Page 37 of Degradation
I step forward, undoing my belt and I push the other man out of the way who obviously thinks he can touch her next. He tries to fight me, tries to shove me back, but one punch floors him and I glare at the others, daring them to get in my way.
Of course they don’t bother fighting me. No one does.
So, I get up, taking my time to move over her, the way a devil does an angel. The way a predator does the prey he’s about to devour.
She doesn’t notice me at first. Her face is pulled up, her head is twisted as she’s forced to take Curtis’s cock.
But when she does see me from the corner of her eye, she freaks out more. A hand gets loose, she manages to slap me, and I take that sting, I fucking delight in it.
Yeah, you can hurt me, bitch, you can fight. In fact, I want you to fight. I want you to do everything you can to try to stop me.
I grab her thighs, pulling them apart. She’s got a sweet little pussy. It’s bruised right now, bloodied too from what Malik has already done, and I’d give anything to lower my mouth and kiss it better. To lick up every last trace of her blood. But I won’t do that here. I sure as hell will not do anything to touch her while we have so many onlookers.
I grab my cock, giving it a good hard tug and her eyes latch onto it. Does she think I’m going to disobey her husband? Does she think her cunt is so tempting that I’ll ignore orders and fuck her anyway?
I glance across at him, at Gunther. He’s stood, his own dick in his hand, masturbating as he’s watching this thing play out. He’s a fucking fool to have brought her here, to have put her inthis position. There’s twenty of us. Twenty grown men, fuelled by alcohol and testosterone. Most of us haven’t had a good fuck in weeks. It wouldn’t take much for us to flip the scales. To turn this into something far more entertaining.
His little wife would become a fine plaything for us.
A nice little treat for us all the enjoy and ruin.
And the way the other men feel, the mood of this room, I wonder if a few of them are contemplating it. We could screw his rules, could easily overpower him and then this sweet little cunt would be ours to play with until she was all used up and nothing but a broken toy by the time the sun rises.
I groan, pumping my cock, imagining it. Imagining pushing into her, forcing my way in past those tight muscles. She’d really scream then, wouldn’t she? She’d learn the true meaning of fear. She cries enough when her husband fucks her, and his cock is tiny compared to the brute size of mine. Add the fact I got a few enhancements, a nice little set of metal spikes, and yeah, I think I could make this little bitch cry more than ever.
“No…” She sobs as if she can hear my thoughts.
I look at her, holding her gaze. She really does have such pretty little eyes. Like sparkling blue diamonds. One day I’m gonna make those eyes cry so much and it’ll all be for me.
I grin at her, I pump away, watching as she lays there, terrified but not daring to move.
Little whore.Whatever her husband thinks of her, whatever this game is, I’ll have my fun now, terrorising her just enough to make her shit herself every time she lays eyes on me from now on. Every time she walks down a hallway, every time she spies my shadow in the distance, she’ll remember this. She’ll remember the power I had over her in this moment.
My cock feels so good. I shudder as I thrust into my hand.
Her cunt is still weeping with blood because I doubt any of this is arousing her and as I bring myself to climax, I aim for thatsweet spot right above her labia. I pour myself all over her. She flinches. She screws her face up in disgust and I let out a cruel laugh. It’s so tempting to lean down, to smear myself all over her, to cover her in my come.
But I don’t want to touch her, not here, not in front of everyone. Something tells me that soon enough, I’ll have my moment. Soon enough I’ll be able to touch and hurt as much as I please.
I don’t know why the other men have stopped. I don’t know why they’re all stood watching me.
I let out a growl as I realise it and the few that are stood beside me seem to come to life. They grab the bitch, grab at her body and they’re jerking away, masturbating over what bits of flesh they have access too.
The sound of slapping fills the air. Men’s groans accompany it. And all too soon my come isn’t the only thing covering her. The others have joined in, they’ve poured themselves out onto her body, have smeared the mess across her perfect, soft skin. She’s covered in them. Covered in all of them.
I scowl looking at her, looking at the mess of it. She looks what she is now. She looks exactly what her husband wants her to be.
A perfect little cumslut. A dirty little whore.
When the last of the men are finished, her husband strolls up. He looks so proud, so damned satisfied. We part almost reluctantly to let him through and if that isn’t a measure of how close to losing control he was, then I don’t know what is.
He clambers onto that same table we’ve all been abusing her on. His trousers are down by his knees, and we can all see his flat, hairy arse poking out.
“Good.” He says as he appraises her. “Very good.”
She sobs, trying to cover her face and he slaps her hard to stop her from doing it.
“Pride is a sin, wife, just as disobedience is.”
