4200 words
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Rose could feel her juices dripping down her legs as Sebastian withdrew his baton from her ass. Her face burned with shame. She'd been raped in her ass and she'd cum all over her rapist's fingers. Even though she knew that medically, her body had responded perfectly normally, she felt filthy.
The worst part was that she still ached. She still felt a low desire, curling deep behind her navel, and she was miserable.
Sebastian undid one of her handcuffs, and her arms dropped limply to her side. They'd gone numb a few minutes ago. If she had any energy she'd try to run again but she was spent. She was exhausted. She was his.
He clipped the cuffs in front of her, and almost gently pulled her towards her home. She followed along quietly, head down.
Once inside, he paused, taking in her home with a low whistle. "What do you do, Rose?"
"I'm a cardiac surgeon."
"Hmm. That checks. Nice home." Rose didn't respond.
He took his shoes off -
weirdly polite, but okay
. "Where's your shower?"
She blinked. "Upstairs in my en-suite."
He pulled her upstairs. Somehow this felt even more violating than what he'd just done to her - he stopped and perused each photo, walked around her room and ruffled through her drawers, looked through her perfumes. He pulled out a short lace camisole and another lace thong and tossed them out into her room. Then he turned to her.
"You're going to take a shower, and then you're going to put those on."
Rose bit her lip, but the reflection of the gun in her large bathroom mirror made her turn her shower on. She looked at him and held out her hands. "I can't shower effectively with these on."
He nodded, and uncuffed her. She stepped into her shoulder, unfortunately an open tile concept, although she was sure if there was a door he wouldn't let her shut it anyway. Why was he making her take a shower? He'd had no problem fucking her outside covered in sticks and dirt. Was this some sort of trick?
He stood in front of her shower and watched her as she moved underneath the dual rainfall shower heads. She became incredibly self-conscious under his gaze and tried to quickly lather soap over herself, but he reached in and grabbed her arm roughly. "Slower."
Oh.
He wanted a show. He was humiliating her and getting off on his control.
Pursing her lips tightly, she slowed down.
"Run your hands over your body, nice and slow."
And she skated her hands up and down her torso. She felt herself shriveling inside in shame, and she couldn't stop the flush spreading across her body as he commanded her on how to wash herself.
"Play with your nipples." He watched as she lathered soap over her breasts, pinched her nipples, and toyed with her small piercings. They pebbled underneath her touch and heat coiled inside of her. His gaze was burning her alive.
"Turn around and bend over. Clean the dirt off your feet." She shut her eyes tightly as she exposed her raw ass to him. It stung under the hot water. Dirt swirled in the shower water and she watched her dignity flow down the drain with it.
"Sit down and spread your legs. Clean your pussy and ass." Horrifyingly, her pussy ached with need as she glided her fingers through her folds, cleaning them as he'd instructed.
If things couldn't get worse, she was getting wet again. The fear that pulled her body taut was translating into sexual tension because her hormones couldn't tell otherwise. It was devastating.
Then, he pulled his shirt over his head -
oh god, he was
gorgeous
- and slid his pants and socks off.
Methodical
. He set his weapons to the side, and Rose eyed them for just a second. There was no way she'd get to them before he did.
His monster cock bulged through his tight black boxer briefs. It had to be at least 10 inches, thicker than the baton that had nearly ripped her asshole in half. It practically pulsed with need, veins running from base to tip. It curved slightly downwards, as if weighed down by its own sheer size. He grinned at her shock, and slid his boxers off. He beckoned her closer, and she hesitated.
He stepped into her shower and she flinched, thinking he was going to hurt her. Instead, he filled her space until water was running over them both. "On your knees, Rose. You're going to worship my cock."
She dropped slowly to her knees, and couldn't stop herself from panting in fear. Or was it arousal?
He wrapped her long hair around his fist and tightened it - just gently, just enough to exert pressure on her scalp and control her head's movements.
"If you use any teeth, I promise you you'll never be able to use your mouth again." Rose flinched again, and opened her mouth wide, tongue out, just like he'd commanded her to do outside. He kicked her knees apart until they were spread painfully wide, and he tilted her head up to look at him in all her shame. Naked, soaking inside and out, water splashing onto her face, on her knees for this man who utterly owned her.
Slowly, torturously, he began sliding his cock into her mouth. Her lips stretched painfully and she began getting scared she'd accidentally scrape him with his teeth. He stopped when he hit the back of her throat, watching her.
"Go on, Rose.
Worship
."
And with humiliation consuming her, worship she did. She licked up and down the length of his thick, veiny cock. She took as much of it into her mouth as she could, sucking hard enough to hollow her cheeks, paying special attention to the bulbous head. He tasted like musk and man. Slobber dribbled down her chin as she sucked his cock harder than she'd ever sucked a cock before. She refused to acknowledge the lightning bolts of arousal threatening to set her alight.