He released her tits.
"You can stand it, right?" he said.
The question was casual. Conversational. The tone of a man asking about the weather while committing a war crime on her cervix.
'No,' her mind screamed. 'No, I cannot. My body is hurting. Stop. Please. I beg of you. Stop. Stop. STOP.'
She couldn't say it.
The words were there. Formed. Complete. Sitting in her throat like stones. But her mouth — open, tongue out, drooling, screaming — could not assemble them into speech. The pain and the pleasure and the fear and the blood had stolen her capacity for language.
He fucked harder.
PAH PAH PAH PHACK PAH!!
"AAAAAHHH~!!♡ IT HURTS~!!♡ IT HURTS~!!♡♡!!"
Her anal.
