consensual violation

He palmed the breast she had put in his hand and read her the way he had learned to read the rest of them.

The hunger was not complicated. It had a shape. Harbor crates. Hours. The thing Lisa had described as the water keeping certain women. Nefer wanted the file version with the manners taken off.

(https://im.ge/i/QQF6d76)
(artist: miyu)

“Safeword,” Aether said, thumb still on her nipple, voice almost polite.

Nefer’s eyes flicked, surprised that he had bothered, then pleased that he had.

“Ledger,” she said. “I sa...”

“Good.”

His hand was on her throat before the last letter had settled.

He threw her down by that grip — desk edge, then the floor enough to make the office remember it — and the other hand was already in her hair, gathering a fistful, forcing her face onto his cock with no run-up. Nefer opened for it like she had been waiting two months for the lack of a question. He pushed to the back of her mouth and held her there, nose in him, and the sound she made was not a protest. It was wet and eager and insulted that he had not started sooner.

“This is what you wanted,”
he said, staying in the register she had ordered.
“Harbor slut who reads about a cock all season and then comes begging the original to ruin her. You don’t get a negotiation. You get used.”

He fucked her throat in short, mean strokes, using the hair like a handle. Spit ran. Her hands found his thighs and stayed there — not pushing off, bracing so she could take more. No damsel. No performance of being broken against her will. She sucked when he let her breathe and moaned when he did not, a broker pricing the moment and finding it cheap compared to the docks.

(https://im.ge/i/QQF6rKa)
(artist: miyu)

He pulled her off by the hair. A string of spit connected her lip to him. Her mascara had not even had time to decide if it would run.

“Turn around.”

She was already turning. He shoved her over the desk, stripped what was left of the lower half of her clothes with one hard yank, and took her from behind in a single drive that made the furniture hop. No leeway. He seated himself to the hilt and used her, hair wrapped around his fist, arching her back until her chest was off the wood and her throat was a line he could have cut.

“Tight for someone who spends nights on crates,”
he said, filthy on purpose, matching the fancy she had confessed.
“Those dock hands could not fuck the stories out of you. That is embarrassing.”

Nefer laughed into the desk, wrecked and delighted.

“Harder,” she got out, not a plea for mercy. “If you are going to rape the broker, rape her. I did not clear the room for courtesy.”

He gave her what the word wanted and none of the victimhood. Hips slamming. Hair pulling her into a bow.

(https://im.ge/i/QQF6Oiy)
(artist: miyu)
The wet, slapping proof that she was soaking for it, cunt clutching every thrust like the files had been foreplay. She pushed back onto him. She swore. She came the first time with her mouth open on a moan that would have carried through the thick-and-thin wall next door, and she did not pretend she had not wanted it.

Aether hauled her up off the desk without pulling out.

Both arms went around her throat — not a squeeze that panicked, a cage she could still tap out of if the word came — and he lifted until her toes barely found the floor. He fucked her like that, her full weight on his cock, her breath a ragged privilege against his forearm. Each climax he forced out of her made her kick, then melt, then kick again. Feet searching for timber that was no longer a reliable fact. Her hands stayed on his arms, not to peel them off, to feel the hold.

(https://im.ge/i/QQF6FXJ)
(artist: miyu)

“Count,” he said into her hair.

“I don’t—” She clenched, came, swore. “Four. You bastard. Five—”

He did not let her down for the fifth. Or the sixth. The office became a vertical problem: a woman held off the ground, used, dripping down both of them, still trying to rock back onto the cock that was lifting her. When her voice broke into something raw he listened for ledger and did not hear it. He heard his name, and don’t stop, and a filthy little thank-you she would never put in a report.

He threw her onto the carpet for the end.

Prone. Face in the weave. He followed her down, covered her, and drove in until his hips pinned hers to the floor. Pronebone left her nothing to do but take it and love it. She reached back anyway, grabbed his thigh, and pulled him deeper, the opposite of a woman being violated. Aether hooked a hand under her hip to keep the angle ugly and good, the other in her hair again, and finished her off the way the invoice had demanded.

He came in her hard.

(https://im.ge/i/QQF61cS)
(artist: revoaru)
Packed. Unapologetic. Pulse after pulse against a cervix that had been reading about this for two months. Nefer shook through it with her mouth open on the carpet, laughing once when she felt the fill, then moaning when he kept thrusting the load deeper as if the harbor needed a comparison sample.

He stayed on her until the last kick left her legs.