Page 47 of Deviant

None of it feels good. None of it feels nice.

And then, to my absolute horror, it does.

Everything changes. My body seems to lurch from being twisted in pain, to being twisted in the complete opposite. I let out a gasp, forcing my brain to focus, forcing myself to fight whatever drug they’ve clearly given me.

It feels like a fever. It feels like I’m on fire.

I arch my hips, I stretch my back, needing space, needing air, needing more, more, more.

I’m still half-covered in blood and brain matter but inch by inch, they lick me clean. They worship my flesh like I’m some sort of goddess.

And then, a shadow falls on me, on us. I look up, seeing not one but two of Magnus, flickering, towering over us all. I blink, then blink again, and as they merge into one fully formed monster, I whimper.

“Are you ready for me now, pet? Ready to submit?”

“No.”

I don’t know how I even get the word out. How I even make my tongue form the syllable, or my mind stay coherent enough to even fight him.

Magnus let’s out a chuckle, pushing the bodies off of me. And then it feels like I’m weightless, that gravity no longer affects me. I’m flying, soaring, floating before I land once more on something hard, cold, and unforgiving.

My eyes roll around, they struggle to focus, but I realise I’m on a platform of some sort, with Magnus now straddling me.

“Stop.” I choke. “Stop.”

His left hand wraps around my throat and though the grip is punishing, it sets off fireworks in my brain.

His right hand reaches down, too far, too deep, it warps as if he has no bones, and then I feel them, his fingers buried inside me, searching out all those little injuries, feeling where that toy stretched me to oblivion.

He twists them around, pushing inside me further, pushing right on my G-spot and I scream out, shutting my eyes so tightly I think they might implode.

“Come, my little whore, submit to your master.”

“Never.” I spit.

He tuts, lowering his gaze before he bites down on my right nipple in punishment.

I scream out. Tears stream down my cheeks and he traces his tongue up to catch each and every one. “Stop being so stubborn. Stop being such a bitch.”

“I don’t want you.” I snarl. “I will never want you. And I will never submit.”

It’s like those words energise him. His eyes seem to sparkle with equal amusement and annoyance.

He withdraws his fingers, spinning me around, flipping me so quickly my brain feels like it’s doing somersaults around and around in my skull. He pushes my cheeks apart and without another word, he forces himself into my arse.

I scream out, I claw at the hard surface beneath me. I’ve never done anal, never once considered it. And this man is not giving me a second to even adjust.

“Fuck,” he groans, “your arse is even better than your cunt.”

I can feel him moving inside me, existing where he has no right.

He slides out, forcing my muscles to stretch further and then he pushes back in with all his impossible weight.

One hand is planted by my head, keeping me pinned in with his body. The other he returns back to my pussy and to deep inside where he once more pushes on my G-spot.

I hate how good it feels. I hate how much my body is screaming for this moment, this pleasure, this reprieve.

“No,” I sob. “I won’t do it. I won’t.”

---