He abruptly pulled my mouth off his cock just as I was about to arrive. At first, I thought maybe he was going to come all over my face like all those guys in porn videos. Which I really didn’t think I would enjoy, but okay.

Instead, he yanked me up and spun me around. And the next thing I knew, I was sitting in his lap. Facing Yaron directly.

Victor’s hands were underneath my skirt, pulling my panties aside…

He wouldn’t.

I found out in the very next moment that he would. His cock plunged into the pussy I prepared for him, and he tore open the front of my dress.

My chest was so much smaller since the weight loss. I no longer bothered to wear bras with dresses that had well-constructed tops like this one.

But the yellow skater dress wasn’t as durable as I’d thought. It shredded apart easily with just one yank from Victor. My naked breasts came spilling out. His dominant hand came up to seize one, kneading mercilessly while the other hand clamped down on my hip, using the hold for leverage as he pumped inside of me.

He was fucking me so hard. And Yaron was watching as part of my punishment. As part of my humiliation.

The way he was fucking me like I was his property should make me feel sick inside. But something about being claimed like this made everything inside me go nuts. I didn’t want to come. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But the pleasure built so fast as he ruthlessly took me.

There was no nausea. Only fire. Burning hotter and hotter. I came with a long, helpless keen just as the old-fashioned horn went off again.

I could feel him pulsing inside of me. He was close, too. That brought me a tiny, tiny bit of solace. Until he pushed me forward, practically shoving me off his cock. I went tumbling to the floor, landing on my hands and knees.

The next thing I felt was a hot spurt against the back of my bare thighs.

It was his cum. I knew that in an instant. He’d pulled out again, refusing to come inside of me.

If his objective was to debase me, to humiliate me… it worked. Hot shame curdled my stomach, and my knees gave out, collapsing me down to the floor.

The old-fashioned horn stopped blaring. And, somewhere in the distance, I heard the door open, followed by the sound of feet leaving. A tiny sliver of relief cut through the thick cloud of shame. He left immediately, just like last time. At least there was that.

But then, Victor suddenly dropped into my eye line. Crouching in what I’d come to think of as the Asian way when I was in Japan. His knees were flexed outward, and his butt was nearly touching the ground.