Degradation
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Degradation, Ch. 2 free porn video
Clarice felt the mattress dip beneath his weight when he returned to her later that night. She had been asleep for hours, but she opened her eyes now, waiting for him in the dark. She knew what he would want. It was always the same when he returned from a hunt with his blood up, adrenaline racing; there was something about the primal act of killing that returned him to his baser instincts. He would fuck her now, and her usually controlled lover would transform into a wild beast, driven to rut in with her like she was a bitch in heat.
She lay on her side, facing away from him, waiting for him to reach for her; she was not to appear eager. The first time he had come to her after a hunt, she had been confused at his aggression. It had only been later, when she was balled up in the corner of their opulent shower, her tears blending into the spray of the water, that she realized what it all meant.
He was never truly gentle, even when he was himself, but he was always self-possessed, in control. Except after a hunt. After the blood and the screams, the bone glistening in the moonlight and the ribald tearing of flesh, then came the hot, primitive surge of lust. He had a deep-seated need to hurt; it was why their games were so fulfilling to him, but he kept himself in check, pushing her, but never breaking her. He needed her submission; her pain spoke to him, crying out for a connection that was only elsewise answered on a hunt.
Clarice tried to keep her body still, fighting the urge to tense against her pillow. Her breathing was already shallow and uneven. She imagined his hands parting her legs roughly, using her; his long fingers crudely spearing her. She instinctively pressed her knees together beneath the blanket.
He would hurt her, she knew, but it was a hurt she craved from him. It was a connection, a way to feed the darkness in his soul. He needed her for this. Her eyes peered into the darkness, flitting back and forth nervously. She felt the familiar bubble of panic and excitement ripple up inside her chest. She let her mind rampage with her fear as she waited to learn what he would take from her this time.
She didn’t have long to wait.
Hannibal’s arms snaked around her waist suddenly, gripping her like a vise, dragging her towards him on the bed. She gasped in surprise, though she had been prepared for it. This was the only time he craved her sounds in bed; he wanted to hear the anxiety and pain in her voice.
He was naked, his muscled chest stained and glinting with someone else’s blood in the starlight seeping through the skylight. He pulled her under him and she felt his stiff erection, hard against her stomach. His hands fisted in her hair, wrenching her head to the side and burying his face against her neck. He breathed deeply, and opened his mouth over her pulse point. He bit down fiercely over her carotid, and she imagined his teeth biting through her flesh, her blood spraying over him, cascading in rivulets down his throat as he drank her life force away. Instead, he sucked violently at her tender flesh, forcing the artery to pulse frantically against his tongue. She cried out as he bruised her with his mouth. Her howls of pain only served to spur his passion on. He bit at her neck, shifting to her collarbone, sealing his teeth over it cruelly. She bit back a scream of anguish, but he tore at her until he had wrung a steady string of shrieks from her. He detached from her neck with a final, wet taste and enveloped her mouth, open from her sobs, with his own.
Hannibal assaulted her mouth with the same fervor, taking from her until she was breathless and aching. His kiss was an invasion, his tongue striking at her, teeth bruising tender lips. He pulled her tongue into his mouth, engulfing it with the force of suction. The moment he released her to take a breath, she jerked back in pain. His hand shot out out to her face, catching her jaw in his grip. He shook her head and forced her mouth open, applying stress to the pressure points at the hinge of her jaw with his thumb and middle finger. He leaned in to her again and she wrenched her head away, locking her mouth against his abuse, her hands shoving at his chest. He reared back from her in fury, a warning blazing in his eyes. He never spoke during a hunt fuck; but she suddenly knew what he wanted. He wanted her pain and fear, that much was obvious, but underneath all that, he needed her willful submission.
He increased the pressure on her jaw again and this time, she opened for him, her tongue sliding out from behind the safety of her teeth. His head dipped towards her mouth again and he captured her tongue between his teeth, drawing it further out of her mouth and holding it there, clamped between his jaws.
Clarice made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. Her mind flashed back to the prison nurse Hannibal had killed. He had taken out her tongue with nothing more than his teeth. This time her terror was genuine. He wouldn’t…..would he? She trembled beneath his body, dragging shallow, hiccupy breaths through her open mouth, but she didn’t fight him for control. He bit down incrementally, his eyes boring into hers from inches above her face. She dropped her hands from his chest to lay at her sides on the bed. Finally satisfied with her offering, Hannibal released the meat of her tongue from his grasp.
She gasped in relief, but he refused to allow her time to recover, his hands and mouth shifting immediately to her breasts. He fondled her brutally through the thin silk of her nightgown. He closed his lips viciously over one nipple through the fabric, worrying her breast with his teeth. He pulled back to yank the fabric from her breast and attacked her nipple again. The agony was so acute and immediate that she cried out in earnest. His was so severe; she was afraid he would actually bite the tiny bud off. Her hands shoved through his hair reflexively, wildly trying to pull him off her. He growled against her breast, his hands sliding down to tighten on her sides painfully, just below her ribcage. Her body bucked against him, instinctively trying to double over, but his weight kept her on the bed.
“Please, Hannibal!” she begged, tugging hard on his hair.
He finally liberated her nipple from the prison of his teeth, widening his jaw to settle more of the rounded globe in his mouth. He bit down again, leaving a harsh imprint of his teeth ringing her breast. He tore at her until he pierced her skin triumphantly. He raised himself off her, settling his weight back on his knees. She looked down her body to find that he had bled her, a ring of tiny crimson droplets surrounded one areola. She raised her eyes to his face to find Hannibal drawing his tongue across the smear of blood on his lower lip, eyes closed, rapturous. His entire body shuddered and his eyes burst open. His rough hands grasped at the silk of her gown and rent it. It gave up with a tremulous whisper, shredding in his big hands. He flung the pieces from her body, leaving her naked beneath his blistering gaze.
He reached down, forcing two fingers roughly inside her. She knew she was moist and ready for him; somehow the fear and pain he wroght did nothing to chill the heat in her core. He wouldn’t want her wet, but there was nothing he could do about it now; she had made herself come earlier, once in the bath, and again just before falling asleep.
He snarled, his teeth white in the darkness of their room. He used his hands on her hips to flip her swiftly onto her stomach. Without pause, his hands grasped her hips, bruising the thin skin over her hipbones. He dragged her ass forcefully to the height of his cock. She struggled to maintain her pose at the angle he set for her, balancing her weight on her forearms, but he shoved her forward, her chest flattening out across the mattress, her head tilted to the side, neck at a pinioned at a painful degree.
He spread her legs forcibly, fisting his erection in his hand and shoved into her with one powerful thrust, seating himself deeply within her warm sheath. She exhaled a strangled groan at the fullness of him, amplified even more by her position and the sharp incline at which he immediately began to thrust. He plunged into her relentlessly, taking long, fast, deep strokes that had her panting against the sheets, her breath puffing out in gasps as he used her to fulfill his own vicious need.
She felt him stiffen inside her and she was sure he was close. She clenched her muscles, her delicate walls ripping around him to encourage his release. Abruptly, he pulled out of her and her world spun. With dizzying speed, she found herself facing him again. He spread her thighs wider and plunged into her again. Two strokes in, his hand shot out to wrap around her throat. Clarice’s eyes bulged in shock as his grip tightened, nearly cutting off her air supply. Desperately, she sucked in trickles of oxygen as he plunged relentlessly into her core. His face was madness, his hair drenched with sweat, his eyes gone dark and vacant. He squeezed her throat tighter as he climbed the ledge of his climax until she could no longer breathe at all. Her hands flew to her neck, clawing desperately at his hand. Tiny black dots appeared on the periphery of her vision as the world darkened around her.
Her body bucked against his involuntarily as her sight dimmed, faded and fuzzy. Hannibal fucked her into the bed with his hand choking off the last of her air; he made a savage sound as he orgasmed inside her.
He collapsed on top of her, his grip slack at the base of her neck. Clarice gasped for air beneath him; the weight of his body crushing her, combined with the lack of oxygen, left her dizzy and lightheaded.
Tears were streaming down her face and she was sobbing beneath him when he finally roused himself to look at her. His eyes were glassy and unfocused; it was almost as if he didn’t really see her, or couldn’t comprehend why she was there. She had no illusions of aftercare from him when he was in that state. Her chest heaved with trembling shudders as she fought the constricting phantom grip of fear that she could still feel encircling her throat. He didn’t move to comfort her as she wept out all the grief and suffering she felt, and she didn’t expect him to. She was bewildered by the uncharacteristic tenderness when Hannibal drew her into his arms as he rolled onto his side, burying his face in the back of her neck.
Clarice curved her body into his, as she drew her thoughts around her like a shroud, the occasional shivering gasp sneaking through as her breathing returned to normal. Her need to please him was something she didn’t understand. Loving him was confusing and terrifying, elating and impassioned. He made her feel things that she didn’t even know she was capable of. And she had never questioned it; questioned how right he felt to her. It felt…...inexplicable to her; she couldn’t fathom attempting to define or quantify the depths of this mysterious thing between them. She buried her mind in the the puzzle of their impossible life together. She gradually became aware of Hannibal’s steady heartbeat against her back. The last of her tears slowly subsided as she was lulled by his deep, even breathing. She eventually relaxed into the tremulous veil of sleep, her thoughts quieting into calmness as his seed trickled unhurriedly down her thighs. -->
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