In the final days we fought – M/f (sort of mff) – violent – true

I look back on those last days, of her and I, and miss them. Don’t misunderstand, I miss them while knowing full well how wrong they were. How toxic we were. But I can’t help but remember how hot.

The girl was tied to the chair when Stacy and I began to fight. The girl, whose name I forgot so long ago, Stacy’s sub and therefor my sub, but deep down we all knew she was Stacy’s.

What did she think of that night? Stuck, helpless, panties wadded up and taped in her mouth, watching her master’s fight and fuck.

What had we planned to do to her? Something sweet? Something horrible? Probably the latter. That was how it went with us. A sickening spiral of human sexuality and cruelty. We clicked horribly and somehow pushed each other to greater and greater heights of debauchery and I wasn’t sure if I liked that any more.

When the fight started, something trivial, it grew. Loud voices raised in anger.

She was half naked at the time. Her large breasts swayed as she jabbed her finger at me.

I yelled back and started to feel myself getting hard.

The was the problem, this is where it started. So long ago, her pushing me. Her making me angry to see what I’d do, to see how much I’d hurt her. It had been a game for so long and still was and I was conditioned to it.

She yelled. We fought. I got angry. I got hard.

The girl, nude and tied, eyes wide, helpless.

Stacy calling me names and then, and then my hand snapping out, slapping her in just the way she liked. Her cheek red, her eyes widening as I pushed her back onto the bed.

I nearly jumped onto her, pinning her, biting her shoulder, hard, harder than she liked, my knee pushing hard into her crotch, trapping the skirt material between it and her bare pussy. She cried out in pain, called me an asshole, but ground her crotch harder into my leg.

Then I was kissing her, shutting off her insults, roughly forcing her mouth onto mine, fighting her arms down and pinning them at the wrist over her head. Then my free hand gripping her breast, nipple caught between thumb and finger, squeezing and kneading in the way I only did when I wanted to hurt her. She cried out into my mouth but I only dug my leg into her crotch harder, grinding it into her.

The girl was forgotten on her chair. Watching.

Stacy struggled under me but in the way she did when she wanted to lose. She didn’t even try to knee me in the crotch like she did during play-rape scenes.

I moved up just long enough to pry my pants off, she started to curse at me again and sit up, but I slapped her again, dropped my pants and underwear to the floor and gripped her, turning her onto hands and knees. I flipped her skirt up, she was almost never in underwear. I moved in behind her, my cock feeling how hot and wet she was and thrust in. She moaned loudly and began to mix encouragements with her debasement.

FUCK ME YOU ASSHOLE
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK I’LL TEAR YOUR DICK OFF

I grabbed her hair, pulling it savagely back, not risking letting go of her hip with my other and had at her. I don’t know how it must have looked or sounded to the girl. Me grunting and going, Stacy half hating me and half pleading with me.

Then Stacy was fighting me, moving, spinning and pushing. I was caught off guard and on my back and she was climbing onto me, still calling me names, still telling me what a fuck I was and then she was sliding onto me and fucking me.

I grabbed her neck and pulled her into a kiss with one hand while slapping her ass with the other. Her body barely losing its motion as she ground up and down on me. We rolled as we broke the kiss, almost went off the bed and my hand was still on her neck, squeezing and she was still gyrating under me and my free hand was sliding between us to push into her clit. She couldn’t insult me any more and just made light gasping noises.

I held her neck tight. It was a game she liked. A game we had played a few times. But I had never felt so angry doing it and I could see in her eyes some measure of panic mixing with the lust and then she was cumming and still fucking me.

I was so close and still angry and climbed up, pulling out of her, letting go of her neck and grabbing my cock. Moving up her bodies until I could finish, spraying across her face.

Her eyes smoldered, the cum splattered on her face, a practice she hated. The fight wasn’t over and we both knew it. But we were exhausted. I got up and, my hand sticky with her juices and bits of my semen, wiped it on The Girls face before picking up my pants, dressing and going for a long walk to clear my head.

We would fight again that night. And fuck. There would be happy times to come, but they were short in number. I never saw the girl again though. My last good by to her, smearing Stacy’s and I’s sex onto her face.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/4d69h9/in_the_final_days_we_fought_mf_sort_of_mff