EroticReverie

Anastasia

“Saint!” I scream as my body is treated like he hates me. His cock drills into me and it feels like I’m being punished. 

His hands are on my waist, jerking me up off the bed, to better angle my body to suit his needs. My hands smack and pull and clutch at the bed, at his wrists and forearms , at his hands on my waist as I try to buck and thrash off his cock. 

It’s violent and my screams are probably going to get the cops called. But then his hand slaps over my mouth and his other hand braces on the bed near my head as he lays over me, hovering as his hips punch with all his strength and it feels like I’m being murdered by his dick. 

My tears barely fall and I’m half way to disassociation as I become to weak and too tired to fight back. I’m helpless. Getting raped by a man that believes he loves me. I believe this is HIS form of love. But it’s not mine. Yet, there’s a terrible part of me that has grown so used to him , and a small small part of me that has developed feelings for him. Yes. Feelings for the man that is taking my body and using me like nothing more than a set of holes for himself to find pleasure in. 

“You needed this” he groans. “You needed to feel how fucking much I love you” 

He slows, not for my sake, but for his. His hand slips from my mouth and I just sniffle and whimper. My body slightly numb to the pain he’s dealing with each deep thrust. 

His heavy breathing and low groans fill my room along with the squeak of my mattress , and when I look to him his eyes are down where our bodies meet. Watching himself violate me in the name of “love”. 

“My perfect ballerina” he groans as he licks his lips and grunts. 

“You belong only two places Little Ballerina, on that stage, and on my cock” he groans. 

“And I’ll keep you on both” he groans and then pulls me up and I groan in pain as I’m sat on his cock entirely and his hands slide to my upper back behind me as he moves his hips. Making me bounce on him with each rough thrust. My head falls back because I don’t even have the strength to keep that up. I just let him have me. I give up fighting and know that I’m his. Whether I want to be or not. I belong to my stalker. I belong to Saint. 

“I fucking love you” he groans. 

“Don’t you fucking feel it?” He sounds like a fucking psychopath. Because he is. Obviously. 

“You think that I’m the one who chose you Little Ballerina, but I believe you chose me, without even trying. You chose me to be the man who would do anything for you, you knew from the day you let me make love to you in the showers, that you chose me” he groans. 

I don’t bother arguing or reminding him that he raped me. And continues to do so. He would never see it that way. He will always see this as making love. He’s fucked up. 

He drops me on the bed and flips me over like a rag doll as I lay flat on my stomach and his large hands push into the bed and then he’s sliding slowly back into me. 

I close my eyes and my hands fist the covers on the bed as his cock forces its way into me. He goes slow. But his breaths are rapid and he groans as he makes me stretch around him again. You’d think I’d be stretched enough to take it without it hurting. But I’m sore. I feel like I’m gaped , yet his dick still feels like it’s making me stretch even more. It doesn’t matter how slow he’s going right now. My body is struggling to take his cock as he pushes into my abused cunt. 

“Fuuuuuuck” he lets out a long groan. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts and keeps going slowly. 

I keep quiet. Just hoping that soon it will be over. That he’ll finish and leave and never come back. I flinch at my own thoughts. Because , that’s not what I want. Is it? I’d missed him. I’d actually fucking missed him. And I find myself in a funk everyday that he doesn’t leave me a letter and a rose. I find myself trying to pretend I’m thrilled when he leaves alone. But he’s made me accustomed to his violations of my home and my privacy. 

I hate it. I hate that I never turned him in, that I let him do numerous things, including killing a fucking man, without going to the police. Was I any better than him? Letting him get away with being fucking crazy? 

He slows and dips down and brings his mouth near my head. 

“Tell me to cum inside of you Little Ballerina” he groans. 

My pussy clenches. Fucking clenches at the sound of his voice. Why was I turned on? How could I be? He just raped me again, and I’m turned on by his voice demanding I tell him to cum inside of me. 

“Cum inside of me” the words leave my mouth in a whimper and Saint groans and kisses the back of my head. 

“Say it again” he groans as his his move his cock in and out of me in shallow thrusts.

“Cum inside me” I repeat.

“Again” he groans. 

“Cum inside me” I whimper. 

“Don’t stop” he growls. “Keep saying it”

“Cum inside me”

“Cum inside me”

“Cum inside me” 

I repeat the words as he groans and then my words are stolen as I scream as his cock drills deep and hard. Making me feel it in my fucking back and up my spine. I nearly black out from the pain as Saint cums inside of me. Spilling his cum against my walls and drenching me from the inside. 

“Take my fucking cum Anastasia” he grunts and slams deep again. 

“Take it Little Ballerina” he growls and then punches his hips one last time. 

“Fuck” he exhales and breathes hard and I feel his lips press another kiss on my head and his breath blowing against my hair as he pants. 

“I love you” he whispers. “And I’ll never stop loving you” he says and then slides off me, his cock slipping out of me as he drops to the side and onto his back and I turn my head away from him. Just laying there. Feeling the way my body aches. Feeling how loose he’s made me feel, and I can feel his cum as it starts to make its way out of me, my walls bearing down and pushing it out and I close my eyes as I feel it leak out of me, over my pussy, onto my clit and to the bed. I shiver , because that small part of me I want to deny, likes the feeling of his cum covering me between my legs. That small part of me believes he deserves to cum inside of me after all he’s done for me. Even if I never asked him to. That small part of me wonders if letting him hurt me, is the small price to pay to make sure nobody else can. Because I know that he won’t let anyone touch me. He won’t let another man like Miles take advantage of me. or even come close. Not after this. 

I flinch as his hand slips over my back and then relax as he moves it up and down. 

“Youre mad at me again” he says and I roll my eyes. 

“I’m always mad at you.” I say and he keeps rubbing my back. 

“Because I hurt you when I make love to you?” He asks. 

“Among other things , yes.” I say. 

“I can’t apologize. Because I’d be lying if I said I was sorry for the way I make love to you.” He says and I hold my breath and exhale slowly. 

Leave it to a fucking murderer ,rapist in love, to have morals about lying to me. 

“Look at me.” He says and I shake my head. 

“No thank you” I answer. 

“Look at me.” He says and his hand slides up my back and as I go to shake my head again , he fists my hair and I wince at the pull at my scalp as he pulls my hair to lift my head. It’s not overly rough, but the demand of it is felt all over my scalp and I turn my head. 

“What?” I bite out as I glare at him. 

“Come here and kiss me” he says and I scowl at him. 

“The last thing I want is to fucking kiss you right now” I growl. 

He smirks. My nose scrunches as I scowl even more. 

“I can think of other things you’d hate more. Should I list them?” He asks and my eyes narrow. 

“Let’s starts with your little friend Ben” he says and my eyes widen. 

“Saint. No.” I say. 

“Then fucking kiss me” he growls and grabs me and pulls me ontop of him. 

“Kiss me. Because I know you want to Little Ballerina. Kiss me because that little voice in your head is telling you that you want to, stop fighting it. Listen to yourself, listen to what you want” he says and I’m perched ontop of him. My hands on his chest as I look down at him. 

“What I want is to smack you.” I say and his lips quirk up. 

“Go ahead. As long as you kiss me after.” He says with a grin. I grit my teeth and lift my hand and bring it down and crack it against his cheek. I gasp at my own actions. He barely flinched. But it felt…good. I do it again. His hands stay on my hips and grips them as I smack him a third time. 

I’m panting. I smack him a fourth time , this time with my other hand. 

“Are you done?” He growls.

“No.” I breathe hard and strike him again and then his hands grab my wrists and he pulls them up over his head and makes me fall forwards. My breasts crashing to his chest and my mouth , of its own free will, presses hard to his mouth and I let out a cry against his lips.

I kiss him once. Then again. My mouth seems to belong to someone else entirely as I writhe against him while kissing his lips and my tongue pushes over his lips and into his mouth and he groans. 

“Such a mean little thing, but you’ve got the sweetest fucking mouth” he growls and I bite his lip hard and he groans and his hands release mine and my hands slip into his hair and I pull and yank hard as I bite his lip again and the push my tongue against his as his hands coast down my back and to my ass. He grabs me and hoists me up his body. 

“Sit on my fucking face” he growls. But my mouth fights him, I’m not fucking done kissing him. I push myself back down and bite his lip again. 

“I said sit on my fucking -“

“Shut up” I hiss. “Shut the fuck up Saint” 

He groans and then his hands are in my hair and I’m panting and fucking moaning as he angles my head and his mouth goes to my neck and my throat and I groan , my lashes fluttering. Who the hell was I right now? 

I was doing exactly what he told me to do. Listening to what I wanted. And unfortunately, I wanted one thing right now. Him.