"Relax," he said, through tightly clenched teeth. Then he began doing it to her again, doing it so slow that he could feel the sides of his shaft squeaking over her snug-fitting walls.

Joselyn clung to him, her legs winding about his back, her arms about his neck, and she began to sob. It had finally dawned on her why he was screwing her that way. He wasn't doing it to drive her crazy… or to turn her on… her pleasure or pain didn't matter in the least to him. All he cared about was prolonging his own ecstasy, postponing his climax as long as possible. The realization that he didn't even care enough about her to torture her, that she was nothing more than a handy vessel, a place to slide his cock, both humiliated and aroused her. It made her feel absolutely worthless and that feeling underscored her own fears about herself and her own need to be overwhelmed, to be totally dominated.

"That's better," he wheezed, his ass rising and falling, forcing his cock to slip in and out of her cunt.

She shuddered as she felt her own juices trickling down between her buttocks, searing over the tiny floral adornment of her anus, as she felt her tummy push up and down as the monstrous thing filled and emptied her, distending her whole lower torso. Flickers of delight danced in her loins and then the flickers blossomed, but slowly, so very slowly, like a slow motion replay of a bonfire leaping to life. It took forever for the pleasure to build and during those interminable seconds, she collapsed, her mind caved in. She knew that he was making her cum, controlling her like a puppet, making her cum to his whim, and that he didn't give a damn whether she orgasmed or not.

"Yeeee!!" she shrilled, arching her back, her long neck, as the klieg lights flashed on in her skull, as the sheath of her cunt closed down on the huge cock.

Velasquez stiffened. His eyes rolled up in his head so only the whites showed. Her cumming cunt was milking his cock, sucking on it with a ravenous hunger.