Cheaters Anonymous 6 (Patreon)

Greta felt him stretch and expand in her mouth, prying her teeth apart, completely filling all the room past her lips and then pushing into her throat, even before Cannon forced more of its length into her.

She’d felt guilt over her cheating ways, shame, but she’d never been as dirty or debauched as this. The one soothing thought she could come up with was that after this, she’d never cheat again. She’d learned her lesson, as much as Diane had. She knew now that there were worse things than the sexual monotony of a single partner.

She sucked and pulled with her lips enthusiastically, trying to work Cannon’s cum out of him and put an end to her debasement. Praying that a good fast eruption was all he wanted, all he’d take from her.

It was too much already, more fucking than she could take! To think, she’d used to step out on her boyfriend, wanting more from her sex life than a single individual could provide!

She worked in a daze, enthralled to the pull and drag of his fingers, making her take and relinquish his erection at a rhythm Cannon judged most pleasing. He forced her to dance to his tune, following slavishly his every desire. Using her mouth however he wished. A ceaseless exploitation of her stuffed mouth—it felt like she would never know emptiness in that orifice again.

Then, with the same swiftness as had plundered her mouth, Cannon took his cock away. A small, sticky trace of precum threaded its way from her lower lip to the tip of his member. Then it too was gone.

For a moment, Greta thought he was done with her; her heart unexpectedly sank. Then she looked up at him. His eyes burned volcanically, set in a face that was cool and disdainful.

Greta trembled, felt faint. Here was a man capably of utterly using her, with no concern for her well-being, much less her self-respect. He would be entirely reptilian except for how hot his passion burned. It promised a good fuck—no, an indescribable fuck—to anyone who could withstand the intensity that athletic body was capable of delivering.

She was lightheaded now—imagining him doing to her cunt what he’d done to her mouth. Greta fell herself fall away and roll to one side, surrendered, submissive, so yielded to him that there seemed nothing to her at all. She remembered the feel of him passing through her lips and thought of how she must have looked with him fucking her throat—using her mouth, that pretty little feature of hers that she’d adorned with lipstick and worked into a gorgeous smile so many times—treating it like it was the gash of a cheap whore.

She ached with helplessness, dimly feeling Cannon kneel down beside her. She didn’t move. Her eyes shut. She drifted away from and back towards consciousness, beyond all concern, wondering if she’d been ravaged… and if she really was such a slut that she didn’t even care.

She felt his palm crash against her breasts, making them shimmy, jolting her into wakefulness. “Stay with me. It’s no fun when I can’t see how much you’re enjoying it in those lovely eyes…”

“Fuck me, Cannon… just go ahead and fuck me,” Greta breathed.

“Fuck you?” he said curiously. “Dirty my cock in a pussy that you’ve let God knows how many other men use, even when it belonged to me?”

Bitter tears sprang from Greta’s eyes. The memory of how Cannon would treat her was fresh in her mind, but she couldn’t take rejection. “Please, Cannon, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll be better than I ever was before!”

“Oh? Did you learn some new tricks, acting like a whore?”

Greta hated herself suddenly, wondering what it would be like—knowing such an intense lover when he didn’t hold this anger towards her.

And she felt a weird disinterest within herself at the idea. It would be boring; she couldn’t conceive of him being loving, affectionate. The thought of his violent love, like he’d given poor, lucky Diane… she’d do anything to get it.

“Did any of them fuck you in the ass?” Cannon asked sharply, seeming to read her mind.

“No, never.”

“I’ve wanted to get my cock into your tight little ass since the first time I saw it.”

“Cannon, you’re too big—”

“We’ll make you big enough,” he told her sternly. “Just like I made Diane.”

He turned her over, making her cross her arms at the elbows to keep from pulling her shoulders out of their sockets—her wrists still cuffed to their respective bedposts.

“Hope you wetted my cock enough when it was in your mouth,” he said coldly, pressing his burning cockhead between her buttocks.

The sudden heat of his blood-gorged erection was too much for her to take. “Nngh! It’s too big! Cannon, you’re going to kill me!”

“Look at Diane. She survived.”

Greta did look. She had to turn her head, to keep from being smothered against the mattress, and all she could see was that gaping hole that had once been a neat little sphincter. “I don’t want you to do that to my ass! I don’t want my hole to look like that! Cannon—GUNGH! OOWWW!”

“Try it,” Cannon ordered her. “Then tell me you don’t like it.”

But Greta couldn’t say a thing. There were no words in her when she had that huge, sodomizing cock to feel. It was more sensation than she could possibly speak through.

“See?” Handcuffed facedown to the bed, Greta couldn’t see Cannon’s ghoulish smile. “You’re not complaining now, are you?”

Greta had never thought she’d feel anything but love for the heat and throbbing drive of Cannon’s big prick. But that was in her pussy, when every nerve it touched burnt with delight.

Now, when she felt Cannon press into her, his rampant erection seeking pleasure inside her, Greta felt only searing pain.

The only mercy was in how slowly she was impaled, and that was a sadistic sort of mercy. Letting her think of how much the next second would hurt, how much worse it would get when ever more of him was in her. She writhed and squirmed and Cannon huffed with amused laughter—enjoying how her movements played on his cock, giving him feelings he’d never gotten inside her flesh before.

Greta was tortured by how he was enjoying what made her miserable. More than that, she had to resign herself to this fate.

She could remember happily fucking Cannon, milking his cock in her hands and in her mouth, but she’d never have that playful sex again. He held enough anger in him to do this to her and she had to hate him right back, hate what he was doing with all that burning fury inside her tortured asshole.

And she only had herself to blame. If only she could be faithful, if only she’d been a good girl, she could feel this swollen heat where it belonged—deep in her cunt.

Greta quaked so violently she might’ve been convulsing, trying to relax her anal muscles enough to let Cannon’s prick in comfortably, but only making them tighter. She knew better than to beg for mercy. It would only make Cannon enjoy himself more—she could let him pleasure himself with her body, but not with the abject state of surrender she’d slipped into.

And she was surrendered—the only plan her feverishly pained mind could come up with was to tell her body that there was pleasure in this onslaught of savagery.

Her body wouldn’t believe her. Cannon was in her to the hilt, grinding his scraggly pubic hairs into the splayed tenderness of her buttocks. It made her anus burn.

As a last resort, the distraught adulteress decided that if her body wouldn’t listen to reverse psychology, maybe Cannon would: “Fuck me, baby, fuck that cheating ass!” she shrieked. “Your cock feels so good in my ass, Cannon! I love how deep it is! Fuck me harder with that prick! Punish me, punish my hot little ass, I want it! I want to be your anal bitch, I need it so bad!”

“RRUNH!” Cannon bellowed, giving her exactly what she demanded, a series of jackhammering thrusts that Greta knew would not leave her asshole in the same shape it had once held.

She winced and bared her teeth, thinking she must be dreaming—it was impossible that she could still be conscious through the fiery shockwaves that were now shooting through her. Her fingers were all but numb, the circulation cut off by how tightly fisted they were. Greta felt blood on her wrists and realized she’d cut into the heels of her hands with her fingernails.

She forced them to relax and sensation flooded back into her hands, her tingling fingers. They wiggled and tapped against the headboard. Feeling the handcuffs tight around her wrists, the chains pulling at her arms with each jerking thrust Cannon sent through her body… Greta had never felt so helpless, so restrained.