It's that funny feeling again.
The voices in your head scream at you to leave, but his voice, so calm, whispering... things so vulgar and degrading that you stay in place.
The mirror is lying. That girl isn't you. That man behind you isn't there caressing you so softly that you feel you might faint. You're innocent. Big brown eyes and a deceiving smile... you died on the inside long ago. You need this. Scared. He scares you ... or do you scare yourself?
His hand dips between your thighs so smoothly... you shudder as he roughly grabs your hair and pulls you up to your toes. You whimper at the slight pain, but again... you need this.
If being abused was the only way you felt love who's fault was it. You're fucked up enough to think this is right, but it's not. You're turned on by your own vulnerability...
You brace your hands on the sink with your eyes locked on that girl. You don't watch him as he licks and bites your sensitive skin, or when he sucks on that one spot that makes you squirm on his hand. He gets excited.
His sex is now grinding against your back while he manipulates your body just the way you like it. Just the way SHE likes it. The girl is biting her lip and staring back with a glassy look in her eyes. Zoned out on everything else. Numb to the world and her past. None of this is for her though... in the end she won't matter anymore. You're with a new man every night doing the same thing just in different places... you can't get enough of it. You feel like it's the cure for everything, in fact, you feel ill if you're not fucking. A phone full of numbers and you've called them all at least once. You need help.
His hand in your hair gets tighter as his hand rubbing your sensitive regions gets rougher and faster now rubbing with rapid speed. Your legs are already straight so you push up on your toes to get away from the hand that's causing you to feel this good. You're only held firmly against a strong chest and pushed so hard into an orgasm that you see colors explode through the darkness of your mind. You're hardly able to catch your breath when you're thrown out of the bathroom and onto the wooden bedroom floor.
He grabs your hair again and drags you to the bed where you're fiercely instructed to do what most think of as unorthodox.
Tears being to well up in your eyes because of the pain being emitted from your tender scalp. His grip only gets tighter when you hesitate.
You hate yourself for this. You're being mistreated, hurt... defiled... yet your pussy is leaking from cumming so hard because of this all...
Fumbling with the zipper, you take his pants off slowly with the leverage he's allowing you. He doesn't like slow...
He jerks off his boxers with one hand and holds your face a few inches from his throbbing manhood. You're sickened by what you're imagining... you just want him to pin you down and force it inside of you over and over, harder and faster, until all of your pain is gone...
