Page 21 of Deviant

He lunges at me, and I scream out. I slam my bound wrists into his back and I pound it over and over, but it’s like he can’t even feel it. Like it does nothing.

His entire body weight swamps me once more. I’m strong but this man’s strength seems otherworldly. As if he really is possessed by the devil himself.

With one hand he gets himself free, and with the other he wrenches my legs apart. As he forces himself into me, he groans.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Who would have thought Miss Goodey Two-Shoes would feel like this?”

I can’t think.

I can’t speak.

My tears start to stream down my face even though I knew this was coming, I knew this violation was going to happen. I’d even tried to reconcile myself to it, tried to reason that it wouldn’t matter, that whatever he does to me, it wouldn’t matter.

He slides himself out, I’m not wet, not in the slightest bit aroused and, as he slams himself into me again, I can feel my insides ripping with the brutality.

Can he feel it?

Can he feel how he’s violating my body or is all this pleasurable to him?

“Ahh fuck,” he groans as if answering my unspoken thoughts. “This tight little cunt is too much.”

He starts slamming into me harder, he’s so big that every movement tears me more.

I scream out, I continue to fight, even though it’s pointless now, and all the while he’s groaning as though he’s never had better sex before in his life.

“You’re a fucked-up piece of shit.” I curse, refusing to give in, refusing to become just another victim, even though that’s exactly what I am now. What he’s making of me.

He laughs. “Am I, now?” he replies, grabbing my throat, forcing me to look right at him. “How does it feel, then? To know I’m your future, that every breath you take, every moment of pleasure, of pain too, everything is decided by me. I’m your God now. I’m who you worship.”

I screw my face up, wanting to reply, wanting to say something hateful, but the way he’s assaulting me is stopping my brain from functioning. It’s all I can focus on, all I can see. Even when I try to close my eyes, it’s like he’s there, taunting me, hurting me.

His thumb brushes against my cheek and I realise I’m still crying. I don’t want to cry, I don’t want him to see it. I want him to think I’m the hardnosed bitch I’ve pretended to be. I want him to see me as defiant, strong, not something he can simply take and break within a day.

“Your tears are so beautiful.” He groans. “Do you know how much it turns me on more to see you cry?”

“Fuck you.” It’s the same insult. Same pathetic line. But it’s all I have right now. It’s the only defence left to me.

He snorts before moving me around, trying to position my body so that I’m no doubt angled better for him. Every thrust feels like a knife tearing me up. He continues to fuck me, harder and harder, like he’s trying to actually split me open and when he finally comes, I almost want to feel relieved.

Relieved that it’s over.

Relieved that he’s going to get his god damn body off of mine.

But as he slides out, I feel a wave of shame. Shame and revulsion too. I can still feel him, the heat of him, the pain, all of it.

He keeps me there, pinned down, staring between my legs while I lay there, trying my hardest not to tremble.

“I think I like this version of you best.” he comments. “Your big mouth silent for once and your cunt bruised and battered and leaking out my come like you couldn’t guzzle enough of it.”

“Like hell.” I spit. “It doesn’t matter how many times you rape me, how many times you beat me either. It doesn’t change what you are. If anything, it only proves it.”

“Proves what?”

“That despite all your advantages, despite all your money and power, at your core, you’re a piece of shit. You don’t have any decency, you don’t have any morals. There’s nothing about you that anyone wants. That’s why you do what you do, because deep down you know the world hates you, you know that without your name and the Brethren, you’d be a nobody. You’re pathetic…”

He grabs my throat, tightening his grip to the point that he cuts off all my blood supply and my eyes bulge.

“But I do have money, I do have power. God has granted me everything, while you have nothing.”

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