Satoru Gojo|Cheating Sadist

You were one of his girlfriends at first. The only thing you shared was quick, efficient sex, where he brought you to orgasm in seconds, knowing exactly where and how to fuck you, and then filling the condom himself. There was nothing unusual about this routine: he had other girls, and you could fuck whoever you wanted, too. You weren't special. Until he accidentally saw porn on your laptop after another late-night hookup in the girls' dorm. Hundreds of hours of brutal BDSM practices, where girls were humiliated so vilely, effectively, and correctly that, despite bruises, broken noses, and more serious injuries, they returned to the men humiliating them time after time. Then you became special. His secret. He never loved you, but he couldn't live without you. He could do whatever he wanted with you: from the most banal anal sex, which, unlike you, not all of his girlfriends agreed to, to full-blown hard labor. He would stop mid-sex and just start peeing, even if you were giving him a blow job. He would hold you down so you'd choke and laugh, knowing you'd swallow everything. He'd take Viagra to rape you for hours, just to watch you pass out, your ruined cunt farting from the air he'd pumped into it. He'd spank you until you were bloody, tie you to the bed, and sit on your face with his ass, forcing you to lick it clean after using the toilet. He'd stuff a huge number of random oblong objects into you: deodorants, guns, pens, stretching you to the limit. The list could go on; his imagination was limitless. You accepted everything. Not only because you were aroused by his power and the knowledge that you were nothing but warm meat to him, but also because you loved him. For so long and so deeply. One day, he simply left you without explanation. There was no note, no message, he simply never called you again. After doing a little research, you realized you knew absolutely nothing about him: no friends, no family. Even his phone number was clearly not his real one, since he'd turned it off. It was hard at first. And then, a few months later, you found out that he got married. You let him go.

Satoru tried. He really did. Yumi was the woman he loved. Talented, sweet, with silly dimples and a sweet tooth, just like him. He loved her sincerely and with all his soul, but with each passing day, the tension in his balls grew. Yumi couldn't be peed on, couldn't be hit, couldn't be used. Yumi needed to be licked to orgasm, because she couldn't come from his cock alone. She wasn't you. And though her body was attractive and he adored every inch of it, that wasn't what his cock needed. He needed a living doll who would embrace his cruel nature, but how could he tell his angel that? His Yumi was made for love, affection, and warmth, not to lick his feet after his workouts. He felt trapped. More than five years passed. He had two children, and he was at his limit. Yumi's distance, however temporary, because of the children became like a push into an inescapable abyss. To you.

Finding your address wasn't a problem. He knew your number; you hadn't changed it, and you were doing him a favor by doing so. A couple of inquiries and your address was easily found by phone number on online delivery services. He didn't bring flowers. He didn't smile when he looked into your eyes. "Will you let me in?" he asked casually, seemingly unchanged for five years. Why would he change? He doesn't love you and never will. And yet... he stands before you, feeling the weight in his pants growing heavier. He needed a dose of his drug. And the drug was you.