#rough stuff

"She begged for this,” he murmurs, his eyes finally flicking to yours, dark and unblinking. “Said she wanted you to watch me split her open. Said she wanted you to see her break.”

You strain against your restraints, gag muffling the sound in your throat.

​He doesn’t even glance back at her.

He just pushes in.

All at once—a brutal, bottoming-out thrust that buries his entire girth inside her.

Ophelia jerks, her whole body seizing as a helpless moan bursts past the rag in her mouth. Her back arches into a bridge, her nails clawing at the floorboards.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts low, his voice a gravelly rumble. “ That’s it, baby. Take it—take all of it.”

She chokes on a sob—but she’s not trying to crawl away. She’s frozen, twitching, thighs shaking as he pulls out just to slide in deeper, slower now, bottoming out inch by impossible inch.

​He begins to fuck her with a slow, punishing cadence. You can hear how wet she is—an obscene, rhythmic squelching as he slides deeper, his pudgy belly slapping against her ass with a visceral, fleshy thud.

The sound is filthy, a lewd soundtrack to the tears streaming down her face. Her head falls back. And he reaches down, fisting his hand in her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to look at you while he fucks her right in front of you.

She’s crying.

But she’s moaning and her knees spread wider.

“Look at her,” he says to you, his voice cruel and satisfied. He shifts his angle, grinding into her. She shudders violently.

“You see this? That little whimper she just made? That was for you. You know how many nights she lay beside you thinking about this? You. Me. Her—just like this."

​You let out a strangled whine, your body hot and aching. You’re soaked, your own pussy weeping against the chair.

Ophelia’s head lolls sideways. Her eyes meet yours—wide, tear-bright, and utterly sated.

Her hips start to move now, a small, desperate rhythm as she grinds back into his massive length.

"That’s right, good girl.” he coos, picking up the pace. His hips slam against her, hard and brutal. Her breasts bounce with the impact, her wrists twisting in the rope.

You watch as inch by devastating inch disappears into her, his hips grinding flush. Her curls shook loose, wild and damp against her face as her body jolts under the pace. You can tell she's struggling to take him, but her ass is pressed back into him—begging silently for more.

"She told me she wanted to make you jealous. She wanted you tied up while I bred her full. Wanted to show you how it sounds when she cums on my cock.” he says, starting to thrust slow. Heavy. Deep enough you feel it in your own gut.

Ophelia’s head falls back. She moans—a raw, wet sound through the gag—and when he slaps her, she shudders like she’s about to cum already.

"You watching?” he rasps. “You hear that? That’s her pussy crying for more.”

You scream into the gag.

Not in fear.

In frustration.

In need.

“I thought you were the strong one,” he says, fucking her like he’s trying to ruin her for anyone else. “But look at you. Dripping. Gagged. Useless. Hot little cunt just begging for your turn.”

He slams into her with a brutal, relentless rhythm of heavy hips slapping against hers, his dick disappearing again and again into that drenched, yielding heat. The sound of it is primal—wet and rhythmic—until she’s lost to it, moaning like an animal against the floorboards.

“She cried for you,” he rasps, slapping her ass—the sound a sharp, stinging crack in the quiet room that makes her flinch and whimper. “You didn’t come. So now you get to watch until I fill her up... and then it’s your turn.”​

Ophelia jerks, her entire body convulses when she cums, a muffled, jagged scream tearing from her throat behind the gag. He doesn't let go; he reaches down, his large hands bruising her hips as he holds her perfectly still, groaning as he fills her with thick, hot spurts of cum.

“There it is,” he pants, buried to the hilt. “Took it all like a good girl. Stuffed full. Just like you’re gonna be.”

Ophelia collapses forward, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. You watch, mesmerized, as her eyes flutter and fall dark.

Then his eyes find yours.

“You next, baby?” he says, pulling out with a wet plap. “You keep making noise.”

He stalks over, the scent of smoke and sex clinging to him. You try to twist away, a last-ditch effort at rebellion, but he grabs your face. His thumb presses into your cheek, forcing your jaw sideways.

"You gonna be louder than her?” he teases, leaning in. “You gonna cry for me too, honey?”

You glare at him, your chest heaving as you breathe hard and ragged through your nose, the air hot against the fabric of the gag.

He just smiles—that slow, dark look that tells you he’s enjoying the fight—before he slaps you. It’s sharp and fast, a stinging crack across your cheek that makes your head snap back and your skin burn.

​"So stubborn and bratty... I like that." He reaches out and rips the gag from your mouth, the sudden rush of air making you gasp, but before you can even draw a full breath, he leans down and smothers you in a kiss.

It’s rough and wet, all heavy tongue and desperate friction, taking his time to map the inside of your mouth. He tastes like stale smoke, bitter salt, and liquor—something strong that you can’t quite name, but already feel pulling you under.

“Color?” he asks, kneeling beside you to untie your restraints.

“Green,” you pant, throat sore. “Please, fuck me.”

“Mmm.” He kisses your jaw, rough. “That’s my good girl.”

He snatches you up like you're weightless. A few predatory strides to the bed, and then he's slamming you down.

The mattress creaks under both your bodies. Ophelia’s already there—he dragged her after, still bound, still breathing like a girl in a trance. Her eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide.

You crawl back, but he grabs your ankle, yanking you to the edge of the mattress.

“Don’t run now, sweetheart,” he orders, looking down at you, spreading your legs wider. “You’re about to get what you came for.”

You feel the head push between your thighs—too wide, hot, already leaking. It drags through your folds, heavy and mean, before pressing at your entrance. You’re soaked—squirming at the feeling.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he breathes, rubbing the fat, leaking tip against your hole. “Didn’t even touch you yet and this pussy’s begging to get filled.”

He flips you onto your stomach, chest pressed to your back. His hand slides up your neck.

You gasp—his fingers curl around your throat.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

You do.

“Now take it.”

He pushes in—slow, massive, and unyielding. Your jaw drops, a silent cry caught in your throat as your nails scour the linens. The stretch is a white-hot invasion, every inch a conquest. You scream into the mattress as he finally bottoms out, his blunt girth distending you, claiming every frantic nerve.

He drives forward with a relentless, crushing weight. You choke, spine arching into a bow, fingers clawing the fabric beneath you. He doesn’t relent until he is buried to the hilt.

Too deep. Too thick. An absolute, suffocating fullness.

“Goddamn,” he groans. “Tight little pussy just clenching for me. Gonna wreck this one.”

He starts to drive. Hard. Each thrust shocks the breath from your lungs. He cracks a hand against your ass, fisting your hair to shove your face into the mattress while he hammers into you from behind. Heavy. Constant. Every hit burying him deeper.

“You hear that, Ophelia?” he pants. “Your little friend's gushing on my dick. She loves it.”

You’re moaning now. He is so deep and overwhelming—you can barely think.

He fuck you harder—thrusts brutal, rhythm tight, hand gripping your throat just enough to make your vision dim at the edges.

“Told you,” he pants. “Gonna fill you up till you match her. You want it? You want my cum stuffing this little hole too?”

You moan—half sobbing, half begging. “Y-yes—please—cum inside—”

You’re trembling. He’s so deep you feel it in your throat, and he’s not being gentle. He’s never gentle when you ask for it like this. It’s just pure, brutal force. Hips pounding into yours. His hand clamps over your throat when your moans get too high, stifling the sound. Your back arches until you’re seeing stars, your body straining against the sheer, massive stretch of him.

And still, you want more.

You clench around him, your walls spasming against his length. His fingers slide between your thighs, finding your clit—swollen, hot, and throbbing—and begin rubbing rough, frantic little circles. Fast. Cruel.

He’s not looking for a soft release; he’s grinding into you until you’re sobbing against the mattress, your hips bucking helplessly against the friction.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls. “I want to feel you milk my cock while I’m breeding you. I want you to scream for it.”

Ophelia moans behind you. Still gagged. Still tied. She’s watching with glassy, blown-out eyes, her thighs squeezed tight against each other. Her lips are trembling behind the fabric. She can't look away from the way he’s destroying you, the sound of his hips slamming into yours echoing through the room.

She’s close again—just from watching.

Your body’s shaking. Sore. Close. "I—mghn!—You're so—ahh—please!—" You can’t stop your moans or incoherent babbling.

He chuckles—a low, dark sound. Then he’s grabbing your wrists, dragging you up. He forces you to straddle Ophelia’s waist, pinning her down with your weight. He’s already driving back into you from behind. Hard. Heavy. Each thrust slamming you into her, the sandwich of bodies making the stretch feel twice as deep.

“Touch her,” he growls. “Kiss her. Show me you’re just like her.”

You lean forward. Ophelia whimpers. You kiss her. She moans—and kisses you back. Tongues, lips, teeth. Her bound hands grip your hips weakly, trying to pull you down, closer, even as he fucks you harder than anything should.

It’s a collision of textures—the soft heat of her mouth against the brutal, slamming weight of him. You’re being crushed between them, your body caught in the crossfire of his relentless thrusts and her desperate, shaking hands.

"Look at you,” he whispers, voice full of cruel wonder. “Two perfect little sluts. My girls.”

Your orgasm hits fast. Rips through your belly and down your thighs.

You cry out into Ophelia’s mouth, trembling as he holds you down and fills you, just like her—deep, thick spurts of hot cum that make your stomach flip.

“There it is,” he groans. “Now you match.”

You collapse beside Ophelia, twitching, dripping, your body a mess of heat and ache.

He kisses both your foreheads.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We’ve got all night.”

He doesn’t leave the bed. He just sprawls back—his chest thick and slick with sweat, his breath still heavy. He’s still hard, glistening with the mess of both of you. His hand clamps around the base like he owns time itself, dragging out slow, deliberate strokes. He isn't finished. He’s just staying ready.

You and Ophelia are curled up against each other, tired and shaking, your bodies still twitching from being used. You’re both a mess of tangled limbs and shallow breath. Thick, white cum leaks down both your thighs, cooling against your skin. The room is quiet now, save for the frantic, fading thrum of your hearts.

"Up,” he says. “C’mon, sweetheart. Show her how it’s done.”

You don’t move.

His voice lowers. Darker. “You gonna disobey me? After everything I gave you?”

He hauls you up by the hips, dragging you over him until you’re straddling his lap. You’re already so raw that you gasp when the head of his cock scrapes against you, dragging through your folds. You're wide open, shaking as he pulls you down onto the thick, aching stretch of him again.

​"Awww, what’s wrong, baby? That fat little pussy still too full?"

​You flinch at the slap—a sharp, stinging crack right on your ass—but it sends a jagged pulse straight through your core. Your breath hitches, your vision blurring for a second as the heat of his palm settles into your skin.

You line him up. Sink down. Slow. Your thighs are vibrating, muscles screaming as you force yourself to take him inch by inch. Your insides are straining, stretching white-hot around that impossible girth. He doesn’t move. He just holds you there, hands locked on your hips, watching your face like he’s drinking in every pained, desperate twitch.

“There she is,” he whispers. “My pretty little whore. Thought you were tough. Now look at you—crying on my cock.”

Your hands are on his chest. You’re panting through gritted teeth, riding him in broken rhythm—more like being moved than moving.

“Tell her,” he groans. “Tell Ophelia what it feels like.”

You look over. She’s still bound, watching, breathing shallow.

You don’t want to speak. You don’t want to admit it. But your hips keep rocking. "S-splits me open,” you whisper. “I c-can’t—he’s too… big—”

"Louder.”

“He’s too fucking big. I can’t stop.”

"Good girl,” he breathes.

Then he reaches out, snagging Ophelia and dragging her flush against his chest. He forces her mouth to yours, a messy, desperate kiss while you’re still pinned, riding him.

He guides her hand down between your bodies, forcing her to feel how soaked you are—how wrecked and wide open. You’re shaking, your body failing as he forces her to witness exactly how he’s broken you.

"Tell her how much you liked watching me ruin her,” he purrs to Ophelia.

“Tell her she made you wet.”

Ophelia whimpers. Nods. Shame burning in her cheeks. "I—I liked it,” she whispers. “I wanted it.”

He slaps her too—gently this time. Just enough to make her gasp and sting.

“You both wanted it,” he says. “You came to me... told me I could do whatever I wanted as long as I—fuuck—didn't pass any hard limits.” He holds onto your hip with one hand and teases Ophelia with the other while you ride him.

Your next orgasm builds slow—dragged out—his dick grinding deep inside, hitting that same spot over and over as you tremble on top of him, thighs clenching.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on it. Keep going. Look her in the eye while I fill you again.”

You do.

You stare at Ophelia as he groans—and buries himself deep—and you both feel it: hot, thick spurts of cum spilling inside again, stretching you from the inside out. You cum immediately at the feeling, body trembling, vision blurring.

You collapse against his chest, shaking.

Ophelia’s pulled up close beside you, whimpering and whining.

Your eyes flutter. You don’t even realize you’re drooling.

Then—a new hand.

Ophelia.

She’s untied now. Still messy, dazed, her lips wet and parted in a silent gasp. She crawls to your side, her fingers trailing through the slick mess dripping down your thigh. She catches the weight of it on her fingertips and brings it to your lips.

“Open up,” she whispers. “If you’re gonna let him stuff you like that, you better taste it too.”

You do. You suck her fingers, eyes locked on hers, and she lets out a moan—low and heavy—before she’s straddling you. Chest to chest. She kisses you deep and sloppy, her tongue pushing into your mouth, tasting like you. All the while, his cum is still leaking out of you, a hot, slick reminder of the weight you just took.

“My good girls,” he says behind you, stroking his cock slowly as he watches. “So fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper as Ophelia kisses down your neck.

He leans in.

“Ready for round two?”

^᪲𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 ^᪲

Dividers by @anitalenia