I hadn’t wanted to come so many times with someone who was treating me so cruelly. But my brain had gone fuzzy after the first three orgasms in front of the mirror, where he made me watch myself come. First, while he played with my pussy and then braced against the glass as he slow-fucked me to two more climaxes. I’d been unable to think clearly or hold onto enough shame to make myself stop.

Eventually, my climaxes had begun to meld together until it felt like I was in a trance. Last night, I could only care about the pleasure at the top of the shame roller coaster. It didn’t matter that it was a monster taking me over and over again, only how high he got me before I came plummeting down again.

This morning was a different story, though. I sat up on the edge of the bed, eager to get a shower in before I called off sick at work. But then, another memory from last night hit me like a truck.

Him pulling up the sheets and dragging me into the shower to wash all his jizz off my filthy body. He fucked me there, too. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly come again, another orgasm began to build.

I sensed he didn’t mean to take me that time, and I wondered if he’d fallen into the same trance as me. Unable to stop, even though we both knew we should. The climax washed over me before I could reach the end of that thought trail. My pussy tightened around his cock as I came, and he sped up, driving into me, deeper and deeper.

I’d spent hours straightening my hair on Sunday with a flat iron set on low and tons of heat protectant to keep from frying my strands. He ruined all my hard work in that shower, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care.

I felt him begin to swell inside my pussy. We were both so exhausted. I thought maybe this time would be different. It wasn’t. He pulled out of me just like all the other times.

But then, he wrapped a hand around my neck, his malevolent gaze pinned on mine as he fisted his cock. He wasn’t choking me exactly, but he was gripping my throat tight as if he wanted to more than anything.

Maybe he did. Maybe that was his deepest wish. That he could end this. End us.

I wish I could say that thought had scared me. That he had scared me. But I’d been too far gone for that. I was so lost in the aftershocks of my millionth orgasm that I merely watched him watch me before his back hunched, and he gave me something else I had to wash off.