John sat cuffed to the chair in silence, his head held high and his legs casually spread, still displaying the erection trapped in his pants. He met Isabella’s cold stare with a lopsided grin.

Perhaps a minute passed in silence, broken only by the quiet ticking of the clock high on the wall. Finally Isabella spoke. “Is that it?”

“Hm?” John arched his brow. “Is what it?”

“You’ve refused to shut up since we cuffed you to that chair,” Isabella said. “When did you learn that those two women’s bodies were found?”

“Bodies?” John pouted and cocked his head innocently. “They were alive the last time I saw them.”

“You locked them in a trunk and buried them alive.”

“Alive, yes. Maybe they got out.”

“Through rope, wood, and six feet of dirt?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Isabella slammed her first onto the table, clenching her jaw. Femina City hadn’t executed a prisoner in decades; based on precedent, two first degree murder charges would only get him life in prison, even with the most vindictive judge. If she could just get him to confess to a third murder, give any sign that at least one of the married couple had died for sure by his hand, then the death sentence was on the table.

“Fine.” Isabella shook her head and let her shoulders slump, hoping to entice him with an apparently defeated rival. “Tell us about your next victim.”

John snorted. “No. I don’t think I will.”

Isabella stiffened. This bastard knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? “You’re afraid of getting a lethal injection.”

He was still smiling. She hated that smile. So warm, relaxed—she would even call him cute if she saw him out on the street. And he knew it. It was infuriating.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversation here.” He relaxed back into the chair and closed his eyes. “I hope you two had as much fun as I did.”

Again, the silence. Isabella waited for him to follow up, to try and taunt them, but he didn’t even open his eyes. It was like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of the interrogation room.

She stood from her chair. “Hey. Hey! We’re not done here!”

No response. His chest swelled as he took a deep breath.

Isabella’s hands curled into fists on the table. She went to walk around it, to grab him and shake more out of him, but was stopped by Rachel stepping in front of her.

“He’s not giving us anything else,” she said quietly. Her pretty green eyes were still a little puffy, but her lips were set into a hard line. “We have enough to put him away for life as it is.” She turned to the camera in the corner and nodded, and a few seconds later the door opened, a pair of officers stepping into the cramped room.

They undid John’s cuffs, hauled him out of the chair, and resecured them once more. “We’ll get him processed, ma’am,” one of them said, dipping his head to Isabella and Rachel in turn. “Don’t worry. He ain’t getting away this time.”

They shoved John towards the door. He stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance, looking back and meeting Isabella’s glare. He gave her one last, cocky wink, and then the officers pushed him into the hall and out of sight, closing the door behind them.

Rachel and Isabella were alone.

Isabella sighed, slumping down against the wall and rubbing her face in her hands. “Fuck,” she breathed. “That was…”

“Yeah.” Rachel nodded, massaging her neck. “It’s hard to believe that people like that are real.”

“Life in prison seems too good for him,” Isabella said. She shook her head disdainfully. “He just wants attention, and he got it. He’s playing us like a fucking fiddle.”

Rachel didn’t answer at first. The silence stretched on for minutes, until finally Isabella looked up and saw the thoughtful look on her partner’s face.

“Rachel?” she asked.

Rachel blinked, her eyes refocusing back on Isabella. “H-huh?”

“What’re you thinking? You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just—” Rachel licked her lips, tugging anxiously at her smooth blonde ponytail. “What if… he didn’t make it to prison?”

Isabella frowned. “What do you mean? That’s where he’s going, Rach. There’s no way he escapes. He’s a freak and a sadist, but he’s no magician.”

“No, no! I mean… what if we didn’t let him make it to prison?” Rachel stepped closer, grabbing Isabella’s shoulders and lowering her voice to a whisper. “What if we made something go wrong?”

Isabella’s eyes widened. She gasped, whispering back, “Rachel, you’re talking about murder!”

“It’s what he deserves, isn’t it?” Rachel hissed darkly. “You heard the shit he was saying, Bella. It’s just like you said, life in prison is too good for him.”

“That doesn’t mean we just kill him!”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t we?!” Rachel squeezed Isabella’s shoulders, nodding energetically as she talked through the idea. “It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? We can just say he resisted in transit and we had to shoot him. We can turn our body cams off. Nobody’s gonna care if a serial rapist shows up dead, Bella. If we just bend the rules a little, we can make sure he never hurts anyone again!”

“But…” Isabella grimaced. It was tempting. It was damn tempting. She hated John more than anything, and the idea of his smug face paling in shock just before she put a bullet between his eyes had her reaching instinctively for her gun, rubbing the smooth metal with her thumb. “How would we even do it? There’s no way Chief Mendoza has us drive him.”

“Fuck Mendoza,” Rachel spat. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Look, we find out who’s doing the transit and we ask them ourselves. Bribe them if we have to. They get a few hours to relax and we get some alone time with John.”

Isabella bit her lip. She wanted to say yes, but there was doubt in the back of her head, years of police work telling her that she needed to obey the law even when it wasn’t convenient.

Then the image of John’s cocky grin flashed in her mind. All the sick shit he’d said just to get under her skin, how he’d made innocent women beg for their lives only to kill them in the most terrible ways.

She’d make him beg before she shot him.

“Fine.” Isabella nodded, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

---

There was a light drizzle falling as Isabella and Rachel stood in the lot outside a few hours later. Rachel was pacing nervously, her arms crossed under her breasts and her head swiveling side to side as she scanned the street.

“Relax, Rach,” Isabella said. She’d taken a position leaning against the brick wall, one hand resting on her holster. Though she’d been reluctant to agree to this plan, now that things were in motion she’d settled into her usual determination, but Rachel had been practically bouncing off the walls.

“Look! There.” Rachel perked up, jerking her head. Isabella followed the motion and spotted the pair of officers escorting John out of the police department. Both his wrists and ankles were cuffed, forcing him to shuffle awkwardly as the officers brought him to a patrol car and pushed him into the backseat.

The door slammed shut, locking him inside. Rather than get into the car themselves, however, the two officers went straight back inside. One of them paused at the door, looking towards Isabella and Rachel and giving a short nod.

“Well, it’s in our hands now.” Isabella pushed off the wall, leading the way to the car with a determined stride. She looked into the tinted windows of the rear seat with a smirk as she approached the driver’s side door. She couldn’t see inside, but she knew John was in there, and she knew he could see her.

The key was left in the door. Isabella slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh, reaching up and adjusting the rear view mirror until she could see John’s surprised face.

“Detective?”

“Rapist.”

He blinked. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?”

“My job.” Isabella turned the key as Rachel sat beside her, the engine revving to life. “Now shut the fuck up.”

The drive passed quickly and in silence. Isabella kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, fingers tapping impatiently. She found herself glancing from mirror to mirror, jumping every time the radio crackled to life with some innocuous traffic. Had anyone noticed her absence, or the unexpected presence of the officers that were supposed to be in her place right now? Another patrol car passed from the opposite direction, its occupants giving her a wave and nod. She smiled stiffly in return, her knuckles tightening when Rebecca reached over to give her thigh a comforting squeeze.

She was a good cop, wasn’t she? She did good work. She saved people. What she was doing right now, she was doing it to save people, and she was sure that if she asked any one of her co-workers they’d all agree that the bastard didn’t deserve a warm bed and three meals a day on the taxpayer’s dime. So why was she so goddamn nervous?

The brakes squealed as the car rolled to a stop under an old bridge. They were in an older, poorer neighborhood, the sun already dipping towards the horizon. The big, expensive high-rises of downtown cast long shadows that plunged the rundown homes here into a premature night. Cops usually only came to this part of town in oversized convoys, executing drug busts, rounding up any gangs that tried expanding into the wealthier neighborhoods, or just performing an annual show of force. A body showing up here wouldn’t even hit the local headlines, and might not reach Captain Mendoza’s table for weeks.

“This will do. Get him out.” Isabella nodded to Rachel as she pushed the door open and walked around the patrol car’s hood. She pulled her gun from her holster, thumbing the rubberized grip before sighing and racking the slide back. Her heart was pounding now, but she knew this was the right thing to do.

“C’mon, asshole,” Isabella heard Rachel say. There was a masculine grunt and a few staggered steps, and John fell to his knees next to her, looking down at the hard rocks where the bridge’s foundation met the dirty river water.

“I see you’ve grown some balls, Detective.” John let out a low chuckle as he looked up at her with a lopsided grin. “I admit, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Isabella growled, whipping her pistol into the side of his face. He fell over with a groan, and she couldn’t help but smirk when she saw his dumb grin finally gone. “You don’t think I’m gonna do it, do you?” She squatted next to him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head roughly off the cracked concrete. She pushed the gun up to his eye and cocked the hammer, the slight trembling of her hands stilling as the climactic moment drew closer. “I want you to beg me.”

He still had the gall to smirk up at her, damn him. “No, Isabella. You are the one who’ll be begging.”

A sharp prick in the small of her back was the only warning Isabella had before fifty thousand volts of electricity went coursing through her petite body. She cried out, muscles spasming, every limb going rigid as John rolled away from her gun barrel. There was an ear-piercing crack as her clenching finger pulled the trigger, a round smacking into the ground and sending little shards of concrete splintering into the air.

Isabella knew what it felt like to be tazed from her training, but it was entirely different having it sprung on her unexpectedly. Her eyes watered and her teeth clenched together so hard her jaw hurt. She pissed herself, her cheeks reddening in shame as a dark patch soaked into her pants and a warm trickle ran down her leg. Her body refused to listen to her commands, each muscle undergoing rapid, painful contractions as she gasped for air.

It felt like an eternity before the current faded, leaving her to fall limply to the side with a quiet whimper. She landed on something soft, and looked up to see Rachel cradling her head in her lap, her pretty pink lips stretched into an energetic smile and her delicate fingers wrapped around a spent taser.

Isabella blinked up at her, brow furrowing in confusion. “W-why?”

John stepped into view above her, rubbing the marks on his wrists where the cuffs had been. He was holding her gun in his hand, and he slowly kneeled down and pressed it against Isabella’s forehead. She groaned, straining to get up and defend herself, but she was still weak from the taser.

There was a click as John uncocked the pistol and drew it back, smiling down at her. “Why not?”

Then he brought it down hard across her head, and she fell back into darkness.

---

The first thing Isabella was aware of was cold air over her nipples.

She groaned, lifting her head and blinking the bleary fog from her eyes. She was kneeling on a hard wooden floor, arms suspended above her by a cold chain and wrists bound in overly tight cuffs.

She was naked. A shiver passed through her as a breeze passed between her thighs and tickled at her shaved pussy.

It came back to her all at once. John’s confession, the plan with Rachel, and the betrayal. John smirking down at her as she lay helpless in Rachel’s lap. The pain as he knocked her out with her own goddamn gun.

Her eyes shot wide open as adrenaline flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet with a grunt of effort, the chain rattling as she stood and turned a quick circle, taking in her surroundings. Wooden walls, dusty cardboard boxes, a single window blocked by a thick curtain. She saw warm light leaking around a door opposite the window, and heard approaching footsteps.

Bright light flooded the room as John stepped inside and flicked the switch by the door, causing Isabella to flinch back and squint her eyes. He had changed into fresh clothes, a well-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and he smiled at her as he rolled his sleeves up and stepped further into the room.

“Well, well, Detective,” he mused, reaching a hand out. She danced away from him with a snarl, the chain rattling above her, and he chuckled under his breath. “What’s wrong? You don’t like me anymore?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Isabella hissed. He took a step forwards and she lashed out with a leg, screaming in frustration, only for him to catch her kick easily under his arm and pull. She roared as she was dragged closer, kicking and screaming with every inch, until finally his calloused hand wrapped around her breast and gave it a firm squeeze.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said, his thumb rubbing circles around her nipple. “I’m going to get to know you very well, Detective. Maybe you’ll even learn a few things about yourself, hm?”

She drew her head back and spat in his face. “Next time I decide to kill you I won’t hesitate, you disgusting son of a bitch!”

He didn’t flinch. He wiped her spit from his cheek slowly, considering it for a moment. Then he balled his hand into a fist and drove it into her gut, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“You are going to learn respect!” he shouted. He dropped her leg and grabbed her throat instead, squeezing tight while she gasped for air. Veins bulged in his forearm as he glared furiously into her eyes and punched her again and again, ignoring her strained yelps. She felt something crack, a sudden intense pain flaring in her chest, her lips parting in a silent scream when he grabbed her breast and pulled so hard that for a moment she feared he’d rip it straight off her chest.

He let go all at once, turning and walking away with his hands on his hips as she fell limply to her knees.

“Pace yourself, John,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Don’t want to break her on the first day.”

Isabella finally caught her breath, coughing and groaning as she struggled back to her feet. She hated him, but she hated how helpless she was even more. She knew he wouldn’t kill her until he was convinced he’d broken her. If she just put on a strong face and kept her chin up, she could survive until someone at the department realized they were missing and went looking.

“John? Is she awake?”

Isabella’s chest tightened. She looked up, spotting Rachel’s slender silhouette in the doorway. Her old partner was topless, her doughy tits on full display. Her cheeks and breasts were flushed red, with teeth marks around her nipples and neck hinting at a recent session of enthusiastic lovemaking, and her normally well-kept ponytail had been cut free, the long blonde locks framing her petite face and streaming down over her shoulders.

“W-why?” Isabella asked, tears welling in her eyes. Memories rushed through her head—long nights alone staking out suspected hideouts, lunch breaks by the bay watching the ships float past while they discussed a tough case, countless hours of pointless, stupid, endearing conversation as they drove around the city. They’d been partners for years and they’d never once discussed men. She’d even begun to think that maybe one day—

“You wouldn’t understand, Isabella.” Rachel stepped into the room with a dreamy smile, walking into John’s extended arm and biting her lip as he idly squeezed her breast. “When we found those women chained up and mutilated in John’s attic, I was disgusted, yes, but I was also—” she shrugged, her tits bouncing with the movement “—intrigued?”

“Intrigued?” Isabella echoed. “Rachel, what the fuck! He raped them to death! And h-he intends to do the same thing to me!”

Rachel blushed, leaning her head into John’s shoulder. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. You’re a lesbian, aren’t you? I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes, and I admit I’ve been a little interested, but my barn door swings both ways. And you know what really gets me excited?” She sighed, bringing a hand up to grab John’s hind as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. “A man that takes what he wants, when he wants, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him.”

“You can’t be serious.” Isabella gaped, looking from Rachel’s flustered face to John’s smug grin and back. She shook her head, her voice rising to a frustrated scream as she stood and lunged forwards, pulling fiercely at her chains. “He’s going to fucking kill me! He’ll probably kill you, too! Rachel! Stop thinking with your cunt and put this motherfucker in cuffs!”

John chuckled, kissing the top of Rachel’s head. “You’re wasting your breath, Detective. She knows what she wants, and it isn’t a police dyke with no concept of work-life balance.” He began to unbutton his shirt, fingers moving deftly from one button to the next and revealing the firm muscle beneath. “She wants a man, in the old meaning of the term. A man who kills, fucks, and eats his way through life, and never settles for anything less. A man that can take a tough bitch like yourself and reduce her to her true nature as a woman. Which is exactly what I’m about to do to you.”

Isabella shrieked, trying to kick at him again. “You rapist son of a bitch! I’ll bite your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

John stepped back, pulling Rachel away with him. He slid his shirt off his shoulders and began to undo his belt. “Rachel, grab the Detective’s phone, would you?”

“Yes, sir!” Rachel gave him one last squeeze before stepping bouncily to the corner where Isabella’s clothes had been discarded, bending down and pulling out a small smartphone. She turned it towards Isabella, the light blinking near the top indicating she’d started recording.

“Now, Isabella, we’re going to start out simple.” John began to circle her, letting his pants fall to the floor and stepping out of them without breaking stride. She tried turning to face him, only for him to grab her shoulder, holding her in place and cracking his belt sharply across her tight, tanned ass.

“Nngh, fuck!” Isabella yelled, back arching from the sudden pain. “Touch me again, you—aagh!”

The belt whipped her again, cutting off her taunt, and then again. He squeezed her shoulder painfully hard, keeping her from pulling away, beating her ass raw while she fought to keep her voice steady. There was a brief respite where she thought he was done, only for her eyes to bulge in shock when he began to whip her with the buckle, the hard metal breaking her smooth skin and leaving her gasping for breath.

Finally he stepped back, letting her fall to her knees with a groan. Thin curtains of blood dripped down her back, pooling in the dimples just above her ass before outlining the curves of her tight, raw buttocks. He nodded in satisfaction as she panted, hanging limply from the chain above her, and slid his boxers down to reveal his hard cock.

He grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, pulling her back against his chest so she could feel his meat slide into place between her ass cheeks. She cringed as he licked the sweat off her cheek, squeezing her throat tight and whispering into her ear.

“I’m going to fuck you now. And you see that?” He turned her head forcefully to where Rachel stood recording them, one hand playing with her breasts as she watched. “Once we’re done here, we’ll post it on your Facebook, Twitter, whatever other pointless social media you have. Your friends, family, and co-workers will get to see you cum on my cock and beg for your life—all in high definition. Isn’t that nice?” He bit her ear, giving it a sharp tug that made her tense against him, but she pursed her lips, refusing to cry out.

More amused than annoyed, John grabbed her hips and pushed her forwards, pulling her ass towards him. He sighed as he rubbed his shaft between her bloodied buttocks for a few seconds before lining his bulbous cockhead up with her pussy and beginning to press forwards.

Isabella kept her eyes forwards, jaw clenched and lips trembling as she felt him push against her. She wouldn’t break. She wouldn’t cry. She would bide her time, savoring every ounce of pain just so she could unleash it on him once she was free. She closed her eyes and grimaced as his hands squeezed her hips and caressed the small of her back, as his cock forced its way painfully inside her. A deep, body-shaking nausea welled inside her, but she swallowed the bile back down, focusing on the physical hurt of her dry folds being split open inch by inch.

John hunched over her, groaning above her, letting her hear just how much her body pleasured him. Truthfully, he wasn’t getting much out of it—yet. Her cunt was dry and tight, and each thrust of his hips chafed against him as much as it did against her. But he could see how much she hated it, how she desperately wanted to not give him what he was taking at the very moment, and that made it worth it. He kicked her feet apart and slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing slow, insistent circles over her clit and smirking when her muscles tensed against him, betraying the pleasure he was forcing upon her.

“You can play coy if you like, Isabella, but women are born to be bred whether they like it or not. And you’re no exception.”

She clenched her jaw, tears welling in her eyes as she felt her womanhood begin to flush, lubricating itself for her rapist’s pleasure. Her whole body shuddered with the shame of it, her chest tightening as she fought to repress her sobs. He worked his hips in short, easy thrusts, wetting his cock with her juices and sliding deeper half an inch at a time, his quiet huffs of excitement filling her with disgust.

She couldn’t take it. She screamed, thrashing against him with every limb. She lashed out with her elbows, kicked and stomped, threw her head back—anything to get him out.

But he was so much stronger. He grabbed her throat and hugged her tight as his cock hilted inside her, his groin meeting her tight ass cheeks with a resounding slap. She whimpered, going limp in his grasp.

“There we go. There’s no point to fighting, is there? You see.” John kissed her ear, pulling his hips back and then pressing in once more. His cock slid easily inside her, her tight cunt squeezing reflexively around him. “Though surely you aren’t giving up already?”

She responded with another wordless scream, bucking against him like a wild bronco, her nails digging into his flesh, but all her struggles did was entice him further. He could feel her heart racing as he palmed her breast and squeezed the springy flesh, leaving pale finger-shaped imprints behind. He felt her fear with the rhythmic throbbing of her pussy around his cock and her rapid, short breaths. And everytime he thought maybe she’d finally given in for good she would suddenly cry out and redouble her efforts, wailing and shouting and cursing and kicking, all pointless vain attempts to stop him from using her like the worthless fucktoy she was.

Rachel had pulled her panties down in her excitement, plunging her free hand earnestly into her soaked pussy, her pretty blue eyes glued to the video of her own partner being raped right in front of her. “Oh, fuck,” she panted, breasts heaving, “this is so hot.”

“Rachel!” Isabella shrieked, voice breaking. “Get him the fuck off me!”

Rachel licked her lips. She pulled her finger out of her cunt and stuck it in her mouth, sucking the juices off as she stepped closer. She knelt down, getting a closeup of John’s cock mercilessly plunging into Isabella with loud, wet slaps. The detective’s shaved pussy was flushed red, the little pink nub of her clit exposed to the open air. Sweat dripped down the swollen lips, mixing in with her unwilling arousal and John’s pre and trickling down the inside of her thighs in a frothy mix.

Rachel moved the camera phone higher, playing it up Isabella’s smooth belly and past her perky, bouncing tits, her brown nipples stiff and the skin pebbled with goosebumps. She went higher still, to Isabella’s slender throat gripped tight in John’s palm, and finally to her face, her eyes wide and watery, cheeks red with shame, lips parted to let out strained little gasps of pain and anger.

“R-Rachel,” Isabella whispered, grunting as John smacked into her with a deep, hard thrust. “Please.”

“Oh, Bella.” Rachel smiled, grabbing one of Isabella’s hands and playing idly with her fingers. “I’m going to enjoy this so much.”

Without warning she grabbed one of Isabella’s fingers and pushed, snapping the tiny bone and letting out a breathless giggle.

Isabella gaped a silent scream, her eyes bulging and muscles tensing in pain. John grunted, his rhythm interrupted by the sudden powerful squeezing of Isabella’s pussy around his girth, holding him in so tight that he couldn’t even pull out.

Then she screamed, shrill and loud, her pussy relaxing and her voice bouncing with every brutal thrust of John’s cock deep into her cunt.

“Rachel! F-fuck! Why?!”

Rather than answer, Rachel just bit her lip and grabbed another finger. She started higher this time, breaking it one joint at a time, rolling it up backwards like a tube of toothpaste.

Isabella’s screams went up an octave, her voice breaking and her legs kicking. John clenched his jaw and tightened his hold on the panicked slut, one hand around her belly hugging her to his chest while the other squeezed her throat until her screams died to hoarse croaks. He lifted her off the ground so she had nothing to push off, her legs jerking wildly as he bounced her on his cock.

Rachel didn’t slow down at all. She went from knuckle to knuckle, finger to finger, keeping the camera trained on Isabella’s agonized face the entire time. Each little snap made her clench anew around John’s member, so tight that he could hear the squelch of their mess being squeezed out and feel the hot froth dripping down his balls. He began to time his thrusts, slamming balls deep before each pained spasm, groaning with the sensation of his entire length gripped tight in her slick, velvety pussy. He’d pull out with a snort of exertion, Isabella’s cunt rippling across his shaft, then slam back home right before Rachel broke another finger to start the cycle again.

Isabella lost all sense of time. She didn’t know how long she spent flailing on John’s cock, her wrists chained above her, her back arched against him, tits jutting forwards and nipples at attention. She barely had the presence of mind to count how many finger bones she had left to break. She lived in the moment, lances of agony driven into her adrenaline-flooded mind with each little crack, the white-hot awareness interspersed with rhythmic jolts of aching pleasure from her abused cunt as the pain faded, only to return even sharper with the next joint snapped in two. She was an animal, her shame forgotten in her panic, her usually stoic brown eyes screwed up and fluttering as her face twisted in pain.

John kept count, though. He grinned down at Rachel, holding her gaze as she worked her way across Isabella’s left hand. The pressure built deep in his sack by the time Isabella’s middle finger was rolled up, and he felt it build and rise with each clench and thrust. He snorted, gnashing his teeth, his thrusts strengthening until he was pounding Isabella with brutal, long bucks of his hips, balls swaying beneath him, his cockhead pummeling the entrance to the detective’s womb. He began to lose focus, his grip on her throat tightening until the whore lost consciousness, her eyes rolling back and her hoarse screams fading to dumb, animal moans. But even in the throes of asphyxiation her body reacted to Rachel’s torture, squeezing and flexing and massaging his cock towards a powerful orgasm.

John let out a deep, almost pained groan as he came, pressing his dick against Isabella’s cervix as his balls jumped up. His shaft flexed inside her, pumping powerful ropes of virile white cum in her most precious, private place, painting her insides with his seed and claiming her as his own for the rest of her life. He huffed, balls churning, immersed in the primal satisfaction and shuddering ecstasy of breeding a strong woman that would’ve sooner killed herself than be made his slut.

Finally he relaxed, stepping back and letting his cock flop out of her abused pussy. Isabella crumpled, the chains around her wrists the only thing holding her on her knees, a thick curtain of cum leaking down the curve of her ass as she swayed limply from her bindings.

She wasn’t breathing, but John knew from experience he hadn’t killed her. She’d wake up soon enough, retching and shaking and covered in a cold sweat. He wasn’t interested in being there.

“Come on,” he said, beckoning to Rachel and starting for the door. “I’m hungry. Make me some dinner.”