Chapter 107
by 
Yelawolf
She...
Continues
"He's good, isn't he?" Ashley whispers, her hands moving to your waist, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. "The way he fucks. Like he's trying to break you in half and put you back together as something that belongs only to him."
You can only nod, a pathetic, jerky motion. Your throat is tight.
"Of course he is," she continues, her voice dropping lower, becoming more intimate, more conspiratorial. "That's what he does. But it's a rough kind of love, Harley. A hard thing. It's designed to shatter you, not... shape you."
She slowly sinks to her knees before you, her eyes level with the pathetic, tented fabric of your panties. Your small cock is hard, but it feels irrelevant, a footnote to the main story being written on your soul.
"I saw it, you know," she says, her gaze fixed on your crotch. "Even before tonight. The way you'd look at him. Not with fear. Not with hate. With... longing. Like you recognized a part of yourself in him, in that raw power. But you were scared of it. Of what it meant."
She looks up at you, her expression full of an unnerving, tender empathy. "Garvin can give you the pounding, the claiming, the brutal reminder that you're not what everyone thought you were. He can break you open and **** you to see what's inside." Her hands move up your thighs, her touch electric and terrifying. "But he can't teach you what to do with the pieces. He doesn't have the patience."
With that, she hooks her fingers under the elastic of your panties and slowly, agonizingly, pulls them down. Your small, hard cock springs free, bobbing in the cool air of her room. It looks tiny, insignificant.
Ashley doesn't laugh. She doesn't mock. She just looks at it with a gentle, almost maternal pity. "This," she says, her voice a soft caress. "This doesn't have to be a source of shame. It can be a source of power. A different kind of power."
She leans in, and you feel her warm breath ghost over the head of your cock. You shudder, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shooting through you. It's a different feeling from the searing pain-pleasure of Garvin. This is soft. Nurturing. Manipulative.
"He'll fuck you," she murmurs, her lips hovering just millimeters from your skin. "He'll ruin you for anyone else, and you'll love him for it. You'll crawl back to him again and again, because he owns that part of you now. The part that needs to be taken." She looks up, her eyes burning into yours. "But I can teach you how to be the one who gives. How to be soft, how to be beautiful, how to be a woman in a way he can never understand. I can be the gentle hand that guides you, that teaches you how to love this new self you're becoming."
