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sweeterthanthis · 4 years

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Scream For Me

Written for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House challenge. Thank you for letting me take part and I hope you like my contribution! This is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever had the nerve to write, and I had a ball with it. So proceed with caution and read the warnings.

Pairing: Dark!SteveRogers x Fem!InclusiveReader (No descriptions of race, skin tone, size, no age specified - but legal, obvs.)

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, breath play, vaginal sex, face fucking, rough anal sex, filthy language, fear kink, slight authority kink, degradation, female ejaculation, mild sexual violence.

I hope I haven’t missed any. Please take these warnings seriously, I would hate for anyone to be triggered. Enjoy!

When you’d found out about the celebrity charity event at the notoriously Haunted House in town, you knew you had to grab yourself a ticket.

You’d heard a rumour that the people inside may have even been the real deal, and the mere thought of it had your thighs clenching together. Your eyes had rolled at the thought of it – as if Captain America himself would take time out of his busy schedule to spend the night in your little town.

You’d always been on his side. Even he was a wanted fugitive of the United States, you knew better. You knew he was a good man. The best.

You remembered the first action figure you owned, the very first time you’d seen him on the news. He’d saved the world more than once, and there was little anyone could say to make you change your mind. He was a hero. Your hero.

As you got older though, your thoughts started to change – to grow. As you grew into your later teenage years, you no longer saw him quite the same way. No. Now you were transfixed not only by his strength, but by the perfectly sculpted body that wielded that strength. The way his biceps would flex in those delightfully tight t-shirts, and the curve of his delectable ass. He was a god among men, and you couldn’t get enough.

You’d never admit it to anyone, but if you had a penny for every time you’d fallen back onto your pillow completely blissed out after touching yourself at the thought of what his big, strong hands could do to you, you’d be a very rich girl.

And then came the stealth suit and the beard, and you were done for. You’d have given anything to meet your hero, only now your thoughts weren’t quite so pure. Whereas once upon a time you wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him how wonderful he was, now you’d much rather use his face as a throne.

The mere thought of it made your skin prickle with desire.

Now old enough to appreciate him in all his glory, you found yourself comparing the guys you’d dated to him. Which you knew was ridiculous, considering you were literally holding out for a hero. You just couldn’t help it. He was fucking beautiful.

Even if it was a cheap imitation that you were paying to see, you’d convinced yourself it was for charity and that was the most important part.

You could have cried when you tried to buy a ticket online and they’d sold out in minutes. You’d saved the $200 entry fee by working overtime on the weekends and now your only hope was that you could get hold of one of the extremely limited tickets on the door.

Approaching the house, you felt a cold chill run up your spine. Your fishnet covered legs were covered in goose bumps, all the way up to the hem of your denim skirt. Wrapping your leather jacket around you tightly, you exhaled deeply, mist escaping your lips as you took in the sight of children trick or treating, eccentrically carved pumpkins lining the pavements and the hustle and bustle of high school kids getting up to no end of mischief.

Your heart sank as you saw the length of the line for the ticket booth, mentally cursing your boss for making you stay later than usual. Joining the back of the line, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt while you waited.

After what seemed like hours, you finally reached the front of the line. You were the last to enter. The woman in the ticket booth beckoning you forward with two perfectly manicured fingers, animatedly chewing on gum in her Harley Quinn costume.

“What’s your poison sugar?” She asked you, focused entirely on her game of cards until she spied your shirt and smirked. “You want the Cap, huh?”

Looking down at the Captain America sigil on your white shirt, you nodded, wondering why she looked so damn pleased with herself.

“You’re a lucky gal, there’s one ticket left. That’ll be $200.” Reaching into the deep pocket of your leather jacket, you grabbed the neatly folded wad of twenties and slid them across the counter to her waiting hands. “You’re in for one hell of a ride sugar, enjoy.”

With that, she winked, placing the closed sign on the counter, and pulling the shutter down with a loud thud. Everything seemed quiet all of a sudden. Looking around you, you noticed the streets were empty. The only noise you could hear was coming from the speaker in front of the ticket booth, the typical spooky Halloween sounds echoing through the air.

You tentatively stepped up the rickety, wooden porch steps, your fingertips grazing the chipped wood of the handrail. The floorboards of the porch creaked beneath your feet; the toe caps of your Dr Martens illuminated by the orange glow of the pumpkins situated either side of the doorframe.

Reaching for the bronze doorknob, you hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering in the space between your body and the front door. Sucking in a deep breath, and completely unsure of what to expect once you were inside, you jutted your chin in the air and strapped your lady balls on. You had waited months for this moment, the possibilities clouding your brain for weeks prior to that night. You could meet your hero, or you could end up being disappointed with a cheap imitation and feel rotten for being scammed out of $200. You honestly thought it would end up being the latter, your hopes lessened at the sight of the deflated faces of all those who had exited while you were waiting in line.

Wrapping your fist around the doorknob, you twisted it and edged the door open slowly. Peeking your head around the heavy oak, you spied the long corridor laid out before you. Wilting candles sat in gold-plated candelabra’s that were fixed to the walls, dusty black and white portraits fixed haphazardly placed between the many closed doors either side of the corridor. You couldn’t differentiate the fake spiderwebs from the very real, very old cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and you could have sworn the bats hanging upside down in the corners of the room were more than plastic novelty decorations. Taking one last look behind you back out on to the eerily empty street, you sucked in a nervous breath. You’d been given no instructions, so you had no idea what the rules were, if there were any at all.

Stepping fully into the house, you closed the door behind you. Wringing your fingers together nervously, the silence in the air almost deafening as you shuffled on the spot for a moment before taking a step forward. Reaching the first door on your left, you look up at it. Spying the symbol on the door, you suddenly realised what you were supposed to do as you recognised each emblem on each door.

The one directly in front of you emblazoned with the image of a golden helmet, two long curved horns spawning from the crown of it. Loki. You felt a shudder run through you at the thought of it.

Running your fingers along the frayed wallpaper of the hallway, you passed each door, halting when you finally reached the one you were meant to enter. Reaching up, you ran your fingertips across the red, white, and blue symbol – your other hand resting against the very same one splayed across your chest.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your current state of mind, acting as if behind that door was the key to all your dreams and fantasies. It was laughable really. You mentally reminded yourself that this was a charity event, and the most you were going to get was a five-minute experience with a less than convincing, normal human, dressed in spandex.

Unsure of what to do next, you raised your fist to the door and knocked twice, the sound of skin against wood echoing through the corridor. You waited, but nothing happened.

Two more times, but louder. Still nothing.

Something felt off about the whole thing, but you grabbed the door handle and twisted anyway. Something inside of you was pulling you to that door, to open it and see what was inside.

Pushing the door open, you could barely contain your confusion as you looked around the room in front of you. Dozens of little reflections of yourself glared back at you. A hall of mirrors dimly lit by a handful of tiny spotlights on the ceiling. Intricately carved oak framed each mirror, the floor a sea of rich mahogany wood. Truly the last thing you were expecting to find.

Stepping forward into the mirrored labyrinth, you ran your fingertips along the cold glass either side of you.

“H-hello?” You called, your voice shaky.

You could have sworn you heard the faint sound of respirations that weren’t your own, coming to a fork-like turning. You went left, your eyes still adjusting to the dimly lit room.

“You here to see me doll?”

Your heart in your throat, you turned on the spot and could have died right there in that mirror maze. There, standing before you, was the most captivating, gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes pierced into yours as you tried to find the words, any words. With his arms folded across his hulking chest, he took one step forward.

His hair was longer, pushed back from his face, and a thick beard now lay atop his perfectly sculpted jawline. There was an intensity radiating off him that you would never have expected. You took a moment to take him in. His stealth suit adorned his god-like body, hugging every ridge of his stomach like a glove. You really needed to say something.

“Um…hi?”

The low chuckle that escaped his plump lips sent a tingle up your spine, your feet shuffling involuntarily as you stood there unsure of what to do.

“Fuck, at least tell me you’re more fun than the last one.”

Your eyes widened at the profanity spilling from his mouth, shocked at the fact that America’s hero had a mouth like a damn sailor. His mouth twitched up at the corners as he walked towards you, and you were sure that your heartbeat was ringing in the air as your most vital organ battered against your ribcage.

“What were you expecting little girl? Someone a little more chipper?”

“I’m not…is this even real?” You muttered; your brain unable to process what was happening.

Your eyes wandered once again, taking in the sight of his big hands covered to the knuckles in black leather, his thumbs hooked into the belt of his suit. “Is it? You tell me.”

As if through no decision of your own, your hand reached out to touch him, your fingers floating only inches from the muscular expanse of his chest as he looked down at you with a wry smirk.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a cold sensation trickled through your fingertips, your flesh resting against a mirror as your own reflection stared back at you. He was behind you in a second, the heat from his body radiating through the leather of your jacket. His breath tickled the back of your neck as you looked into his eyes in the reflection.

“You are a pretty little thing…” His knuckles dusted the side of your throat gently, but the atmosphere surrounding you was anything but. Your brain was foggy, unable to fully comprehend the situation you’d found yourself in. You hardly recognised this man.

Turning to face him, your breasts grazed his sternum and you could have sworn he’d moaned at the sensation. Your mind was screaming at you to leave, but as you looked around you there was no door to be found. Daring to look up at him through your painted lashes, your body betrayed you. There was something primal about the way he was looking at you, his lips slightly parted as his eyes travelled the length of your face and down to your heaving chest.

“Nice shirt.” He teased, raising an eyebrow in amusement as your knees trembled. “Say something little girl, or I’ll find something else for you to do with that pretty mouth.”

You were frightened and confused. Your eyes pooled with anxious tears as you looked up into his eyes. There was a darkness in them that filled you with dread, and you wondered what had happened to him that took the light from his eyes.

“Are you o-okay, Captain?” You asked meekly, your body pinned between his chest and the mirror behind you. You tried to press your palm against his huge chest, a poor attempt at putting some distance between the two of you.

“There’s no need to be scared. I’m just peachy. So, what’ll it be? Trick?”

It felt wrong. Your mind was screaming at you to run, but as you looked back in the direction that you came from, the door had vanished. You’d had panic attacks before, but your chest had never been as tight. He gripped your chin between his fingertips, pulling your gaze forcefully to meet his. The need to escape his grasp was ever present in your mind, but the heat between your thighs was betraying that thought process.

“Or treat?”

The tip of his nose touched against yours briefly, and for a moment, you considered kissing him. And then you thought back to all the times you’d wished to be in this position – wished to have your Captain in front of you, ready to sweep you off your feet. But not this way, not this Captain.

You felt a rush of bravery, your knee colliding with his groin. A rush of pain swarmed your kneecap, yet he didn’t move an inch. Only tutted, like he was chastising a child.

“That...was not very nice, little girl.”

Your hands were pinned above you head in a second, your breasts pressed right up against him as he towered over you. “But if that’s how you wanna play this…”

You could feel your pulse thumping against your temple, space between the two of you now as he stepped back.

“Go. Run. But if I catch you, you’re mine.” He reached out for you, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “And because you’re such a pretty little thing, I’ll even give you a head start.”

A sob fell from your lips, your head shaking from side to side. “I want to go h-home…”

“10…”

“Please, this isn’t what I wanted…”

“9…”

“If you just let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise.”

“8…”

“Captain, please…”

“You’re making this way too easy. You’d better run, little girl.” He took another step forward, his powerful form radiating sick confidence. “7…”

You had no choice, whipping your head from left to right, then left again – and you bolted.

Fear was thick within your chest, ragged breaths burning your impossibly dry throat as you desperately palmed at the mirrors before you, your brain unable to tell the difference between reality and illusion.

“6…”

It seemed to go on forever, and you could have sworn that that the house hadn’t been this large from the outside. A heavy sob escaped into the air as you mentally kicked yourself for not running in the other direction.

“5…”

Finally you reached a turning, bile rising in your throat as you anticipated his chase. You turned left, and then right – still seemingly no closer to reaching the exit. Your Dr Martens thumped against the wooden floor beneath your feet and your blood rushed to your ears.

“4…”

The further into the maze you got, the darker it seemed to become, and your eyes struggled to adjust to your surroundings.

“3…”

You tripped over nothing, holding your palms out in front of you to cushion the fall. Hitting the floor with a thud, you cried out, your knees crashing against the floor.

“2…”

Scrambling up on to your hands and knees, and pushing your hair back out of your face, you looked around you. Part of you just wanted him to get it over with, the suspense of his deep voice echoing throughout the air as he counted down as unbearable as the fear that was deep-seated within you.

“1…” You heard his heavy footsteps as he began his pursuit.

You’d reached a crossroads. Left or right.

His footsteps were louder now, and you knew he was close.

Left or right?

You ran out of time, looking behind you to see his leather clad feet turning the corner.

Right.

You threw yourself up off of your hands and knees, your upper body driving your legs forward as you reached out to steady yourself on the mirrors either side of you.

“I can smell you, little girl.” He cooed, making your insides churn.

You were frantic, throwing your palms against every mirror you came across, each time your despair grew, the reality of what was about to happen settling in. You were trapped, caged in like a giselle being hunted by a lion, and all you could do was wait.

When you saw the huge outline of him appear no more than twenty feet in front of you, your eyes clenched shut. As if some part of your mind thought you were safer that way. Of course, you were wrong.

“There she is...” He spoke, to himself or to you, you weren’t sure.

“Please...please, don’t hurt me.” You begged pathetically, your back sliding against the mirror behind you as you sank to the floor.

His feet were inches from yours as he knelt down in front of you, a look of sadistic amusement plastered all over his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Well, maybe a little...” Your stomach flipped nervously as his smiled widened. “But it’ll hurt so fucking good.”

His gloved hand reached out to you, and you admitted defeat. You were terrified, but your survival instincts had kicked in, and you knew the only way to survive was to give in. He wasn’t letting you go until he got what he wanted, yet you still weren’t entirely sure what that was.

“If...if I give you what you want, w-will you let me go?” You stuttered, your hand suspended in the air, his fingertips almost touching yours.

His eyes darkened, and his smile disappeared. His huge palm wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to your feet with a harsh tug.

“You know, you really ought to learn some respect. How about some fucking gratitude, a thank you for my service. Your just as disappointing as the rest of them...”

Your head thumped against the mirror behind you, and you weren’t sure when he’d lifted you. His knee was wedged between your thighs, pressing up against your core, and his hand around your throat. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t need to. The threat was enough to keep you still.

“So fucking ungrateful, so fucking rude...” He was almost snarling at you, his hot breath warming your face. He was a man possessed.

His hand grabbed at your breast, squeezing firmly. You sucked in a sharp breath, unsure of how to react. His beard scratched against the base of your throat, his lips pressed up against your ear.

“I’m sorry. You’re a hero, Captain.” Your attempt to pacify him made him chuckle, the vibrations rumbling through your flesh.

“Am I your hero, little girl?” He asked, his voice thick with deviance as he fisted your shirt in his hands. “Hmm?”

He had been.

“Y-yes, Captain.”

“So you want to say thank you, right?” He urged, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. A frightened mewl fell from your lips, and it did nothing to deter him, instead causing him to grind his thigh against your most sensitive places. You wanted to vomit as your hips ground back down against him instinctively, creating a friction that was both terrifying and maddening.

“Yes, Captain.” You tried to make yourself sound certain, but the slight tremble of your voice gave you away.

“Look at you, trying to be a big brave girl. Adorable...” He belittled, releasing your throat from his grasp and taking a step back.

“Jacket off.” He ordered, gesturing with his hand. You blew out a heavy breath, convinced that there was only one way out.

You did as he asked, shrugging the leather off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor at your feet. His gaze travelled down, eyeing your fishnet encased legs.

“Now the skirt. Show me that pretty ass.”

Your knees began to tremble, and you were sure the fear and uncertainly was radiating off of you. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the button sitting at the waistband of your denim skirt, unbuttoning it. Your fingers froze for a moment, aware that all you had on beneath your fishnets was a lacy, black thong.

“Turn around, let me see it.” His voice was calm, but firm. His huge arms crossed over his chest as he waited.

You turned on the spot, your back to him. You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, the image of him staring you down from behind making your legs quake.

You took a sharp breath, trying to muster the bravery to do it. You weren’t sure why you arched forward, confused by the lustful undertones of the frightening situation. Dragging your skirt down over the curves of your ass, you let go, letting it fall to floor where your leather jacket lay. Stepping out of it, you kicked both items to the side, and waited for further instruction.

“Look at that sweet little ass...” he crooned, and you couldn’t deny that your insides were fluttering at his praise. “Look at me.”

Turning to face him, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your stomach to save him from having to tell you.

“No.” Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, watching him shake his head slowly. “Leave it on.”

You had to wonder if the thought of his infamous sigil slayed across your chest turned him on, and a part of you hoped it did. You were still scared, there was no doubt about it, but watching his face, the way his brow furrowed and his tongue ran the length of his bottom lip, you couldn’t help it. You were aroused.

“Get on your knees, little girl. Time to thank your Captain.”

You were down quicker than you’d anticipated, your body betraying your mind as you kneeled before him - your thighs wide and your pussy, covered only by a scrap of black lace, pressed against the cold wooden floor.

“Fuck, you’re learning quickly. You’re nothing like those other girls who’ve been in here tonight, are you?” He unzipped himself, his hand reaching inside to pull out his cock.

You hadn’t registered his words properly, too dumbfounded by the sight of the length of him. Just as you’d have thought, he was monstrous. Long, impossibly thick, the tip of him swollen and reddened, oozing with pre-cum.

A lustful grunt emitted from the depths of his throat, looking down at your big, wide eyes. Subconsciously, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to look away as his gloved fist wrapped around the base of his length.

“You ever sucked a dick this big, little girl?”

Your eyes remained rooted to his groin, but you shook your head. You truly hadn’t. The thought of him splitting you open making your stomach flutter nervously.

He stepped towards you, his toecaps touching your knee’s as his cock bobbed in front of you, inches from your face.

“You’re going to suck it so good, because you want to thank your Captain. Right?”

“Yes, Captain.”

The tip of his cock nudged your bottom lip, your mouth instantly opening in trepidation. It rested there, his eyes staring you down as you suppressed the urge to sweep your tongue across his slit.

“Be a good little girl and suck, and don’t stop until I tell you to. Got that?”

“Yes, Captain.” You whispered, your top lip feathering against his throbbing flesh.

He gave you no time to adjust, driving his cock down your throat on the first thrust. You coughed and spluttered around him, panicking as you struggled to acommodate him.

Allowing you a moments reprieve, he pulled his cock free.

One breath and he stuffed your mouth again, stroking the skin where your lips stretched almost painfully around him with his fingertips. You allowed your jaw to slacken, thrust after thrust punching down your throat, spit falling sloppily over the red, white and blue on your shirt.

“Fuck, that’s it. You like it when I fuck your throat?”

You nodded, driving your mouth down to meet each hit.

“Tell me how much you like it...” He grunted, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding your mouth down onto him.

You mumbled incoherantly around his cock, the words practically inaudible. He didn’t seem to care though, simply pleased that you were obeying his orders.

“Fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut. Look at you, dribbling all over my dick.”

You weren’t sure when the fear inside of you dissipated but it had, giving way to unimaginable desire. You knew it was wrong, but instead of being deterred, you were simply bound to commit filthy, unspeakable acts before him.

Whatever he wanted.

Grinding your crotch down onto the wooden floor below you, you moaned around his girth, the feel of your throat vibrating around the tip of him causing his own knees to tremble slightly.

“You keep that up little girl, and I may just have to keep you.”

You thought nothing of it, a throw away comment you assumed.

Vulgar sounds filled the air as your throat gagged around him with each thrust, your lips closing around him and your cheeks hollowing. Tears streamed down your face, your make up well and truly ruined, just like your mouth.

“Good girl.” He praised, pulling his cock free again. He took you by surprise when his lips pressed against yours, his beard scratching your chin. It was a brief, forceful kiss, causing your head to thump against the mirror behind you.

“Look at yourself.” He demanded, pulling your head to the side and forcing you to take in the view that only he had been privy to up until that moment.

Your lips were swollen, drool falling from both corners of your mouth onto your chest and your thighs. Your mascara was smudged, black tear marks adorned your cheeks like melancholy raindrops.

“Such a pretty whore.”

One hand still tangled in your hair, the other gripping your bicep roughly, he yanked you to your feet, spinning you round and shoving you up against the mirror, the cold against your cheek a welcoming sensation as your blood ran piping hot.

There was no time for care, his fingers hooking underneath the the fishnet material covering your ass, ripping a whole in them forcefully. His palms slapping down against your cheeks surged you forward, your lipstick leaving marks on the mirror.

Your panties were next, gusset ripped in half effortlessly. You shivered, the cool air hitting your drenched pussy.

Fifteen minutes ago, you were begging him to let you leave. Now you’d beg him to make you stay.

“Look at that slutty little pussy, desperate for my dick.”

You tried to grind yourself back on him, your hips winding pathetically as you tried to make contact. You felt his fingers trace a path from your clit, to your sopping wet hole and you couldn’t help but cry out lustfully at the contact.

“Beg me, little girl. Be a good little whore and beg for my dick.”

Two thick fingers sliding inside your pussy, stretching you out, had you whimpering. The delicious sting as he scissored them inside of you sent shock waves throughout your body.

The tiny part of your brain that was still coherent screamed at you not to, not to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t help it.

“Please Captain, please fuck me.”

“Are you a good little whore? Do you deserve it?” He teased, adding a third finger for good measure.

“Yes, I’m a good w-whore. I’ll be your whore.” His thumb pressed against your asshole, making your muscles tense up in fright. Your ragged breaths condensing the mirror pressed to your lips.

“You know, a good little whore would let me stretch out that asshole too. What do you think?”

He didn’t give you time to answer before his thumb slipped in, the fluttering ring of muscle clenching around his knuckle. You cried out, the foreign feeling between your cheeks a mix of discomfort and unusual pleasure. Pulling his fingers free of your wanting pussy, he teased your clit with the tip of his cock and it was a miracle that you managed to remain upright.

“You gonna let me fuck that beautiful little asshole when I’m done wrecking your pussy?”

The sensation of his thumb hooking into you couple with the feeling of his thick, throbbing head stretching out your entrance had turned you into a desperate, needy mess. You would have said anything just to have him fill you up.

“Yes, whatever you want. Please!”

The breath was punched out of your lungs as he tore you apart. The pain was unbearable, a primal, throaty cry echoing from your mouth as tears fell from your eyes once again.

“For a whore, you sure are fucking tight.”

His hips smacked against your ass, flesh clashing with flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. His fingernails dug into your hips, one hand gripping you and the other reaching around, tugging your strapless bra down to your stomach and kneading your breast roughly. Rolling your hardened nipple between his fingertips had you writhing, pushing back onto him as if he wasn’t fucking you hard enough already.

You felt your orgasm approach, warmth flooding your face and chest, knees shaking and toes curling in your boots. He could sense it too as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Whore’s don’t get to cum.”

Sobs wracked your body, your eyes clenched shut as you desperately tried to obey him. But you were too far gone, teetering over the edge dangerously with nowhere else to go but down.

Your apology fell from your lips like a prayer as you came, every nerve ending in your body aflame with shame and wanton satisfaction. A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing dangerously and cutting off the air supply in an instant.

“I told you, whores don’t get to cum.” He growled against your ear, pulling his cock free of your sloppy, fucked out pussy. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

You tried to get free of his grasp when his cock pressed against your tightest hole, desperately trying to clench your cheeks together to stop him. You couldn’t breath, the hand around your throat ever-tightening and your face reddening.

“Are you ready, little girl?”

You shook your head desperately, your hands frantically clawing at his around your throat. He took no notice, instead chuckling darkly into your shoulder.

You could finally breathe when he softened his grip, but the oxygen was soon knocked out of you when he slid his cock into your ass, the bulbus tip sucked in by your contracting hole. You cried out, the discomfort wrenching through your nervous system.

“Fuck, that’s one greedy fucking asshole.” Gripping your throat again, he slid his cock in to the root. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, and you were torn between immense pain and electric pleasure.

He gave you no time to adjust to him, no care for you wellbeing as he pounded into you, your breasts crashing against the mirror with each stroke. Hooking your arms behind your back with his free hand, he yanked you back onto him, the animalistic grunting sounds coming from his mouth invigorating your senses.

“How does that cock feel in that ass?” He asked, pulling your head backwards and forcing you to look at him. Your face was soaked with tears, cheeks red raw. “You look so fucking pretty when you cry.”

You couldn’t answer him, the intensity was too much. He didn’t seem to care.

Out of nowhere, another orgasm approached, and the fear that ran through you was enough to suppress it. You couldn’t bear the thought of not finding some kind of blissful release, and if you came again without permission, you had no idea what he’d do to you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he remained deep-seated within you, grinding his hips against the flesh of your ass. There was no pain now, just a feeling of fullness that you’d never even dreamt of experiencing.

“You’re being such a good girl. Would you like to cum, little whore?”

You nodded enthusiastically, desperate for it. You thought you might die if he didn’t let you. He released your throat fully, his hand slipping down your front, pinching your nipples for good measure before dipping lower.

“Tell me.” He ordered, his fingertips slipping back and forth across your sodden clit. Sparks began to rush through you, your vision hazy and your mind foggy.

“Please, let me cum. I’ll be good, I promise. God, please.” You panted, his icy blue eyes glaring straight into yours, full of such intensity you could barely breathe even when his hand wasn’t wrapped around your throat.

“Scream for me, little girl.”

And you did. A strangled, unrecognisable cry ringing in your ears. Furious, circular motions on your clit paired with the agonisingly delightful sting of him fucking into your asshole had you falling apart in seconds, soaking his hand and your own thighs. You could stand no longer, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright.

“You made a fucking mess, clean it up.”

He gave you no choice, shoving his fingers into your mouth, the tips touching your tonsils as you gagged. But yet, your tongue willingly lapped at the moisture that glazed his skin, the salty-sweet tang flooding your taste buds.

You watched yourself then, wondering how everything had changed so quickly. You didn’t even recognise your reflection. You were a boneless, fucked out, mess of a girl. Yet, it wasn’t shame you felt. Far from it.

Pride was the only thing you could liken it to, pride that this godlike man behind you was a mess of rage and need, pawing and kneading at your flesh, teeth gritted and lips curled back.

All you wanted in that moment was to be good for him, to be his well behaved whore.

“I’m gonna fill this ass up with my cum.” He breathed, his final thrusts the most brutal and forceful of them all.

The roar that came from his body made your entire form shudder. He was completely deranged in his pleasure, his cock still inside you as he pumped his seed deep in your belly.

He composed himself, letting go of your body. You fell to the floor with a heavy thud, your body truly ruined. Cum dribbled obscenely from your used asshole, sending a warm trickle down the length of your pussy lips, a drop of it resting neatly on your clit like a rare pearl.

“Happy Halloween, little girl.” His touch was almost gentle against your cheek, the satisfaction in his voice strangely soothing. “Shame its the last one you’ll ever get to see. You’re mine now.”

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