the cold steel rips him from sleep. before you can clamber away, he grabs your hips like a vice. his eyes are bright in the dark room as he forces you fully down on his cock, shoving his chin into the barrel of his gun. he brings his hips to meet yours under the threat of death.
kid sibling finally getting sick of your brother’s abuse. you’ve been nothing but a punching bag and free fuck to him. you finally work up the nerve to sneak into his room one night. straddling his hips, you take his pistol from the drawer and drive the muzzle under his chin. -
“youre too fucking delirious to even form a thought, puppy… beg for it properly or i’ll stop.” with a sharp tug on the belt wrapped around your pretty little throat. hand working between your legs. hips bucking to meet their fingers. “god, youre so fucking pathetic,
necrophile boyfriend who keeps you hooked on drugs because he likes fucking you when you’re on the nod, slack-jawed and limp like the corpse he fantasizes about turning you into
bratting is fun and all but sometimes there’s a simple “behave” and suddenly all those hours of training and abuse take over and i find myself kneeling at your feet ready to serve and worship and devote and embody obedience.
God, baby... you know what'll happen if you tell mom n' dad about this, right? Mhm. You wanna keep 'em safe, right?
That's a good kid. Keep that mouth shut and keep that door unlocked from now on, 'kay?