Time Isn't Real Pt. 01

So, after she was all buttoned up, I took a moment to adjust her and Bryson - just bringing them a little closer to each other. Leaning the both forwards a bit, turning their bodies to face each other. Shannon's hand on her thigh, Bryson's on his.

I hid.

Time isn't real.

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE BRUTE

My head was swimming. The rush of it - of playing two people into each other's arms - it was... addictive. Powerful. There was something kind of liberating about knowing there was no chance of being caught, no chance of anything going wrong, no chance of anything... bad.

I watched Shannon catch her breath as my kisses across her body registered in her mind, her back straightening and her hands fluttering, not knowing what to do with herself.

Bryson coughed, groaning through his breath as he leant back in the chair, adjusting himself.

'Woah,' he sighed, brow furrowed, before wiping his face in those strong hands. 'Okay-' He sat forwards, adjusting himself as he - and Shannon - realised how hard he was. 'I am so sorry, Shan,' he said with a laugh.

I could only see the back of her head, but as he stood and straightened his shirt down, she followed.

Time isn't real.

I moved quickly, adrenaline informing every movement I made.

They were on either side of the table, but as soon as I saw how they were standing I came up with a plan.

I went beneath Shannon's waistline, tugging down her pants from beneath her skirt quickly, tucking them into my pocket. I tilter her forwards a little, pushing her hand forward just a little.

Enough to tip her over, I thought.

With Bryson, I just popped open the top button of his jeans and left it at that.

I hid. Time isn't real.

'OH G-' Shannon shrieked as she fell into him, tripping over nothing, landing face-first into Bryson's chest.

Time isn't real.

Shannon was bent over the table, arse out with her skirt mid-flap. Her hands and his were scrambling to catch each other, and Bryson was reaching under her. Easy pickings.

I shifted his hand so, instead of catching her waist, it was going straight to her left tit. I moved her hand from his hip to his bulge, and gave him a few loving strokes for luck. To keep Shannon... in the mood, I slipped my hand under her skirt and felt her slit - slick and wet.

'Fuck, you're both so fucking hot,' I Mumbled as I slipped a finger inside of my friend, heart hammering as her warm, tight sex swallowed me knuckled by knuckle.

The adrenaline was making me dizzy with excitement, so I chased myself out of her with a quick slp, and hid in the kitchen again.

Time isn't real.

'Oh - OH!' Shannon's voice hitched in an unavoidable moan, then, her hand landing straight on his generous bulge, gripping him for support. He groaned as they steadied, and they looked up at each other. A look passed between them. The point of no return.

It was as still as being in 'the pause', if only for a second, and then they were on each other. Kissing and grabbing and groping and feeling. Moaning into each other's mouths, as I watched - a voyeur in the next room.

Shannon pulled Bryson's cock from his partially-unbuttoned jeans, and dropped to the carpet, on her knees before him. With her mouth, she worshipped him even more than I had. Sloppy and wild. I'd never seen her like this before.

It was... sexy.

And, I knew she was hot. I'd known that since the first moment I'd seen her - as was the curse of the bisexual. But seeing her in the act, with a cock that large in her fist and her throat at the same time?

'Fuck yes,' I heard Bryson growl above her, his fist in her hair, fucking her face as she groaned beneath him. She pulled back, looking up at him, and without any hesitation he dragged her up by the hair. I heard her grimace, but he was quick to move past it, pulling her top up in an instant.

'Wait-' she said, trying to get her bearings, but he didn't stop. He yanked her top off, and spun her so she was facing away from him. Facing towards me, actually - but she hadn't seen me. At least, I thought not.

No, she was too busy dealing with the guy with the monster-cock yanking her skirt up as he bent her over, one hand holding both her elbows in place as he manhandled her.

'Bryson! Stop!'

He didn't.

One hand on his python, one pushing her over the back of the sofa, he lined himself up.

'TIME ISN'T REAL,' I shouted, and Shannon's eyes flicked up at me just as time froze.

'Fuck,' I whispered, looking at her expression. The fear, confusion, pain. Bryson wasn't paying attention anywhere but on her - on how he was going to violate her.

My stomach turned, and the instinct-dominant part of me that, under a minute ago, had been vying for the sexiest ending to this scenario possible, was now in help her mode.

I moved quickly, as though time was an issue, and quickly moved between their frozen bodies. I unwrapped his fist from her hair, making sure not to do anything that would hurt her, before pushing his hand aside and pulling Shannon out of his orbit. With a heave, I put myself under her, and lifted her unmoving body off the floor enough to move her. After a moment of hesitation, I realised that she would need to be somewhere safe after this - when time started again. Somewhere she would be in control.

So, I took her to her bedroom, and laid her on the light-orange bedspread with her limbs flattened out, so she wouldn't flail or flip or anything. Her room was cluttered and messy, table covered in notepads and the floor covered in clothes, and it made my chest tighten. Shannon was so... nice. Innocent. And I had put her in the position for her to be...

He was going to rape her, wasn't he.

I gave her one last look-over, before heading back downstairs.

Now, the irony wasn't lost on me that, obviously, I had recently been involved in certain nonconsensual sexual acts. But, to my credit, I had used that on people who, in my mind, deserved it. That lawyer, and the creep in the coffee shop - they were in need of being brought down a peg or two. And, my power was heightened by my arousal, so it all worked together. As one. As for Ryan and Penny, that whole thing was just me dipping in on their pleasure. No harm done.

And, in that, Bryson was different. He had gotten aroused, and physically close to a woman, and to him that meant he could... well. He could do whatever.

So, I was going to do it to him instead.

Whatever.

He was, almost comically, standing with one hand around his rock-hard monster, the other hand floating in the air, ghosted by Shannon's vanishing trick. His eyes were intently staring nowhere, his head down and his chest puffed up. The big man.

He used sex for power, I realised. He used his stature - and his endowment - to overpower women. God knows what would have happened to Shannon if I wasn't here.

None of this, I thought, and guilt rippled through me.

I had to set it right. I had to take away his power. Take away his power over sex.

My eyes slid down to his pole, held fast in his fist, and a shameful glow of lust came through me. Part of me had really enjoyed having that cock in my hand, imagining what it would feel like.

And... I mean, it wouldn't do anyone any harm if I had a little more fun, right? In fact - I could take away his power over sex by fucking him. And, I mean, I could fuck him a lot. I knew that the sensations would catch up after I was done, and that cumming would make time start again. If I wanted to strip him of his power over sex, I needed to humiliate him sexually.

My forte, I joked inwardly, though the joke was laughless.

Even so - it would be a task. To fuck him enough to make his eventual orgasm ruining, without cumming myself. Plus, in the vein of the lawyer and the creep, it would work best if this was public.

Right. So. Fuck him stupid without cumming. Take him outside. Let him explode in public like the sex predator he is. Golden.

Getting to work was easy, now. I could put aside the moral hindrances that I had been (slightly) feeling when messing with Ryan and Penny, or even Shannon. This wasn't just me getting my rocks off by sexually manipulating people - which sounded awful, by the way - it was punishment. And it was a fitting one. So, I took Bryson and, using the lack of gravity to help me, lay him in the middle of the room, by the crowded table. There, his cock stood straight upwards, menacingly beautiful in stature, and I swallowed a moan at the sight of it.

I was going to enjoy this.

I started by moving his hand out of the way, giving me easy access to the full pole. Then, I spread his knees a little, leaving his jeans on and letting them stretch under the effort, so I could fit myself between his thighs. Again, I took a moment to measure his length, and it was undeniably impressive. It was almost understandable why he would be so sexually aggressive - who wouldn't want to fuck him, with a cock like that?

Almost understandable.

I took the head, and began stroking him again. Since my last pause, he had apparently had time to leak some pre-cum, and I smeared it over the fat brown head of his member, alternating my tactics; sometimes I was full-fisted, stretching his skin back and enjoying the slight look of strain it put him under; then, sometimes, I was more teasing, gliding over him with my fingertips, teasing him generously.

I felt myself getting wet as I played with him, toyed with him, and it wasn't just the size of his cock that was pressing me forwards - it was the power. I had total control of him, now. And he was going to like it just as much as me. Well, kind of.

After enough of that, I pressed my lips to the hot crown of his cock, a little daunted by how wide he seemed. My mouth had to stretch to envelop him, and while I had a little experience in giving head, I wasn't planning on choking myself for this sexual fucking predator. So, instead, I just lazily sucked him, licked him, tasted him - until I was satisfied.

Next, it was on to the main event.

Sitting back on my haunches, I wondered how much sense it would make to strip. It wouldn't be seen by anyone, but there was still a... vulnerability to doing that. To making myself naked just to ride this cock, when I could physically do the same thing if I just slipped out of my pants and trousers, keeping my top on.

But the idea of rawing this guy in the living room, arse-naked, while he had no idea? It was too much for me not to oblige my lustful little heart.

So, I stripped. Quickly and efficiently, until my bare shins were on the carpet, my thighs over his, my tits inches from his face. I straddled his unmoving body, wondering what he would do to me if he were able to move right now. If he woke up, and time started again, right now - with my pussy dripping wet, my body astride his, his cock brushing my leg.

The image of Shannon appeared in my mind, along with the fear that was in her eyes. I discarded any more thoughts on what Bryson would do to me, and instead focused on using him as a means to please myself.

And, of course, punish him in the process. Of course.

His nine-inch fuckstick, almost as thick as my wrist, was hot against my sex as I pushed backwards. His cock was able to slide between my lips, dragging against my clit as I moved, making me mewl. I put my hands on his broad shoulders, sliding myself up to the head, and looked into his glassy, unseeing rapist's eyes.

'Fuck you,' I spat, before pressing back. 'Oh holy mother of Christ,' I moaned as the head split me open, his flesh thick and hard and filling. I felt each ripple of my sex being spread by him as I bucked backwards, slowly fucking more of him into me with each roll of my hips.

'Big,' I complained, taking a moment to pause. It felt like there was a baseball bat slowly being worked into me, and when I peered beneath to see how much was left, I was easily less than halfway down. 'So fucking big.'

It took what felt like half an hour of slow, calculated stretching and shifting before I was at my limit. My body was stuffed in a way I'd never felt before, and the focus on getting to this point had gotten in the way of enjoying myself.

So, with the monster in my pussy stretching me more than anything had before, I took a breath, and started to ride. I was still taking most of my weight, holding it in my thighs as I bounced on his rock-solid pole, and what was directly beneath me was the thick, strong chest of this would-be sex pest.

And part of me loved that.

That this guy was an obvious creep, using his power to fuck women, and I was using my power to fuck him.

And, in all honesty, if you took away his personality and the terror in Shannon's eyes, he was a fucking dream. A huge, muscly man with a cock to die for - or on - who, right now, couldn't talk or grab or do anything to ruin it for me. A perfect little sex toy for the power-hungry time-stopping hormone-fuelled slut like me.

Because I was a slut. Or, at least, I had been spirally down a cavern of sluttiness for a while now, and quickly, since... Well. Since everything.

I steadied my forehead against Bryson's chest as I rode him, looking under myself to see the remaining three inches of cock mocking me. As I considered how, in this day or two since my father passed his impossible ability to me, I moaned with each impact of his cock in the deepest reaches of me.

I moaned, loud and uninhibited, even though I knew, I knew, that the sounds I was making would catch up with me afterwards. There would be a single, loud, lust-filled moan from our empty living room, while Bryson blew his load somewhere public, and Shannon woke from a nightmare upstairs in bed. The wet, sticky sounds of my stuffed sex stretching to accommodate this thing would, for an instant, fill the room, before vanishing. I was free to do whatever I wanted.

Anything, that is, except cum.

If I orgasmed, it was game-over. If I came on this lovely cock, if my muscles spasmed and I saw spots and my moan choked out into voiceless pleasure, it would all be over. Bryson, and everyone else, would wake up. He would be under me, still in the mindset of 'rape Shannon', and find himself encumbered with pleasure with my lithe form on his cock, moaning and whimpering.

I imagined how much he would cum. How those fat, full testicles would swell and then evict, teased and edged over time and yet it all happening so fast. He would be buried inside me, the head of his cock stretching my insides so he was pressed against my cervix, buried and deep. His hot, heavy cum would fill me, fill my womb, as I moaned atop him, and he would moan too. Confused, sure, but in ecstacy beneath me, cumming deep into the belly of a near-stranger, when an instant ago he was pushing a girl over a sofa to fuck her.

And here he was. Lifeless as he was ridden, cock wet and chest bare, a naked woman of twenty-three riding him to her heart's content as she tried her very hardest not to cum.

Which was difficult. Even the image of what it might feel like, the idea of being filled with his hot, thick cum was lewdly attractive. I never thought I'd had a breeding kink, but fucking a guy until he couldn't help but make me pregnant? It was... hot. As a fantasy, of course, but still.

'Shit, shit, shit,' I Mumbled to myself as my pace increased, my hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave indents in his skin, his cock staying rigid and unmoving as I plowed myself upon it. 'Don't cum, Brooke - don't you fucking cum.'

I had to stop myself, more than once, as I felt the orgasm rising. Fighting that urge, that natural need to cum, was more difficult that I had ever imagined it would be. After the third cancelled orgasm, I started to wonder if it was time to leave him be - set time going again after putting him on the roadside, and watching him bust a nut all over the concrete outside.

But I couldn't stop.

It was addictive - just riding him, feeling my hole stretch like nothing I'd known before, having total control and security in knowing I could go as fast or slow, hard or gentle as possible - I had total, total power here.

I adjusted my position after a little while, facing his feet instead of his dead-eyes stare. In that, I sat more upright, hand on my belly as though I expected to feel him through my skin. There was a hint of that - but only when it became too uncomfortable to go any further. It was almost annoying, how the depth of my channel, the sensitivity of my cervix, made it so delicious to be filled to such depth, and yet painful to go even a millimeter further.

Eyes too big for my cunt, you could say.

Maybe an hour passed - maybe more. It certainly felt like more, and I knew that I was going to feel his absence later. Hell, even as I sat up, pulling myself off him with a wet slrrp, I experienced my first honest-to-God gape.

'Mother of God, Bryson,' I moaned, stumbling off him in sweaty, troubled steps. My juices had leaked down my thighs and coated his entire crotch, and the carpet beneath us both, too. 'If you were a better man, I'd do this to you daily.'

Next, of course, was the prestige. Making him suffer through this pleasure, having him cum like a fucking hose, but making it... awful. Just as traumatic for him as it would have been for Shannon, if I hadn't stepped in.

If you hadn't gotten involved at all, I scolded myself.

I kicked him in the gut, as though he was the source of my inner guilt, and pulled my underwear back on - feeling the wetness of my unsatisfied sex. Which was stupid, of course - it was some of the best sex I'd ever had. I just wasn't able to finish. Nightmare.

'Go fuck yourself, Bryson.'

Then, I had an awfully mean idea of what to do with him - and where all that cum should go.

CHAPTER NINE - THE WITNESS

Dressed again, I stood Bryson up vaguely where he had been. I stripped him down to his not unattractive bareness, and took a moment to appreciate what had just been buried within me, before getting to work.

'I hope this hurts,' I murmur, before taking his monster-cock in my hand and pushing it. Downwards.

It bent, at first, at the point it met the hip - like any penis would. So, as I pressed it down to his thigh, and then between his legs, the resistance grew and grew until I could tell it wasn't going to go much further naturally.

I pushed his leg up, thanking my ability's gravity-defying properties for helping me do as much without his cock bouncing back up, and ducked under his crotch.

For a moment, part of me was tempted to go back to those full, low-hanging orbs he had for balls - to suckle them, tug them lightly and fill my mouth with their taste. But I fought it - I had a job to do.

Behind him, his cock protruded from beneath like an oddly-angled tail, more than long enough for me to what needed to be done. I took a breath, and spread his toned buttcheeks with my hands, and when I relented they stayed open.

I bit back a smile as my palm teased his cock, rock-hard but still malleable enough, under his thigh and back towards me, straining against itself. I kissed the head, applying a dollop more liquid on top of my already generous donation of grool, and kept bending.

Inch by inch, I worked my way from the base of his cock, applying pressure so that there was a little movement, but never enough to, you know, break it. By the time I was at the head, I had managed to create enough of an angle that it was almost funny how easy it was. His cock, curved beneath his taint, pressed at the crease of his backdoor.