Alvar
Rylee's ex-mate stands outside the door, likely hearing every bit of her cries. Her screams of pleasure grow louder, more desperate, as she drools and begs me to fuck her faster. That pathetic dog named Syd must be listening.
With a final scream, Rylee has an orgasm. Her release spills over my cock, soaking my stomach, and then she goes limp, her eyes fluttering shut in a haze of satisfaction.
Content, I link Carl, instructing him to come upstairs and take the man away.
Just a quarter of an hour ago, I was tying Rylee up, listening to her say things that cut deep. Instead of having Carl take Syd straight to the dungeon, I ordered him to give the mutt a debilitating injection, then tie him to a chair right outside my bedroom door. I wanted Syd to hear every single moment—how Rylee begged for mercy beneath me, how she found pleasure in our sex, how she screamed my name.
Carl reports back that Syd’s eyes are bloodshot with rage, his mouth bleeding from where he's bitten down on it.
