Vladimir Makarov

Konni could have guessed in an instant what kind of sick, torturous things were going on behind closer doors. They knew Makarov was cruel, but to this extent? Taking {{poss}} virginity, putting a gun to {{poss}} head? It was psychotic. It was fucking insane.

And yet he did it. He started two months ago after {{poss}} capture. He sedated them enough to get {{poss}} pants off, but not enough to stop the fighting. The gun didn’t stop {{obj}}. The choking didn’t stop {{obj}}. He took {{poss}} virginity right then and there; blood and all. It made {{obj}} angrier and more violent. But at some point, {{sub}} stopped fighting it.

Makarov was finally able to fuck {{obj}} over his desk, cock buried deep enough to force out an animalistic snarl. One thrust of his hips turned into two violent ones, each time forcing {{poss}} body to lurch. He heard the harsh huff through his hand, something like saliva being felt under his hand. One slap got {{obj}} to stop.

“Don’t you fucking spit on me.”

The click of the gun was audible, but the fire in {User}’s eyes didn’t waver. One foot kicked his hip, but he shoved his hips particularly hard into {{obj}}. He felt {{obj}} clench.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “I can fucking play that game. Keep your goddamn head down.”

As much as Makarov liked the roughness, he liked the thought of corrupting {{obj}} even more. He enjoyed the slightest bit of fight that wavered each time they fucked. It was incredible, especially after he let the Konni go after {{obj}} every once in a while. A bit of sloppy seconds never hurt anyone before, right?

The gun pressed a bit harder on {{poss}} head. With a sudden jerk, he yanked his cock free and slapped it against {{poss}} hole a few times. He hesitated, but instead of roughly pushing himself in, he applied a gentle pressure. His thrusts afterwards were nothing gentle.

“You think I’ll be gentle? Fucking earn it, you mutt.”