“Come on, bitch. Let’s see if we can fuck the stupid out of you.” he said as he fisted his hand in my hair and pulled me to my feet.

I giggled nervously. Not half an hour before, I’d told him I get to choose what pussy we take home.

Okay, what I really said was, “But don’t I have a right to at least like it?”

And what he said was, “Not if I don’t allow it and you fucking know it.”

And then that was that. He asked me what was wrong a couple times. But mostly we just finished up what we were doing, and went about our business. He teased me. I pretended to ignore him. And then he decided to fuck the stupid out of me.

I do so love to poke the sadist. 

He tossed me on the bed and stuffed his cock inside, commenting on how my body betrays me. On how even if I hated the way he treats me when we’re having sex (and sometimes when we’re not), at least one part of me has always and will always enjoy it.

Stupid traitorous pussy.

Though I suppose that’s not true because I do love every minute of it. But if I didn’t, my cunt would still react. Fucking cunt.

“Who will you fuck, cunt?” he asks as he grabs a fistful of tit flesh.

I grit my teeth in an attempt to keep my voice low and level. The walls are ever so thin.

“Whoever you say, Master.” I say between gasps and he drives his fist in my back for emphasis.

My pussy floods and I push back against him. God, just fuck me like the animal I am, I think and he does.

“Just a fucking piece of cunt, huh?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m a fucking piece of cunt, Master.”

“You’re god damn right, you are.”

I smile to myself. Even if the lights were on, he wouldn’t have been able to see. I’ve missed this.