I let out a cry of pain, while trying like hell to forget we were being watched. I couldn't. The senator's presence was a storm cloud right over us both. Palpable and dark. A reminder we were on display like a pair of animals.
This wasn't like when I was with Forrest and Leif, sharing a moment. That was intimate. This was impersonal. I might as well have been out in public. Or in the zoo.
"Is she wet?" the senator asked.
"Not wet enough," Woody replied. He worked me harder.
In spite of myself, my body started to respond, making me wetter, making my clit throb with need.
"I think she secretly wants this," the senator said. Did he have to sound so fucking smug?
I whimpered. That was in character. Feel, but don't fight. I didn't want to fight, but the struggle not to rock against Woody's hand was overwhelming.
"He tried to kill me." The senator would want to know I wasn't completely broken. Where would the fun be in that?
"Then he's exactly the person who should fuck you first," the senator said.
Tears leaked from my eyes at the relentlessness of Woody's hand. My insides were starting to burn.
When I thought I couldn't take any more, he pulled his hand out and pushed off his pants and boxers. Bright yellow with the kind of unicorns I imagined the senator might have tattooed on himself.
They looked better on Woody.
Woody rolled me back over onto my back and straddled me, lying in such a way that most of my body was obscured from view. He buried his face in the side of my neck and bit down on the tender skin there.
I didn't fake the cry of pain and surprise. Had he drawn blood? Should that have felt so good?
He shoved my knees apart and pressed his cock against my entrance. He ground against me like he was trying to fake that we were fucking so the senator would think we were. He groaned, his cock growing harder.
A shadow fell over us. The senator had risen from the chair and was standing behind us. The front of his trousers open, his hand curled around his cock.
"Isn't that a shame?" he said, looking at me sideways. "You've ruined her make-up." He looked at me sideways.
You're a monster, I thought at him. I didn't want him to watch, but I wanted to feel Woody inside me. Needed it. My whole body was aching for him.
"Go on, let me see you fuck her," the senator insisted. He leaned down, forcing Woody to shift the angle.
Reluctant, he slid his cock halfway inside me. Then the rest, all the way to his balls.
He felt so fucking good.
I closed my eyes and tried to pretend it was just us. Back in my apartment. Maybe his. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but where we had an audience who wanted to break us both.
That was what this was about. Wasn't it? He didn't just want to break me. He wanted to see what he could make Woody do. Did that make him feel powerful, thinking Woody forced himself on me?
A quick death from a pair of scissors or a knife was too fast for him. I wanted to slice off his fingers one by one, then his cock and balls and make him eat them.
I scrunched my face up. The only cock and balls I wanted to think about right now were Woody's.
I let more tears slide down my cheeks. Let him think I hated every minute of this. Let him think he'd won some kind ofvictory. I tried to ignore the fact he must be seeing my breasts bounce as Woody pounded into me.
I might cut his eyes out first.
I tried to ignore the senator's groan as he stroked himself. "That's it," he muttered. "Fuck her nice and hard. Show her who owns her."
I didn't miss Woody's minute grunt. If anyone in this room owned me, it was him. Not the asshole who stood beside us, watching us. Getting off on thinking he could ruin me.
Woody reached in between us and ran his thumb over my clit, between thrusts, driving me toward orgasm in spite of myself.