Chapter 9

Neil dropped the curtain, and Vivian’s confident smirk vanished. Her toes stopped moving on his cock.

“My God, I feel sick,” she said wonderingly. “That’s incredible.” She looked down her legs at the hard cock she was still holding with her feet. “This is so disgusting. I changed my mind. Or you did for me. Whatever. Get away from me. Get your gross cock off me.” She pulled her feet back. “Don’t touch me.” Her whole body language had changed. She was no longer a confident, sexually charged predator. She was a trapped, cornered animal, ready to fight for her life.

Neil pushed the chair backwards as he got up. A step forward brought him up against the couch. Vivian shrank back, her eyes wide with terror, knowing what was coming next.

“Fuck, this is so weird.” The last word came out as a high-pitched squeak, followed by a shuddering sob. “I remember wanting you to do this to me, but now that it’s actually happening ... it’s fucking horrible.” She pulled a pillow from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a shield. Her gaze dropped to his cock, hard and ready for her. “You’re really going to fucking do it, aren’t you? You’re going to fucking rape me.”

“Momentarily,” Neil said. “For now, I’m going to look at your cunt,” he grabbed the pillow out of her hands and threw it across the room, “and your tits, and watch you deal with how fucked you are.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled, scrambling away from him, pressing herself into the far corner of the couch and pulling her knees up to her chest. “Don’t you dare come any closer. I’ll fucking kill you.” Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route, or a weapon, anything she could do to avoid the inevitable. “You’re a sick, evil bastard.”

“No, I’m a gentleman, here to give the lady what she wants. You were the one who asked for this, remember?”

She nodded, but it was a terrified, jerky motion. “I remember. But I don’t want it anymore. Please, Neil. Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

“Too late,” Neil said. “I’m a man of my word. You’re going to get your art, and I’m going to get ... you.” He stood over her, letting her terror build. “And right now, what I want is to hear you beg some more. It’s making me hard.” He grinned. “You taught me something tonight, Viv. That a woman’s tears can be just as sexy as her smile.”

She looked at his cock, which was pointing right at her, and her expression of horror intensified. “No, please...” she held up her hands. “I’ll find you a new girl to fuck tonight. Something young and pretty, exactly your type. I’ll fucking bring her to you myself. Just ... please ... not me. I don’t want a cock in me. Especially not yours.”

“Especially mine,” Neil said, playing to her twisted desires. His cock gave an eager throb as he watched her shrink away from him, scooting her ass across the expensive upholstery. “Wasn’t it your idea to become my fucktoy? You wanted a partnership where I would get your cunt wet by raping innocent women for your art, and in return, you would be my personal rape-doll. My willing sex slave.” He reached out and trailed a finger down her trembling arm. She was trying to pull further away, but she was already in the corner of the couch; there was nowhere for her to go. He grabbed her wrist. “You offered to be my property, and begged me to say yes.” Her skin was warm and soft, and he could feel the frantic race of her pulse beneath his touch. He wondered how much of that was fear, how much was lust, and how much of a difference there was between the two for her right now. “The deal was that I get to rape you, over and over, for as long as our partnership lasts.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You agreed you’d take whatever I wanted to dish out, and that it would be ‘fucking worth it’. Remember?”