The Revisit

She made a loud groan at the realisation that, yes, Dominic probably was going to get a turn. The possibility of denying herself the true depths of this feeling seemed hopeless.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, their bodies locked together. Dominic was standing to her left, and she nuzzled into the opposite shoulder. She hugged his torso with her legs, knees pressed against his pronounced lats, their sweat mixing as they roiled together in perfect rhythm. Caleb was deep inside her, now, and staying that way, his thrusts moving only an inch or two at a time, fast and frantic. She gave up on holding back, and knowing that Dominic would hear, let out every moan that welled up, loud, lingering. Her limbs tightened around him. Against her skin, the flex and tension of his muscles as his orgasm welled. He had only fucked her for a short time, and she realised, with a hint of smugness, that her mouth must have brought him closer than she'd let on.

"You want to cum on my belly?" She whispered it into his ear, and he breathed "yes" in response. True enough, it was one of her favourite things, but it was a powerful feat of cognitive dissonance not to admit that she was steering the situation so that her pussy would be clean for Dominic. Still, the knowledge was there, tinting the pleasure throbbing in her pussy with dark hues as she anticipated the total abdication of herself.

She felt fingers in her hair. Dominic's. His weight shifted onto the bed to the left of her head -- she judged, without looking, that he was up on both knees. The mattress sagged and threatened to roll the copulating pair sideways, and she clenched her core to stay in position as the landscape beneath their bodies changed. Dominic was every bit as heavy as he looked.

But she daren't look now; she knew what was coming, what she'd already talked herself into, but now was the time to put off her impending shame for as long as possible. To be fucked hard by a beautiful man, and still believe that some of the night she'd planned was salvageable. To forget about the emotional battering she'd taken downstairs, and to forget that the man who delivered it had already claimed so much.

But there was that looming weight, and she could practically feel his enormous stature looming over her and the beautifully lithe man thrusting into her balled-up body. The sheets were shifting slowly; a knee rubbing against her shoulder. He was stroking the back of her head, tentatively, feeling her out as he had done with her ass, once again as if testing a curious new object. She allowed herself a break in her willpower and let the tension in her neck fall enough so that she was being held by him, relaxing the weight of her head against his palm while his fingers probed the fiery mess of her hair.

They closed into a fist, and her heart leapt with excitement before she could remember to resent the act. She sank back down towards the bed, and his grip on her hair kept her from sinking all the way. But it was enough that she could now look to her left, if she so chose.

She could already smell it before she opened her eyes. Before she let her head turn. Salty, musky. The slight warmth radiating next to her cheek. He hadn't grabbed her hair for the mere enjoyment, but to bring her into position. With the commanding grasp at the back of her head, and Caleb filling her, throbbing, tumescent, at the brink of his arousal, she knew what she'd see, and what she would do.

She could feel drool pooling on her tongue. It happened in one movement. She opened her eyes and her mouth, lazily, at the same time, and lolled her head left, allowing Dominic's stout, sweaty cock to slide into her mouth.

She bordered on dissociation. The sounds of the room gave way to ringing tinnitus, the sights and sensations seemingly transmitted from far away. For perhaps ten seconds, she was detached from herself, in disbelief; her lips sliding hungrily over his skin, his body hair brushing her face as she took in his length, nuzzling forward, engulfing him with her mouth with all of the wilful and submissive desire as she had Caleb's. Her body lurched and shuddered as she was fucked into the bed simultaneous to the repeated tugging of her hair to bring her back onto her most hated bully's cock. She was all but outside of herself: she stared, and stared, past the landscape of Dominic's enormous frame, his shirt hanging open, hair coating him up to his neck, bear-like, his sadistic leer towering over all. His lips moved. Surely he was saying something intensely degrading. She didn't register it. Her neck lunged and her lips moulded to the contours of his cock. Her tongue searched its surface with each plunge, stripping it of its sweat. Drool poured down her cheek.

As the shock of what she'd submitted to subsided, she felt herself catching up with the the rhythm of things again, her presence of mind, of self, returning. And with it, emerging from that cocoon of disbelief, came a flood of wild and grimy pleasure at the abandonment of her better self. She didn't hesitate; she pleasured him shamelessly, drawing saliva into her mouth whenever she could and letting the frictionless scrape of his skin on her tongue soothe her into further submission. She realised that at some point in the past twenty seconds she'd dropped her left arm and wrapped it around Dominic's leg, grasping his ass through his trousers, clinging to him as hard as she clung to Caleb. Supplicant to both cocks that were pummelling her holes, she didn't have to mind herself, her conscience. There was no dignity left to hold her back. She was present enough to perceive his words, now, and they were indeed degrading and cruel, and she opened herself up to them, accepted them, accepted their truth as her mouth worked to gratify his cock.

The spell broke, just a little, when Caleb lurched backwards, vacating her pussy and kneeling more upright, his cock held in his right hand, red and shiny with her juices. Dominic's prick fell out of her mouth as she turned in anticipation, her lips still wide in a panting O-shape, drool gathered and foaming on the left side of her face. Caleb moaned deeply, his shoulders hunched enough that his face was oriented towards his chest, and several thick strings of cum shot into the air. They landed, painting hapazard stripes across her sweat-soaked body, thick white streaks that ran from her lower abdomen to her collarbone and oozed down her contours, smearing her breasts as they rose and fell, and pooling in her navel and her clavicle.

She panted, still, seemingly stunned, wordless. She hadn't released her grip from around Dominic's leg. There was too much to notice and consider; how utterly vulnerable she was, splattered with cum and spread open under that leering creep. She met Caleb's gaze. Dopamine and adrenaline gushed through her. They stared at each other, chests rising and falling, his grotesquely exquisite cumshot plastered across her torso.

Dominic eased back off the bed, and left the room without a word.

The two continued to stare at each other. Elisabeth couldn't muster a single syllable. Through heavy breaths, Caleb finally volunteered: "are... you okay?" But she had no response to give. There seemed no appropriate commentary or choice left to make.

"Wanna get out of here?" He'd suggested it several times already, and for Elisabeth, it barely registered this time. She let herself fall flat, and stared at the ceiling for a minute, the ejaculate cooling on her skin and oozing down her sides to the sheets.

Dominic's footsteps approached again, and she didn't look up.

Whatever it is, just let it happen.

"Dude, what the... no. No." By his voice, Caleb was fully opposed to whatever was in store. She lifted her head up to take a look.

Dominic had shed the rest of his clothes, and towered behind Caleb, a wall of sweat and hair, his cock still hard, and ready. She craned to see whatever it was Caleb was staring down at, obscured in his right hand. Noticing her effort to see, Dominic lifted the implement aloft.

A hockey stick. Of the same make that they'd... yes, it was his old college stick. The exact same sort that he'd caught her with, those many years ago. The realisation hit her in the stomach like a rock. Renewed adrenaline, and the sense of self-worth disappearing into the black hole in her identity that had been torn open that evening. She was on the verge of nausea. She trembled, the pools of cum on her torso wobbling, fear and excitement rattling in her chest. She wasn't sure she could run if she wanted to, and the realisation that she did indeed want this brought her to the verge of tears as the tension in her body brought about the tiniest jerks in her limbs.

"This is going too far, man." Caleb reached for the stick, and Dominic pulled it away. Elisabeth merely stared, mouth agape, still trembling, her gaze travelling up and down the length of the stick. The black wrapping, the flat, circular end of the handle. And then to his face, expectant, and not unserious. Sincere.

Her legs were flat on the bed. She drew her knees up, slowly, until her feet were flat, which she then lifted up off the bed, falling outward slightly, until they were close to her shoulders, She reached down, around her hips, gripping her pussy from each side and pulling her freshly fucked hole wide.

She was barely in control of her actions, now, her libido haywire and apparently chasing this feeling wherever it seemed to lead. But this was a new depth to the darkness she had been exploring all day; perhaps the deepest. She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Dominic, imploring him to do as he intended. To return her to her deepest, first humiliation, and close the circle of her perversion. To fuck her with a hockey stick. To fuck every cruel joke and rumour back into her desperate cunt. Not to pleasure her, but because -- again, tears welled -- but because he found it funny.

"Dominic..." Caleb still protested, but it seemed futile; the two were already locked in the act. Dominic mounted the bed again, this time directly in front of her, holding the long, wooden stick straight in front of her yawning pussy. His handprints were either side of the glistening hole, bright red, as he brought the implement forward, carefully guiding the tip between her labia.

She winced, and gritted her teeth, as the smooth rim of the wood scraped past her vulva for the second time in her life. Deep in the cloud of libidinal urges driving her consciousness, the most lucid part of her noticed that he wasn't uncaring, or at least, uncareful -- he moved the head of the handle through her folds and into her vagina, and she kept herself spread to allow him room to maneuver. Still, it was uncomfortable; hard, cornered, and too thick.

And suddenly, just like that, it was truly inside her, and slid forward a couple of inches as the penetration inherited the force of his push. She gasped, yelped, her head slouched back onto the bed, and then she pulled it upright, pinning her chin to her chest so she could watch what he did to her.

He was crouched in front of her, hunched and gripping the stick with both hands: one close to her body, the other all the way back next to his, holding it like a snooker cue. His expression was unadulterated, disbelieving amusement; it was the expression of a kid whose parents got him a crossbow for his birthday, incredulous at the amount of unaccountable power in his hands. He pushed, and it slid forward another few inches, and Elisabeth let out an ululating howl that was partially muted as she clenched her teeth tight. He pulled, dragging the handle back out, its wrapping dripping wet. She felt the smooth bumpiness of the tape wrapping, gliding through her hole with each stroke. Physically, it was marginally overwhelming; dense, hard wood twisted in and out of her cunt, and her torso arched, her head thrashed, she wailed and stammered attempting to absorb it. But emotionally, mentally, she was close to obliteration. Her date for the evening knelt next to her, his face al picture of concern as she held herself wide for her lifelong bully to rail her with a piece of sports equipment right in front of him. Dominic was whispering, muttering under his breath, sadistic put-downs barely audible through her pitchless moans. The humiliation having claimed her completely, self-control an impossibility, she allowed her body to do as it needed, and feasted on the surges of dark, painful pleasure from the wood being forced into her cunt.

"M... my bag..." she stammered, remembering.

"What?" Caleb spoke softly, his eyes momentarily fixed on the sight of the handle disappearing into her pussy.

"Can you go in my bag please" she panted. "Get the... the thing."

She relaxed her neck again as Caleb moved off the bed, and she heard the sounds of him moving about the room and rummaging on the floor. She was already becoming sore from the handle-fucking. Points of light danced in her vision.

The sound of a wall outlet clicking on, and then his approach once more. Another click, and a familiar low buzz. Dominic saying "oh my god" and laughing a little. Her brow creased in anticipation and she screwed her eyes shut. The stick pushed in about an inch deeper than it had done so far, and she squealed in grateful agony as the wand made contact with her clit.

Her moaning stopped dead as the vibrations burrowed through her clitoris and into her pelvis, overstimulation pouring into her lower body, causing her neck and chest to tense tight, holding her breath for a moment, as several impulses collided with each other. Her abdominal muscles curled her shoulders up off the bed, and for a minute she was almost completely upright, her need to scream contradicting the tension keeping her from breathing. Her eyes bulged, her face bright red, and she stared down at the two implements overwhelming her genitals, each held by very different men.

Finally, she breathed "...fffffuck" and hyperventilated for a few seconds, before letting out another expletive-laden groan that broke apart into squealing sobs. Dominic was laughing, now, staring up at her contorted, desperate face and giggling so much that his large body shook before her. He doubled down, sliding the stick in and out with force, and watching with glee as the tension overtook her breathing once more.

Her cunt thrummed with a sensation too forceful to rightly be called pleasure, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She knew her orgasm was coming, and for her to cum like this would be the end of her dignity, for good. Wave after wave of euphoric humiliation spilled over into panic, and her moans became a continuous, insult-filled rant, directed firmly at Dominic.

"...yes yes YES you fucking asshole you creepy fucking freak fuck that thing into me fuck it into my pussy you disgusting animal you ugly arrogant piece of shit fuck me fuck me..."

Dominic simply grinned, reached one hand over the wand, and turned the dial upwards. The vibrations intensified and the words stopped, her face frozen once more. He fucked the stick into her hard, as hard as she had begged for.

The shockwaves and spasms and repulsive penetration in her cunt coalesced into an orgasm that threw her onto her back. Her jaw seized, her mouth clenching and unclenching, the slightest sounds emerging from her lips, her fingers scrambling at her chest and navel as her body throbbed and jerked with a feedback loop of euphoria and deep self-hatred. Her legs shuddered, shook, and then kicked; had she been remotely lucid, she would have known that she'd kicked Dominic hard in the shoulder. The two men backed off the bed as she thrashed, staring, her body arching, her throat giving out ugly, snarling groans.

The hockey stick had slid out of her and clattered on to the floor, and Caleb had turned off the wand. Elisabeth rolled onto her front involuntarily, her spine arching, her pelvis squirming in a vain effort to absorb or dissipate the seismic muscle tension rippling, omnidirectional, from her exhausted cunt. Her skin tingled, electric -- every touch, the sheets, the air on her skin, felt like too much. Her groans became moans, shouts, uncontrollable giggling, her body twitching from her eyelids to her toes as it went on, and on.

She didn't know how long she'd lain in the haze, letting the spasms pass, letting her body temperature cool, letting her breathing and heart rate slow. When her eyes did flutter open, her vision was hazy. She had a vague sense that someone had left the room. But who it was, she had no idea.

She heaved herself over onto her back again, unsticking herself from the film of Caleb's cum between her sheets and her skin. Her breasts trembled with each aftershock, her nipples still intensely hard and over-sensitive, such that even the warm breeze of her own breath was enough to keep her aroused. Her body stayed tingling. She felt alive, submissive, exhausted, but... still turned on, and now, untethered from herself, ready to be fucked again.

"Holy shit..." she lifted her head and focused her eyes. Dominic loomed over her at the end of the bed, expressionless, his mountain of a body standing square, stroking his cock with the fingers of his right hand to keep himself hard.

She heard the front door slam shut.

"Did he go...?"

"Yeah, he freaked out."

The fact that she'd been left alone, naked and vulnerable, with Dominic, seemed almost meaningless now. Or, she was so far from her normal state of mind that she couldn't seize on its meaning.

"You gonna fuck me?" She did nothing to position herself, this time. Her limbs lay limp.

Dominic clambered up on the bed once more, clinging to his erection with his right hand. He knelt over her, his figure dominating her vision.

"Are you going to apologise to me?"

"Wh... at?" she breathed.

"You hurt my feelings."

Was he serious? The tiniest panic stirred within her; she knew that if she had to stop, if she had to end this experience, then she would have to face herself once more, face her behaviour, her choices, her conscience; and the blackened, cursed pleasure she was thriving on would be gone, with nothing to replace it.

"Come on, Dominic... just fuck me." She tried to keep her voice sultry.

"You said a lot of cruel things to me just now" he said, continuing to massage his cock.

"I'm sorry. Okay? Just--"

"And earlier, you blamed me for all sorts of things that weren't my fault." Either this was a sadistic ploy, or it was Dominic at his most sincere: a bully with a victim mentality, playing with others' feelings and making them pay for his.

"Are you serious?" She lost control of her tone, her voice breaking into indignant, pleading.

"You made out like I ruined your life. In front of my best friend. And you threw an ice cube at my head."

Dopamine, adrenaline, washing out, needing to be replaced. This forbidden high, dwindling. "Okay, I... I said some things, but... you did, too. A lot, actually, and..."

"Take it all back, or see yourself out." He placed his glans on her clit, still overstimulated, oversensitive. She jumped at the touch. He slid it back and forth, and her body stirred, writhing gently.

"I want to hear you say it."

Caleb was gone. She had lost his respect, and her own. Her pussy howled for more, the massaging of his cock on her clit further compromising her senses. It was either get fucked at any price, or come back down to reality.

"I'm... sorry I called you those names, and... I'm sorry I... blamed you for my problems in college..." the sticky dopamine of humiliation began to circulate once more. "I shouldn't have done that. My problems are my responsibility, I... I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm sorry."

He didn't move. He didn't respond.

"Just, please? Please, I need... cock. I need it, fine, it's my fault. I did it all to myself. Please, Dominic, please fuck me. Please. Pleeeaaase. It's my fault I'm sorry I'm sorry please please--" as the thrill of abdicating her dignity claimed her, her words slurred together into a begging stream of apology and sluttish pleas. The words poured out of her, seemingly uncontrolled; she let go of things she didn't want or mean to, and the knowledge that she was sacrificing the narrative of betrayal and trauma that she'd lived by -- her truth, she knew, the truth -- plunged her further back into that pit of need and desperation. She had thought the hockey stick was rock bottom, but it was this: enthusiastically immolating her raison d'être for five more minutes of cock. Cock from the person she hated the most. Who, even now, she held nothing but contempt for.