A/N: Let's goooo
Phei had her exactly where she belonged: naked, trembling, bent over Harold's desk like every filthy fantasy she'd ever tried to bury.
Her wrists were pinned high between in one of his hands, the other tangled in her hair, forcing her cheek to the polished mahogany.
Her tits were crushed beneath her, nipples so hard they scraped the wood with every ragged breath. Her ass was high, thighs spread wide, cunt dripping in a steady, humiliating stream that pooled beneath her on the leather blotter.
The porn still played behind them, but neither of them were watching anymore.
Phei leaned over her, chest to her sweat-slick back, lips at her ear.
"Say it again," he ordered, low and lethal. "Tell me who this cunt belongs to."
Melissa's entire body convulsed. A fresh river of slick poured out of her, splattering the floor.
"Never," she choked, but her hips rolled back shamelessly, offering herself up like a bitch in heat.
He brought his hand down on her ass so hard the crack rang off the bookshelves. Her scream was pure animal.
Another slap. Another. Ten in total (left cheek, right cheek, sit-spots, the tender crease where thigh met ass) until her skin was blazing, until welts rose in perfect handprints, until she was sobbing and grinding her cunt against the corner of the desk like she could come from the burn alone.
"Try. Again."
She shook her head, tears and snot streaking the wood beneath her cheek.
He stepped in close, fisted her hair, and yanked her upright and spun her, slammed her back to his chest.
One arm locked across her throat, the other plunged between her legs. Three fingers speared into her cunt without warning, curled viciously, and pumped hard enough to lift her onto her toes.
She screamed--raw, cracked open, perfect.
He fucked her on his hand like that brutal, relentless strokes, knuckles slamming against her clit with every thrust, her slick pouring down his wrist in rivers.
"Listen to me, you filthy fucking aunt," he snarled into her ear. "You've spent ten years hating me. Pretending you're above this. But every night you spread these legs and cry for a boy to force you, to own you, to make you the family whore you've always been."
He twisted his fingers deeper, grinding against her front wall until her eyes rolled back.
"I know exactly what you need," he hissed. "And I'm the only one who's ever going to give it to you."
He ripped his fingers free she screamed at the emptiness and shoved them straight into her mouth.
"Open that lying fucking mouth and taste how wet you get for your nephew."
She fought for half a second then her lips parted and she sucked him in like she was starving. Tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, licking herself off him with broken, desperate moans.
He pulled out with a wet pop and bent her forward again kicked her feet so wide her hips screamed, ass high, cunt completely exposed.
Then he stopped.
Just stood there, letting the silence stretch until it was unbearable.
She whimpered.
He circled her slowly, predator-slow, dragging the head of his cock through the sweat on her back, leaving wet trails.
"Now! Say it," he whispered, Charm Speech rolling through every syllable like black velvet soaked in sin. "Tell me who owns this cunt tonight." Got her hair.
Melissa's whole body shook. A fresh wave of slick slid down her thigh.
"Fuck you," she spat, but it cracked halfway through, turning into a whimper when he twisted her wrists higher and her back bowed painfully.
He chuckled low, cruel, teenage-sure.
"Wrong answer, Aunt Melissa."
He released her hair just long enough to bring his hand down on her ass (hard). The crack echoed like a gunshot. Her flesh rippled, a perfect red handprint blooming instantly. She screamed into the desk, hips jerking forward, then immediately back, chasing the sting.
Another slap (harder, on the other cheek). Then another. And another. Until her ass was a blazing, glowing red, until she was sobbing and grinding her cunt against the edge of the desk like she could come from the pain alone.
"Try again," he growled, grinding his clothed cock between her burning cheeks. "Who owns this cunt?"
She shook her head, hair sticking to her tear-streaked face.
He laughed again, darker this time, and let go of her wrists.
Before she could move, he grabbed her by the throat and yanked her upright spun her around, slammed her back to his chest. One arm banded across her tits, squeezing hard, the other hand sliding down her belly to cup her cunt possessively.
Two fingers speared inside her without warning just rammed in deep and curled.
She screamed--raw, broken, perfect.
He pumped slow, filthy, letting her feel every inch of his fingers stretching her open.
"Listen to me," he hissed into her ear, voice dripping with teenage dominance and ancient power. "Stop pretending you're above your cravings. Pretending you don't dream about being forced, used, owned. But I've seen you, Melissa. Every night. Fingers in your cunt, tears on your face, begging a screen to call you a worthless aunt-slut."
He twisted his fingers hard. She sobbed, thighs clamping around his hand.
"I know what you need," he continued, voice dropping lower, darker. "And I'm the only one in this house with the balls to give it to you. Not even your worthless husband can."
He pulled his fingers free ignoring her desperate whine and brought them to her mouth.
"Open."
She clamped her lips shut, eyes blazing with the last of her pride.
He smiled slow, cruel.
Then he slapped her cunt again (open-palmed, brutal). She screamed, mouth flying open, and he shoved his fingers inside.
"Suck."
Her tongue curled around them instantly--obedient, tasting herself like it was holy communion.
"Good girl," he crooned, pumping them in and out of her mouth in time with the way he'd just fucked her cunt. "Look at you. Finally, being honest."
He pulled his fingers free and spun her again--shoved her down so her tits smashed back onto the desk, ass high. He kicked her feet wider until she was completely exposed, cunt gaping, clit throbbing visibly.
Then he stepped back.
Just far enough to look at her.
Her body was a masterpiece of surrender: back arched, ass red and glowing, thighs trembling, cunt dripping in thick ropes that swung between her legs like obscene jewelry.
He circled her slowly, predator-slow.
"You're going to say it," he said quietly. "You're going to beg for it. Because you're done pretending."
He stopped behind her again and brought his hand down (not on her ass this time, but between her legs). Three fingers plunged into her cunt without warning, curling hard, pumping fast.
She screamed.
He didn't stop.
He finger-fucked her brutally once more (no warm-up, no mercy), just raw, relentless thrusts that made her whole body jolt forward with every stroke. Her tits dragged across the desk, nipples catching on papers, her hips slamming back to meet his hand like she couldn't help it.
"Say it," he snarled, leaning over her, teeth grazing her shoulder. "Say you're my aunt-slut. Say you've been waiting your whole life for your nephew to break you."
She sobbed, shaking her head, but her cunt clamped down on his fingers like a vice, another gush of slick pouring over his wrist.
He pulled out and slapped her clit--hard, fast, three times in a row.
She came.
Just from that--just from the pain and the shame and the truth.
Her whole body seized, back bowing, mouth open in a silent scream as her cunt pulsed and squirted in violent, humiliating waves that soaked his hand, the desk, the floor.
He didn't let her finish.
He shoved four fingers back inside her while she was still coming stretched her open, fucked her through it, forcing the orgasm to keep going until she was babbling, tears streaming, body shaking apart.
Then he leaned down, lips to her ear, voice soft now (dangerously soft).