Chapter 2: Out of the Shadows

Molly coughed, my soft cock slipping from the tightness of her throat, and I let go of her hair. She fell to one side of me, her chest heaving and a froth of spittle, snot, and cum bubbling up between desperate, wheezing breaths.

“Not on the sheets,” I said, nudging the girl to the edge of the bed.

Molly moved as directed, leaning over the side of the bed. I watched as she hacked up wads of spit and jizz onto the white tiled floor, her body trembling from the effort.

Pathetic, I thought.

And then on some strange impulse, I kicked the girl. Not so hard as to hurt her, but just enough to push her out of the bed.

She landed with a soft thump still coughing and spluttering and looking up at me with red, watery eyes. “Monster,” she spit, wiping at her lips.

“I know,” I said, my lips twisting into a cruel smile.

She flinched as if I’d hurt her.

You did hurt her.

That was undeniable. I’d treated Molly like a piece of meat, a disposable hole to take and toss aside. I’d known it was wrong, but that hadn’t mattered.

It’s what she deserves.

I watched Molly slowly come to her knees, her legs trembling and weak. She stumbled as she tried to stand, and then slipped in the puddle of our filth as she tried to catch herself.

“There’s no shame in crawling,” I told her.

Molly looked up at me and I could tell she knew this was a lie. But she’d crawl for me regardless. She knew that her degradation was what I wanted, and accepted that it was what she deserved.

“I like you on your knees,” I said.

Molly said nothing, turning away from me. Her body shook with the effort to keep her composure. I could tell she was on the edge of bursting into tears.

I wasn’t without remorse, but as she crawled away from the bed and towards the bathroom, regret and guilt were overwhelmed by a possessive triumph. I had marked her. She was mine.

Molly crawled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I heard the faucet turn on and then the sound of crying. Her sobs started soft and feminine. I knew she was trying to be quiet so as not to upset me, but as the anguish poured out of her the sobbing grew louder and less controlled. It was a raw, heartbreaking cry, the kind that comes from self-loathing and shame.

I found it undeniably arousing.

I looked at my new cock. It was soft now, no longer the terrifying monster that had reduced a beautiful young woman to a quivering wreck, but it still retained enough of its size to seem menacing. I gave it a few experimental tugs, feeling an unfamiliar potency unspool within me.

After a minute, I heard Molly quieting, followed by the water turning off a short while later.

She emerged from the bathroom, her eyes red and swollen. Molly had washed off her makeup and the mess I’d made of her face, and looked more youthful without it. Her expression was hesitant, and when she smiled, it was just a little unsure.

She bit her lip as she looked at me, but I kept my face blank and unaffected. She looked at the door to my room, which connected us to the rest of the hospital. It was closed but not locked and we could hear the sounds of the hospital from the other side, the soft footfalls of nurses, monitors beeping, and the occasional muffled phone call.

Molly lowered herself to her knees and crawled into the room. She kept her eyes on me, even as a fierce blush colored her cheeks. In the sobering aftermath of my milking, it was humiliating to be on her hands and knees. But Molly was an obedient girl and I’d given her my preference. She would crawl until I told her not to.

She crawled to the side of my bed and I reached out and stroked her soft, strawberry-blonde hair. I ran my fingers over her scalp, enjoying the memory of skullfucking the pretty, little thing. She leaned into my touch, nuzzling my hand like a good little fuckpet. She licked playfully at my fingers when they strayed too close to her mouth.

“How long do we have?” I asked her. I was still stroking her hair, enjoying the feel of her soft, silky locks.

Molly glanced at a clock on the wall and then looked up at me apologetically. “Visiting hours start at nine, and Sarah always arrives on time.”

I looked at the clock. That gave us less than ten minutes. I turned back to Molly. Between her legs, her pretty pink pussy was full and swollen. My cock was more than double the size it used to be, and that pussy looked so small and fragile. I desperately wanted to break it. I wanted to break Molly, to core the cutie with my monster cock, but there wasn’t time to do it right.

But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun.