”

I flinch at the words, both physically and emotionally. His head tilts to the side again.

“I warned you, princess,” he growls. “I fucking warned you that you were way out past your fucking depth.”

He exhales again, the neon X’s piercing into me.

“Let’s call that getting off easy,” he mutters. “Now: run home, princess. Go find a nice prince to play grownup with. You don’t want me. And this kink you think you have is not for you.”

Without another word, he turns and walks into the flickering candlelight of the church, then deeper into the shadows before he finally disappears behind the pulpit.

Then I’m alone.

Slowly, painfully, I get to my feet. There’s no sign of my panties, as if I could even wear them anyway. Sucking in slow, steadying breaths of air, I cling to the carved stone wall behind me, leaning against it, looking up at the haunted spires and leering gargoyles.

He was right.

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