I twist her hair in my fist, giving her a little hurt, getting her ready. "You're going to feel alarmed and choked when I shove my cock down your throat. It's how I need it, though. You're going to relax and let me do whatever I want to you. Got it?"

Warily she grunts her assent.

"It'll feel wild and fucked-up, but you'll see that it's just another thing." I nudge her head, thrusting into her mouth. She gags, and I pull out.

"Close your eyes. Relax." I push in again, slower. "You're gonna take me. Turn yourself over to me."

She relaxes her throat. She's getting it.

"See? That's good."

I fuck her face with more force, making her take me deeper. "That hand, it's a little bit of a cheat, isn't it? You need to let go of my cock now. I need you to take all of me."

She lets go and grips my thighs. I tighten my fists on her hair and plunge in deeper. She makes a little sound, but she's going with it. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel amazing.

I feel like a fucking animal, animated by some prehistoric madness.

It gets even more intense when she turns herself over to my total control. Like she gives up on dignity, on being anything but a thing for my use. It's un-fucking-believable how hot she is, giving herself over to my control. Trusting a twisted motherfucker like me.

"Close your eyes. Concentrate." I reach over and grab my phone and my gun. The phone is to record. The gun is to make it look good for the camera. To make it look like I'm forcing her.

She'll hate me. But it saves her finger.

I hit record and set the phone on the side table, angled just right to get me fucking her face. "You love it like this, don't you?" I thrust harder, in and out. Tears leak from the sides of her dark lashes.

I'm merciless-I have to be.

I push in harder, hitting resistance. She gags.

"Don't you fucking gag, Mira. Take it like the whore you are." Something in her changes, like energy ramping up, fingers digging into my thighs.

The phone records my hand twisting up her hair alongside the gun. It gets her tears. It gets my cock disappearing through her lips over and over.

"Suck harder, bitch," I say. "You're mine to use however I want. When I say suck harder, I fucking mean it."

She sucks harder. I groan.

It looks fucking violent. Like I'm mauling her, like I'm really fucking her up. What that camera doesn't capture is the energy stoking between us every time I say something. Like she actually likes that. I know I'm getting off.

"That's right, you fucking whore. Take it!" I shove my cock in long and strong. "You'll take it in every fucking hole."

Her fingers tighten some more, tits rubbing hard against my legs.

I keep up in front of the camera, knowing I'm capturing the force, the ugliness, but so much more is happening, like a wave, swelling up, taking the two of us somewhere.

Like we're both getting off on it, like it's real for a moment.

"I'll clamp you open and use you like the piece of cockflesh you are," I gasp. "I'll fuck everything out of you."

I clench her hair with my other hand. She softens for me like she knows that's what I'm needing now. She's a rag doll for me, letting me have her completely. The feeling of it is un-fucking-believable.

My elbow knocks the phone off the table and onto the floor. I don't care. I don't care about anything but being lost in her, and she seems like she's lost in me. I don't care if it's an illusion.

"Take it, bitch."

I splay my non-gun hand over her head, stroking her, needing to touch her as much as possible, fucking her face, moving with her, breathing with her, both animated by the same wild energy.

My eyes are watering from the power of it. I won't say it's crying, but I won't say it's not.

She's amazing and beautiful and everything I lost.

CHAPTER SIX.

Mira The way he uses me is violent. Primitive. Demeaning. And all I can think is, don't stop.

He warned me he was going to be rough. He warned me I'd feel alarmed when he shoved his cock all the way down my throat. I was ready for that.

I wasn't ready for the names he would call me.

Or to be so wildly turned on by it all.

It's as if we crossed over to the right side of wrong, and everything is too hot, and his cock is too huge, and I have too many clothes. I want him to lay me out and use me. I want him to do anything to me. Everything to me. I want him to lay me out and use me like cockflesh, like he said he would. Is that even a word?

I pull back, knowing he'll shove my head back onto his cock, and he does, fingers digging into my scalp.

My nipples rub on his legs, heating-from the friction, maybe-and I nearly get off. It's pure madness. Usually I need a lot of help.

But this is Aleksio being Aleksio. He always went too far, and I always loved him for it.

I feel when he's going to come.

"No teeth. Don't you fucking..." He jerks into my throat, forcing me to swallow. The orgasm goes on forever. He holds my head firmly in his grip, panting.

I move my tongue a tiny bit and he clutches my hair. "God! Don't move."

I feel dazed. Heart pounding. This was the wildest and most powerful sexual experience of my life, and I didn't even come.

"Okay," he whispers after a while, gently extracting himself from me. I sit on the coffee table, wiping my mouth and striking the tears from my cheeks.

His eyes shine, and I know he felt the power of what just happened. The mad connection. Deep down, I know that neither of us have been here before. He reaches out and brushes my hair from my forehead.

That's when I see the gun in his other hand, dark and cold and black.

He was holding a gun? Why? Why would he need a gun?

"Don't worry, the safety was on." He puts it aside, eyes averted, and then he swipes his phone off the floor. He presses something. A red light goes off.

My mouth falls open. "What the hell? What did you do?"

"Saved your finger."

Red. A record light.

He tucks himself in, zips himself up.

He recorded us? Why record us like that? With him holding a gun? Why would he want to make it look like he was being a violent asshole, forcing me to do that?

Suddenly everything in the room gets too bright, too real. "No!" I go for the phone.

He grabs my wrist, hauling me up off the couch with him. "Leave it."

"You're going to show that recording to him? No!" I try to twist free. "You can't!"

He can, and he will.

I'm flooded with shame for how much I enjoyed it. And Aleksio made a movie out of it! To frighten Dad!

"Fuck!" I jerk and twist, trying to get at the phone. "You can't! Please."

"Sorry."

"Oh my God!"

That's when Viktor comes in. He regards us calmly, like it's no big deal Aleksio is manhandling me. Aleksio tosses the phone to his brother. "Play it."

"No! Don't!"

Viktor taps the screen.

"Don't watch it!" I go for Viktor now, but Aleksio has me.

"You can't send Dad that clip."

"We're not sending him your bloody finger. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Aleksio. So cool, so smooth. Like it meant nothing to him. And me like an idiot, getting off on his rough treatment. Making myself vulnerable to him. Showing him something I never even showed myself. I want to die.

Viktor pockets the phone. "Her severed finger would be more extreme. More urgency. But this is more pain for the old man."

"You guys are animals!"

Aleksio tightens hold on me. "You need to be done going crazy, or we'll handcuff and gag you."

"You have to erase it!"

"You prefer the finger? That's what you're saying here?"

I trusted Aleksio. I followed him somewhere extreme, and he ripped my heart open. Cutting off my finger seems tame in comparison.

"You're thinking about it? Fuck! No. Fuck that." He turns to Viktor. "Call and see if the sack of shit's awake."

Viktor takes out his own phone.

Aleksio finally has to bear-hug me to keep me still. I try to push him off. I want nothing to do with him. No go.

"Aleksio," I whimper. Imagining Dad seeing that makes me want to vomit. It will quite possibly be the last thing he sees before he dies.

Viktor's speaking in Russian. He sounds upset.

"What's wrong?"

"Aldo is out cold," he says. "He'll be out hours more."

"What the fuck?" Aleksio says.

"They had to give him something. He was making trouble."

"Fuck!" He lets me go. "Don't make me gag and handcuff you. I mean it," he warns.

"Has he taken his meds?" I ask Viktor. "He needs them. He keeps them in a plastic thing in his pocket."

Viktor holds up a finger. More Russian. Then he nods at me. "He had his meds. He is fine. Just not awake." He clicks off.

"Fuck!" Aleksio kicks a leather trash can across the room. "He tried to get away?"

Viktor nods.

"You're sure he took his meds?" I ask.

"Yes," Viktor says.

He's out. There's still time, then. "Let's track down the employees. My plan. We'll do my plan. Don't send it."

Aleksio looks at Viktor.

"Six hours he will be out. Minimum," Viktor replies to his unspoken question. "Probably through the night. They fucked up."

Aleksio closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry, brat. My guys-"