Ex

Chpt 3. Getting Started

“Goddamned, motherfucking BITCH!”

Her shirt went first. Her beautiful, burgundy red dress shirt torn in half in one smoothly scary move.

“DON'T...”

Small fists punched straight for an enraged face, connected, but may as well have been butterflies raging against a tropical storm.

“YOU EVER...”

Her black lace bra—a gift from her mother, ripped in one stroke.

“TALK TO ME...”

Well-worn jeans yanked and pulled, nearly torn in half with the force of a brutal hand.

“LIKE THAT...”

Torn pants, ripped panties. The bra was lost somewhere, somehow, and hard biceps pushed her down, down...deep into a downy mattress...

“AGAIN!”

Damien flipped her over as if he were playing with a doll, Elaya's curvy but small form much too short and light to fight his massive frame. “Let me go!” She kicked, but merely played directly into Damien's hands as he neatly captured her wayward limbs and yanked hard, pulling Elaya halfway off of the bed and directly into cock's reach.

NO—fuck! He can't really be serious!

But he was, and as Elaya felt Damien haul her up to...drop her, she realized that sex with him would not be the pleasantly boring lovemaking sessions that she was used to.

Not at all.

“Come on now, Damien. You and I both know that you're not really going to do this...So you gave me a scare, fine, but you're not going to do this...”

“I'm not?”

“No, this isn't you...you wouldn't be able to live with yourself afterwards.”

“You have a point...”

Elaya let out a deep breath. Good, he finally listened to reason.

“...if I cared.”

Damien laughed with his rebuke—actually fucking chuckled with that infuriatingly condenscending “so the fuck what” tone that she used to reserve for him—only reserved for him. Pride, anger, sheer vengeful vindictiveness filled Elaya to her boiling point and overflowed from her lips—damn the consequences. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

“You fucking spineless, ball-less prick! No wonder this is the best you can fucking do you poor excuse for a lousy fuck! Go ahead, wow me with your prowess and wake me up after the two minutes that you're done!”

There were no emotions, just pure testosterone-driven reaction. Elaya screeched as Damien yanked her head backwards at a ninety-degree angle, forcing her to look up to him from a nearly perpendicular angle. He was naked and hard and ready and oh god, he looked so angry...

“My name to you is now 'Sir.' All I want to hear is 'Yes, Sir', 'No, Sir', and 'Please more, Sir'--that is the extent of what you can say to me. Do you understand?”

The grip on her hair was punishing—hair follicles ripping and tearing, working against her every nerve ending that suddenly pulsed with full, vigorous life and made her body tingle and tremble in ways she had never known. It couldn't be...she couldn't possibly be...

...enjoying herself...

“Fuck Y—”

Elayas didn't have time to scream as a large, thick appendage that she never remembered being as large and as thick as it was slammed into her, hitting an odd wall of her passage brutally as Damien forced himself inside. Elaya's entire body jerked and stiffened, breath cut off as Damien drove deep, aiming for her stomach—hard, unyielding thrusts that split and mended her, carved pleasure from pain that rocked in the crevices of her body. Elaya couldn't think, couldn't breathe as he stroked deep inside her boiling core, claiming her so hard that her thighs chafed as he bucked and drove into her. Tears escaped her, screams took too much energy...Elaya felt her entire body lock in place—arms rigid, legs akimbo, face contorted in a silent cry.

It felt so damned good.

“SCREAM, DAMN YOU!”

Rough hands found curly, soft tresses and yanked so hard that a few snapped altogether, arching Elaya's frame at an odd diagonal angle halfway buried underneath Damien's hulking wieght and halfway driven into her plush bed.

But no scream came.

Elaya convulsed and gasped, her need for oxygen warring with the need to release the unrelenting tension that was gripping her head and loins. Her pussy ached already as Damien pillaged it brutally, every thrust claiming a piece of her poorly tended soul.

For his part, Damien could hardly keep himself together. Elaya was so hot, and so tight... A small pang of guilt hit him when he realized that that meant that she hadn't been with anyone since him, in some odd way she was pure and true...

But she still wouldn't listen—still wouldn't so much as SAY HIS GODDAMNED NAME!

“DAMN YOU!”

Damien twisted, moving his body over and up so that Elaya's frame rippled and covulsed involuntarily. He was killing her, ripping her inside out, plunging into her frame, her heart, her soul with each rhythmic twist of his dick, and...

...she loved it.

No, I can't...I won't...Elaya could feel the last strands of her restraint breaking along with the stretched locks of her hair...so fragile...

“...please...”

Nonononono....DON'T DO IT! DON'T SAY ANYTHING!

“Please WHAT?”

DON'T. GIVE. IN...

“...please...sir...”

Damien stopped his brutal thrusting cold to relish the moment—the vindication of so many months of bullshit and tantrums distilled into two words of crystalline vengeance. He almost couldn't believe that he had done it, that he had finally broken the over-proud woman, and primally licked from Elaya's shoulder blade up to her ear in one fell swoop. She shuddered beneath him, and he marveled that he hadn't done this before. She was perfect for him this way—spent, pained, and submissive. He loved it. He loved her.

But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“Good start, sweetness. Now we can really begin...”

***

A/N: Sorry for the long absence. I try to fit more in whenever I can. Please read and feed the review monster...