Cincinnati Apocalypse Part 6

The tiny opening into Xander's innermost depths would open to admit her. She would shove the purple phallus through his anus, past his sphincter, and into his bowels, and she would fuck him fast and hard and long. She would possess him, master him, stealing his self-respect and what was left of his manhood, reducing him to tears. In lieu of love, that had to be enough.

Faith wiggled her hips, and the end of the eternally hard, nine-inch dildo settled into the tiny depression of Xander's anus. She eased her hips forward, and, this time, the artificial prick did not slide away from its target. It slid home, stretching the circle of Xander's anus wider than Faith would have believed possible, and she watched its thick length slide through the sphincter, vanishing between-and into-Xander's impaled buttocks.

Instinctively, Xander tried to lunge forward, but he had little room, and Faith followed his lead, plunging the phallus even further into his skewered ass. He moaned, surrendering. His muscles went limp, and Faith heard him whimpering. He'd made up his mind to be her bitch. He'd submitted. His soft sobs told her of the anguish in his mind and the torment of his soul at being unmanned by her, a woman he knew was stronger and more agile, had greater staying power, and could move faster and more precisely than he could ever hope to be or to perform.

His moans were music to her ears, and Faith smiled as she drew back her hips, watching the dildo emerge through his speared asshole, becoming visible, inch by slow inch, as she withdrew it, slowly, between his buttocks. "Bitch!" she cried, triumph and derision equally present in her tone.

The dildo quavered, its pink glans still inside the circle of Xander's wide-stretched anus. His cock and balls hung, limp and soft, between his legs. Faith reached around him, cupping his genitals in her hand. She gave them a hard squeeze. "You'll get hard," she predicted. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be stiff with desire, slut!"