He lifted her leg.
His hand left her clit. He hooked her right leg over the rim of the stone tub. Her knee bent. The water splashed. Her pussy was exposed—ruined, swollen, still gaping from the earlier claiming, the small lips dark and puffy and leaking his seed in thin white streams that mixed with the water.
His cock was hard.
It emerged from the water like a pillar. Twelve inches. Thick. The head was swollen and blunt and the veins ran along the shaft like ropes. It looked bigger in the moonlight. Bigger than it had been before. She looked at it and her child's memory overlapped with the present. She remembered the cocks she had seen through the keyhole. The size. The brutality. This was the same. This was the same thing that had destroyed her sister.
"No," she sobbed. "No. I don't want to— I don't want to be like her— I don't want—"
He positioned the head.
