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He walked to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. His blood was so highly charged with adrenaline that he couldn't stand still. He walked back and forth across the cold floor, red spots dancing before his eyes in the dim light. He felt supremely, triumphantly alive. Yes! He had forgotten, he realized, the fullness of the majesty, the triumphant animal glory of a rape well carried out, the brute sexual ecstacy that could only be had by abusing, abasing, torturing and humiliating a beautiful young woman. Yes! He felt like a god. |
And when he remembered his vow to embark on a career of rape, when he was out of this place, his cock
tingled and thickened in anticipation. His limbs still shaking with excitement, he went back to the
sink and splashed more water on himself, trying to calm down. Suddenly he heard something
behind him. He turned around in terror, afraid he'd let too much time pass, that the hit man was
here. But no. Amazingly, Holly was crawling across the floor. When Smith saw her pathetic
attempt to escape, his momentary fear turned immediately into sexual energy. She looked so
utterly helpless, crawling across the floor, her face covered with his cum, her body bruised and
whiplashed, that his cock throbbed instantly with the desire to rape the bitch once more.
He looked at the clock. Still an hour remaining. It was risky, but he had to do it. After
two years of enforced chastity, his prick would not take 'No' for an answer. He strode across the
floor and grabbed the cunt by her ponytail.