A Predator Like Me
Copyright© 2026 by Tom Garb
Chapter 4
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Neil wasn’t really a rapist. Not like Vivian and her “art.” He was an opportunist who spread pleasure. She came from traumatizing her victims. Vivian was an intriguing woman that Neil had to have, even if it meant reshaping himself in her image – and forcing her to take his cock in her lesbian cunt. She fought him every step of the way to becoming his fucktoy… until she didn’t. Amidst their struggle, each faced a loneliness they’d been trying to ignore, and the solution staring them in the face.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mind Control Heterosexual Fiction MaleDom Humiliation Rough Black Female White Male Oral Sex Foot Fetish
Neil’s hotel room was larger than someone on a journalist’s salary could afford, but his ability made it easy for him to get what he wanted. Vivian strode into the room, her black stilettos silent on the thick grey carpet. She paused for a moment just inside the door and hooked the toe of one shoe behind the heel of the other with practiced ease, sliding it off before repeating the motion with its twin. She dropped her jacket next to the shoes and walked barefoot to the center of the room. Her dark figure in her gauzy black dress stood out amongst the gilded baroque furniture. Neil tossed the keycard onto a side table, a mahogany piece with inlaid mother-of-pearl that caught the light, and locked the door behind him.
“Let’s get this over with,” Vivian said, her arms crossed over her chest. “Get your fucking rocks off, reverse whatever the hell you’ve done to me, and get the fuck out of my life.”
“Get this over with?” Neil said. “Rush a connoisseur of suffering like yourself? No. We’re going to do this right. Like one of your projects. I do plan to ‘get my rocks off’, but we’re going to enjoy the journey, and you’re going to leave with a memory you’ll be cumming to for the rest of your life.”
“Sure. Whatever you fucking say.” Vivian’s sarcasm didn’t fool him. Her eyes were fixed on the bed, and she was shifting her weight from one bare foot to the other. She was as eager for this as she was horrified by it. “Cut this tedious fucking foreplay Just fuck me already.”
“First things first,” Neil said. “Why don’t you be a good little slut and get naked? I want to see what I’m going to fuck.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Little slut? Fucking seriously? Is that your pathetic fucking attempt at dominance, you cretinous motherfucker? I’ve heard more intimidating shit from fucking virgins on 4chan. I expected you’d be more creative.” One corner of her mouth curled into a sneer. “You think ‘slut’ is an insult? A slut is a woman who embraces her own desires without apology. Do not get me confused with one of your vacuous, malleable bimbos who giggle and blush at a dirty word and spread their legs because you tickle their brains. I’m the sort of woman who takes ‘slut’ as a compliment, you unimaginative fuck.”
She took a step closer, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet, her toes digging into the pile. “You’re not going to break me with puerile, vanilla-grade bullshit. It has to be personal, and specific, and true. Make it fucking hurt. Tell me I’m a hack who hides her lack of talent behind shock value. That I’m a pretentious piece of shit, a talentless, stupid cunt. Like how I described that twat Jessa and her little cunt of a daughter. Fucking dehumanized, reduced to their orifices. You have to treat me like I treated them. Not people, just walking cunts, objects with tits and holes and pretty faces that look sexy when they’re contorted in pain and streaked with tears.
“That’s how you degrade me. Tell me I’m not witty or intellectual, I’m just a walking, talking set of holes. My cunt. My ass. My mouth. Tell me my mind is worthless, a useless parasite attached to a set of fuckholes. Tell me my art is worthless shit, insipid porn made by a worthless bitch. That the only thing I’m good for is to be your cumrag. Make me hate myself. Humiliate me for being such a weak-willed, useless fucking bitch that I willingly followed a man to a hotel room to get raped because I can’t control my needy cunt. That you’re not going to fuck me, you’re just going to use my warm, wet cunt to get yourself off. Tell me I’m a failure as a person and an artist, and that my only value is as a sheath for your fucking disgusting cock.
“That’s how you insult me with some fucking flair, you clueless dickhead. Not by calling me a ‘slut.’”
Vivian gave him a withering look, but her hand shook as she reached for her dress strap. “I’m going to take my dress off now, not because you told me to, but because my cunt wants me to, and I’m in the habit of giving my cunt what it wants.” She reached up and hooked a thumb in the strap of her dress. “You want to see my tits and cunt? Fine. Have a good fucking look.” She pulled the straps of her dress from her shoulders, letting the sheer black fabric pool at her feet. She stood like an obsidian statue under the warm lights, wearing only a pair of soaked black panties. Her small tits were topped with hard, dark-chocolate nipples.
Neil couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “You cold, or just happy to see me?”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs. Her black cunt hair was matted with her slick. She kicked the panties away and stood with her hands on her hips, projecting bored disdain as if she were at some tedious corporate function rather than naked, about to be raped by a stranger.
“There,” she said. “Are you fucking satisfied? I’m naked. A lesbian cunt, drooling out of my fuckhole because of your fucking mind trick, ready and waiting to be raped.”
Her disdainful, sarcastic delivery was undercut by the terror bleeding through her bravado. Her knees were trembling, and her hands were balled into fists. Her eyes kept darting to the suite’s faux-mahogany door with the wild panic of a caged animal, looking for an escape route that she knew didn’t exist. It looked like every instinct she had was screaming at her to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there and allow what was about to happen to her.
“What’s next, you tedious fuck?” Her voice wavered. “More unoriginal drivel? Are you going to have me make hackneyed declarations about desperately craving your ‘big, hard cock’?” She was trembling, and her breathing was shallow and fast. She stared him down, her jaw set, trying and failing to look like she wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack.
Neil was barely paying attention to what she was saying. Her naked body held all his attention. Her electric blue toes flexed nervously into the thick grey carpet, and she shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other, making her small brown tits jiggle. Her dark, pebbled areolae and hard nipples were begging to be sucked. Her navel was a small, dark hollow, and her stomach was flat and smooth. Her hips flared out slightly, framing her cunt, a dense triangle of black hair that was slick and matted with her arousal. And her face, its sharp lines contorted into a grimace of fury and fear, was so different from the smiling, happy faces he was used to seeing on the women he fucked.
He’d seen a lot of naked women in his life thanks to his gift. Probably thousands, by now, of all shapes and sizes, all ages and races.
So many women.
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