Even she doesn't know anymore.

Kendall, returning to herself, glares at James. Still kissing and licking him, she frowns against him. “Of course not, James! This is disgusting. I just can’t,” slurp, “refuse you.”

James gives another laugh, this one high and without humor. “Funny, cause I didn’t hear you complaining yesterday when I was fucking you.”

Kendall’s glare sharpens even as memories of his fat dick warm her loins. The sex had been incredible and, by this point in the morning, the pain is all gone. James’ presence has turned the lingering, dull aching in her womb into an echo of pleasure, a ripple that is spreading endlessly through her on constant repeat. She hates him but, slurping his foot, she cannot deny how well he fucked her.

Knowing this, James undoes his pants and reveals himself. Kendall greets him with a gasp and watches him stroking himself, his dick looking almost normal in his big, rough hands, but she has held him before and knows that there is nothing normal about him. Shifting his weight, he lifts his big, hairy balls into view, and Kendall is struck by their beauty. “James!”

“Looks like you’re changing your tune now. Two years, and all you ever was was a size queen.”

Kendall whines against his foot. “I’m not a size queen! You’re just so big!”

She continues licking him in a confused delirium. James is aware of the strange effect he has on her and is even abusing it, of that she is sure, but she cannot understand anything else. For two years he abused and berated her. No length of wrist-thick cock should reduce her to this, and yet the sight of him alone leaves her in reverent awe awaiting his command. As a teenager, Kendall respected intellect above all else but gave herself to a man without any. After Penelope, she prized attention and found that initially in James. Addison taught her to appreciate kindness, which is what she found in Jackson.

However, James is neither kind nor intelligent. Struggling to finish even high school, he has nothing clever about him, nor does he work hard in any way. What he does have, however, is eleven-and-a-half inches of wrist-thick cock and fat, hairy balls heavy with the richest sperm she has ever tasted. Standing, he rests those balls on her forehead and reduces her to a mewling puddle at his feet. She hates him but, staring up at his mammoth shaft, she cannot think of anything bad to say about him at all.

It isn’t that he is made better by his cock or that she likes him any more because of it. No, everything she hates about him remains and, if anything, his bigger cock has only makes him worse. He remains the same simple-minded, racist, chauvinist pig she left, and he deserves neither her commitment nor her obedience. Every aspect of him, from the way he looks to the way he stinks, is something to be reviled, and yet she doesn’t revile them. Looking at him, at his length and his girth, at his hairy balls, and tasting his toes in her mouth after licking between them, she can hardly think at all.

James hasn’t changed at all, but Kendall has. She is compelled to obey him by some invisible ****. Yesterday, she called it fear and instinct. James is a big man, towering over her, capable of hurting her, and he has a big cock that is capable of bringing her pleasure. To prevent pain, she had to endure pleasure, and as she endured pleasure, she developed an affinity for it. Pleasure during **** is not impossible nor completely uncommon and often has long-term psychological effects on the target, and yet Kendall knows for certain that this isn’t **** in the conventional sense.

It isn’t fear that compels her, though she does fear him. She isn’t sure that it is his cock, either. From the moment he appeared at her door yesterday, she has moved on instinct at the sound of his voice, an unknown **** guiding her. Nothing about him has changed, and there is nothing she can point to. He remains repugnant, repulsive, and awful, but her reaction to him is completely transformed by this **** which moves her at his command and arouses her at his appearance.

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-KotoC.