Darkest Descent

8. 8

8

Hunter

The twins were perfect.

Since I’d finally laid eyes on them six months ago, I knew they were going to be mine. Stalking them online was no longer enough, so I started following them, standing on the edge of their lives while I plotted our future.

It was enough for a while, then meddling in their lives became a necessity. They’d been there in the corners of my brain for a long time, but seeing them? Seeing them, touching them, hurting them… it was all worth it. I had to reveal my face earlier than planned because their father didn’t believe it was me behind the mask. My name on their lips hadn’t been enough. He thought I’d be too scared, that I was still the same person he knew. But fuck him. I grinned up at that camera while I abused his children, my entire face on display for his pleasure.

Two days ago, in quick and easy succession, my plan came to a head, and I took them both. It was simple. I followed them back from their parents’ house, and when Asher dropped his sister at the side of the road, not even waiting to see her get safely inside, my decision was made about who to grab first. He walked past me without a second glance after parking his car and strolling to his building, nose buried in his phone. Didn’t even flinch when I picked up my steps behind him. He fell asleep so beautifully when I choked him.

And I need not have panicked about how I’d get his sister – because I did require them both for my plan to unfold as beautifully as I imagined. That was the point of all this. Twins. Pain. Vengeance.

No, Alice stumbled from a bar, drunk and angry, less than twenty-four hours later. I played with her fear before capturing her, but it was oh so sweet when I did. She too, just like her brother, fell for me perfectly. Her body resisted for mere moments before she succumbed. That resistance was delicious.

And now she was over my shoulder, squeezing her thighs together so she didn’t piss her pretty little pussy all over me. I smirked and smacked her ass, and she cried out. Was it in pleasure or pain? A desire for more or dread over what was next? It all meant the same to me. I’d fuck them up as good as I had been .

I knew she was watching as I locked her brother into the basement room and climbed the stairs to the main house. She grew quiet as she took in each step, every turn and door we passed through. My Alice was clever. I’d watched her for long enough to have picked up on that. She would be biding her time, taking it all in, ready for the escape she didn’t truly want. I saw the way she’d come for me, the whirring of her brain as she tried to plot a way out. It was part of what made her so perfect.

I’d learned everything about her. Right down to the kind of porn she masturbated to when she thought she was alone. It never went any further than the typical step-brother fucks his step-sister, but I knew. I knew what she wanted. I was just giving it to her. To both of them. Hacking into their lives had been my greatest pleasure.

I slapped her ass, made sure the cheeks jiggled good and proper as we reached the bathroom. Touching her, touching both of them, got me harder than a steel beam and hornier than a teenager seeing tits for the first time.

Standing in the center of the small room, the shower to my left, the toilet to my right, and a window ajar before me, I weighed up my options.

“Please, Hunter, I’m going to burst,” Alice cried, her tone full of fury and anguish. She didn’t even notice the open window, the breeze against her ass cheeks .

“Ah, I just don’t think you’ve done enough for me…” I teased. “I’m not sure you deserve the toilet.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, trying to lash out at me, but it jostled her body, and she whimpered from the change in pressure. “I can’t—”

I squeezed her torso tight on my shoulder. “You let even a drop of that piss out and I’ll staple your lips together.” I paused. “And don’t think it won’t be the ones between your legs.”

She gulped in a cry, and I grinned as her body tensed further still. The temptation to shove my fingers into her pussy, to play with it and drive her to madness, was so fucking intense I almost did it. But instead, I slammed her to the floor, smirking when she squirmed and cried. “Crawl to the toilet,” I demanded, determined to break her down. She would only accept what was going to happen if she broke. If they both did. Then they would be mine.

He’d broken me. Now it was their turn.

“Crawl, bitch,” I repeated, shoving her ass with my foot, making her tumble forward. From this angle, with her on her knees, I could see her pussy peeking through her thighs, so pink and puffy, shiny with wetness. My mouth watered as she straightened up and crawled the short distance to the toilet. And once she was there, she stayed, waited for my command. “I’ve changed my mind. ”

She let out a shocked cry, bordering on anger and frustration, but held most of her distress in. Her fists tightened and her muscles tensed, and I watched her desperate pussy squeeze as she tried to hold onto her bladder. Fuck, to see her piss herself… the humiliation she would feel… I needed to put a camera in here and recreate this. Leaving the basement was off script. This was just for me.

“Get in the shower, remove the shirt.” My voice was cold, but inside I was on fire as she followed my commands. My cock ached behind my zipper, and I knew it wouldn’t be long until I claimed her body. Took both of theirs for my own. She crawled to the shower without my asking and rose to stand, her limbs stiff as she ripped the shirt over her head.

I’d seen her naked when I changed her, stripped her clothes away and replaced them with the same plain white shirt her brother wore, but this seemed different, like she was presenting herself to me. Beautiful. She wasn’t bony, with full thighs, heavy tits and a gentle, rounded stomach. She had hair thatched above her pussy and stretch marks showing fast growth at the top of her thighs. Her dark hair flowed down over her shoulders, tickling at her pink nipples. And her face… her expression was filled with hatred, tight mouth, hard eyes, head tipped down .

I gestured with a tilt of my chin for her to climb into the shower, and after a second too long, she did, giving me a view of her plush ass and dimpled lower back.

“Turn and face me,” I told her, and again, she waited a beat longer than polite before she did, whirling to stare at me and burn me with that hatred. “Because of that look in your eye, I’m not going to let you do it with the shower on.” I paused. “Piss.”

Our eyes locked, a play of defiance and dominance. If I poked her in the stomach, she’d wet herself. She was that close to exploding. I had the control. She just needed to see it. Learn it. Accept it.

When her stream broke, pouring down both her legs in heavy rivulets, my grin spread wide.

She groaned, unable to hide it, and her eyes fluttered as she poured herself free, the liquid pooling at her feet in a pale yellow puddle. Fuck, it was humiliating for her, and it made my balls ache with need. I squeezed my crotch as I watched.

As she finished, her gaze came back to me, expectant and anxious. I stepped closer, moving until we were almost face to face, her a fraction higher than before because of the small raise the shower gave her. Her eyes were glassy, blown out, submissive. I reveled in it .

Then something switched, a shutter over her gaze, and before I could react, she spat in my face. “Fuck you,” she growled, before slamming me in the throat with the heel of her healthy hand. Sharp pain slammed into me, sent me stumbling in surprise. But only for a moment.

She tried to hit me again, reeling back for another swing, but she’d lost her only chance at surprise. I grabbed her wrist mid-air and twisted it, bending her body until she screamed out in agony, her arm seconds from popping out of the socket.

“Stop,” I demanded, holding her on the precipice, squeezing at her flesh with one hand, using my other to force her forward.

She struggled, stamped on my booted foot with her bare sole, and bucked, trying to get free. It was all futile, so I let her have at it for a minute, enjoying the way she felt while the pain in my throat petered out. Nothing a whiskey wouldn’t fix.

Again, I waited for the moment I sensed her giving up, the second before she caved, before shoving her to the bottom of the shower.

“Do you know what naughty bitches get?” I asked, crowding over her, curving my body over hers and forcing her face into the floor, into her puddle of piss. “They get their shame rubbed all over their face. ”

“Stop!” she cried, her voice hoarse and desperate. I ground my hard cock against her ass, wishing there was no fabric between us. But that time would come. I had something else in mind for now, for her punishment. She would learn.

I stood up and pressed into her back with my foot, holding her steady with her cheek squashed to the floor, then, with her wrestling, I yanked my cock free and aimed it at her head.

Releasing a stream of warm urine into her hair was tricky with an erection, but the view was worth it. She screamed and spluttered, struggled and fought as I pissed over her, watching it soak her hair, run over my shoe and down her cheeks. She squeezed her lips together and clamped her eyes shut as it poured over her face.

“This is what stupid bitches get,” I reminded her, as my stream slowed to a few final drips. I gave my dick a shake, then tucked it away, removing my foot from her head and sinking back down behind her, my knees landing in the piss puddle, soaking through the denim. She didn’t move, only sobbed.

“Lick it up,” I said, shoving her face harder into the cold tile, using her hair for traction to rub her cheek into the yellow pool. “Suck up our piss. It’s all the water you’ll be getting for, oh, I don’t know, two days? Maybe three? Best get as much as you can now.”

Her free arm flailed before her hand slapped onto the floor and she tried to push herself up, but I put more weight onto her back, dry fucking her, slamming my hips into her while she cried and fought. Her cheeks reddened, her eyes scrunched shut, her entire body washed with chills, and her lips pressed together so tight they’d turned white.

I wrestled with her fighting form until my hand was on her jaw, and I squeezed, forcing her mouth to open. “Lick up our piss, little slut, or I’ll take your brother’s ass.” She cried. “How do you think it will feel for an anal virgin like him to have a cock go in raw?”

Her sobs grew, the weight of my words washing over her. And finally, she opened her mouth, letting me squeeze her cheeks until she winced in pain. “Do it,” I spat, and she did.

She poked her tongue out, swiping through the dwindling puddle, half of it now down the drain, and sobbed when the taste struck. She gagged through her tears, and I moved my free hand to her pussy to rub her clit, cupping her with my palm and playing with her slick folds as she sucked and slurped up the piss, crying and moaning, her thighs shaking, her eye screwed shut, her body convulsing like a cat with a hairball.

“That’s a good girl,” I muttered. “You being a good girl for your daddy? Take it all, beautiful, ride my hand…”

She didn’t move her hips, so I rubbed with more aggression, pressing into her clit, driving two fingers deep inside her, braced above her, crowding her, watching her pink tongue lick the floor while her walls fluttered and squeezed around me. Bitch was going to come. I fucked her harder with my hand, curving my fingers inside her, rubbing against her walls, forcing her greedy pussy to explode on me. Witnessing her body betray her was a beautiful thing.

When the beginnings of her orgasm began, with shaking thighs and a slackening face, I stopped. Yanked my hand out of her pussy and slapped it, hard. Twice. She screamed, buckled forward and sobbed.

“Dirty bitch,” I growled at her, standing and looming above her, prone and naked, watching as her ruined orgasm dropped away, as I made it clear to her what her body had almost done for me. The shame, the betrayal, the desperation. “You think you get to spit on me and fight me and you’re still allowed to come? Whore. Your dirty body is so fucking desperate.”

She continued to cry, curling in on herself, drawing her knees up, right there in the shower. She was breaking. My chest warmed.

I was going to win.