Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,1
of my cock. She calls out, her moans equally erotic and earth-shuddering. Needing her to be quiet before our romp is caught by one of the many guards who walk these corridors at night, I remove my hand from her sweaty hip to her mouth. I can’t see shit in the poor conditions, but my hand is so large, it swamps a majority of India’s face, so it’ll soon take care of her moans.
“If you don’t want your husband-to-be to know the reason you’ll have to dye your wedding dress before festivities next week, take it down a notch.” My words are grunts jutted by the brutal slams of my cock.
The tightness of India’s cunt guarantees her father’s claims about her once saintliness were true, however, I can’t hold back. I love to fuck, and although I’ve dreamed about this day for weeks, it’s above and beyond anything I could have imagined.
Not all virginity fucks have to be uncomfortable. You’ve just got to find a man who knows what he’s doing. I doubt soft-cock Achim would have been up to the task. That’s why he fools around with the help, so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone’s needs bar his own.
“Or perhaps we should let Achim hear your screams, then, once I’m done claiming every inch of you, we can dye your dress in his blood,” I growl when India’s pussy tightens around my shaft. She tugs at me, gripping my cock as well as her dislike of her husband-to-be tightens the noose around his neck. “Do you want a war, Duchess?” I ask while rubbing my thumb over her clit. “‘Cause I’m ready for battle. I was built for carnage, so perhaps we should play the fucker at his own game.”
My gravelly reassurance I’ll fight to the death for her sends India freefalling into ecstasy. She comes apart in my arms, her entire body used to climax. I continue pumping into her, unafraid of the fiery wreck I’m steering us toward. My cock is not sheathed, and the sucks of her cunt are greedy, but the only way I’m pulling out without coating the walls of her cunt with my seed is if someone puts a gun to my head.
Even then, there are no guarantees.
This feels too fucking good to let a threat of death end it.
“Let them hear you,” I say as I drop my hand from her mouth to her hip before doubling the rock of my hips. “Let him hear what I do to you, and how well the Corbyn men fuck. Let the war begin without a single bullet being fired. I’ll give you the crown you’re craving, Duchess. It just won’t be pronged with jewels.”
India begins to shake like she’s about to have another orgasm. “You like that, don’t you, Duchess? You want to rule a kingdom, not sit in a crystal tower.” I pin her closer to the shelving with my hips before returning my hand to her face. I grip her cheeks firm enough she’ll feel the sting of my fingers as long as her pussy will feel the burn of taking my cock unprepared. “I’ll give you what you want. I will give you the entire world… after I’ve taken it all away from you first.”
As cum erupts from my cock in roaring spurts, I seal my lips over India’s. My kiss is as cruel as the way I claimed her—as will be the war our fuck instigated.
One
Trey
Present Day
The moans in my dreams sound real, as does the wetness coating my shaft. There’s just one difference. I’m not fucking India in a pitch-black butler’s pantry as my deranged mind has once a week for the past six years. I’m being fucked, from above, by a whore who should know better than to serve herself a generous helping of the monster dick memories of my past instigate.
I didn’t get my cock pierced solely for the women I fuck without knowing their names or their life history. They’re to remind me of the tightness of India’s cunt, and the way it rippled around me when she moaned into the cool night air. They are for the coolness of my veins when I watched her blood drain from her body and heard the chilliness of her screams. They’re so I’ll always feel pain even when I’m being pleasured.
They are not for dirty little whores who don’t understand a drug-fueled gangbang isn’t an open invitation to ride my cock anytime she feels like it.
“You