The Island, Chapter 13 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 13

... the oncoming branch with an outside block and quickly followed with a punch to the solar plexus. She doubled over and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. I tore a strip from her burka and wrapped her wrists together tightly over her head. I then dragged her to a tree and tied her hands to it with the remaining fabric, leaving her on her back. I studied her figure for a moment, aroused in spite of my disgust. How best to make this bitch pay for her crimes, her contempt for anyone who didn’t agree with her sick world view? An evil idea boiled in my brain, the child of rage and disgust. I dropped to my knees, straddling her torso. My dangling balls rested on her flat belly. I began fondling her heavy tits roughly, pinching the nipples hard, even as she regained her wind. “You dare not!” she gasped. “I am a pure flower of the true faith. Allah will strike you down if you touch me this way. He will protect me!” “Nobody’s protecting you, bitch!” I snarled. “You killed men, women, and children. How many of them were Muslim? Do you know? Do you even care? How many wives, husbands, and parents are now bereft of loved ones because of the shit you and your sick friends pulled? You struck someone who was trying to be kind to you. That’s supposed to be what God wants?” I slapped her, hard, rocking her head to the side. “If your God is the true God, why has he delivered you to me, huh? I think my purpose here is clear. I am your hell. I am your punishment. I am going to visit upon ...

... you a tiny bit of the pain you have inflicted on the world. I am the instrument of retribution and I am going to fuck you up!” I was screaming at her now, out of my head entirely. I was going to enjoy myself, humiliating and degrading her the only way I could think of through my fog of rage. I slapped her again, harder, drawing blood from her lip. She tried to bite my hand, snarling like an animal. With one hand, I held her by her long hair, supporting myself on the other. I leaned over and sucked her nipple into my mouth, savoring the sweaty taste of her stiff teat. I bit down hard on it, not for her pleasure, but to inflict pain. She screamed and squirmed under me, threatening my family, my friends, my world. Nothing seemed to impact her hatred. I vowed to myself I would break her, whatever it took. I would get her to admit she was wrong, and beg for mercy. I stroked the other tit with my tongue, enhancing her sensitivity deliberately. I worked the brown tip like a porn star, until she was gasping from the feelings shooting through her, then bit down just as hard on that one, causing her to scream again. “Allah will not protect you. He hates you and despises you. I will bring you pain and degradation until you admit you have done evil and beg for forgiveness. I will be more kind to you if you do so. What you experience is your choice.” I sat up releasing her hair, and began fondling her boobs again, now more gently. “Do you admit your crimes?” “FUCK YOU!” she screamed, and ...