“I’ve been doing some research.” He says quietly, as he starts working the digit in and out so fucking slowly.
“A, about what?” I whisper. When does the man have time to research shit when he’s busy murdering half the country?
“About your cunt. About why it’s so damned tight.” He says so matter of fact.
I don’t know what to say to that, how to reply. I blink back tears as he keeps up his exploration, only, it doesn’t feel quite as brutal as it first started.
“Turns out you really do have a magic cunt.” He says, before he curls his finger inside me and I swear something snaps, something in me shifts and it feels like the entire universe shifts, it almost explodes in my head.
God, it feels so good. It actually feels good.
I arch my back, I lose all sense of reason and I’m moaning, gasping, grabbing at the bed sheets like a thing possessed.
My feet kick out, my body physically begs for more and, as he relaxes the movement, I know he must look so smug.
“Want to know what it is?” He asks.
“Wha, what, what what is?” I stammer. I feel like I’ve lost track of the conversation, lost track of everything beyond that one, incredible moment.
“You have a condition. It’s called vaginismus. It means your cunt physically locks up when someone tries to fuck you.”
I don’t know what I’m meant to say to that. What reply I can give. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Does that mean I’m broken,morebroken?
“Gunther probably caused it after the first time he fucked you.” Devin continues. “He almost killed you that day, so it wouldn’t be surprising if it left some permanent trauma. Of course, it doesn’t help that he continued to fuck you the way he did, continued to let his friends fuck you…”
“Stop.” I whisper, bringing my hands up to hide my face, to hide my shame. It might have been years ago now, but those memories still feel so raw, those moments still in so many ways feel like they happened only yesterday. I wish they were gone. I wish all of it were erased from my memory. I’d rather have great big gaps, great big moments of nothing than be living with all the still in my head.
I can feel Devin watching me, I can feel his eyes on me. “It can be fixed.” He says softly, more softly than it feels is possible from a brute like him. “Want to know how?”
I shake my head, feeling like the walls are collapsing in on me, that all of this is suddenly too much. This entire conversation is too intimate, too personal, Devin, in so many ways, still feels like the enemy.
And then a wave of something, a tsunami of pure pleasure explodes inside me. I know he’s doing it, I know he’s found that spot, whatever it is, and I’m rolling, writhing, losing what little control I have as he plays my body exactly the way he wants.
“That’s how.” He says, as his fingers still, as I lay there, panting, heaving, beside him.
“Ho, how?” I breathe.
He plants what feels like a soft kiss on my forehead before he answers. “I just have to ease you into it, ensure you’re properly warmed up and ready for my cock.”
I don’t know what to say to that, I don’t how I’m meant to respond.
He starts peppering my body with kisses and then he slides his finger out before he pushes himself into me, and I’ll admit, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feelanything.
“Fuck,” He groans. “It feels even better to have your cunt dripping.”
I let out a deep moan, all but agreeing with him. He’s right, it does feel better. It feels incredible.
My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and for the first time in my life I don’t feel out of my depth, I don’t feel out of control. I feel wanted, I feel desirable in a way that isn’t shameful, that isn’t degrading.
Maybe it’s the afterglow, the effects of already coming on his fingers too. Whatever it is, I’m a desperate, needy whore for him, just as he says I am.
Devin leans over, peppering my skin, peppering my scars with the lightest of kisses. But I swear he’s holding back, that he’s still treating me like I’m fragile, like I’m breakable, like I’m a victim he has to manage with kid-gloves.
“Bite them,” I gasp.
He stills, and I’m certain those deadly eyes fix on my face. “You don’t mean that.” He replies.
I let out a laugh that sounds as desperate as I feel. “Yes, I do.” I state. “I’m not that scared girl I was before. It’s been five years, Devin, five fucking years. You think I haven’t learnt since then, you think I haven’t realised…”
