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He picked up the plastic bag that contained urine soaked jeans, opening the seal and breathing in the acrid scent. It smelt like expensive perfume to him but better. He wished he could take the time to strip down, to rub the material on his body and remember what she had felt like straining under him when he had rammed himself into her body. The sounds she had made when he forced her body sideways, despite the bonds, and fucked her anally. Her cries had been a song of pain to his ears, her screams a balm to his soul. She had cursed him, making him even more amorous, more ready to make her his.She had bled many times, on him, on the table. The blood had made her passage slick, hot. It had made the mating all the more satisfying for him. He had licked blood off of her body, careful not to give into the impulse to bite. He didn't want to leave marks, anything that they could use to track him later. But the temptation had been there, oh, so heavily pounding in his brain, the need to tear. He had tactfully managed to position himself directly between her now open legs and was pressing his erection against the wet crotch of her little shorts. The unexpected pressure directly on her sensitive clit caused her pussy to suddenly spasm uncontrollably. He watched her eyes roll back and close as a soft involuntary whimper escaped her pink lips. That was the only invitation he needed. He moved his free hand up to the back of her neck to her bouncy soft curls, entwining her hair around his fingers and then tightening his grip. Her eyes reopened and she looked up at him. He tightened his grip even more and when he was content with the leverage of his grasp he held her head so that she was forced to look him directly in the eye. She was hungry for more and he could see it, he was going to give her everything she wanted and more, much more. Slowly he began grinding his pelvis against her, looking her in the eye, tightening his grips on her hands and her hair. His thrusting.
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