Page 36 of Sin Bin Bully

Then reality crashes back. I'm alone, sticky and unsatisfied. The high fades quickly, leaving me hollow. It's not enough. It's never enough.

I need her. The real her. Not just some fantasy in my head.

I clean up quickly, already planning. She's mine. It's time she accepted that. One way or another, I'll make her see.

16

KIM

Kim

Ifinally reach my bedroom and slam the door shut, my back against it. I slowly descend to the carpeted floor, while simultaneously feeling like the walls are closing in on me.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I press a hand against it, trying to steady myself. Why am I feeling this way? What the hell is wrong with me? I can't understand it.

Sam is my captor, plain and simple. He is the enemy. I should be full of nothing but murderous anger and resentment towards him. But my body just doesn't seem to get the memo.

I take a deep breath, attempting to banish the image of him from my mind. Those piercing grey eyes that both intimidate and ignite me, the way his long black hair cascades over his shoulders, the intricate tattoos that cover his sculpted arms. He's dangerously attractive, and I can't deny it. But what does that mean for me?

My thoughts drift back to the way he grabbed me, his hand rough and unyielding around my throat. I shiver, not sure if it's from fear or something else. I pushed him away, tried my bestto resist, but a part of me was undeniably turned on. And I hate myself for it.

I'm nothing more than a prisoner here, both in this house and in my own conflicting emotions. My desires are at war with my reason, and at this point, I don't know which side will prevail.

The realization hits me hard: I need to reclaim some control over myself, over my own desires. Determined, I strip off my clothes, feeling the cool air against my skin as I climb onto the bed. The cool sheets are a sharp contrast to the heat raging within me. Every nerve in my body feels like it's on fire as I let my thoughts drift back to Sam.

I begin to caress myself, my fingers tracing patterns over my skin. I grab my breasts and pinch at my nipples, envisioning they’re a pair of rough, calloused hands kneading them and not my own. I close my eyes and let the image of him consume me: his dominance, his forcefulness, the way he takes control without hesitation.

I know it's twisted, finding arousal in the very behavior that I should be fighting against. But right now, all I can do is give in to the tempest inside of me.

My breathing grows ragged as my fingers move in rhythm with the fantasies swirling in my head. I picture him looking at me with those fierce eyes, commanding and demanding, his presence enveloping me even in my mind. Each thought fuels the heat building in my core, and I let myself get lost in it.

As I touch myself, visions of him having his way with me invade my thoughts. He’s rough, his movements calculated, his mouth filthy, and I can't stop the words slipping from my lips in breathless whispers.

"Yes, Sam," I murmur, feeling the heat coil tighter inside me. "Fuck, right there."

My fingers move faster, more insistently, driven by the powerful fantasy in my mind. Each stroke, each touch bringsme closer to the edge, and it's his face I see, his commanding presence I feel enveloping me.

I can feel how wet I am, the slickness between my thighs only intensifying the sensations coursing through me. My fingers move more urgently, driven by a need I can no longer ignore. The inside of my legs are sticky, a physical manifestation of the chaos Sam stirs within me.

"Oh God, Sam," I gasp, my body arching off the bed. "Don't stop... Please, don't stop."

The pleasure mounts, every fiber of my being focused on the sensations and the imagined touch of his hands. I'm right there, on the brink, and I surrender to it completely.

"Yes," I cry out, louder now, "Yes, Sam, just like that."

The pleasure builds to a crescendo, spiraling out of control until it erupts in a climax so intense that I cry out loudly. It's loud, raw, and echoes through the room, unrestrained and unbidden. My body shakes with the force of my release, every nerve alight with sensation.

The waves of my high gradually subside, leaving me breathless and weak. As I lie there, panting and sated, a startling realization crashes over me like a cold wave—I left the door open. My heart skips a beat, and a wave of heat spreads through me, but not from embarrassment. No, it’s something else.

I should feel mortified, but instead, a twisted sense of satisfaction settles in my chest. I hope he heard me—every word, every moan, every breathless cry of his name. Maybe it will shake him, make him see me differently. Maybe it will even get him off his high horse and loosen up a little.

The thought sends a shiver of excitement through me. I imagine him, just outside the door, hearing me pleasure myself to the thought of him. His hard dick in his hand, sweat gathering on his brow as he strokes himself, chasing a release just as I was.The power dynamics shift, ever so slightly, and for the first time since I found myself here, I feel a sliver of control.

I sit up slowly, still feeling the aftershocks in my legs and core, and glance toward the open door. The vulnerability of the moment lingers, but so does the defiance. If he heard, then good. Let the thought of his name falling from my lips keep him the fuck up at night.

17

SAM

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