Page 59 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

A shriek escapes me and I jerk up and off of his cock the second I feel the wet sensation of Luc’s tongue touch the outside of my asshole. “Wait, wait, wait!” But he doesn’t wait. Luc’s hands lock onto my hips and he yanks me down until I’m sitting on his face and his tongue dives deeper.

There are so many nerve endings and they’re definitely not used to pleasure. The sensation of Luc’s tongue sweeping into their space and wiggling against them, wetting the inside of my ass as he fucks me with his mouth is overwhelming. I’ve had men fuck me in the ass, and it’s always hurt. It’s always been something I’ve endured. I’ve never had someone eat me out back there. But Luc does. He does it like he has no plans to stop.

A moan comes up my throat, unbidden. I can’t stop it even if I want to. I cry out, shaking all over, and before I can think better of it, my own fingers run down to the front of my pussy. I ride Luc’s tongue like a woman possessed. No thought. Just pleasure. Just desire. I moan and cry out as I circle my clit and pinch it between my fingers.

He pushes into my ass further than I ever thought possible. How long is his damn tongue? It’s a preposterous question. One that would send me into a ridiculous fit of laughter if it weren’t for the tremors of yet another orgasm that threaten to overtake me.

Heat burns up my spine and I tremble as I resist the urge to shake through another release. My pussy contracts and releases, desperate for something inside as the wetness leaks down my thighs and over his chin and throat. My eyes turn towards the mirror.

My pussy is swollen, the lips red and glistening with wetness in the reflection. I can spot the redness on the sides of my hips and ass, but not the full picture of my back. Just knowing that I’m marked by him, though, is enough to send me peeling over the edge.

I fall apart over his mouth. Through the whole thing, he keeps steady, letting me thrust against his face like a wild woman. I groan and arch up, moving in a back and forth motion like I’m riding his dick and not his tongue. Nails scrape down my sides, reminding me of the sting and making it last that much longer. I grasp at my breasts, needing something to hold onto. I pinch my own nipples, drawing comfort from the added little bits of pain. Sighing and slowing my movements as the orgasm finally ebbs and Luc withdraws his tongue from my ass.

I damn near collapse when it’s over. Thankfully, Luc catches me and eases me down. He rolls over me as my back hits the mattress, his face drenched in juices once more. “Breathe,” he orders. I can’t. Fuck, I really can’t. His fingers move down and he shoves them straight into my pussy without resistance, thrusting in and out in rapid succession. I shake my head.

“No more,” I groan.

“You can come for me again,” Luc insists. “I know you can. Spread your legs and do it for me, pretty girl. Show me how well you come for your master.”

My lashes flutter. The term ‘master’ makes me flinch internally, but Luc’s eyes stay on mine. He watches me as if waiting for something. A hint. I bury it deep. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. I know he wouldn’t be, but still … he likes being the one in charge and I … I do too. Despite everything, I like the way he makes me feel.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I was born to be what they said.

A whore.

A hand grasps my face, fingers digging into my jaw, and Luc glares down at me. “What did you just think of?” he demands.

I gasp for breath. “I didn’t—”

“I know your expressions, Micki,” he cuts me off. “I know what shame looks like and I know for damn certain you have no business feeling that here or now.” His grip tightens even as the hand between my legs keeps pumping. “What did you think of?”

There is no turning away from his grip or his anger. Luc holds me steady. He refuses to move, refuses to release me until he gets his answer.

“I think I might be a whore,” I say quietly.

His nostrils flare, but there’s no other physical tik that shows how angry my words make him. Instead of gripping me harder, the hand on my face softens. His fingers drive up inside of me, twisting apart and stretching me open, making my stomach do somersaults.

“Why do you think that?” he asks.

I blink. I’m so startled by his response that my answer just slips out. “Because I like this,” I tell him. “I like the pain and the way you make me feel.”

More softness. Luc’s hand releases my face completely, and he strokes my hair back away from my face as his fingers below start to move again. I arch up, gasping as he buries his fingers into my pussy all the way to the last knuckle, and then rubs his thumb over my clit. It’s so swollen, it fucking hurts. Yet, that pain feels good too.

“You liked it when I spanked you?” I nod jerkily as I breathe through my teeth, my body squirming beneath his. “You like when I fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? When I eat your ass?” A moan bubbles up out of my throat in response. He leans closer. “I like it too,” he tells me. “Does that make me a whore?”

It’s an unexpected question. No. I’ve never thought of Luc as a whore—not even when he admitted to fucking other girls while I was gone. Does it piss me off? Fuck yes. Do I want to track those bitches down and rip their faces off? Absolutely. Even though I know they never did anything wrong. I don’t blame them, either. It’s just the idea that they touched what I want to be mine and only mine. Through all of those thoughts, though, I’d never thought of him as a whore.

“No,” I answer.

“Then neither are you,” he says. “You’resupposedto like this, pretty girl.” He flicks my clit, forcing my whole body to tighten as my breasts thrust towards him at the sharp and unexpected sting of pain and pleasure. “You were never supposed to hate yourself. You were never supposed to feel anything but beautiful when I touch you like this.”

And I do. Fuck it, but I do feel beautiful. Every bite of pain only serves to make me that much more aware of him and the things he’s doing to me, to my body. He’s carving out every detestable inch of the past from my flesh. Throwing it away and leaving me with nothing but desire and need. Things that are natural.

There’s nothing wrong with what he makes me feel. Liking the pain. Liking the orgasms. The release. The feeling of his skin on mine. All of it is natural, and that’s why I’m so fucking confused.

Humiliation is what I know. Shame is what I’m used to. Degradation was the name of Thomas Kincaid’s game and I was his fucking tool and his prize. Every inch of me is covered in reminders of him. Yet somehow, of all the people in this world, his son is the one who removes those reminders. He heals the scars.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a dirty girl,” Luc whispers against my ear. “It doesn’t make you a whore. It doesn’t lessen your value. You can be as filthy as you want with me. Roll around in it with me and I’ll always clean you up. Let go, Micki. Let me have you. Be my filthy fucking slut and let me own you, pretty girl. Let me have everything you’ve never given to anyone else.”

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