Bernice began to tremble. She felt so weak, she could hardly hold onto the letter opener. Her brother wasn't playing games anymore.

"Ronny," she said softly, trying to smile. "Be reasonable. Let's talk this over, okay?"

The teen twanged his cock with the tip of his finger, inspected the sticky gob of fucklube he'd rubbed off, sniffed it, then rubbed it on his leg. His balls twisted in their brown sac. He sneered at her. "Take off your shirt."

Bernice fought the impulse to bawl. He wasn't even paying any attention to the letter opener as a threat. He was beyond listening to reason. He'd attempted to assault her a dozen times over the last few months, but she'd always managed to either threaten him off or reason with him. Tonight, she knew, neither would work. She had to try, though.

She got up out of her chair, stepped out around the desk to face him, the letter opener held before her at her midriff. "I'll use this if I have to. Now get out of here."

For just a moment, the teen appeared hesitant, intimidated. Then his prick flexed and he grabbed it, his sinewy brown hand fisting it slowly, firmly. His pisshole opened up and more fucklube leaked out, trickling down over his knuckles.

"I'm gonna shove this up your cunt, bitch. Maybe I'm even gonna ram it up your shithole."

Bernice caught her breath. He deserved to die for saying things like that, deserved to burn forever in hell.

She lunged forward, jerking the letter opener toward him. For just a moment she felt the perverse desire to stab his bulging ball-sac, to let the air out of his balls.

Ronny didn't move except to let go of his prick. "Watch it," he said coolly in his half changed voice.

Bernice was panting, her heart hammering. "Then get out of here! Just get out!"