Someone Special

She broke fast, she broke hard.

As her pussy clenched and her mind raced, she screamed, "OOOOOooooooh, fuuuuuuuuck..." with a deep desperation to be released from the rough dicking she had just a few minutes ago so sweetly requested from Brad. Her pussy clenched uncontrollably, randomly grabbing onto Brad for dear life and releasing. Her pussy was trying to milk him.

"Oh, no, you don't, you bitch!" Brad yelled as he spanked her ass on both sides repeatedly. "You're breaking down more than this before I give you my cum!" He continued pounding away at her as her mental state broke down further and her body loosened, even as she became more vocal and lost and confused and looked for escape from the intense pleasure Brad was forcing into her cunt. "Take it, bitch! Take my cock! Take my cock, you slut!" he kept yelling in response to her repeated moans and cries and screams of "Aaaaaaaahhhh... Fuuuuuuuckkkkk... Aaahhhhhh..."

She was in deep pain. I could tell from her face. Brad didn't care. He was determined to finally break this bitch down and repay her for taking his cum before he had really wanted to give it to her. She was crying now as her pussy spasmed and her body quivered. Her hands grasped for something—anything—to hold her to this world, lest she drift permanently into her own world of unlimited lust and unlimited fulfillment of that lust, graciously provided by Brad's unrelenting monster.

She was grateful for the dicking—she desperately needed it—but overwhelmed by its intensity. She wanted it slowed so she could remain in possession of herself. But Brad knew, as did she deep down, that she had given herself to him. She had done it as soon as she walked over to him from her girlfriends at the bar. Unlike everyone else, he immediately saw her for the bitch in heat she really was. Her painful yet joyous screams were only confirming her identity to him, and, finally, to her, as she submitted to him utterly. Priscila had deluded herself into thinking she was in possession of herself around Brad, but Brad knew better, and he was determined to make her realize the truth. He knew it would set the slut inside her free.

In his motivation to provide her this noble service of freeing her from her delusion, he spanked her tight ass red. Clear hand prints could be seen overlapped onto both cheeks of her firm round ass. Her hands finally grasped the pillow in front her. Her nails dug into the fabric as Brad continued pounding away at her. He was covered with sweat; it was dripping down onto Priscila's back, forming a salty, slick pool between the muscles on her back. Brad clenched his teeth in anger. He was lifting her hips up now, unintentionally giving his cock deeper access to her inner workings.

Seeing her grab the pillow for support, Brad became even more pissed off. He grabbed her hair in a bunch and pulled slowly but firmly. She now contorted and screamed even louder as he pounded her. Her hands let go of the pillow and reached back to assuage her master to relent, to be merciful, to allow her a reprieve from the hard pounding that everyone in the room clearly saw she undeniably needed. She massaged his hips, his sides, his legs, hoping the contact would humanize her to him.

But she didn't know what was best for her; Brad did. Breaking her down to the primal slut she was still desperately trying to control was the best outcome. A primal slut wouldn't play games with deepthroating; she would surrender to the dicking she received from her master. A primal slut wouldn't resist, even feebly and half-heartedly as she did, the dicking her master was gracious enough to provide her. A primal slut wouldn't care about appearing weak or feeble to her master; she would know she was weak and feeble in comparison to her master. A primal slut wouldn't worry about control; she would surrender completely and allow her master to bring her higher forms of pleasure. A primal slut would not protest; she would accept her master's actions without question. Brad wanted that primal slut, and he was determined to get it out of my precious Priscila.

Her sputtering and screaming was becoming less and less coherent. She was crying and babbling, spit and snot flowing out of her face. Brad spit on her even more to put her in her place. Her hair was a mess. Her makeup was all over her face and the bed. There was a massive pool of liquid right underneath her drenched cunt. No man or woman would look at her now and hold her in high regard. She was little more than an animal.

But Brad wasn't done. The dicking continued. He was even more incensed that this bitch wasn't surrendering to him like he knew was his right. It angered him that she would deny him what was rightfully his. He was pulling on her messy clump of hair with his left hand, her head pulled back, eyes wide in shock and her necked extended, as he spanked her ass without pity with his right hand. I looked at her in her submissive, cock-serving position, her body contorted and utterly ravaged by the stud who had her mounted right now, breaking his mare in front of my eyes.

Much like a mare about to be broken, her screams had been reduced to one continuous sorrowful wail of "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhh..." now, interrupted only by the occasional "Ungh!" provided by Brad's dick hitting a particularly sensitive spot in her quickly submitting cunt. "Take the cock, bitch!" Brad yelled.

Her hands finally rested. She was no longer seeking empathy from him. Retaining control would not save her, she had finally admitted. Only surrender and ego destruction by Brad's cock would save her. She placed her hands behind her back, as a sign of complete, utter, depraved submission, even as her torso was hoisted above the mattress by Brad's death grip on her hair. She opened her legs wider and stuck out her ass more, requesting, even pleading Brad and his magnificent dick to break her down to nothingness so she could finally have peace.

"That's a good slut!" Brad smiled in response to her submission. He kept pounding away at her for another 10 minutes. She was continuously coming now, and there were no discernible words in her wail: Brad's cock had finally broken her mind down beyond language.

"That's a very good slut." Brad was gentler now. He slowly released his hold of her hair and grabbed her hands, which she held submissively for him in position behind her back. He slowed his pace to almost love-making. "Do you like your Daddy being gentle to you, baby?" he almost cooed into her ear.

She didn't say anything.

"That's a good girl. Take Daddy's cock, sweetheart."

She didn't say anything.

"Do you want your prize, sweetheart?"

She didn't say anything.

"That's a very good girl."

She didn't say anything.

He let go of her hands, pulled his cock out of her beaten, abused snatch, grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor.

She didn't say anything, but her long crying wail finally subsided to silent tears.

He sat on the edge of the bed again, where I had found him god-knows-how long ago, and pulled Priscila, reduced now to the fuckmeat Brad had seen her to be, by the hair to his crotch. She complied without protest, opening her mouth and swallowing his meat.

"Uh-uh" he said, pulling her off his cock. He held her hair with his left hand and slapped her left cheek really hard with his right hand. "Clean up your mess first, cunt." He continued to hold her by the hair with his left and gave her a really hard, firm backhand slap to her right cheek with his right hand. His hands were the size of her face and left big imprints on her skin. He then wiped both sides of his right hand on her hair, adding to the mess there. His legs were drenched in her juices and needed cleaning. That seemed to be the task Brad wanted to set my beautiful Priscila to. "If you had given me what I wanted earlier, you wouldn't have created such a big mess, you bitch."

Priscila didn't know who she was, where she was, or what was going on, but she knew this man was the world, that it was her duty to serve him, help him, to improve his place in life. He controlled her pain, her pleasure. He controlled her world. She wordlessly started licking his legs clean.

Brad looked down at her. He hated her; he was disgusted by her, by what he knew her to be, by what he had just revealed to everyone in the room that she was. She was just a tool for his pleasure, and men don't respect tools the same way they respect women. "You've been dating this cuck too long to remember the craven cunt you really are." He watched her do her womanly duty to him for a few seconds. "I'm glad you finally remember your place again."

We both watched her clean his legs for the next 5 minutes without anyone saying anything. Then, Brad picked her up, placed her on her back with her head hanging off the side of the bed and mounted her head. She complied without protest, opening her mouth to him, her hands submissively at her side, even as he thrust in one motion his entire cock up her throat. He grunted as he hit home. She responded by pushing her tongue out and massaging the top of his cock. Each of his massive balls rested on a rosy-red cheeks. I could see the pure joy in her eyes as she stared thoughtlessly up at his asshole. She was beyond excited and pleased to be where she was.

Brad didn't say anything. She knew she was a good girl. He had finally taught her that she was. He didn't need to say it. He grabbed her massive tits for leverage and started mercilessly bashing her throat with his cock, providing her brief rests to allow her to breathe. She never protested to the throatbashing, didn't move her arms at all. She was perfectly willing to pass out from having too much cock down her throat, but Brad needed her conscious to really enjoy his breaking of her.

After 30 minutes or so of him pounding her throat, his pace quickened. He was roughly slapping her tits now in frustration. He wanted to get off. His breath sortened and his butt clenched. Suddenly, he held himself inside her and moaned a long deep, "OOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh..." Priscila finally reacted. The taste of the sperm motivated her primal slut self to smile as Brad pulled his long, thick, slime-covered cock slowly from its warm new sheath. She smiled happily at his glistening cock. She had finally won her prize. This time, on Brad's terms. And she couldn't be more pleased to have satisfied him, to fill her duty to him. "Now clean this up." he said. He hadn't given her time to breathe yet before reinserting his full length into her throat. She looked shocked briefly before her submission took over and she relaxed her entire body.

"Use that throat, bitch!" He wanted to use her newfound throating skills to get more pleasure out of her. Priscila quickly acquiesced, squeezing and releasing his cock with her throat. He held himself there as she milked whatever remaining cum she could out of him. Her body was struggling to breathe at this point, but she kept herself calm and devoted.

"How about some piss to wash the rest of it down your throat?" He laughed and looked down at her. Her expression was unchanged. She was still smiling happily with her eyes, staring up at his asshole. His face softened as he moaned, "Aaaahhhhh..." His dick released its flood into her throat. Priscila remained surprisingly calm and collected as she swallowed everything without hesitation. Her brain had slowed from lack of oxygen at this point. She would pass out any second. She tried to remain conscious to continue milking and pleasuring the massive cock thrust in her throat by the strong man whose asshole hovered over her eyes.

Brad leaned back and looked over his side at her glazed eyes as they focused happily at nothing in particular. "Time for you to sleep, my sweet whore. Say, 'Good night.'" She tried to make some guttural sound as her eyes blinked slowly. "That's a good little cheap whore," he said as he watched her slowly fall asleep. Once he was satisfied, he yanked his cock fully from her body, letting her head hang over the side of the bed, her mouth agape with snot and spit and cock and pussy juice slowly streaming out.

"Come clean your bitch girlfriend up, you cuck!" he barked at me. I jumped up, grabbed some towels and wiped her down. Brad lay on the clean side of the bed, watching me do my work. "Good girl," he complimented me for my effort.

Once she was clean and regained consciousness, Priscila tried to cuddle up to Brad for a sense of security and stability. In her state of depersonalization and derealization, she had a profound realization: Brad controlled her pleasure and her pain. He was the source of her happiness and warmth. He really, truly meant the whole world to her then. She grabbed his arm and wrapped her leg around him, as a lover would. He held her at a little distance, which she didn't mind, as long as she was held.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It read 6:26AM. I had missed my shift. I jumped up, no longer captivated since the action had subsided. "Fuck! I'm late to work!"

Brad looked over at the clock, nonchalantly. "Hold up there, bub. I need to use the shower before you. Go make me some breakfast while I shower." He spanked Priscila lightly on her reddened, welted ass cheek. She giggled lightly in response, gripping tightly onto his bicep for comfort. "Go help your cuck boyfriend, bitch. I need to catch a flight in a few hours."

I led Priscila downstairs and helped her cook breakfast for Brad. She didn't say anything. I think words was still beyond her. I didn't say anything either. I was beyond words.

Brad came down from his shower and sat to eat his breakfast. The doorbell rang as he was part way through his breakfast. I ran to open the door. A bunch of neighbors were at the door, wondering if everyone was alright. They had heard loud noises and someone screaming the night before. I told them it was okay, that my girlfriend was just a little loud in bed. I told them to ignore it in the future. They agreed and went their way. As I walked back to the kitchen, Brad was laughing at me while Priscila was trying to snuggle up to him awkwardly while smiling up at him in love. "You didn't tell them why all of a sudden she was loud now?"

He finished his breakfast and soon after drove off. He said he had to drop off his rental before he flew back to New York.

After Brad's long, relentless dicking session, Priscila needed to rest. My poor baby. I brought out clean sheets for her, put her in a hot shower, gently cleaned her body, and brought her to bed. She was sore and bruised and needed massaging. I called in sick to work and spent much of the afternoon massaging all the soreness out of my beautiful baby's body. She had been through something so rough. I doubt I could have withstood it. But she had strength I lacked. That's what I admired and loved about her.

The next morning, I awoke at 4:30AM to find Priscila still asleep. I made her some food and left it in the fridge for her to eat when she woke up. I cleaned the dirty sheets and tried to clean the love fluids from the floor as well as possible without causing much noise before heading off to work. I was 20 minutes late. My boss was not happy.

When I came back home at 11:30PM that night, Priscila was still asleep in bed, but the food in the fridge was gone, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. I washed the dishes, hoping Priscila would be awake when I went up to our bedroom.

As I was washing dishes, she slowly walked downstairs into the kitchen, still a bit groggy from her sleepiness. I could tell it was painful for her to walk. "Good boy for doing the dishes." she said calmly. She was still tired from Brad's hard pounding two days ago. She chugged a glass of water, refilled it, and started slowly, painfully walking back upstairs. "When you're done, come upstairs. I need a whole-body massage and a good little cunt licker."

I was excited.

I rushed through the rest of the dishes and ran upstairs. She had me massage her back first. As I rubbed oil into her skin, I asked her how she was. "Much better now..." she said sleepily.

"Now now? Or...?"

"After Brad now, silly."

I rubbed the oil into her skin and started breaking down the tension in her muscles. "Was that the 'someone special' you were contacting 3 days ago?"

"What?" She was confused by the question.

"You said you were texting 'someone special' that night."

"Oh" she finally said, smiling. "No, Brad is just some asshole from Wall Street. I just met him yesterday. I don't even know if that's his real name..." she said with a short laugh. "He was here looking into some company's papers or something. He's a complete asshole but I knew the type of relationship we would have when I met him in the bar. He's a straight-talker. He didn't waste any time. He was completely upfront and honest about his intentions. I knew he was going to be rough to me—assholes like him always are—but I knew he would give me what I needed. And he certainly did..." she said contently.

"Oh" I said and continued to rub oil into her back. "So who was it you were texting?"

She turned slightly to face me. She looked annoyed that I was disturbing her relaxation with my incessant questions. "You'll find out, if I hear back from him. Do your work, you little shit."

I shut up and continued massaging the soreness out of her back. Then, suddenly, her phone on the nightsand started buzzing with multiple text messages coming in rapid speed. Seemed like lots of people were trying to reach out to her. I just hoped that included her someone special...