REN
“Fuck, yes!” The bitch I’m balls deep in screams as I fuck her against the wall. It’s bad enough that she’s making sure the whole club can hear her. It pisses me off even more when she turns her head to look at me over her shoulder.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at me.” I smother her face with my palm, forcing her cheek against the wall, so I can fuck her pussy without judgment.
I don’t want to see this girl's face any more than I want to listen to her pathetic noises. I don’t need a reminder that she isn’t the girl I want.
That these screams sound nothing like the ones I really want to hear, or that this brittle, fake hair isn’t soft between my fingers the way hers would be.
All the years I’ve spent restraining myself have developed my imagination, but even that doesn’t enable me to pretend that this little whore is anything close to being as perfect as Eloise Meadows.
“That’s so fucking good, keep going. I’m coming,” she calls out, no doubt in the same way she did for the guy who was in this room before me, and I shake my head and laugh at how pathetic she sounds as I pump her pussy harder.
Unlike most of the men who come here, I don’t enjoy my visits. I detest every minute I spend here. But, I ain’t a fucking saint and every now and then the hunger inside me has to be fed. There comes a point when fucked up fantasies and endless nights of pulling my dick through my fist fail to take the edge off. Times when I can feel myself on the verge of losing control.
Losing control isn’t an option. Eloise has suffered so much in this wicked world already, and I’ve proven, more than once, that there's nothing I won’t do to protect her from it.
This is how I protect her from me….
“Isaiddon’t fuckin’ look at me,” I growl into the whore’s ear when I notice her eye staring up at me from between my fingers.
I’m angry at her for not being who I want her to be.
I’m angry at myself for being helpless to fucking desire, but most of all I’m angry at the world, for all its cruelty and the monster it’s turned me into.
A monster ruined beyond repair, who’s bound to a beautiful, innocent creature by invisible chains and has no choice but to lurk in her shadow.
I scrunch the girl’s hair tighter in my fist, close my eyes, and think of my sweet, delicate girl. Everything would be so different if this were her. I’d want her eyes on me so I could watch how she took me. I’d want to hear her cute little moans. I tell myself that she’d purr like a needy kitten. But in reality, she’d probably whimper the way she does when she suffers one of her nightmares.
For years, I tried telling myself that what I feel for her is love, but it’s not, it can’t be. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, and I’ve been in pain since the day I laid eyes on her. There have been some dark times when I’ve thought about being the one who causesher pain. When I wish that she could feel, just for a moment, the burden of what I feel.
I’ve tried to make those kinda thoughts go away, but they're rooted inside me just like my obsession with her. An obsession that over time has spread through my veins and seeped into my soul. There’s no cure for it, just torment and the promise of a lifetime spent suffering.
The louder this whore gets the deeper I have to delve into my mind. I try to imagine the shower gel and moisturiser Eloise uses; they smell so much better than the stench of this cheap perfume. I trick my brain into believing that when I finally shoot my load, it won’t be inside the rubber that's protecting me from a pussy that belongs to whoever can afford it. I’ll be fucking it deep into Eloise’s tight, unprotected pussy. Filling it to the brim and ensuring that I gave her something that binds her tome…
For so long, just the idea of touching Eloise would be enough to get me off, but my obsession with her has escalated. I need so much more these days, and the thought of her carrying something of mine inside her never fails to have my balls ready to blow.
I grip the girl’s hair tighter with one hand and press her face harder into the wall with my other. My thrusts get more aggressive when I have to pretend that I’m someone different, too. The kinda guy Eloise would wantinher life, not just watching it. The kinda guy she’d want to be bred by, one who she’d stretch her thighs wide open for and beg to knock her up. She’d welcome my need for control because the Eloise Meadows who lives inside my head is desperate to be owned.
My thoughts trigger my release, and my whole body stiffens. I crush my fingers tighter and hear a loud screech come from the girl, which I’m not sure stems from pain or pleasure.
For a few seconds, I feel free from her, but the rush never lasts for long; within seconds, the pain of being a stranger to heris back. I’m a monster again, this girl’s just another a whore, and Eloise is still un-fuckin’-touchable.
I quickly drop my hands, releasing the girl from my grip and pulling away. Then snapping the rubber from my cock, I dump it into the trash and rid my brain of everything that just happened.
“Why are you always so angry?” The girl turns to face me, pressing her shoulders back against the wall. The way she plays with her hair in an attempt to be cute only agitates me further.
I don’t answer her, I don’t even look at her. I just pull up my sweats and take the cash I owe her out of my wallet.
“The girls talk about you, you know. They kinda like you.” She smirks. “You got a name we can call you?” She steps over to the dresser where I’ve laid out her money. “You know, you always seem to finish faster with me than you do with the others, and it’s obvious you don’t like being here. Maybe you could ask Jonny to make you one of my regulars.” I wait for her to pick up the money before I snatch her under her jaw and force her to look at me. The gasp she makes, followed by her playful little giggle, confirms that this girl likes to take it the only way I know how to give.
“Open your mouth,” I order, and when she does as I command, I take the pill that’s between my fingers and press it onto her tongue.
I never leave anything to chance in a place like this; I always bring my own rubbers and ensure the girl takes the Plan B when I’m done.
Since I’ve used this girl before, she doesn’t bother to ask me what it is; she just rolls her eyes before using the bottle of vodka from the side to wash it down.
“Happy?” She sticks out her tongue to show me that it’s gone, and I nod my gratitude before leaving her to get ready for the next sorry son-of-a-bitch who will use her as a distraction.