"Wow, you are such a cute little thing, ain't ya?" His deep voice rumbled through me, a seismic shock that sent a violent shudder straight down my spine.

My face ignited, the heat so sudden and intense it felt like a sunburn. When his huge hand came down to pat my head, it wasn't a gesture; it was an eclipse. His palm engulfed my entire skull, his fingers curling around the back of my head, and for a terrifying, thrilling second, I was completely in his grasp. I had to crane my neck back, my world narrowing to the rugged landscape of his face, the thicket of his dark beard, and the dangerous glint in his eyes. And lower, straining against the worn fabric of his shorts, was the impossible outline of him—a thick, prominent bulge I could feel my pulse hammering against my ribs just to acknowledge.

Jake had dragged me out to his Sunday rugby skirmishes. We’d only been dating a few weeks, and this was my trial by fire: meeting the entire team. I’d pulled on my cheeriest shorts and a thin tank top, feeling ridiculously small and on display, a sparrow who’d flown into a hawk's nest.

And the alpha hawk was Sione.

As Jake pulled me into their circle, all the broad shoulders and loud laughter seemed to part for him. "Sione, this is Lia, my girl," Jake said, his voice puffing with pride.

Sione’s eyes—a dark, predatory brown—locked onto me, and he uttered those words that made me feel simultaneously seen and devoured. "Wow, you are such a little cute thing, ain't ya?"

"Hi," I mumbled, the word a tiny squeak lost in the vastness of his presence. My skin prickled everywhere, hyper-aware of my own body—the way my small breasts pushed against the thin cotton of my top, the shortness of my breaths.

Jake tugged me away to meet the others, but Sione’s gaze never left me. I felt it like a physical brand between my shoulder blades, a hot, persistent pressure that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Every laugh from the other guys sounded distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears that was solely because of him.

He was a giant among titans. Where his friends were fit, he was monumental. His arms, a canvas of dark ink and corded muscle, were thicker than my thighs. His black tank top stretched taut across a chest so broad it seemed to block out the sun, the fabric clinging to the hard planes of his abdomen. And those shorts… they were so short, riding high on his powerful, tree-trunk thighs, and they did nothing to hide the substantial, heavy shape of him. My eyes, traitors, kept flicking back, my mouth going dry.

"You like what you see, huh?"

The question hit me like a bucket of ice water. My head snapped up, eyes wide with panic, meeting his knowing smirk. He’d caught me—fully, completely. There was no hiding it. A fresh wave of scorching heat flooded my cheeks and poured down my chest. I looked away, desperately scanning the grass for my water bottle, for any escape, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I wanted to vanish, to shrink away into nothing under the weight of his amused, utterly dominant stare. The space between us felt charged, and I was laid bare in it, every inch of my petite frame exposed and trembling.

"You don't drink?" His voice, so close and sudden, made my entire body jolt.

I’d been hiding on a patio chair, trying to shrink into the shadows and the starry expanse above. His approach was silent, a predator’s. He dragged another chair across the concrete, the screech grating on my nerves, and dropped into it so close that the heat from his thigh radiated against my knee. The cold, sweating can of beer he held felt like an accusation. He offered it, and the gesture seemed to take up all the space between us.

"No... I..." The words tangled on my tongue. How could I explain that alcohol was a key that unlocked a door I was desperately trying to keep shut for Jake? That one sip could dissolve the careful, "good girl" persona I’d been clinging to?

"Come on, I bet you never tried it. One sip ain't gonna hurt you." He waved the can slowly, the liquid sloshing inside like a tempting, forbidden rhythm. The yeasty scent of it mixed with his own—clean sweat and something darker, purely masculine. My resolve felt thin, a fragile membrane.

"No thanks..." I forced out, my voice barely a whisper.

He cocked his head, his dark eyes scanning me as if I were a puzzling text. "Oh? Don't tell me you're one of them girls," he smirked, a flash of white in the shadow of his beard.

"One of... what girls?" I asked, my confusion genuine, pulling my gaze up to his for a terrifying second.

"One of them girls that ain't into a bit of fun," he winked and nudged my shoulder with his. The contact was brief but electric, a jolt that shot straight through the thin fabric of my top. I shook my head and let out a nervous, airy laugh that sounded nothing like me.

"That's good to hear. A girl your age should be having fun. Getting loose," he said, his tone dripping with a joy that felt like a challenge.

My breath hitched, caught in my throat. Getting loose. The phrase unwound something deep inside me, a coil of tension and longing I kept tightly bound. "Oh..." I managed, swallowing hard against the sudden, aching dryness in my mouth. I was a statue, frozen in my chair, every muscle clenched to keep myself from trembling.

"You are a pretty girl," he stated simply, then took a long pull from his beer. The compliment landed not like a flower, but like a stone, dropping straight into the pit of my stomach and sending ripples of heat through my core. I was hyper-aware of my own body—the quickening beat of my heart, the slight tremble in my hands I hid in my lap.

"Th-thanks," I stuttered, my eyes fixed on the wooden slats of the deck, tracing the grains as if they were a lifeline.

"So, how's my boy treating ya?" Another nudge, this one firmer, more intimate. His question didn't ask about dates or movies; it hung in the air, heavy with implication.

It made me think of last night. Of Jake’s hesitant hands and my own stifled sighs. Of the brand-new vibrator still in its box on his nightstand because the mere suggestion of using it had made him blush and change the subject. I’d gone from a world of confident, explorative passion to this nervous, vanilla dance, and the hunger it created in me was a constant, gnawing emptiness. I was starving, and he was offering me crumbs.

I must have been silent for too long, lost in the frustrating memory, because Sione’s low laugh cut through it. "Well? Cat's got your tongue?"

His deep voice vibrated through me just as a cold gust of wind swept across the patio. I shuddered violently, but it wasn't from the cold. It was from the heat of his gaze and the terrifying truth his question unearthed: that the "good girl" act was a poorly fitted costume, and he could see right through it.

"I..." The confession I wanted to make—about wanting wildness, about the hunger—lodged in my throat, a trapped, desperate thing. Instead, the bland, safe lie tumbled out. "It's ok... He treats me good..." I swallowed, the words tasting like ash. "...I think." I stared down at my knees, mortified. They looked so small, so childlike, a stark contrast to the storm of want brewing inside me.

Why did he tie my tongue into such useless knots? I couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone meet the dark intensity of his gaze. The truth was a scream in my mind, but my voice was a coward.

"He treats ya good, huh?" Sione's laugh was a low, rich sound that seemed to vibrate through the patio stones. "He treats a little pretty girl like you, good?" Finally, I forced my eyes up. His were twinkling with pure, unadulterated mischief. He nudged my shoulder again, the impact jolting a real, breathy laugh from me. It felt like a betrayal.

"I am glad," he said, and then his hand—the one not holding the beer—came to rest on my knee.

The contact was electric. His palm was broad and warm, the weight of it possessive and final, searing through the denim of my shorts. It wasn't a casual pat; it was a claim. "I am glad that my boy's got a girl as pretty as you." My blush returned, a hot, shameful flood from my chest to my hairline.

"T-thanks... Sione," I swallowed, the name feeling foreign and dangerous on my lips. "I really like Jake," I admitted, a weak defense thrown up against the siege of his presence. I stared at my feet, at the vast space between his heavy boots and my small sandals.

His hand didn't move. It remained, a heavy, warm brand on my knee even as he brought the beer can to his lips. "Good girl, you are." The words were a purr. I tried to control my breathing, to make it even and calm, but it came in shallow, ragged little pulls. I focused on a crack in the deck, anywhere but on him.

It wasn't right. I knew that. A voice, small and shrill, screamed that I should be disgusted, that I should shove his hand away and run back to the safety of the party lights.

But the feeling wasn't disgust. It was a low, throbbing heat that spread from under his hand up my thigh, coiling deep in my belly. It was going straight to my head, a dizzying, intoxicating rush. I wanted more. The shame of that want was almost as potent as the want itself.

"You know. Sometimes. Good girls don't want good guys," Sione smirked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble.

I swallowed, my throat tight. My mind scrambled for an exit—the bathroom, a sudden headache, Jake's name—a dozen excuses to flee this precipice. Yet my body was a traitor, rooted to the spot, screaming for him to stay. This weird, terrifying attraction was a live wire, and his touch was sending volts through me.

"They don't want to be treated nice..." he continued, leaning in. The world shrunk to the space between us. His hot breath hit the side of my neck, and a full-body shudder wracked me. "Sometimes..." he paused. I was powerless, staring up into the dark pools of his eyes. My blue ones were surely wide with fear and a thrilling, awful fascination. "Sometimes... They want to be treated like..." he smirked, the word a dark promise. "...little... sluts."

His grip on my knee tightened, a firm, undeniable pressure. I swallowed a whimper and looked down, breaking the hypnotic connection. I couldn't face him. He was a mountain, a force of nature, and I was nothing against him. Just a small, exposed thing laid bare under his gaze.

"...Ain't that right... Pretty girl?" he whispered into my ear. The vibration of it went straight through me.

I wasn't sure of anything anymore. The only thing I knew was the frantic beating of my heart and the liquid heat pooling low in my stomach, a truth I could no longer deny.

"...yes."

It came out as the tiniest, most pathetic squeak. The sound horrified me. I couldn't believe that admission had just escaped me! I wanted to pull away, to run back to Jake's safe, predictable arms. I was afraid of this man! This was wrong!

I should have slapped him. I should have stood up and called him a pig.

But instead, my voice had squeaked its surrender. My breathing was now shallow and uneven, my legs trembling visibly beneath his hand. A fine shake had taken hold of my entire frame. And worst of all, beneath the fear and the shame, a damp, aching warmth bloomed between my legs, a traitorous pulse that throbbed in time with my hammering heart.

I could feel myself getting wet for him. It was so wrong. And I couldn't make it stop.

Suddenly, the door to the house slammed open, splintering the intimate bubble Sione had built around us. Two of his friends stumbled out, cigarettes already between their fingers. "Oi! Sione, where the fuck you been? Come join us inside!"

The spell broke. I seized the distraction, sliding out from under his heavy hand like a ghost, my body moving before my mind could fully process the escape. I didn't look back. I just walked, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me, the imprint of his palm still burning on my knee.

Pushing through the front door, the noise and light of the party felt assaultive after the quiet darkness of the patio. And then I saw Jake. "Lia! There you are!" He was wedged on a couch between his laughing friends, a beacon of normalcy. I moved on autopilot, sinking into the empty spot beside him, the cushions still warm from someone else. He leaned in, his breath smelling of cheap beer, and whispered.

"Hey, are you ready to go? It's almost your curfew." I stared at him, the word ‘curfew’ feeling absurd and infantilizing after what had just happened. But then I smiled and nodded, so grateful for the excuse, for his simple, caring nature. I couldn't handle another minute in this house, with him just outside.

I desperately needed to be alone, to try and scrub the memory of Sione’s voice, his touch, his words, from my overheated skin.

Jake wrapped a protective arm around me and we stood. His friends called out, demanding one last pool game, but he shook his head, his grip on my shoulder firm as he led me outside. I followed, my eyes locked on the scuffed toes of my shoes, the night air doing little to cool the fever Sione had ignited in me.

He opened the car door for me, the perfect gentleman, and I slid inside, the leather seat feeling cold and impersonal. The drive was silent, thick with everything unsaid. My heart hadn't stopped its frantic rhythm. My skin felt too tight, too hot, every nerve ending still hyper-aware and humming.

When he pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, the silence became a physical thing. He turned to face me.

I forced my head to turn, trying to arrange my features into something calm, something relaxed. It was a pathetic mask. Inside, I was a mess of nervous energy, excitement, and a deep, thrumming fear of my own desires. I felt goosebumps prickle across my arms. I bit my bottom lip, hard. "Jake, I'm so..." Confused. Aroused. Terrified. A traitor.

"I want to apologize."

My jaw went slack. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't it.

He ran a hand through his hair, the picture of stressed vulnerability. "I know I've been too passive lately," He shook his head, a sigh heavy with self-reproach. I stared, utterly surprised. Had my frustration been so obvious? Had he been carrying this all night? I shook my head and offered a soft, reassuring smile.

"Oh, Jake..." I placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the solid, familiar muscle there. He looked up at me with worried, earnest eyes. I sighed and leaned in, kissing him gently on the lips. He moaned softly, a sound of relief, and when I kissed him again, I let our lips linger, trying to pour every bit of my conflicted need into it. We pulled apart, breath mingling. "Don't worry about that..." I whispered, staring into his kind eyes.

In that moment, the switch flipped. The frustration melted into a surge of pure want—for him, for us. Sione’s dark promise was a thrilling ghost, but Jake was my reality, and I was ready for him to claim it. To claim me. Right here, right now. To overwrite Sione’s touch with his own.

"I know; I should be more adventurous with you, Lia," he mumbled, his hand running over my cheek with heartbreaking tenderness. "I love you so much..." he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. I sighed softly as our noses brushed, my body melting into a warm, tingly puddle of affection and renewed desire.

"I love you too, Jake."

He stared into my eyes, and I held my breath, my lips parted, my entire body poised for him to finally bridge the gap, to push past the gentleness and take what I was so clearly offering. I bit my lip, an open invitation.

But the moment stretched. And stretched. The intensity in his eyes was love, not lust. It was adoration, not conquest. The charged air between us slowly stilled, settling back into safe, familiar warmth.

After a few more minutes of lingering looks and soft sighs, the opportunity evaporated. The engine wasn't even running. The street was quiet. He was waiting for me to get out.

The realization was a cold splash of water. The thrilling, anxious energy that had coiled inside me since the patio now had nowhere to go. It just… faded, leaving a hollow, aching want in its place.

Finally, I swallowed the lump in my throat, forced another smile, and opened the door. "Goodnight, Jake," I said, my voice a little too bright.

"Night, Lia. Text me when you're inside."

I waved as he drove away, the red taillights disappearing around the corner. And then I was alone. Truly alone. The silence of the night pressed in, and all I could hear was the echo of Sione’s whisper and the frantic, unanswered beating of my own heart. He had left me wanting. And seared into the forefront of my mind, more vivid than any kiss, was the dark, dangerous image of Sione.

***

Early in my life, I learned that men who genuinely want me don't need much of a nudge to pursue me. A sweet smile, a twirl of my hair, a simple giggle at a stupid joke—it was a language I knew how to speak fluently.

For Sione, it was a different dialect entirely. All it took was a simple "Hi" in a DM on his IG a few days later. His answer was as cocky and direct as he was, a text that felt like a physical blow.

"I've been waiting for you, sweet little thing."

And just like that, I was nervously standing outside his home, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders. My shorts and plain T-shirt felt flimsy, a pathetic armor. Beneath them, simple lace panties and a sports bra were a concession to the part of me that knew this was a deliberate choice, wrong and immoral, but one I was powerless to stop.

When the door finally opened, Sione filled the frame, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. My eyes traveled around his big, muscular body as he stepped aside. "Well, don't be shy."

My face burned as I crossed the threshold into his space. His hand came to rest on my lower back, a brand of possession that made my stomach lurch violently. The door shut behind us, and the deadbolt clicked into place with a sound of terrifying finality.

The room fell silent.

His hands gripped my hips, spinning me around to face him with an effortless strength that stole my breath. "Hello there, pretty little thing." His warm breath hit my face. His dark brown eyes were deep, inviting pools I felt myself falling into.

I couldn't breathe, and it wasn't just his proximity. His large hands came up, gently tracing the line of my neck up to my chin, making me feel impossibly small. I stared up, gulping nervously. His large thumb brushed over my lower lip, a rough, possessive caress that made my legs tremble.

Then his hands slid down, over my T-shirt, and closed over my breasts.

He groped at my tiny mounds, kneading and squeezing them through the thin cotton. "Mmm... Your tits are so soft and tiny." The words were a dark, appreciative growl. His hands cupped my entire chest, pulling me flush against his hard, muscular frame. The heat of his body was overwhelming, a furnace I was being pressed against.

He bent down, his lips finding the nape of my neck. "Oh, fuck." He grunted the curse against my skin before biting my earlobe. His breath was scalding, sending violent shivers throughout my entire being. He sucked on the flesh of my ear, a wet, claiming sound, before nibbling again. "I can't wait to taste those titties."

My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, so loud and fast I felt lightheaded. Everything was a dizzying, nauseating blur. Then the world tilted as he picked me up off the ground as if I weighed nothing, cradling me in his big, strong arms.

"Wait..." I breathed, the protest a weak puff of air.

"Shhhh..." his deep voice rumbled through his chest and into mine, a command that brooked no argument. I bit my bottom lip, a prisoner in his embrace. His hands cupped my butt cheeks, squeezing them possessively as he carried me down the hall. My heart hammered, a trapped bird beating against a cage of anticipation and dread.

We stopped at his bedroom door. I swallowed, my throat dry. The door swung open, revealing a chaotic room—clothes strewn everywhere, an unmade bed in the center. He kicked the door closed behind us with his foot, his stride never breaking. I gasped, a short, sharp sound of shock, as he threw me down onto the tangled sheets of his unmade bed.

The impact jarred me. Before I could even think to scramble back, his body was on me, pinning me down, his weight an inescapable reality. His lips crashed against mine in a hungry, devouring kiss that stole what little air I had left. I moaned, a sound of pure, overwhelmed sensation, as his hands began their exploration.

They were impatient, efficient. They quickly found their way under my shirt, under my sports bra. His rough palms squeezed and groped at my small, bare breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples with a brutal familiarity that made me arch off the bed.

I tried to push against his broad, rock-hard shoulders, a feeble attempt to create an inch of space. It was utterly futile. His body was a rapid, and I was being dragged downriver, faster and faster.

"W-Wait... Wait!..." I said, the words weak and thready against his mouth. I tried to push harder, but he only redoubled his efforts, ravaging me with his hands. His lips pressed harder against my own, silencing my pleas, his tongue forcing its way past my teeth.

I could feel my face burn with a mixture of shame and panic. Then his hand slipped under the waistband of my shorts, past the lace edge of my panties, and into my most intimate area.

My eyes flew wide open. I tried to buck, to shove his invading hand away from my groin, but he only pressed harder, his fingers beginning a ruthless, rhythmic rubbing against my clit. The sensation was a bolt of lightning—unwanted, terrifying, and yet my body betrayed me with a shocking, damp heat.

I tried to wrench my face away from the kiss, to scream, to beg, but his free hand shot up and grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks, holding my head in a vise-like grip, forcing me to take his kiss.

My vision started to blur at the edges, darkening. Hot, silent tears began streaming down my temples, soaking into his sheets. I could feel him grin into the kiss, a vile, triumphant curve of his lips against mine as he felt my entire body shuddering—with fear, with revulsion, and with the horrifying, traitorous pulse of an arousal I did not want and could not control.

He broke our brutal kiss, his mouth moving to my neck. His lips left a trail of hot, wet kisses as he moved lower, a brand of ownership on my skin. My body trembled with each one, a traitorous vibration I couldn't control. The hand that had held my jaw released its grip, only to fist in the hem of my T-shirt, tugging it upwards.

He was stripping me.

"Wait, no!" I protested, the words a weak, breathy gasp as I struggled against the immovable wall of his strength. It was futile. In one swift, brutal motion, he pulled my shirt and bra off over my head, tossing them aside. The cool air of the room hit my bare skin, and my tiny, perky breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze. I instinctively tried to curl in on myself, to hide, but he held me fast.

He kissed down my collarbone, a slow, deliberate descent, then down to my right breast. He pulled away just enough to lick his lips, his dark eyes devouring the sight. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice thick. His hand groped my breast possessively as his mouth descended on my left nipple. His warm tongue circled the sensitive nub, flicking over it before he nibbled, sending a jolt of intense, unwanted pleasure straight to my core.

My back arched off the bed of its own volition, a betrayal I couldn't stop. A moan escaped my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to mentally retreat from the pleasure he was forcing from my body. But his other hand was still between my legs, rubbing my clit in a ruthless, steady rhythm that matched the suckling of his mouth on my nipple. My breathing became labored, heavy pants. My whole body quivered under his masterful, overwhelming touch.

"Fuck me..." he mumbled against my breast, the words vibrating through me. His mouth pulled away with a wet pop, and I gasped as the cold air brushed against my wet, aching nipple. "I'm gonna make you scream," He growled, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of my earlobe.

My legs, as if they had a mind of their own, spread wider for him. I watched, mesmerized and horrified, as he pulled off his shorts and shirt in a few efficient movements. His cock sprang free. It was monstrously thick, the veins standing out along its long, heavy length. My eyes widened; it looked like it wouldn't fit.

He quickly finished undressing me, yanking my shorts and panties down my legs and discarding them. We were both completely nude now, my pale, petite form laid bare beneath his powerful, tattooed body. His hand wrapped around the base of his shaft as he rubbed it between my slick folds. The heat of his hand was searing, his cock throbbing as it pressed against my slit.

"Condom..." I managed to plead, a last, desperate attempt at some semblance of safety.

He only chuckled darkly. He brought his wet fingers—the ones that had been rubbing my clit—to my face, shoving three digits into my mouth without warning.

"Taste that pussy. That's how sweet that pussy is. So fuckin' sweet, little thing," He grunted, his voice guttural. As his fingers pressed down on my tongue, he thrust his cock against my slit, the thick head spreading my pussy lips as he ground himself between my thighs. I whimpered around his fingers, shaking my head. His other hand cupped my jaw again, holding me still as he forced his fingers deeper, coating them with my saliva. He pulled them out with a wet pop and wiped the spit roughly on my chin. "It's all in that sweet pussy juice," he growled.

His body hovered over me, a cage of muscle and intent. His cock slid through my wetness, a slick, maddening friction. He held my legs apart with ease, continuing to grind his thick length against me, coating himself in my arousal.

I felt dizzy, drunk on a potent cocktail of lust and pure adrenaline. My pussy felt hot and tight, the sensation overwhelming, blurring the line between violation and pleasure. His hands grabbed my ankles, his grip like iron manacles, and he pushed my legs up and back, toward my ears, folding me in half and exposing me completely. His cock rubbed against my swollen lips, and I moaned loudly, the sound torn from me. His hands held my legs tightly pinned to my chest while he humped his thick, veined meat against my sensitive flesh.

His eyes locked with mine, the dark pools gleaming with triumph. He smiled, a predator's smile, and licked his lips. I felt the thick ridge of his cock rub directly against my clit, and that familiar, coiling sensation built inside me, unstoppable and terrifying. I moaned, a long, ragged sound, and squeezed my eyes shut as he continued grinding, the pressure exquisite and brutal.

The orgasm that ripped through me was explosive, a violent, convulsive release that left me shaking uncontrollably beneath him. He released my legs as my body went limp, collapsing onto his sweaty sheets like a broken doll. I felt utterly exhausted, my limbs like useless jelly. He had made me cum, and he hadn't even penetrated me yet. The shame of that surrender was a cold wash over my overheated skin.

His hands ran along the insides of my thighs, a possessive caress. One hand gripped my neck again, not enough to cut off air, but tight enough to remind me who was in control. His other hand pushed my trembling legs apart. I looked down, my vision blurry, to see his cock, glistening and wet with my juices, pointing directly at my opening. He slowly slid the fat, purple head up and down my slit, a torturous, slick promise.

"Please," I moaned softly, my voice wrecked, my hands reaching for him—whether to push him away or pull him closer, I no longer knew.

"Don't be greedy," he smirked, his hands forcing my wrists down onto the mattress, pinning them. His grip tightened around my neck, the pressure increasing, making each breath a conscious, difficult effort. His fingers dug into my flesh. He pushed my legs wider apart, a final, brutal stretch, and positioned the head of his cock squarely at my tight, vulnerable entrance.

He let go of my throat, but the threat of it lingered in the air as he started to push into me. The initial slide was a slow, inexorable invasion. I gasped, my back arching off the bed completely against my will as he filled me. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt—a brutal, breathtaking stretch that bordered on pain, transforming instantly into a deep, shocking pleasure. A ragged moan was torn from my lips.

He began to thrust, his thick cock stretching me open with each movement. I gripped the twisted sheets beneath me, my knuckles white, as my body began to quiver uncontrollably. The pleasure was a tidal wave, too immense, too overwhelming to bear. He let out a deep, guttural moan, and his thrusts became more forceful, each one sending violent shivers through my core. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood as the pressure inside me coiled tighter, an unbearable tension.

"I'm going to cum," I whimpered, the admission a surrender.

His fingers wrapped around my throat again, squeezing, cutting off my air. The world narrowed to the pounding of my heart and the relentless piston of his hips. I gasped soundlessly, feeling lightheaded, dizzy. His thrusts became a frantic, punishing rhythm, and soon I couldn't take it anymore. A scream, raw and primal, erupted from my mouth as my walls clenched tightly around his cock in a convulsive, shattering orgasm.

Sione never stopped thrusting, riding out the violent contractions of my body. "That's it, baby girl, take this fat dick," he growled, his voice thick with lust. His grip on my neck loosened, and he reached for my chin, lifting my face towards his. I opened my eyes slowly, blearily, to see his face contorted in pleasure—his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, his eyes rolled back. "Oh, fuck. Do you like that? You like how I'm stretching out your tight little hole?" he snarled, his pace quickening again. I could only nod weakly, my breathing ragged, as he continued to pump into me, milking every last tremor from my body.

I had never cum twice so quickly. As he fucked me through the aftershocks, his fingers slipped down my neck, brushing against my sensitive, peaked nipples, then down to cup my breasts. I shuddered at the touch, oversensitive and raw. His cock felt huge inside me, a relentless, filling presence. It felt like my pussy would break apart from the intensity. He squeezed my tits hard, almost painfully, as he picked up speed, pounding into me harder and faster. "Yes!" I cried out, my hips bucking upward to meet his thrusts of their own accord. I reached up, grabbing his strong, sweat-slicked arms, and pulled myself closer to him, wanting to be consumed by his overwhelming presence.

His body loomed over me, a mountain of muscle and sweat. He slammed his lips against mine, forcing his tongue deep into my mouth. I moaned into the kiss, trying to keep up with his brutal, frantic pace. He broke away, pulling my face from his and shoving me back down onto the bed. His body pinned me completely, his hips slamming into my thighs. His hands captured my wrists, forcing them above my head, holding me immobile. I writhed and squirmed under him, a captive to the sensations, my pussy quivering around his cock as it pistoned in and out of me, filling me up completely. The wet, rhythmic sound of his balls slapping against my skin echoed obscenely in the room.

His thrusts slowed, becoming deeper, more deliberate. His grip on my wrists slackened slightly. He brought his mouth to my ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Does Jake fuck you as good as I do?" he whispered huskily.

The question sent a fresh wave of chills through my sweat-soaked body. I could barely form a thought, much less move my lips to reply. But my silence was answer enough.

In one swift, powerful motion, he pulled out of me and flipped me onto my stomach. He pushed my shoulders down, forcing me to arch my back and present my ass to him. My hands, moving on some deep, instinctual command, reached back to spread my cheeks for him, offering myself completely. His hot, hard tip pressed against my slick entrance. I held my breath, my entire body aching for him to thrust inside me again, to claim his prize.

I heard him laugh softly, darkly.

Then his hand came down hard on my ass, a sharp, stinging spank that made me cry out. He began penetrating me again, but slowly, torturously. He pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock inside my pussy. Then, with a brutal shove, he forced all his length back into me in one devastating thrust. I screamed, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure-pain. He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through me, and repeated the process—a slow, teasing withdrawal followed by a sudden, deep, filling slam. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes..." The words were a breathless mantra. My eyes rolled back. My pussy had never felt so stretched, so utterly full, so exquisitely used. This new angle was merciless, allowing his cock to hammer against every sweet spot, making my inner walls tremble and spasm. It was amazing, terrifying, perfect. He gripped the cheeks of my ass hard and increased his pace, the smacking sounds of flesh on flesh fueling the inferno in my core.

He grabbed both my wrists in one of his huge hands, pinning them in the small of my back, and pushed my face down into the mattress. He rammed into me roughly, and I screamed into the sheets, lost in ecstasy. He settled into a slow, deep, grinding rhythm that made my toes curl with every impactful thrust. The headboard of the bed crashed loudly into the wall with each powerful drive.

My walls tightened around him instinctively, gripping his cock as he filled me to the hilt. I could feel the pulsating throb of his tip deep inside my vagina. My juices flowed freely, coating his shaft, the wet sounds a lewd soundtrack. The pain in my shoulders and wrists, pinned sharply against my shoulder blades, felt delicious—another layer of sensation in the overwhelming tapestry of my violation and my rapture.

His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to arch my spine. He brought his lips to my ear, his voice a dark, gravelly command. "Cum again."

It wasn't a request. It was a trigger. My pussy clenched around him in an immediate, violent response, a fresh tsunami of ecstasy detonating deep within me. The orgasm hit with such savage force that my vision whited out at the edges. My body locked up, rigid and trembling, every muscle tensed to its breaking point. My eyes rolled back, and the air was stolen from my lungs. I was only vaguely aware of Sione driving into me with a final, brutal series of thrusts.

It didn't matter. The corner of my sight was darkening, my consciousness narrowing to the convulsive, overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking my frame. The only thing keeping me upright was his iron grip on my wrists and hair. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed with a low, amazed chuckle. "Are you squirting, or did you pee yourself?" He laughed, the sound both crude and awed.

I collapsed the second he let go, dropping to the sweat-soaked sheets like a puppet with its strings cut. I lay there, shaking uncontrollably, a profound, mindless euphoria warring with a deep, shuddering humiliation. The warm wetness drenching my inner thighs was a stark, physical testament to my loss of control.

It was only then I noticed the sound—violent, ragged sobs tearing from my own throat. Why was I crying? I had just been shattered by the most powerful orgasm of my life. Wasn't this the wildness I’d craved? The answer to Jake's gentle passivity?

"Geez," Sione sounded amused, not concerned. He had pulled out of me. When his support vanished, I dropped fully, a boneless heap on the bed.

"Oh my god..." I sobbed, my voice a trembling, broken thing. My whole body continued to shake and shiver, aftershocks of pleasure mingling with a cold, creeping fear at what we had just done, at the parts of myself he had unlocked. That terrifying, thrilling contradiction is why the hot tears wouldn't stop streaming from the corners of my eyes.

"Are ya OK?" He asked, his tone shifting to something almost gentle. He patted me on the top of my head, a patronizing gesture that sent a fresh wave of goosebumps down my spine. I shuddered under his touch. "Want something to drink?"

"Wha-?" I was utterly disoriented, my mind struggling to catch up with a body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Time felt suspended, distorted.

He offered me a cup of water. My hands trembled so violently I could barely hold it. I tried to take a sip but ended up spilling most of the cool liquid down my neck and chest, the shock of it making me gasp.

"Easy does it," he said, his voice a low rumble. He took the cup from my unsteady hands and wiped the excess water from my skin with his thumb, a strangely intimate gesture. Then he pulled the tangled sheets from his bed and draped them over my naked, quivering body. He began to rub them gently up and down my back and neck, a rough, soothing motion.

His thumb gently traced over my collarbone, then moved lower, slipping under the sheet to cup my breast. His hand was rough and calloused, a stark contrast to the softness he was touching. I could feel my pussy give a weak, traitorous throb in response. "So beautiful," Sione whispered, his voice thick again.

He brushed his thumb over my nipple, already hard and sensitive, and began rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. I inhaled sharply, my back arching slightly off the bed of its own accord. He pinched it firmly, giving it a gentle tug. A soft, broken moan escaped my lips, a sound I barely recognized as my own.

Sione grinned wickedly down at me. "So eager."

He moved his hand between my legs, under the sheet. I immediately squeezed my thighs shut, pressing my knees together in a last, feeble defense. His hand lingered near my crotch, the heat of it palpable, causing me to shiver. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through me.

I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. How could he, after all that, make me feel so exposed and shy? "Please," I pleaded softly, though I no longer knew what I was pleading for.

"Just relax, baby girl," Sione spoke softly, his voice a deceptive caress.

I gulped nervously and gave a small, helpless nod. His hands traveled back to my chest, abandoning their pursuit for now. I gasped quietly as he caressed my breasts through the thin sheet, his fingers finding my hard nipples and stroking them lightly. Shivers cascaded down my spine. Sione bent down, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. He took my earlobe into his mouth and sucked on it slowly, wetly.

My breath hitched, caught in my throat. "Sione!" His name came out as a strangled cry, a mix of protest and a desperate, unwanted invitation for more.

He released my earlobe, his tongue leaving a wet, sloppy trail along my cheek until it reached the corner of my mouth. He tilted my head back and pushed his mouth hard against mine. His kisses were messy, invasive. His tongue licked at my closed lips, an awkward, almost gross sensation that made me shudder as he ran it up the side of my face.

I turned my head away, a weak attempt to escape the unpleasantness, and he used the motion to flip me onto my side. I landed in a semi-fetal position, and he quickly pressed his hand against my stomach, assuming the big spoon position behind me, his body a cage of heat and muscle.

"You had your fun; now I'll have mine," he growled, pressing his erect cock between my thighs from behind. I whined, struggling weakly against the iron band of his arms holding me tightly against his hard body. Yet, a desperate, shameful part of me wanted to reach down and grab him, to guide that hard, hot length inside.

The tip of his penis began rubbing back and forth over my slick opening. Each time his dick grazed my oversensitive clit, a broken moan escaped my lips. I could feel the warm, sticky precum spreading between our bodies. I pushed my ass back against him, rocking slightly, my body moving of its own volition as his shaft rubbed against my wet slit. I trembled with a desire that felt both innate and imposed.

I couldn't stand the teasing anymore and attempted to push up onto all fours, to regain some semblance of control. His hand pressed firmly against my upper back, shoving me back down onto the mattress. His arm curled under one of my shoulders and across the front of my neck, resting his hand on my other shoulder, locking me in place.

His free hand lifted my top leg, hooking it over his hip, and he guided his cock between my wet folds. His thick shaft penetrated me slowly from behind, a deep, filling invasion. It felt like he was splitting me in half as he pushed deeper, stretching me open. He began thrusting with a slow, almost tender rhythm that was somehow more disarming than his earlier violence.

To my surprise, I felt myself relax into it. And then, in one quick, brutal movement, he repositioned his arm, locking my head in a tight headlock. The shock of it made me whimper. I felt terrifyingly small and vulnerable. Real fear, cold and sharp, lanced through the haze of pleasure. "Sione," I spoke breathlessly, my voice strained, "you're hurting me." I tried to say more as his grip on my neck tightened, cutting off my air.

"Shhh, just relax," his voice sounded huskier, darker than ever. He began moving faster, slamming his hips against my ass. He moved his head closer to mine, his hot breath brushing against my ear. I felt darkness closing in at the edges of my vision. His arm squeezed my throat tighter; it was hard to breathe but not quite impossible. Then…

My vision was a blurry field of colorful, staticky dots. A weird, dissociative sensation passed through me, like I was floating outside my own body. I opened my eyes wide, but everything was a smeared, indistinct haze. My skin burned with an intense, tingling feeling that seemed to radiate from my core throughout my entire being. My body tensed up and shook uncontrollably, seized by a pleasure so intense it felt like a seizure. I panicked in my confusion, a loud, ragged moan torn from my throat as another powerful shudder wracked me.

"Oh my goood...." I cried out, the words slurred and distant.

I tried to move, to escape the overwhelming sensation, but Sione held me firmly in place, a immovable anchor. I couldn't resist. I couldn't prevent it. It felt like I was floating, untethered. I could hear my own heart beating a frantic, wild rhythm, and I could smell Sione's musky sweat mixing with the sweet, intimate scent of my own arousal. It was a wonderful, intoxicating perfume.

As soon as I started cumming, he was ready to claim his own release. "Ya like that?" he grunted, resuming his thrusts into my dripping, oversensitive cunt. The head of his cock hammered deep inside, rubbing ruthlessly against my cervix, the spot that drove me insane. I could only moan, a helpless, continuous sound, as he pounded into me with renewed fury.

"Stooop... Pleaseee...." I begged, my voice a thin, broken whine. "Too sensitive..." I managed to mutter through heavy, panting breaths.

He ignored my plea completely, his rhythm relentless and punishing.

Before the first orgasm had even finished receding, I felt his arm tighten around my neck again. He began thrusting with even more brutal strength. My walls clenched around his shaft in a spasmodic reflex as he pushed deeper. "Oh, fuck. You're so damn tight!" Sione moaned and growled. My entire body quivered beneath him, a leaf in a hurricane.

I drew a sharp, forceful breath, my hands coming up to grip his muscular forearms tightly, not to push him away, but to hold on. He pressed down hard on me, trapping me completely while ramming into me. I struggled weakly against his weight, but it was useless. His body was huge, overpowering, absolute.

The darkness crept back into my vision, a tunnel closing in. My chest heaved, struggling for air that wouldn't come. I clawed at his forearm frantically, my nails scraping against his skin, trying to break his grip. But it was too late. My legs trembled and gave out beneath me. I could feel myself becoming light-headed, dizzy. Everything—the room, the sensation, the sound—faded into a profound, silent blackness.

Where am I? What is this feeling inside of me? It feels so good. A deep, throbbing, full feeling. I'm burning up with pleasure, pain, and a desperate, aching desire. I'm floating in a strange, dark void. I feel cold and hot at the same time. My vision is blurry, but I can hear someone breathing heavily, ragged and close, behind me.

"There you go, baby," Sione exhaled with deep satisfaction.

My body is limp, the confusion dissipating like a morning haze, leaving behind a raw, physical reality. I start sobbing quietly, tears streaming down. A deep ache and a spreading fire war inside me.

I can hear sobbing and sniffling. It's me. I'm crying softly. The corners of my eyes sting. My pussy is throbbing and dripping, a raw, well-used nerve. I want more. I need more.

I'm a mess of confusion, fear, and overwhelming arousal. I can't move at all. My body is limp, exhausted, utterly spent. I feel so weak.

His cock is still buried deep inside of me, stretching me wide. His hips grind against my ass, pushing his thick meat even deeper. He begins to pull out and slide back in slowly, each movement a deliberate, stretching torture. My abdomen contracts and cramps around him, and fresh tears roll down as the emotion overwhelms me completely.

Sione doesn't let up. His hand slides from my neck and cups my chin. His rough fingers enter my mouth, and without thought, I begin sucking on them weakly. "Shhh... just relax," he coos, his voice a low vibration. My brain, foggy and submissive, takes that as an order, and suddenly, all my resisting muscles just... let go. My head falls back to rest on his shoulder. His cock continues its relentless pounding. His other hand moves down and starts massaging my swollen, oversensitive clit.

The waves of shame and fear are replaced by a new, crashing wave of pleasure. I'm cumming again. I'm not sure if it's from his cock or his fingers; the feeling is too much, a blended overload. I'm panting and moaning incoherently, lost to everything but the sensation.

He starts going faster, harder. I can barely keep up. He's pounding me so hard that my body shakes violently and my head bobs up and down on his shoulder. It hurts so good. It feels so amazing. I'm not even aware of how loud I'm moaning and screaming into the quiet room.

I'm getting utterly lost in the moment, entirely consumed by a lust that feels like it's eating me alive. My body shakes and trembles uncontrollably. My walls clench around his shaft in a vice-like grip.

He starts grunting louder, his breathing becoming heavier, more ragged. He's close. His thrusts become erratic, frantic. He slams into me harder and harder, each drive a final, claiming punctuation to the entire brutal, beautiful ordeal.

I could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing deep inside of me, a raw, intimate rhythm that left no doubt. I know he's cumming. I'm still moaning and screaming through my own climax, the sounds ripped from a place beyond my control. I can't stop it. It's too much, a sensory overload that whites out my mind. I'm cumming so hard that the world tilts on its axis, and I feel the distinct, dizzying sensation that I might pass out.

With a final, primal grunt, he slams his cock home one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulses violently, and I feel every thick, powerful throb inside of me. A wave of warmth floods my pussy as he fills me with his cum. It immediately squirts out around our connection, dribbling in warm, sticky trails down my inner thighs and onto the sheets. The chaos of frantic limbs and heaving bodies slowly subsides, leaving behind a heavy, spent silence.

I am completely wrecked. My body is numb, a foreign territory of aches and tremors. I can feel my pussy contracting and clenching around his softening cock in tiny, aftershock spasms. I'm still trembling and shaking, the residual energy of the orgasm coursing through me like a low-voltage current.

Tears are still leaking from my eyes as his cock begins to soften and slip out of my swollen, sore cunt. I can hear myself whimpering, small, pathetic sounds mixed with quiet, involuntary moans. My pussy aches deeply. My legs feel like lead, and my entire body weighs a million pounds. I can't move.

I can't see anything but colorful, swirling dots dancing in a dark void. I'm not even sure where I am. All I can feel is his warm breath brushing against my cheek. His hand is stroking my hair, a gesture that feels possessive, not comforting. The last thing I remember before slipping away is hearing him whisper in my ear, his voice low and satisfied. "You did well," he said softly.

"I did?" I ask weakly, the words slurred. But my eyes are too heavy to open, and I'm too tired, too hollowed out, to think about what that means anymore.

I don't remember much of what happened after. When I surfaced back to consciousness, Sione was standing over me, looking down at me with a curious, appraising expression. I was still naked, splayed on his bed, a large, cold, wet spot soaking the sheets under me. I looked up at him with a groggy, confused expression, my mind struggling to reboot.

His lips curled up into a familiar, wicked grin. He reached out and handed me a phone. It took my foggy brain a few seconds to recognize it as my own.

"It has been buzzing nonstop," he smirked, shaking his head as if amused by a minor inconvenience.

I felt a cold chill of dread instantly pierce the post-coital haze, and my heart plummeted into my stomach as soon as I saw the screen. Jake.

A string of messages filled the notifications, and then my eyes locked on the time. "Oh my god!" I exclaimed, horrified. It was 7:30 PM. I had been with Sione for over four hours. Jake had been texting and calling me nonstop for over two of those hours.

My fingers fumbled, swiping the screen with a frantic, clumsy desperation. I reached his contact information and tapped the call button. The call didn't even have a chance to ring before he answered.

"Hello?" he sounded concerned, his voice a lifeline to a world that now felt a million miles away.

"Jake! I'm sorry! My phone was on silent! I didn't know!" I exclaimed, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue, my stomach churning with nausea.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his worry a knife twisting in my gut.

"Yes... I'm fine... I just fell asleep after class..." I lied, the words coming out in a rushed, breathy jumble. I could feel Sione's eyes on me.

"Oh, ok..." he sighed, and I could hear the hurt in that single exhale. I felt my heart sink deeper, a stone in a cold sea. "I thought something had happened... You never go this long without answering..."

"I'm so sorry, Jake. My phone was on silent. I didn't hear it. I'm so sorry!" I repeated, clinging to the pathetic excuse.

"It's okay, Lia..." He tried to reassure me, his kindness a special kind of torture.

My eyes, darting around the room in my panic, then noticed Sione's naked figure starting to walk towards the bed. His cock swung, half-erect. It was still thick, still formidable, and it glistened with a mix of his cum and my own juices. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it, a horrifying fascination rooting me to the spot.

"Lia? Are you there?" Jake's voice made my heart skip a guilty beat.

"Yes... Yes, I'm here," I gulped, my voice tight.

"Okay... I'll see you tomorrow then," Jake said, his voice flat.

"Ok... I love you," I managed to mumble, the words feeling like the ultimate betrayal. But as the last word escaped my mouth, Sione's fat cock brushed against my cheek, a warm, wet, claiming touch. I gasped, and my eyes widened in shock.

"What was that?" Jake asked, his tone sharpening with suspicion.

"N-nothing..." I stuttered, my face flaming. "I-I... uh... I'll call you later."

"Ok, bye." He hung up the phone before I could say another word. I stared down at the dark screen. My heart was racing, a frantic drum of panic and shame. I didn't know what to do. I was so utterly confused, lost in a maelstrom of my own making.

"I have to go home..." I stuttered, scrambling to find my clothes, needing to escape the physical evidence of what I'd done.

Sione stood in front of me, blocking my path, his cock jutting out in all its obscene glory. "We aren't finished here..." he started saying, his voice a low promise of more.

Suddenly, a violent, impatient knock shook the bedroom door.

"Sione!! Stop playing with that whore of yours!! Dinner is ready!!" a sharp, feminine voice yelled from the other side.

"Shut up, Mom!" he yelled back, exasperated. He turned towards me and smirked, a look that was both annoyed and arrogantly amused. "Guess that means we have to finish this later."

"Y-yeah..." I mumbled, my humiliation complete. I couldn't even look him in the eye. I was also mortified, cut to the core by being so crudely named by a stranger.

I quickly, clumsily pulled on my panties and shorts, not even bothering with my bra, and rushed out of the room, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I was drowning in shame.

As I fled down the hall and toward the front door, I saw a middle-aged Samoan woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She glared at me with a look of pure, unadulterated contempt. I felt like I wanted to die right there on the spot. I rushed past her, not breathing until I was outside, the cool evening air doing nothing to cool the burn on my skin.

My face was on fire. I couldn't believe what had happened. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I half-ran down the street. My hands were shaking violently. I felt so dirty. I felt cheap and used. I was disgusted with myself. My whole body shook with silent, heaving sobs. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to get away.

As I walked in the cold and dark, the streetlights my only witnesses, my phone screen lit up in my hand. A new message. It was from Sione.

"I want you here tomorrow at the same time."

I stared at the words on the screen, my disbelief a cold wave. My heart pounded a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The audacity. The command.

But the most surprising, the most horrifying thing, was my own short, immediate reply.

"Ok..." I gulped, the single letter feeling like a surrender of my soul. My hands were sweaty and slippery as I typed the next word. "Tomorrow..."

"Good girl..." the message came back instantly.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. The thought of seeing him again made me feel sick to my stomach, a rolling nausea of fear and self-loathing.

But the idea of not seeing him, of this being the end, was somehow even worse. I needed to know what would happen next. I wanted to know more than anything else in the world. The craving was a hook in my gut, and he was pulling the line.