THIRTEEN - SOPHIA
I tell myself I'm doing it to save his mother but that's not true. I'm doing it because I want to.
He is naked and the sight is overwhelming. He is made of solid muscle and the one I can't stop staring at is pointing towards me from between his legs. It is enormous, I am sure it could never fit inside me.
I want it to, more than anything. I cannot adequately describe the need that takes over my body in this moment. I do not want him inside me. I need him inside me.
I know where I know him from now. He is the boy I saw at the attic window next door. He is the poor boy who was driven away by his father, vanished off the face of the earth, leaving his sister's body to be discovered.
I know he did not kill her, though he clearly blames himself. I know he is not responsible for the shade of a human being that his mother has become. There is one man who is responsible and he truly is evil. If we do not do this, his mother dies and perhaps me too, tortured for a paying audience in that sterile operating room, to become nothing more than a skull on a shelf, one more exhibit in the museum of insanity.
Perhaps it is that knowledge of impending doom that moves me, that makes my body want to live, to know what sex is like. Somehow it is a rebellion against all the death that surrounds us both, an act of power, the only one I have in this hideous place.
I have the power to give myself willingly to him and I do so, I watch him strip and the fear I had of him fades away. He is my protector. He stood in front of me, not letting Charles take me, defying his own father to keep me safe.
He could have hurt me so many times. When he escaped his cell, when I was tied down and at his mercy. He did not hurt me. He protected me. He cares about me. That breaks my heart. That in this situation, despite my fear of him, the way I have shied away from the beast I thought he was, he could still care for me.
I give myself to him willingly. Whatever he wants to do in this moment, I will accept because there may not be any more moments. This knowledge takes away my fear. It takes away thoughts of after or before. There is only now.
He is naked, my gown is ripped to my thigh.
He looks at my bare legs as he strokes his rigid shaft, not saying a word as he plays with its obscene length.
I can feel myself getting wet just looking at it, at him.
When I wiped the blood away from his face, I didn't expect the dirt to come with it, it looked too ground in, too old. But he had sweated during the fight, the sheen of moisture making it easy to wipe away the deep grime and leave his face looking not brand new but at least not like an animal.
I think as I look at him that he is really fucking handsome, in a gruff, angry way. He looks cross even as he strokes himself though his expression changes when I shift on the bed, raising my knees slightly.
He glances upwards and I think he might pounce on me and crush me under him again but he doesn't. Instead he points at the floor in front of him and I know at once what he wants.
I get on my knees. I am face to face with his shaft, it hits my face as he reaches out and tugs at my night gown, bringing it up and over my head. He tosses it aside but my eyes are fixed on his cock.
He holds it out to me and I suddenly get shy. I can't do this. But the chance to stop the momentum has gone. He is already brushing my lips and my shyness fades the moment I taste his heat.
It burns my skin and I have to take him in my mouth. I have to know how it feels.
He slides over my tongue and my jaw has to stretch painfully to get his shaft in, he is so big.
The veins feel bumpy on my tongue and I cannot breathe, all I can do is let him take my mouth.
He grabs my head, gripping my hair. "No one has ever done this to me," he says. "You are my first."
If I could speak I would tell him, "Me too," but I can do nothing. I almost pass out from the sheer sensation of him all the way in my mouth, filling my throat. It is too much. I can take no more.
He pulls back as saliva runs down my chin. I gasp for air, my pussy throbbing with need, wanting that rock hard cock as much as my mouth does.
He runs himself over my lips, hitting my cheeks, tormenting my face before plunging in again. He starts to thrust and my neck is flung back and forth, his brute strength too much for me to take.
I fight for breath as his eyes go wild. He says nothing else but with a grunt, I realise what is about to happen.
His shaft twitches in my mouth and then as he slides home again, my tongue is coated in his hot cum, it runs down the back of my throat as he gasps through an immense orgasm.
I love the feel of him pulsating in my mouth, the last of his seed dripping onto my tongue. I lick it greedily, grabbing his shaft in both hands and squeezing every drop from him.
He is grinning wickedly as he grabs me, throwing me onto the bed. I land heavily and before I can move, he is shoving my legs apart. "Your turn," he says, sinking onto his knees beside the bed.