her while you continue what you're doing

Your hands wrap around Hannah's throat. For a moment, it's just you two in silence, you looming above her, her staring up at you wide-eyed as she desperately tries to enjoy you setting her anus on fire.

Then you start squeezing.

You are vicious. You are strong. This skinny, fit, attractive woman under you - you do not go gentle on her. You imagine her touching Ashley the way you wished for so long you could. You imagine vicious, violent acts you could commit on this girl - ones that she'd probably beg for.

She's turning blue in the face, a little.

You've stopped thrusting.

Her limbs are twitching, not just her hips. All of your weight is on her. She's not getting enough air. This isn't a sane, safe way to **** someone.

Her limbs aren't just slightly twitching. They're moving toward her throat on involuntary reflex, before she remembers herself and consciously puts in an effort to move them back. Absurd. Even being physically harmed, she still wants to please you.

It's that that makes you pull back.

Silence again.

You're feeling... something. Shame? Anger? A complex mix of emotions you don't have the self-awareness to dissect. She'd said only light ****, and you'd choked her till she was literally blue in the face. You don't understand what came over you.

Is this what you're like when you don't have to face repercussions? But no, you could never imagine doing this Ashley.

Is it... Was it the image of her and Ashley that caused that deep-seated... Not rage. But something. Some negative emotion you don't think there's a name for, that turns in you over and over and over.

Hannah's sat up, a little after you did. She was gasping for breath when you let go, trying to take in all the air she could before she fainted, but at least she's a little better now. Just taking in small, fast, soft breaths, as if she's recovered but her body hasn't realized it yet. Her dildo must still be burning her, because she's still wiggling her hips - you turn it off.

She grabs your hand with her own and pulls it up. With both of you still silent, it's gently and carefully guided back to her neck.

You stare at her out of the corner of your eye, and see her smiling. She_ _really is beautiful, in the exact opposite way of your crush - her small eyes, dark hair, pale skin, flat abs all a contrast with the other girl. You'd read somewhere that people were predisposed to think of beautiful people as nice, but you're pretty sure she's genuinely nice and not just pretty. She's always gone above and beyond to be pleasant to you.

"You know, I always hated you", you say.

A slightly curious sound like an "Oh?" is the only response. She understands you're talking to yourself as much as her.

"I always hated that she looked at you the way I wished she looked at me. That you were the main roadblock in getting what I wanted. That's not even true - it's not like I really stood a chance with a girl who only went for girls. But even if you were the thing I resented, you were always nice to me, and so I felt even worse. I was too weak for her to like me, and too weak to beat you." You half-snort, half-laugh. "And now look at us. The truth is, like this, I can't hate you. I can't bring myself to even dislike you. You're not the girl I used to think of as my competition - just a pet, or a ****, or a mindbroken toy for me to use on a whim." She squeezes your hand, applying pressure on it in a way that it squeezes her neck.

"You liked me **** you, huh? Or at least, you like that I liked it." A nod from her. "It's bizarre. I think I've won. I could tell you to do anything I wanted - to go out in the cold naked, to stick a soda bottle up your butt, to video call your boss and show them you pissing yourself - and you'd absolutely do it. I could get you pregnant, toss you onto the street, and tell you to kill yourself - and you'd do it."

"Do you want me to?", she asks. She's still smiling, and you're not sure if she asked that as a joke or not. You don't answer. All you do is tighten your grip around her throat a little - not to the same extent as before. At best, you could call this light ****.

"I've won, but it's not really registered with me. I want to feel victory." You push her back down onto the table, onto a position on her back, and then get off the table yourself. "I'm going to fuck you now, like you're a thing that exists for my pleasure, and I'm not going to care about the rules we set."

If anything, she's smiling wider. But that doesn't matter. Her feelings don't matter either way, right? All that matters is you. Your will. Your power. Your choices.

You get up, and walk over to where her head is. Not far enough - you pull her towards you until her head is off the table, dangling a little below, her hair falling all the way to the ground. Right in front of your crotch.

You rub your balls against her eyes, just a little. Asserting dominance, although more for your sake than hers. It's fun to make sure she gets a long, deep whiff of your ball scent.

And that's the thing, isn't it? It's fun to do what you want to her. It's fun to know you can do anything at all.

You don't gently slip your dick in her mouth. You **** her to open her mouth, and then you push your fat cock in as far as it can go without resistance. When you encounter resistance, you just shove yourself in more, positioning her head so you can more easily get into her throat, and you don't rest until every inch of your dick is in her.

She's twitching again, involuntarily. ****. But, you understand now, you don't care. You don't need to. You just fuck her face like you'd fuck her pussy - roughly, without a worry about how she feels, uninhibited by rules or conscience.

It feels good. It's better than anything else you've done to her. So what if she's turning blue again? So what if, if you did this to anyone else, you'd be a horrible person? You're enjoying yourself with a girl who was once your most resented romantic rival, and who now worships you even as you hurt her.

What else could you feel at this moment but powerful?