Chapter Text
Washing the dishes has almost distracted her from what’s going on when Mulder quietly walks into the room, takes the bowl from her hands, bends her over the counter, and pulls up her ridiculously short skirt.
It’s as his cock slides into her pussy that Scully thinks about how she got here.
‘Free use’ might’ve started off as her idea, but he jumped at it with as much enthusiasm as she’d expected and then some, coming up with a list of rules for her to look over and asking if she had any weekend plans. She didn’t have plans, so that part was easy enough. And as for the rules? She barely finished reading them before straddling him on the couch and riding him hard.
Rule #1: No bondage. I won’t need it.
As inclined as she was towards the meditative process of being tied with soft ropes and precise knots, she couldn’t deny being aroused at the assumption of her complete and total willingness. Bondage wasn’t normally ‘useful’ for them. It was about trust, and freedom, and care. It was about Mulder helping her to let go of herself and give in to him instead. But sometimes, she had to admit, being restrained for his pleasure was fun too. So for him to do away with that, knowing she would be there to pleasure him anyway, made a warmth pool in her gut.
Rule #2: I pick your outfit.
She’d guessed that would come up. Given some of the more costume-y tapes in his collection, she almost wondered if she would wake up to a slutty maid outfit hanging on the wardrobe door.
Rule #3: No talking without permission.
When she read it, she glared up at him only to find him smirking, challenging her to take it off the list. Teasing was so often their foreplay of choice, and she never shied away from it even when he was in complete control. He knew just how hard it would be for her to stick to that rule. Equally, he knew she was too competitive not to rise to the challenge. That must’ve been why he included it. Those kinds of mindgames would’ve bothered her if he were anyone else.
Rule #4: No coming without permission .
No surprises there. In their more intense scenes, orgasm denial was always a favorite punishment of his. Even though he never left her unsatisfied, he often drove her into such a state that she wasn’t sure whether he would let her come at all.
Rule #5: Expect to be used for more than just sex.
Now, that one was more of a surprise. Although, she thought, perhaps she should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like he tried to hide how much he enjoyed it whenever she asked for sex to be... wetter. She kept the rule in the back of her mind.
Rule #6: Any hole. Whenever I want. No exceptions.
She laughed when she read the last one. She knew him too well to expect that getting a free pass to her body would lead to anything less than multiple rounds of anal. He’d admitted once, in the soft quiet of a post-sex cuddle, to having been made a ‘changed man’ by her ass. Of course, that soft quiet had quickly been broken by a sharp cackle when she’d registered what he said. But even that hadn’t deterred him.
Once she finished riding him, she cuddled in against his chest, cum dribbling from her entrance and strong arms wrapping tight around her waist.
“If you couldn’t already tell,” she murmured, “I like the rules.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “So it wasn’t my exquisite penmanship that turned you on? Damn.”
“There’s just one thing.”
“Hmm?” His body tensed slightly.
“It’s not a problem,” she reassured. “But, about number five...”
He moved again, but she could tell it was from excitement this time, and she stifled a giggle before continuing.
“You don’t have to hold back, okay? I remember you saying something last time about using me as a- As a- What I mean is, I won’t... object to trying that. You know my limits. I trust you to respect them.”
He stands there behind her, both hands on her waist, holding her still. His palms are warm on her bare skin. The clothes she’s wearing could barely be considered clothes in the first place: a skirt so short that it hides almost nothing and a cropped shirt that was buttoned up for all of ten minutes before he ripped it open to coat her chest in cum. Her leather collar’s managed to last so far without damage, only hit by a few drops of cum. The heels are better, but the height of these black stilettos is making walking a nightmare. Perhaps it’s a good thing that she can barely move between rounds without him pouncing on her. From ‘performing’ for him on the coffee table, the kitchen was as far as she got.
The other benefit of the heels, for him at least, is that they make her just tall enough to be bent over and fucked without preamble.
Speeding up, he thrusts harder and harder, bumping her thighs against the sink cabinet as he presses up against her ass. His hands stay firm on either side of her waist, fingers pressing into her flesh. Her only pleasure is the feeling of his cock inside her. Wetness runs slick across his shaft and she soon realizes that even being made to touch herself was for him.
He told her to sit on the coffee table, legs spread, presenting herself to him. He told her to lift her skirt with one hand and stroke her clit with the other. He told her to dip a finger into her entrance. He told her to taste herself. But he never told her to come.
And now, it’s clear. He basically told her to leave her pussy ready and waiting for his cock.
With a low groan, he buries himself inside her, filling her with his second load of the day. His virility has always been a blessing, but as she stands there, she finds herself wondering: will she still be able to walk by tomorrow?
She’s pulled from her thoughts by Mulder grabbing the back of her collar.
“Lick me clean.”
Her knees hit the ground before her mind catches up, and she gets to work immediately, turning to face him and gently lapping the cum from his softening cock. There’s not much left on him; most of it’s dripping down her inner thighs.
She looks up as she works her tongue around his length, catching his eyes until they roll back when she licks his sensitive tip.
He doesn’t bother with telling her to stop. He just pushes her head away and tucks his cock back into his pants before wandering off. She’d like to find his apathy unattractive. She should find it unattractive, surely? Watching him walk away shouldn’t turn her on. Being left there on her knees, his cum in her mouth, on her chest, and in her pussy, shouldn’t be arousing.
Should it?
Finishing the washing up calms her for a moment, and she reminds herself why she wants this. It’s not the apathy that appeals, it’s the freedom of being completely objectified. There are no expectations to live up to nor assumptions to defy. She trusts him enough to know that respect doesn’t need to be earned anymore. It’s a given. She doesn’t have to be the perfect woman or the perfect agent - or somehow both - to prove her worth to him. She just has to enjoy herself, knowing that she can stop him any time she wants. A simple safeword is all that stands between her being used like a toy and her being pampered for the rest of the day.
She’s barely finished drying the dishes when she hears, “Scully!”
Walking as quickly as she dares in these heels, she goes to the living room to find him sitting on the couch.
“Time for you to be useful.”
She gulps unconsciously. Between his gruff tone and the filthy look in his eyes, that can only mean one thing.
He shucks his pants down his thighs to reveal his still soft cock while she moves to kneel between his legs, her heart beating a little faster as she prepares herself. They haven’t done this in a while, and as much as she loved it last time, this is different. It’s always been a spur of the moment decision before. Done in the midst of sex. Not planned. Not so actively wanted.
She takes his soft cock into her mouth, carefully sliding down until her lips sit around his base and his tip rests on the back of her tongue.
Her thighs clench, squelching from the mixture of wetness and cum between them.
A palm presses down on the back of her head, holding her there while a hot stream starts to run down her throat. She can taste his cock more than his piss, but the sharp scent filters through her nose and fills her head much like the piss filling her stomach. Swallowing constantly, she grabs hold of his calves and tries her best not to moan, not even to hide her satisfaction but because choking would make her less useful. She’s well beyond pretending that she doesn’t love being his slut.
“You like being my urinal,” he says confidently.
She does her best to nod.
“Mmm, that’s my good girl.”
Once he stops pissing, she sucks him clean before sitting back on her knees and waiting for his next command, ignoring the now steady flood of fresh wetness from her pussy. He tucks his cock into his pants again, gets up, and grabs one of the bags he brought with him when he got here last night. From the bag, he takes what looks to be a few plasticky mats, and after a glance at her quizzical expression, he explains himself.
“Puppy pads,” he says, arranging them in a free corner of the room. “My urinal’s still got two more holes to try out, and I don’t want to make a mess.”
She doesn’t have much of a chance to process what he’s said, because as soon as the pads are laid out, he walks back over, turns the TV on, and picks her up off the floor, settling her on his lap on the couch, her back against his chest so she can watch the screen, one of his arms wrapping around her waist. He must’ve put a tape in while she was out in the kitchen.
The scene starts casually enough. The premise is as cheesy as ever. This time, the woman’s at her neighbor’s door, asking for a cup of sugar - because of course she is. Scully almost starts to laugh...
Until the woman goes inside.
The neighbor’s friends are all there. Seven in total. Scully knows enough about porn tropes to work out what’s about to happen.
Mulder’s arm holds her tight. His other hand slips under the front of her skirt.
The woman flirts as easily as the men around her, sitting down with them and giggling at a few terribly scripted jokes.
Mulder’s fingers tease the cum-slicked skin of her inner thighs.
It doesn’t take long for the scene to really get started. The men play with the growing bulges in their pants and the woman acts terribly coy as they slowly circle her.
Mulder strokes her glistening pussy, tsking at her oversensitive whimper.
The woman drops to her knees and, one by one, cocks stand to attention around her. A curious lick leads to an eager suck and before long she’s got one in either hand and another part way down her throat.
Mulder lifts his wet fingers to her lips, pushing until she takes two into her mouth.
One of the men bunches the woman’s dress around her waist, revealing a pair of skimpy lace panties. Then two of them lift her onto a couch while a third cups her lace-clad pussy.
Mulder pulls his fingers from her mouth, drags them down through the sticky valley between her breasts, over her skirt, and runs them across her pussy again, the pads of his fingers nudging at her entrance.
The woman moans performatively when a man yanks her dress off over her head, bringing her down onto her hands and knees with only her panties left on. Those too get swiftly taken off, and the men huddle closer around her naked body, cocks in their hands and sleazy grins on their faces.
Mulder pauses, waiting for something to happen, before plunging two fingers into her pussy at the exact same time as the first cock slides into the woman on-screen.
The men jeer, some just watching while others start groping. A hand smacks the woman’s ass, another squeezes her breast, a third rubs her cheek, and a fourth runs through her hair, using his grip to turn her head and present her with his cock.
Mulder’s hand lifts back up, and though she misses the feeling of him inside her, she dutifully opens her mouth to let him in.
The woman arches her back, pushing herself against the man fucking her without letting the cock in her mouth slip out. Her moans are constant now. High-pitched, girly, and muffled. They don’t sound real, but none of the men seem to care.
Mulder fucks her mouth with his fingers, thrusting slowly until the tastes of his cock and his piss are overpowered by his cum and her arousal.
The first man comes, pulling almost all of the way out as the camera moves closer. When he moves away, cum starts to leak from the woman’s pussy.
Mulder doesn’t drag it out this time. He drops his hand from her mouth to her pussy, then shoves his fingers inside her hard enough to make her flinch. The strong arm around her waist stops her from going anywhere.
Sliding beneath her, one of the men pulls the woman over his cock, guiding her ass with one hand and his cock with the other. A few more drops of cum spill from her pussy to land on him, but neither one of them notices as she slides down onto him.
Mulder curls his fingers, torturing her g-spot while she fights the urge to come.
The scene picks up its pace now that they’re onto her second fuck, and soon the woman is being pushed down onto the chest of the man beneath her so that her asscheeks can be spread, showing off her holes to the camera.
Mulder, yet again, cleans off his fingers in her mouth. After the way he was fingering her, it actually gives her some relief.
A man comes closer having been off-camera for a time, his hard cock now shiny with lube. He wipes the excess on his hand onto the woman’s asshole and positions his legs around those of the man still fucking her pussy.
Mulder fingers her harder than before, abandoning her g-spot to bury his fingers as deep as they can get.
The woman takes both cocks with more pitchy moaning, and the camera zooms in to watch her asshole pucker as it stretches.
Mulder’s fingers end up back in her mouth. She knows what to do.
Over the course of the scene, Mulder never quite drives her to the edge. Although he brings her close more times than she can count. By the time they’re nearing the end, he’s already fucked his cum out of her, and his fingers only taste like her now.
To finish the scene, the woman kneels and the men crowd back around her, coating her with as much cum as they have left.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mulder whispers above her ear.
She’s pretty sure that any reply would count as ‘talking back’, but thankfully, the contracting walls of her pussy around his fingers make her feelings known.
“But I bet you’d want more. You’d want to be a dirty girl for all those men.”
When his fingers switch back to her mouth, they don’t stop thrusting. He fucks her throat while he talks and hums appreciatively at her half-successful attempts not to gag.
“You’d want them to shoot their cum down this tight throat, or deep in your cute pussy, or maybe in your ass. Or all three if you’re lucky.”
Her empty pussy clenches, wetness dripping onto his pants.
“You’d want them to tell you you’re a good girl even though you’re being bad. You’d want them to fuck you until you can’t take anymore. You’d want them to fill your holes with cum, clean you out with piss, and fill you all over again.”
She knows how pathetic it must sound, but she can’t stop a loud moan from slipping out around his fingers.
“They’d try to be gentle. So I’d use you first. Show them how rough you really want it. Show them how hard your holes can take it.”
He moves his fingers one last time, shoving them back inside her pussy and fucking her until she’s a soaking wet, writhing mess. The only things keeping her upright are his chest behind her back and his arm around her waist. Her breasts bounce every time his palm slaps against her clit and her legs tense as her body prepares itself for an earth-shattering climax.
Just as the climax is about to hit, he pulls his fingers out of her and stops completely.
She starts crying. Even more pathetic.
But as punishing and humiliating as the whole thing is, it’s not entirely bad. When he pushes her and tortures her and refuses to let up, she feels so alive. It’s pure reaction. Pure emotion. Her brain is too overcome with emotions and overtaken by submission for pesky rationalizations to get in her way. She can just be herself, even if that self is crying on Mulder’s lap and whining in self-pity.
Experienced enough with her to trust that she’ll ask for comfort if it’s actually needed, Mulder briefly moves her to one side so he can push his pants down, then picks her up by her ass and rubs her pussy against his hardened cock.
He slips in easily, lowering her down onto his cock while she goes limp in his arms, accepting her fate.
“No. I want a tighter hole.”
He picks her up again and maneuvers her so that his forearm is under her thighs with her back pressed tight to his chest, levering her body to keep one hand free. She can’t see it, but her intelligence hasn’t fully deserted her, and she’s sure he’s angling himself towards her ass.
Proven right when the wet head of his cock nudges at her hole, she sobs one last time.
He’s gentle with her ass; he always is. A combination of regular fucking and a coating of wetness from her pussy means it’s not much of a struggle anyway. He’s bigger than any of her former boyfriends, but he’s also fucked her harder and more often than all of them combined. Her body’s used to taking him by now.
That last sob, however, isn’t for her ass. It’s for the knowledge that if he was going to let her come at all regularly, he would’ve let her do it already. That means either he won’t let her come whatsoever, or more likely, he’s hoping to build her up to the biggest orgasm she’s ever had.
“Good hole,” he grunts once he’s all the way in.
She nods aimlessly. It’s not like he needs her approval.
Cupping the backs of her knees, he folds her legs up to her chest and begins lifting her up and down, using her ass as an interactive cock sleeve. The wetness taken from her pussy squelches around the base of his cock whenever he sheaths himself, and fresh wetness dribbles down from her pussy to join in.
She turns her head, resting her cheek to his chest. Given that he’s already come twice today, it’s hard to believe he’ll come again soon, and she resigns herself to staying right here for a while. There are worse places to be, honestly. She’s not satisfied, but she’s not having a bad time either. Plus, though it could very well break her, if she’s right about his plan to make her come harder than ever before, it’s in her best interests to be a good fucktoy now.
Filthy or not, she’s an overachiever through and through.
She’s going to be the best fucktoy he could ever dream of.
In and out. Again and again. His thick cock stretches her ass.
In and out. Again and again. She keeps her eyes closed and stays pliant in his arms.
When he does finally come, she can recognise all of the tell-tale signs from a mile away. His cock jerks happily inside her, readying itself to pump her full. His balls twitch as they barely brush her ass. His hands grip tighter, using her body to let off the steam of impending climax. His chest vibrates with a series of quiet groans, each louder than the last, until they’re followed by a strained shout as he drops her deep into his lap and thrusts upwards with his hips, spurting cum deep in her ass.
It’s cute, almost. That’s if she’s in any position to call the man who’s come in two of her holes and pissed down the other, all just today, cute.
Before too much of his cum can slide out alongside his softening cock, Mulder gropes blindly for a buttplug he left on the coffee table earlier, letting one of her legs hang down over his and trusting she won’t move. He uses her pussy again once he grabs the plug, coating it in a mixture of their fluids. Wet and sticky, it goes in easily, pushing past her stretched ring of muscles and keeping the rest of his cum inside her.
“My hole,” he mutters behind her. “My cum needs to stay where it belongs.”
She whimpers when he carefully turns her over, her knees on the floor and her chest laying on a towel on the couch. She can’t remember him putting it there. Her ass is a little sore, in that nice, kind of satisfying way. But he must’ve deliberately picked that buttplug to make her squirm. It’s slightly too wide to be comfortable.
And again, he wanders off. Some part of her knows that he’s going to wash his cock, and she can hear the tap start to run in the bathroom. Some other part of her resents the humiliating feeling of being cast aside like a used toy.
The rest of her is awash with embarrassment, cheeks flushing and brows furrowing while the humiliation sends a wave of arousal through her core.
From the bathroom, he shouts, “Take your clothes off! Leave the collar.”
Toys don’t need clothes. Urinals don’t either.
Lazily, she shrugs the open shirt off her shoulders and hooks her thumbs into the skirt’s waistband so she can push it down over her hips. One of her heels clatters against the coffee table when she kicks them off. Her messy clothes land somewhere on the floor beside her in a heap; she doesn’t bother to find out where.
Mulder comes in a few minutes later, still clothed and with a beer in his hand. He takes a slow route around her, disappearing from her field of view, and she soon hears the TV start back up with some kind of sports commentary. The voices are loud, energetic, and in her submissive, needy state, she feels like the exact opposite.
Her knees lift from the floor when Mulder hauls her up, sitting her ass on the cum-smeared towel and tucking her in against his side. An arm slings round her shoulders and she yelps. His beer came straight from the fridge, the bottle cold enough to feel as if it’s freezing her nipple when he leans it on her breast.
Despite chuckling in amusement, he does at least swap the bottle to his other hand.
“Sensitive.”
She was right about the TV. He turned off the tape and put on some sports channel or other. Normally, she would find herself getting more and more invested as she watches, naturally picking up on what’s going on and enjoying Mulder’s enthusiasm. But not today. Today, she relaxes against him and mindlessly stares at the basketball game on-screen.
It turns out she’s not the only one hardly paying attention.
Never taking his eyes off the screen, Mulder starts fondling her. It begins gently enough, skating fingers over the dried cum across her breasts, feeling along the edges where her collar meets her throat.
But it doesn’t stop there.
His big hand encases one of her breasts, squeezing until she’s teetering on the line between pleasure and pain. Then he moves to her stomach, and perhaps that should feel less sexual somehow, but he manages to hold her so possessively that her cheeks turn an even brighter shade of red. After he drains his beer in record time, he leaves the bottle on the coffee table and uses his free hand to grab one of hers. Her palm gets placed on his crotch with his resting over the back, forcing her to rub his soft, clothed cock.
He doesn’t get very hard beneath her hand. He already came three times today, after all. Nevertheless, the fact that he’s clearly got more plans for her makes her think about what he’s done to prepare. It’s been four days since she first suggested the idea and she hasn’t fucked him until today. Has he saved it all for her?
What does get harder, however, is the way he gropes her. His fingers pluck at her erect nipples. They tease and tug and make her whimper. They bounce her breasts for fun and they force themselves between her legs to pinch her inner thighs, quickly shifting to grip her flesh and pin her leg down when she tries to get away.
Shameful as it is, her thighs grow slick with another gush of wetness, made even worse by the building pressure inside her.
When the pressure becomes too much, she gets his attention with a quiet cough before trying to get up.
He drags her back in against his side, shoves her legs open, and slaps her pussy.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls.
She knows better than to speak. Instead, she glances towards the hallway and uses a hand to cup her pussy, though she’s far more gentle with herself than he just was. Her full bladder is enough torture right now.
He scoffs, staring at her like she’s being completely ridiculous. “Urinals don’t use toilets.”
Mocking her, he looks pointedly towards the puppy pads laid out in the corner. Her eyes widen. He can’t be serious, can he? Surely he doesn’t expect her to piss on some mat on the floor? That’s awful. It’s degrading.
It’s humiliating.
She nods and sighs in defeat, trying to ignore how badly his horrible treatment is turning her on. Even so, she knows he can tell. He always can. She does her best to put on a brave face and, once he loosens his grip, stands up from the couch. She forgot about the plug in her ass, and she shivers when it moves inside her as she walks across the room.
The pads are deceptively soft on her skin when she kneels down, as if any of this experience is kind. She faces towards him, spreading her legs beneath her, and grimaces when a pang of urgency strikes through her gut. She really does need to pee.
Happy to watch her suffer and cocky with the certainty that it’s turning her on, Mulder leaves her waiting. He fishes his cock from his pants and strokes himself at the sight of her.
“Hands behind your back.”
She shoves her arms back and holds onto either forearm.
“I’ll count you down. When I say ‘go,’ you can go.”
Her pelvic muscles clamp down, holding back the flood.
“Three.”
Not long now.
“Two.”
Nearly there.
"One point five.”
No!
“One point two five.”
His smile looks evil.
“One.”
Okay, she can do this.
“Point seven five.”
Her lower body trembles.
“Point five.”
It’s so much harder to wait when she knows how close she is.
“Point two five.”
Fuck, it’s-
“Go.”
She almost can’t believe that he stopped there. Her mind is so warped from everything that’s happened that it honestly feels like a kindness.
Moaning gratefully, she releases her muscles. Her fingernails dig grooves into her arms and piss splatters up her thighs, splashing her pussy. It’s wonderful. Her hips jerk forwards and her ass clenches around the plug. Her eyes squeeze shut when another moan passes her lips.
She opens them when her stream slows to a stop, finding that the evil look on Mulder’s face has shifted towards hunger.
“I think I’m ready to go now too.”
He gets up, holding his unzipped pants with one hand, and shuffles over to her. She’d probably laugh if she wasn’t wearing only a collar and dried cum while kneeling in a damp puddle of her own piss. As it is, she stays silent and obedient, letting him pick her up, turn her around, and put her back down on the pads. He pushes between her shoulder blades, forcing her to bend until her chest and the side of her face are resting directly in the wet patch and her ass is presented to him.
All she can smell is the acrid scent of her own piss as he nudges his semi-hard cock into her pussy.
“Tight hole,” he says.
It sounds like praise, but she doesn’t know whether he’s praising her, her pussy, or just the buttplug’s added resistance.
He pauses once he’s fully inside her, needing a moment to get himself going. In the meantime, her body is his toy of choice. He wraps a hand around one of her forearms, still held behind her back, and uses it to lift her torso an inch or so from the floor before pressing her back down into her piss. After a few rounds of that seemingly get boring, he drops her on the last lift and starts spanking her hard.
She loses count around twenty, each one followed by him gripping her ass, his nails biting into her flesh.
A dull pattering sound meets her ears. She’s so wet that she’s dripping onto the pads below.
Soon, however, the sound becomes sharper. Hot liquid starts spurting into her pussy, spraying her walls and filling her to the point that some is forced to leak out. Her cunt feels like it’s on fire while her face and chest grow cold against her cooling piss. It feels even more degrading than when he pissed down her throat. At least then, she was an active party, swallowing his piss like a good urinal. Now, she just has to kneel here and let him use her.
The leaking drops turn into a stream and then a flood when he pulls out. But he’s not done with her yet. The weight of his shaft comes to rest between her ass cheeks, his tip laying over her tailbone and his length over the plug in her ass. Though her pussy can’t hold any more, apparently her body is still going to take the rest.
Hot piss spills down her back, dripping from her sides and soaking into the hair at the nape of her neck. He’s marking her. And when she realizes that, another wave of piss gushes from her clenching pussy.
His piss is still running off and out of her when he gets up, leaving her there on the floor. She can’t see him, but she can hear the sofa cushions moving slightly when he sits down.
“Play with your clit.”
She slips one arm from behind her back and reaches down beneath her hips, rubbing her fingers against her wet clit. It should disgust her. Kneeling there, her own piss on her face and chest. His piss all around her. Him watching her touch herself. Constantly knowing he won’t let her come.
So why does it feel this disgustingly good?
The plug moves in her ass, pulling in and out every time she clenches. It all just feels so good. She wants to cry. Her clit tingles under her fingers and her pussy leaks onto her hand. She’s stopped keeping track of all the fluids by now. She’s just a filthy fucking whore. His whore. His toy. His urinal. And she doesn’t want to be anything else.
Her hips roll unconsciously, her body searching for release. He’s so mean. How can he torture her when she’s being obedient? If this is what behaving gets her, why shouldn’t she stop listening?
That’s a dangerous path to go down. In their more intense scenes, and this is absolutely one of them, he never hesitates to correct her bad behavior. Will he get out a paddle and spank her until her ass is bruised? Will he make her stand on her tiptoes until her legs give out? Will he edge her until she’s shaking and on the verge of passing out?
But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance he’ll pin her down and fuck her until she’s begging him to stop. He’s done that before, and it hardly feels like a punishment to her.
“Why won’t you let me come?” she whines, regretting the words as soon as she’s said them.
“Go make me a sandwich, bitch.”
The demand surprises her. Then again, it makes sense. What better way is there to punish someone like her? She knows if she refuses, whatever he does next will be brutal. So she stands up from her little piss corner and starts heading for the kitchen, her head hanging low in shame. Even the girthy plug in her ass can’t distract her from his humiliation.
“Wait, bitch. Come here.”
She thinks he might let her off the hook, but when she goes over to him, he only pulls the plug from her ass before pushing her in the direction of the kitchen. More cum slowly drips down her thighs.
“And get me another beer too.”
Perversely, she thinks, this kind of punishment wouldn’t work if it was coming from anyone other than him. If she actually thought he could think this way about her, his demands would be met with fiery anger rather than humiliatingly aroused shame. It’s pretend. All of it is. Her safeword lingers in her head, its own humiliating reminder. She can stop him any time she wants. She doesn’t have to be standing here, making a stupid fucking sandwich with wet piss on her back and slick cum down her legs.
She wants this.
On her way out of the kitchen, she remembers to grab his beer.
He smiles when he sees her, looking almost gentle. “Hand them over and go get some water. I don’t have a drink for my urinal yet.”
Behind her, she hears the clinking sounds of him setting stuff down beside the buttplug on the coffee table before a crinkle that’s suspiciously similar to the pads earlier.
He’s placed a fresh pad down at his feet by the time she comes back with a glass of water.
“You’re already ruined. I don’t want you ruining the carpet.”
Her cheeks burn hotter as she goes to sit on the pad, leaning against his leg and feeling her wet skin press down on the absorbent material.
She hadn’t noticed until now, but the TV’s still on. It looks like some kind of post-game analysis. Men are sitting around a table in a newsroom, getting more and more heated between cuts to various action replays. What they’re saying mostly goes over her head. She’s in no mood to care. Her glass gradually empties, the water pleasantly tasteless after drinking his piss, and a haze comes over her. She only has one real concern, and that’s whether or not he’ll let her sate the growing knot of arousal in her stomach.
A while after she finishes her water, not that she’s paying much attention to the passing of time, he reaches down to take her glass and places it on the coffee table.
“Time to put that smart mouth to work.”
He shuffles sideways on the couch to get her between his legs without moving her off the puppy pad, and strokes her hair back into his grip before pulling his cock out of his unzipped pants. His stamina would be impressive on any other day. But today, the longer he lasts, the longer she goes without. And right now, he’s almost back to full hardness. That frustration must come through on her face because he openly laughs at her.
“Good bitch,” he praises as her mouth opens to take his cock.
He’s not exactly small when he’s soft, but hard is an entirely different story, and her mouth and throat are only so big. The head of his cock nudges down over the back of her tongue, moving into her throat, and she feels more tears pricking at her eyes when he presses both hands on the back of her head. Her arms hang at her sides, submitting to his control.
“Mmm,” he hums, ignoring the spluttering, gagging sound she makes while her nose brushes through the curly hair at his base.
Her throat tries to protest the invasion, but she knows it’ll just make him even happier. Her convulsing muscles are tight around the first few inches of his cock, practically massaging him. No amount of crying or gagging is going to stop him from getting what he wants.
She can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, her abandoned clit left throbbing from his degradation.
His hands move to either side of her head and lift her far enough to take a breath, before pulling her back down while he thrusts his hips at the same time, fucking her throat as deep as he can. Although she gags again, they both know from experience that the reflex won’t lead to anything. He can use her throat as much as he likes.
His thrusts find a rhythm and she’s left to kneel there, crying gently and dragging in air whenever she gets the chance. Her tongue goes numb at some point. She can’t move it anyway. His cock presses it flat to the bottom of her mouth. Saliva smears around her lips and covers her chin.
When he’s about to come, he slides his hands to the back of her head and buries her in his lap, groaning at her muffled cries. His cock pulses in her mouth and the zipper on his pants rubs uncomfortably against her cheek. Soon enough, she feels thick cum spurting down her throat. His load is noticeably smaller than the one that covered her chest earlier, so that’s at least something to hold onto. Maybe this will be over before long.
Honestly, she doesn’t know if she wants it to be over. She wants to come, sure. But she wants to be humiliated more too.
He doesn’t give her a choice either way. Instead, he loosens his grip to the point she can breathe and then holds her there on his softening cock. A hand leaves her head, and she can hear him gulping. It must be the last of his beer. But after he puts the empty bottle down, he holds her properly again.
Over the next... However long, her eyes sting slightly from all of her tears, and her knees begin to ache. The material of the pad is soft, but it’s not cushioned. The one big improvement is how much easier it is to take his cock now that it’s soft. It sits there in her mouth, warm, twitching occasionally. She can nearly forget what’s happening right up until he speaks.
“I really want to try out your ass, but your mouth feels too good.”
Without any more warning than that, piss streams into her mouth. She lets out a garbled shriek. Swallowing as much of it as she can, she manages to start sucking him again, taking it straight from the source, but enough already filled her mouth for some to escape her lips and drip down over the saliva on her chin.
“Bad urinal,” he chides. “You should be thanking me, not letting it all spill out like an ungrateful bitch. Here, I’ll help.”
He shoves her back down on his soft cock, stopping her from breathing and laughing as she flails. Her only option is to drink his piss and hope he runs out quickly. She chokes and gags but never once does she think about tapping out. She is a good urinal. She just has to prove that to him.
He drags her up by her hair when it’s over, his eyes inspecting her face like she’s a piece of meat. Hers can barely focus. She’s too busy gasping for air.
“How can you fantasize about being a gangbang piss slut when you can’t even take one man’s piss? Go get me some water. My urinal needs more practice.”
Hauling her up to her feet, he sends her off to the kitchen with a sharp slap on her ass. She’s sure he’s watching her walk away.
The short trip makes her body come back to itself, and she can feel everything. The saliva, the wetness, the cum, the piss, the tears. She’s a complete and total mess. She’s messier than the woman from the tape.
He’s definitely playing it up for the scene, but a part of her wonders how Mulder actually feels about that fantasy. He might like to show her off. He might like to watch, cocky as she fucks man after man after man, knowing he’s the only one who gets to keep her after it’s done.
She might like it too.
She comes back with his water, giggling when he smiles. It’s such a drastic change to being throatfucked and pissed on that a simple smile makes her giddy.
“Get back down here. I don’t need a urinal, but that mouth’s nice and warm.”
Smiling back, she hands him the glass before kneeling on the pad between his legs and opening her mouth in preparation.
“Good bitch.”
Her hips rock unconsciously, driven by his praise.
He slides into her mouth and grips the side of her collar with his free hand, holding her as deep as she can go while still being able to breathe. She closes her lips around him, warming his cock like a good bitch should, and presses her thighs together, searching for what relief she can find.
What she does manage to find, however, is the opposite of relief. Her bladder twinges, verging on full again, and for a brief second she wonders how it’s filled up so quickly. All she drank was one glass of water. Except, of course, she drank two rounds of piss as well.
Squirming on the spot, she groans as communicatively as she can and silently wills him to understand. It takes him a few minutes, or maybe he simply wants to watch her suffer, but her sinful prayers get answered in the most teasing of fashions.
“Aww, is my cockwarmer full?”
She nods around him, way beyond feeling embarrassed by the new term.
“That’s a shame. I can’t let you move because then my cock would be cold, and we don’t want that. So you’ve got two options. Hold it, or piss right where you are.”
Her best indignant huff only makes him laugh.
“If you choose to piss though, I do have one rule. You need to finger yourself at the same time. If you really were a gangbang piss slut, no one would stop fucking you just to let you go to the toilet. Personally, it’d make me fuck you even harder.”
His cock jerks a little in her mouth as he talks, and she knows he’s serious about the fantasy. She also knows he’s serious about this. The only way he’ll let her relieve this pressure is if she pisses right here and fucks herself the entire time.
What the fuck is so messed up inside her that she seriously has to stop herself from moaning around his cock?
Her hand dips between her thighs, her whole body trembling when her aching clit gets some sorely needed attention. But she pushes onwards, pressing two fingers into her dripping entrance before allowing herself any relief. She won’t disappoint him.
“Ohhh,” she sighs, her tongue heavy beneath his cock.
Piss sprays from her, coating her hand as she thrusts her fingers into her pussy. It’s slutty. It’s filthy. It’s perfect. Pleasure sparks deep inside her and she chases it will all her might. He won’t let her come, but this is an alright consolation prize. She’s such a good cockwarmer. Such a good piss slut. He’ll be so proud of her.
He leans down over her after she finishes pissing. His stomach meets her head, his body folding around her, almost locking her in place. She hears him spit, but nothing lands on her, when suddenly two wet fingers drive into her asshole. Yelping on his cock, her surprised body lets out another spurt of piss while her fingers thrust deeper.
“I think I’m gonna plug this hole again when I’m done using it.”
He fingers her savagely, slipping a third in right as the two start feeling comfortable. He rams them into her and only gets faster when her hips roll to meet the fucking. She might not be sure how much of a slut she is, but her body is certainly sure.
“You like having all your holes filled, don’t you? I bet you wish they were all cocks.”
She doesn’t try to stop the loud moan that erupts from her.
“That’s why you need more practice. There’s no point in whoring you out unless you can take it. Men would be very upset if you begged them to fuck you and begged them to piss in you, only for you to give up because your weak little body can’t take anymore.”
Her fingers piston in and out of her cunt, fucking herself so hard she’s quivering. Her whines and moans vibrate through his cock and her mind reels from all the overwhelming sensations.
But when she nears the edge, he utters a gruff, “Stop.”
Despite crying a meaningless protest, she pauses her thrusts and obediently waits for his next instruction. She most likely already knows what it’ll be.
“Good bitch. Remember, this isn’t about you,” he sneers. “If I let you come, it’ll be because I wanna feel how tight your pussy gets around my cock. Until then, this is as close as you’re getting.”
Having given her the warning, he forces her to repeat the same cycle five more times. He ravages her ass while she fingers her pussy and then stops her at the point of absolute torture. She was quivering before, but she’s fully shaking now. Her whole body feels like there’s a live current running through it, jolting every nerve and filling her with such agonizing, unachieved pleasure that the feeling borders on physical pain.
“-ea-e,” she begs around his cock, openly crying once again. “-o -ore.”
“I’ll stop when I want to stop.”
As it turns out, he wants to stop long after she’s lost count of how many cycles they’ve gone through. She and ‘the edge’ are old friends by now. Within seconds of telling her to remove her fingers and removing his own, she collapses down onto the piss-soaked pad beneath her knees, his cock slipping from her mouth as she falls.
She doesn’t lose consciousness, but then again, she hasn’t felt particularly conscious for hours.
“Oww,” she whines when he pulls her back by her hair.
He slaps the self-pity out of her. Literally. His palm comes down on her cheek fast enough to leave her skin redder than her hair, and the shock of being slapped temporarily stuns her.
“That is for being a bad cockwarmer.”
“Sorr-”
He slaps her again. “When did I say you could talk? That’s twice now. Do you want to be punished?”
She looks up at him, her eyes swollen from crying, her lips swollen from fucking, and quickly shakes her head.
“I thought so too. But I can’t just let you get away with breaking the rules.”
Letting go of her hair without warning, he gets up while she falls back down onto the puppy pad. On his way out of the room, he gives her a stern look.
“Stay.”
When he comes back after a few minutes, his cock having been tucked into his pants again, she hasn’t moved at all. Her body doesn’t feel like it can move. Her nerves have all been overworked and her muscles are screaming at her from being made to stay on her knees for hours. Even so, she still manages to scrabble back a pace when she sees what he’s holding.
In one hand, the largest dildo she owns. She only managed it in her pussy once, and that was after he fisted her. In the other, the largest buttplug she owns. A plug so large that she hasn’t dared to try putting it inside herself. It’s at least two inches wider than the one she had in earlier, if not more.
There’s also a bottle of lube cradled against his elbow, as if that’s going to make much difference.
She’s about to plead when she remembers what got her into this situation. She desperately shakes her head.
“Oh, yes,” he says, smirking down at her. “My bitch. My holes. My rules.”
How the hell is fearing for her ass causing a rush of arousal to surge through her? She’s so incredibly scared, and yet she’s so incredibly turned on too.
He puts everything he’s holding down on the coffee table, kneels beside her, picks her up, and flips her onto her front, knocking the air from her lungs as she lands on the piss-soaked pad. Then he grabs her hips to raise her ass and roughly spreads her cheeks, spitting on her holes while she just lays there and accepts it.
She still has her safeword, of course, but otherwise, she’s helpless.
“I was just going to use the dildo. But then I thought, how can I plug your tight little hole if it’s not tight anymore? Once I’m done punishing you, that other plug would fall straight out. And then I remembered you telling me about this plug.”
She wishes she hadn’t fucking told him now.
“Relax. Or don’t. I don’t care.” He bends low over her back and growls, “I’ll force these in if I have to.”
Her ass is still loose enough for his first three fingers not to hurt. It’s the same as before. The only difference is she knows how much worse it’s going to get.
His fourth is a tighter squeeze. She takes a shuddered breath in, smelling the piss beneath her face, and tries to keep her ass relaxed. If she’s tense, it’ll hurt even more.
And then it’s his thumb, pressing harder and harder on her hole, pushing inside whether she wants it to or not. She whimpers with the beginnings of pain.
“I wouldn’t need to do this if you behaved.”
His knuckles mark the point at which she starts crying again. They’re so big. So wide. And they’re still narrower than either of the toys he got out. Her lubed-up hole burns around his hand.
Nothing much happens for a few minutes. She lays there sobbing as his hand goes deeper, crying even harder when she feels her pussy throb. It’s horrible and it’s wonderful and it’s painful and it’s amazing. Snot and tears mix with piss against her face.
“I should probably take this slowly,” he says as he slides his hand out. “But I need my urinal soon.”
She waits, still crying, for him to spread lube over the dildo. His wet hand grips one of her asscheeks to spread her open and the thick head of the toy starts pushing at her hole. Her toes wriggle, her body fighting through the building pressure, and a slick pop sounds from her ass when the head is taken inside. She groans loudly, her thighs twitching with the sudden urge to ride the dildo until she shatters around it.
Inch by inch, he buries it inside her. It feels like she’s being split in two. Her hole goes numb after a while, the nerves practically shutting down from overuse. But the nerves inside her stay sensitive. Her muscles stretch around the thick toy’s entire length.
And fuck is it long.
She didn’t consider that aspect. When she tried it in her pussy, it didn’t bottom out. The head was nestled against her cervix long before then. But her ass is deeper and she’s pretty sure the silicone is soft enough that, if he decides to, Mulder can probably push it up through the turn and into her colon.
Fuck.
There’s another, duller pop emanating from somewhere deep in her ass when he manages to get it past her rectum and into her sigmoid.
She carries on laying there. She carries on crying.
Thankfully though, when he starts properly fucking her with it, he doesn’t let it get so far. She’d like to think it’s out of kindness, but she’s pretty sure it’s because keeping the toy in her rectum means he can fuck her harder and faster.
She’s right.
He builds up speed, grunting a little from the exertion, and begins ramming the toy into her sore hole. His free hand grabs hold of the back of her collar, pulling it as tight around her throat as it can get without choking her. Between strokes, she doesn’t get any relief. The tiny taste of being empty makes her feel the stinging pain in her ass. And every time he pounds the toy back into her, he leaves her stinging once again. Her sobs get louder and her breaths get shakier.
“Next time you wanna be a free use slut, you’ll remember to behave.”
Her face presses deeper into the piss-sodden pad as she nods in agreement.
“But I might ruin your ass just for fun. I only need one tight hole, and I’ve already got your throat.”
She whimpers between noisy sobs, her hands scrabbling at the floor in desperation. But still, she doesn’t try to escape. She doesn’t tell him to stop.
“That should be loose enough."
He yanks the dildo from her ass, chuckling as she flinches, and puts it aside to coat the buttplug with lube. Leaning over her, he puts the plug upright on the coffee table within her field of view. It looks even bigger now, glistening wet and terrifyingly wide.
“Hands on your ass.” She obeys. “Good bitch. You’re gonna spread your cheeks so that hole stays open for me.”
The dildo stretched her far enough that, when she spreads her asscheeks like a good bitch, her loose hole opens up. The mess of lube from his rough fucking coats her fingertips. But even through the soothing chill of all that lube, her asshole aches and burns.
Apparently, she’s so loose that he doesn’t even need to nudge his cock inside. She jumps at the utterly strange sensation of hot liquid spraying into her ass, but quickly corrects herself, holding still and showing him what a good urinal she can be. A sick, twisted sense of pride fills her chest.
When her ass overflows, she hears an uncomfortable groan before the stream stops. He must be holding it back. But just as she honestly starts to believe he’s giving her a break, she sees him grab the buttplug from the coffee table. Saying nothing, he shoves it into her ass and laughs yet again at her yelping and flinching.
Now plugged inside her, his piss sloshes around when she shivers.
The plug is so massive that it’s snug in her stretched-out ass. Her hole clings to the tapered length just above the base.
Fingers roughly spread her pussy lips and she moans defeatedly as he finishes pissing, coating her with everything he has left. Piss gushes over her clit and runs down her legs to the pad beneath.
“Hmm,” he muses. “Your throat’s definitely my favorite.”
He leaves her on the floor while cleaning up around her, taking the dildo to be washed and the used pads in the corner to be put in the trash. The lube stays where it is. If she hadn’t been fucked out of her mind, she might be scared by the thought that he has more plans for her.
She doesn’t get any time to react when he comes back. He just flips her over, straddles her chest, leans forward onto one arm, and slides his soft, piss-drenched cock into her mouth with the other hand. Her throat seizes with a spluttering gag, and strange tingles bubble up in her stomach. The combination of warm piss and a massive buttplug in her ass feel like they’re making her insides shift around.
He sounds like he’s talking to a well-loved dog when he says, “That’s a good hole.”
Thrusting his limp cock into her mouth, he sighs happily as he slowly gets hard, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s in her throat. Then he gets up off her and swiftly picks her up off the floor, cradling her used body in his arms.
“You haven’t been perfect,” he chides as he walks her down the hall to her bedroom, “but you’ve been a pretty good slut, and I wanna see how tight your pussy can get with that plug in your ass, so I’m gonna let you come.”
She murmurs gratefully.
Mulder must’ve stripped her bed one of the times he left her in the living room, because her usual bedding is neatly stacked by the dresser and all that’s on the bed is a waterproof sheet. Her wand vibe is sitting on the nightstand.
The sheet crinkles beneath her when he lays her down and lifts her legs up towards her chest, exposing her holes. He grabs the vibrator, angling it down on her clit, and kneels over her ass, keeping her pressed into position with his hips. Her arms are limp by her sides and her head lolls as she watches him.
“I’m gonna make you scream.”
He guides himself into her pussy and thrusts hard, moaning from the tight fit. She whines quietly. The buttplug was wide enough. With him in her pussy, and his piss still sloshing around inside her ass, her body is beyond full capacity.
And that’s when he turns on the vibrator.
Her whole lower half is on fire, pleasure and pain merging into an indescribable force. He shoves his arm beneath her head and bends over her, covering her completely and fucking her down into the bed.
“No,” she begs near silently, tears once again streaming down her face. “Stop. Please stop. I... I can’t.”
“Shut up, bitch.”
Every rational thought is telling her to use her safeword. But every instinct is telling her to urge him on.
She wants him to break her.
“Please stop,” she begs again.
He reacts as expected, and she cries out wildly when he slams his hips down and turns up the vibrator. Her pussy grips his cock and her head shakes in disbelief.
His cock is jackhammering into her so hard that leaks form around the buttplug, dripping from her hole and soaking her ass with lukewarm piss. Meanwhile, her pussy squelches, dribbling wave after wave of arousal in her messed up, hopelessly turned on state.
Maybe she does actually break when she comes. It certainly feels like she’s breaking. She whimpers and moans and makes incoherent pleas, shaking beneath him like some sort of malfunctioning toy.
But then he turns the wand up higher, gritting his teeth and mumbling something about taking him like a good bitch.
She whines louder at the second orgasm. Her vision blurs and arousal squirts from her tight hole, spraying around his lightning fast cock.
He turns it up even higher. One last time.
Finally, she does what he said she would. She screams. Her body jerks violently against him and something else squirts up onto his cock. Fucking her so hard she pisses herself probably counts as breaking, right? Though she’s in no mind to ponder that question. She’s out of her mind entirely.
When she comes to, she finds him adding more lube around her asshole before gently pulling the buttplug out. The pain makes her hiss out a breath. Free to escape, piss floods from her ass onto the waterproof sheet.
“I’ll clean that up later.”
She looks up when she hears his voice. On his face is an expression as gentle as his hands, and she can’t help but whimper when he lifts her into a hug, ignoring the mess of wet and dried fluids on her body to hold her close.
“Pineapple?” he whispers.
She nods against his chest.
“You okay, babygirl?”
It takes her a moment to speak. “Ju... Just no more.”
“No more,” he replies calmly, “I promise. Even if you wanted it, I think the little guy’s done for today.”
“He’s not exactly little,” she giggles, more than slightly delirious.
He laughs as he stands up, slipping an arm under her ass to keep her from falling. Then he carries her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, where he sets her down on the closed toilet lid and takes off her collar.
While the bath fills, he runs a washcloth under the tap and uses it to clean her up a bit, taking extra care wherever she says something feels sore. It’s a complete departure from the way he’s been treating her for hours, but that’s why she’s able to go so far with him in the first place. She can trust him in intense scenes because she knows how readily he’ll drop it all to take care of her.
At her direction, he picks out one of her bath oils and swirls that into the bath before helping her in and climbing right in behind her, giving her the safety of his body to cuddle back into and his arms to hold her in. Her head tips back on his chest, her eyes fluttering closed, and she drifts into a kind of well-fucked half-sleep while the warm water soothes her aching muscles and sore holes.
She wakes from the half-sleep crying again. It’s not panic now though. It’s catharsis.
“Bad tears or good tears?” he asks quietly when she uses what strength she has left to roll over.
She nuzzles against his collarbone, loving how protective his arms feel around her. Her eyes close and her breaths slow.
“Good tears.”
“Okay. You let me know if that changes.”
Crying out all the stress of the scene takes with it the rest of her general stress too, leaving behind only the warmth of his hug and the love pouring from his heart. She can’t feel anything else.
“Did you like the scene?” she whispers, unwilling to disrupt their newfound peace.
He lifts a hand to the back of her head, his fingers softly teasing her damp hair. “I did, babygirl. You look so cute when you’re acting like a horny slut. Did you like it?”
“Cute?” she repeats, giggling. “I don’t know about that. But yes, I liked it. Even if you were a meanie.”
He mocks her right back. Unlike during the scene though, there’s no real challenge in his voice. He gives her a silly growl and squeezes her slightly in his arms. “You love it when I’m a meanie. Or is it just a coincidence that your pussy gets soaking wet every time?”
“Correlation doesn’t equal causation.”
“Oh, of course, Doctor Babygirl Scully.”
Once the water cools, Mulder gives her a hand getting out, dries her off with a towel, and holds her bathrobe up for her to slip her arms in. He puts his own on, the one she bought to keep at her apartment, and takes one look at the way she’s holding herself up against the sink before sweeping her up into a bridal carry and marching off to the living room, cautiously stepping over the last puppy pad to deposit her on the couch.
She smiles up at him when he returns from throwing out the pad, now holding a glass of water, and gladly lets him pull her onto his lap and into another cuddle after he puts it down. She doesn’t need all that much from him after some scenes, but today was a lot, and however willing he might be to joke about it, she knows they both need a little extra aftercare when it comes to scenes like these. Scenes where he was a ‘meanie,’ to use her favored term. It’s as much her showing how completely she still trusts him as it is him showing how deeply he always cares for her.
“It’s the middle of the night, so snacks before we go to sleep and then I’ll get whatever you want for breakfast in the morning?”
She lifts her head off his shoulder for just long enough to look out the window and see how dark it is before snuggling back in. “Cuddles first. Then snacks. Wait...”
She hears his concerned, “Babygirl?” while she’s still trying to work out what her body’s telling her.
Oh. That.
Why it’s embarrassing now after they scene they had, she doesn’t know, but she hides her flushed cheeks in the crook of his neck and awkwardly admits, “I need to go to the, uh, the bathroom. But I don’t think my legs are working yet.”
“I can get another puppy pad out?”
Despite pretending to huff, she has to smile. He always knows how to put her at ease.
“You did this to me,” she reminds him, not that either of them need the reminder. “You deal with it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he picks her up this time, she’s expecting it, and she wraps her arms around his neck while he carries her to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother to leave, and she doesn’t care to make him. Instead, he holds her bathrobe while she pees, waits for her to finish and wash her hands, and puts the robe back on her before picking her up again, keeping an eye on her the whole time she’s out of his arms just in case she loses her balance.
“Good bitch,” she murmurs, letting out a tired giggle when he makes the most incredulous sound.
It was meant as a passing, unimportant joke, but from those couple of words, she starts to think about the rest of the scene. Memories fill her head as he sits her back down on his lap on the couch. His cum-slicked cock in her mouth. His face when he told her to piss herself. His laugh right before he fucked her throat. His fingers in her ass. His hand slapping her in the face. His cock in her pussy as she came so hard she screamed.
Most memorable of all, his words beneath the performative moans and grunts of the tape.
“Did you mean it?”
He leans back to look at her, confusion furrowing his brow. “Did I mean what, babygirl?”
“What you said. The tape...” she trails off, her eyes glancing around the dark room to avoid his gaze.
“Ohhh.”
Now that he’s understood what she’s talking about, she waits for an answer. She already knows her own.
With a quiet confidence, he holds her by her jaw and turns her to look him in the eye. “Yes. I meant it. You’d be... I mean, wow. But I’m happy for it to be a fantasy unless you tell me otherwise. Same as anything else, I don’t want it to happen if you don’t.”
She forces herself to keep looking at him even though screwing her eyes shut would make it so much easier.
“And what if I did want it?”