Becky is claimed

Becky gasped as she felt her lower lips parting around a surprisingly tender press from Harlan's rough padded thumb. With a slight wiggle, he worked his way inside her, slipping in just deep enough to tease and earning a second gasp as he pulled his thumb free, gently pinching and rolling her folds on the way out.

As she stood there, utterly dumbstruck in his presence, Harlan brought his hand upward, hovering just over her body without ever quite touching her. That arching tension urged her to press herself against his hand, grinding her own tender skin into him in a silent, needy plead. Yet it was held back by his silent command of obedience. Becky was his toy, his pet. It wasn't for her to make demands, but to heel and wait, to submit in silent stillness. She could only whimper her greedy supplications when he had finally seen fit to give her permission to beg.

He took her chin in the strong grip of his palm, fingers wrapping under and around to control her jaw. Then, just as he had with the lower pair, he pressed his thumb to her lips until they too parted and conceded to let him inside.

"There's a good whore," he said, low and firm. "Taste yourself. That sweet nectar that flows from a loose woman never lies. You can call yourself whatever you want, but your body knows what it's for... You're not stupid, either. Why don't you show me you understand your purpose?"

His words washed over Becky with the calm insistence of a wave yet to break, gentle on the approach, but dragging back with a force and certainty that was utterly impossible to resist. She felt him turn her and, like a docile cow, she dumbly followed, twisting around until he had her pressed against a nearby bank of sand. Falling backward was the simplest thing in the world, as was arching her hips, then parting her legs.

Keeping his thumb in place as a guide, Harlan turned her head to the side and pressed her cheek into the sand as he descended on her.

Through wide green eyes, Becky could only make out the vague shape of his torso. One muscular shoulder enveloped her view, but her mind was already searching elsewhere. It flicked to the press of his legs against her own, catching the sensitive pale flesh of her inner thighs and forcing them outward, locking them in open invitation.

For a second, she could only lay there trembling in anticipation. Until that moment, everything had been a steady flow from one motion to the next, an unbroken chain of simple, slutty obedience, the natural different act of giving her body to this man she had never met. His words had mostly just washed over her, but in this flickering second where anticipation was surging into need within her chest, where the racing of her heart was bleeding between a distant anxiety and the much more pressing eagerness to be taken, fucked, and used, Becky felt herself settling in on a realization. He hadn't posed it as a question, yet some small part of her had still wanted to resist. In the way that any scientist fights back against the proposed hypothesis through their experimentation, she could not take an assertion as truth merely because it had been said aloud.

He had claimed this was her purpose, but claims required evidence.

Here, in the quiver that pressed her slender legs against his hips, in the quick shallow breaths that made her tiny breasts rise and fall, in the way her eyes struggled to stare down past the muscular bulk of his body to drink in the sight of his cock looming mere inches from satisfying her most desperate urge, came evidence. One last lucid thread in Becky's mind was keenly aware that this man did not know her. He was pressing her face into the dirt, so he could not possibly respect her. This was no love nor even the vaguest pretense of romance, yet her body--no she--wanted nothing more than for him to take her and break her on his cock, to make her see stars and cum herself stupid in the dirt.

Harlan thrust his hips forward, skewering into her and driving his cock deep, stretching her tight pussy until it burned. The pathetic, stupid howl that tore free from Becky's lips matched the delirious look on her face, keen green eyes rolling with the kind of wanton greed only a truly vapid cunt could manage. The faces and noises that could only be made by the kind of woman who thought with her pussy first, her brain a distant after thought. The sort of easy slut who only mattered as a set of holes to take cock, because taking cock felt so good and what else really mattered in this world?

He had made claims. She had found evidence.

Now, as her brain melted on his cock and the smartest girl in the Bravos went dumb for cock, Becky had proof.