I'm sure many of you were disappointed when you read Alive. There you were, set to masturbate to delicious incest, and what did I give you? Psychological implications. Well, not this time.
I must warn you that rape happens. I must also warn you that the victim likes it. And I know, it was offensive when I did that in #69 and it'll be offensive now. But I can't quit, y' know? I have an audience that likes it and I understand that it isn't a good thing, which is more than you can ask of some.
Yep, maybe if I keep repeating it, I won't get hate mail from the rightfully indignant. That always works.
He had her right where he wanted her.
She was psycho to be sure, attacking him out of the blue, even when he'd done nothing wrong - yet. Hell, he hadn't even noticed the Mimigas in the room. He was there for that sexy blonde scout, for those perky breasts filling out her camisole, for that smooth rear packed tight in her pants. He'd wanted her from the moment he saw her standing across that sand pit.
So here she was now sitting weakly on the floor, staring at him with deep blue eyes, full chest heaving. He watched it rise and fall, thinking about how badly he wanted to grope those tits, suck on them, maybe even sit on her stomach and put them to use. Of course, he wasn't the type to rape for the hell of it. He hadn't wanted to hurt her.
But she deserved it now.
She couldn't struggle now if she wanted to. So she didn't fight it when he pushed her flat on the floor. Something in her cringed when she saw the lump in his pants, when he started to undo her belt. She'd thought he was one of those killer robots, here to murder the little Mimigas she looked after. Never did she think he might be here to assault her
"Cute panties," he said, fondling her through the yellow-green cloth. It was damp within seconds, something that made him smile inside; whether she wanted it or not, he aroused her. When they were soaked to his liking, he yanked the underpants clean off. They smelled like a wet dream, coated with her goopy, tangy-tasting juices.
She finally pleaded for him to stop when he fingered the literal slit between her legs, tears welling up in those pretty blue eyes. He pretended not to hear, smearing the ashen skin around the opening with her desire. As he spread her open, his rod free of its cotton cage and poised to violate, he had to wonder... Was she a virgin? And would she get pregnant if he painted her insides with his hateful love?
She didn't scream as he expected, but moaned softly as he entered her, slipping in up to the hilt with no effort. It wasn't this that surprised him, but the fact that he fit inside her perfectly. As if they were built to screw each other.
The poor girl could only cry and pant as she tightened involuntarily around him, that firm, steel pole sliding in and out of her with the rhythm of a piston. It wasn't that he was hurting her; no, quite the opposite. She couldn't stand it, but she felt... so good! So full! It was like she'd been with him before, and there was an empty ache in her that eased as he took her. She was worse than him, a total masochist. No. A slut with no self-respect.
His whole body tingling with sick pleasure, he took his gloves off so he could feel it as he touched her, petting her golden hair, stroking her grey-flushed face. She trembled as he reached under her shirt, caressing her with a near-loving gentleness. He knew he liked having his nipples played with; did she like it when he teased hers, circling the hard nubs with the tips of his fingers?
It wasn't bad enough for him to touch her like that. No, he had to lean down and lick her ear from base to tip, lightly sucking on the sensitive antenna. It was too much. She tried to shove him off her, but he clutched her arms and pinned them at her sides.
" he whispered, "all I wanted was to fuck you senseless. It didn't have to be rape.
With that, he pressed his mouth against hers, tongue probing the slick cave of her mouth. In surrender, she kissed him back, first hesitantly, then with undeniable passion.
He pulled back in surprise, licking his warm lips. "Oh... So you do
"N-no..." she protested in a quavering voice. "I don't..."
Unable to keep from smiling, he let go of her arms and held onto her waist. "Oh, yes you do. And it looks like you've gotten really close, too."
She finally screamed when he pulled her bodily onto him, pounding into her roughly. Now this... the way she clawed helplessly at his undershirt, tugged at his scarf, begged for him to let her go...
"S-stop! Please! You're hurting me! I can't stand it! G-get off me! It hurts!" She gripped his shirt, breathing raggedly. "It hurts... Hurts so good..."
She went limp, head lolled back, drawing in a deep breath through her teeth. As she shuddered in a jerky seizure, her mind shut down. There was only him. He was inside her. He made her feel this way. He marked her as his with a permanent internal stain, now and forever.
He lay next to her for a long time, hating himself. He was no better than the murderer she thought he was. No, a rapist was worse. When he finally got up, he glanced about at the unconscious bodies littered on the floor. Some hero,
Slowly regaining her senses, she held herself up, saw him leaving the building. "W-wait," she said, and waited for him to turn around. "What's your name?"
He looked away. "I don't remember."
There was a name for how she felt about him. It started with an S, and it meant she had problems. But she didn't care. Her insides knew he'd marked them before, and not by force. And to be fair, she tried to kill him for no good reason.
"I'm Curly. Curly Brace."
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