Thread: Between Love and Hate (Sølvi versus xxplaywithmexx)

The satisfaction of each and every expression of fear his sister gave him was beyond anything else he could think of. He felt betrayed with her treatment after their rough, violent, morning but perhaps Daycen misunderstood. Both his own plethora of raging, unchecked, emotion and his sisters. The jealousy was apparent, but it could have only been jealousy for the very notion that someone else was getting what he wanted. What he believed, now more than ever, was his. Like that of a youth when another boy would steal his favorite toy. Yes, this was it. Solveig was a fucktoy, his dolled up princess, his sister, his twin. At least, this is what he did the best to convince himself of. For now, it worked. It kept him relentless in his assault. Ruthless, uncaring, and delivering exactly what he promised her in the beginning. Pain. Punishment. So when she began to act as though they having a grab at their game of struggle, he reminded her the point of this fucking. She would suffer. He speared her hard, thrusting his thickness deep into, stuffing her as he rammed to the hilt. He grunted with such exertion. His hands came away from the hold, effectively pinning her to the wall with only the weight of his body and the assistance of the hard wall to his sisters back. He reached back and roughly pried her hands away from him, his head tugging roughly to get her fingers out of his hair, leaving it roughed and mussed. He let his strong grip hold at each of her wrists during the awkward, but quick, struggle then slammed them back against the wall so they were raised up and on either side of the small window. He released the hold and grabbed at her hips again, under her skirt, rough gropes along her bare thighs and around her ass cheeks as he propped her higher again, a better angle for his cock to thrust upward into her, reaching deeper than ever. He held her in place like this for awhile, grunt, almost growling, as sweat began a noticeable sheen over his skin. It was only the rigorous training that had him capable. The same practice for battle and endurance under extreme duress. And here he was, putting it to use to fuck his sister such a deliciously thorough manner. His member glided back and forth against her slick tightness, throbbing and pulsing, every ridge to be felt by his sister as he occasionally slowed to graze the spot he was growing increasingly familiar with. It was easy to listen for now, her pathetic exclamations and approval as he treated her. It might wash her body and mind with pleasure now, but before long he would have her flinching each time he found it and used it to his advantage. He was leaking precum, the stickiness mixing with his sisters juices and just creating this delightful sound of sloshing wetness. Gods, how it excited him. But it wasnt about his pleasure and the anger was doing a hell of a job holding off any sort of release. Daycen felt he could fuck for hours. Suddenly, again, he pinned her. To the hilt. His face was at hers and he let a hand fall from her hips and back to her face. He trusted enough that she would try her best to keep him buried inside of her, so he hardly expected her to slump away from him. Even if she had shifted lower, it was only onto his cock, impaling her, getting what may be an insane bit deeper inside of her. It was absolutely intoxicating. The environment was utterly forgotten. The left hand at her face gave another smack. Lighter than the first, but it was still quick and harsh. She the fuck up, sister. You keep that fucking mouth shut . His hand went to her throat, thumb at her neck just as he had done once before. He leaned in, letting his lips meet hers for a second before teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, tugging sharply back, hard enough to break skin with the nip. Before she could react or not, he pressed down on her throat. The pressure was hard and he would watch her face in the dim light of the wine cellar, the flickering oil lanterns casting shifting shadows about the place. Any of them could be the Innkeep fetching or wondering patron. But careless Daycen hardly considered the window, the most obvious. So, on he went now, his hand at Solveigs throat and cock giving a slow build-up to faster, harder, thrusts. He only held her with one hand against the wall and kept replacing his grip, letting her slip a bit onto his hardness before situating her better for fucking. Daycen took her as an object. Yes, that's what she was, he told himself again. His fucktoy. His dolled up princess, his sister, his twin, ruined. Oh, she was certainly his. But tonight, in this moment, he cared nothing if she thought of him as hers. As far as he was concerned, she had done it to herself.