That night, as you drift to sleep on one of the the foldaway beds in Cerise's living room, you have a half-awake vision of Mara Darkbloom strangling you to death.
It sends shooting tendrils of terror down your spine, and finally you jerk awake - only to find that your neck really is being constricted. There's a taut strip of fabric encircling your throat, secured at a point out of your reach, below the bed.
Rose is looming over you.
"What the f--" you hiss, trying to raise yourself, but only choking yourself in the process.
"Don't fight," Rose says. "That's a self-tightening strap. The more you struggle, the more you'll choke. We don't want you turning blue..."
"This is NOT in the rules of engagement!" You say. "We agreed to no more movement-restricting devices!"
Rose climbs on top of you, sits on your chest. She's just heavy enough that breathing becomes difficult.
"It's not in the ruuuuulesss," Rose says in a mocking tone. "Oh nooooo! Save me, save me from that mean old Rose!" She bounces up and down on your chest, enjoying the way it knocks the wind from you.
"Goddamn it, Rose," you manage. "Cerise is in the next room--"
"She's passed out, drunk as shit," Rose says. "Anyway, who cares about rules? YOU agreed to fewer than five gendered slurs per week."
"Cunt!" You hiss. "Cunt, cunt, cunt! Cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcunt--"
Rose slaps you.
"You know I'm going to make you pay for this, right?" You say.
"Mm hmm."
She leans way back and brings her legs around, resting her toes on your chin.
"What are you doing?" You say.
"It's time for your sensitivity training," Rose says.
Rose shoves a stockinged foot right into your face. You groan in anger and disgust - this is like your worst nightmare come to pass. (In fact, you've got the weirdest sense of deja vu that you can't shake.)
"There we go," she says. "That's more like it. Finally you're quiet."
You try to lob an insult back at her, but the ball of her foot, pressing directly against your mouth, muffles anything you could say. Her toes wriggle beneath your nostrils, filling them with the odor of a long day at work. You retch, despite yourself, which in turn makes Rose coo in joy.
"Little piggy," she says. "Little fucking piggy. Oink for me!"
You're definitely not going to oblige that demand. Rose has really gone off the deep end this time.
"You're not honest with yourself," Rose says. She reaches back, hand fishing through your boxers, and you shiver with a convulsion of shame when she finds exactly what she knew she would.
"See?" She says. "Your little piggy dick is all hard. I knew it. You're just as pathetic as I always said you were." She punctuates this by pressing down on your face, hard, with both feet. You can actually feel a few little droplets of sweat press through the thick black fabric and smear against your lips.
And despite your revulsion at this treatment - your cock throbs between her soft fingers. You're big enough, and her hands are small enough, that she can't fully wrap her fingers around the shaft using only one hand.
"Here we go," Rose says. She sighs to herself. "Let's see how long we can draw this out. We need to make you a bit more sensitive, Alabaster--"
She jerks you, slowly at first, and not in a steady rhythm. Sometimes she quickens it, pistons you up and down until you feel your balls tighten and that familiar, delicious tingle in your groin -- and then she stops suddenly, goes back to an agonizingly languid pace that makes you ache deep inside. She stops every once in a while to rub her palm roughly in circles on the head of your dick, just to fuck with you apparently, before going back to jerking you again. You thrash your head side to side in delirium. All the while she's rubbing her feet all over your face.
You become aware of wetness on your bare chest: you realize she's not wearing any panties. Her arousal is actually dripping all the way down her thighs and her ass before puddling on your body. Just another humiliation.
Soon, she can't help herself. She uses her free hand to rub her pussy while she abuses you. Her little moans and peals of insane delighted laughter only make you harder, which only makes you hate this situation even more. Your own body is betraying you.
"Do you want to see?" Rose asks, a catch of mania in her voice. "Do you want to see my cunt? I'll show you - if you ask..."
You shake your head - but you can't deny that you've always been curious. As long as you two have been at each other's throats, you've never seen her naked. And if you're being honest, you've always wanted to.
"Come on, you fucking liar," Rose says. "I know you jerked off every day thinking of me! Of doing disgusting things to my body!" She grips you tight, at the base of your dick, and stops jerking you off. You whinny in frustration. The only sound in the room is of Rose's fingers in her own cunt, masturbating shamelessly.
"I did this every night," she breathes, "thinking of you."
"Mmmf--" you grunt, trying to form intelligible words through the fabric of her reeking socks.
"I was thinking of THIS," Rose says. "Of having this dirty, pathetic dick in MY hands. Does that get you off too? Do you want to cum? Huh? Do you want to cum for me?"
"I'll--mmmff--" You say.
"What's that?" she asks, pulling her feet back enough to let you speak.
"I'll -- I'll say what you want -- if you just -"
Rose beams. Her fingers quicken inside her.
"Just let me--" you moan.
"Tell me what you want," Rose says.
"Let me see," you say.
Rose thrills to this, and quickly flips her skirt up so you can see. Her cunt slit isn't at all like Whitney's - it's a perfect innie, without any hint of labia visible, a soft pink depression in a fat soft mound, slick and shiny with her cream.
"Does your pathetic piggy dick want to feel what a real woman's pussy is like?" Rose says.
You can only nod.
"Good-- goo-oood piggy~" She says, unable to contain her own excitement. She flips onto her stomach and slithers down, aligning herself with your dick.
"Rose--" you say.
But no time to negotiate about anything: you're inside her.
Her insides are tighter than you could have imagined. You lift your head up a bit - even at the risk of choking, you just have to glimpse your cock sinking into that perfect hole. When you do, you can see a tiny trickle of blood down your shaft. You glance up to Rose's face: she's wincing - smiling, but wincing.
"That's better..." she coos. "Much better..." Her wince slowly turns back into a mask of pure ecstasy.
She fucks up and down on you in earnest now, her sucking insides like a vacuum on every downstroke, driving you mad. One of her hands fondles your balls as she slowly picks up her pace. She can't support herself, though, and falls against you; her cow tits slide up and down on your chest now, smearing her own wetness into your skin, soiling her blouse. She never stops riding you.
She grabs your hair now with both hands and kisses you roughly, breathing deeply, and doesn't seem to care that her dirty feet were all over you just moments prior. Her tongue is wanton and insistent in your mouth, more vicious even than Whitney, if that's possible - and she lets herself drool freely, her viscous saliva pouring in rivulets to the back of your throat.
"I'm gonna--" You groan, pulling your lips back from her rapacious kiss.
"Oh no you don't--" Rose says, reaching back to grab your balls again. She wants to really leave you in agony. But she miscalculated: she didn't tie your hands down.
You grab both her wrists, and hold them tight. You fuck back against her now, your hips slamming against hers, the bedsprings squealing beneath you. She can only twist and writhe while you pound her.
"Ala-Ala-Alabaster--!" she cries, her voice jittery with the force of your strokes. "You-- you can't-- it's not--"
You're too far gone to care. You let go of Rose's hands and pull her face to yours - this time it's your tongue raping her mouth.
"Not-- mmf--" she tries to warn you between your probing kisses. "Issh-- nooot shafe--"
You still don't care. You buck your hips a final time, arching your back and fucking her so deep that you're actually lifting her partially off the bed - and finally you let your cum explode inside her. Having apparently given up on making you reconsider, she gives into the pleasure instead, and kisses you back. You hold each other's faces and your tongues swirl around while you pump your load into her. This was four years too late, you think to yourself.
She cries out, goes limp, and lies against you, sweaty, ruined, and leaking cum.
"I'm going to make you regret this," you tell her.
"Mmm," she murmurs, and kisses you again. You spend a long time like that, kissing lazily, while her pussy - still stuffed with your dick - leaks wetly on the mattress.