The House of Lesslie Part 2

I cupped her breasts from behind, my gloved fingers lifting them up, weighing them, as if my hands were a scale. It caused another small whimper that came out of the Irish girl's mouth, and despite her rigid posture, her training so far, she couldn't resist arching her head back and closing her eyes, just a little, her waterfall of hair falling into my face.

Without warning, I took one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and twisted it around. The guttural moan rose to a high pitched scream that started in her chest, lungs of air and lust, expelled through the pain.

I laughed quietly.

She still tried to maintain her posture, even as my other hand reached down from behind, found her ass and parted those cheeks, not once relenting, not once stopping to turn and twist that nipple, adding to her pain.

Sweat began to pour out of her, and with it, a smell of desire and deviance, running down her naked body and gathering in those holes and crevices that were my property.

I slid my fingers into her, slickening the rubber with her flowing cunt juices that quickly became white and frothy around the latexed black. Tears followed the sweat, single, quiet little rivers of pain that streamed down her cheek as her nipple remained locked in that cage of pain, sending signals through all of her nerves and telling her to move, to get away from me, to run, to escape.

And she didn't flinch.

She didn't speak.

What wonderful raw material to work from, I thought.

I could have chosen anyone, I knew. It was the randomness of this choice that surged through my own body, the knowledge of such power, to lift somebody up from their destined station in life or to drop them into the darkest depths of despair.

Between my fingers, Caroline's filthy, sweaty shithole opened up, allowing me to enter her through her ring of flesh that otherwise would be a barrier, never meant to be broken or defiled, but now a willing ring of muscles and nerves.

There was barely any resistance as she opened up, opening her gates to her back and allowing me to discover her insides, a wet and delightful mess that had been stored there, full of rich, earthy flavor and wonderfully soft. My fingers buried themselves into her guts to dig it up, to feel it swirl around, to scoop it up.