Kandomere, faces his demons

Part 15

The photo arrived in his inbox before Ivran and Nephele had even finished their coffee. Kandomere sat staring at it, zooming in and out, focusing on her face, his face, a bare thigh under perilously stressed jeans, the side view of her breast, bra-less, her hair in the sunlight, he could almost smell the scent of Jasmine and Gardenias.

He felt a wave of sadness, a longing, a hunger and an overpowering surge of rage mixed with hurt and arousal. He knew this was not going to be quelled using his own hand. He sent a txt, saying "My studio in twenty minutes."

"Leave messages for the next few hours, I will not be available," he didn't even look at the secretary. He gripped the wheel hard, to stop his hands shaking. He glanced in his rear view, and saw his security detail slowly pull in. Enjoy the wait he thought, he went to his studio, annoyed she was not already waiting, within minutes she arrived. He reached up inside her skirt, roughly grabbing her. "You're late" he snarled.

She began to give an excuse and he slapped her hard across the face, leaving a perfect hand print.

"Go, you know what to do." he snarled.

He took a drink with him to the bathroom, he was still shaking. He let the jets hit him, his cock painfully hard, he walked to the room where the hooker was waiting, without bothering to dry himself, she was kneeling, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet, and slammed her against the wall, like a rag doll.

He slid four fingers deep inside her, she was wet,

"Fucking whore" he moaned slamming his fingers  into her, then his whole fist, she was whimpering, he removed his fist, now slick with her juices, and made her lick it clean. Then he rammed his cock as hard as he could into her now painful, violated place. He was grunting as if he were in pain, panting, each thrust harder, deeper, he was lifting her off the ground he was slamming into her with such force.

He held his breath, as spasm after spasm wracked his entire body. He withdrew and staggered back, sitting in a chair, the hooker slumped to the floor, he sat watching her, feeling nothing, "come here," he was still breathless. she crawled over to him, "Kneel and bend over, open your legs, I want to watch my cum drip out of you." He began to slowly masturbate as he saw the first cum dripping out of her, and slide down her thighs. "Turn around" he growled, "open your mouth play with yourself" he was breathless, fully aroused again, he watched her busy fingers, saw her clit was swollen and hard.

"Such a filthy twisted whore", he began to rub her clit, taking over from her hand, he was excited to see just how hard and swollen her clit became. He heard her moan, saw her shudder, felt her  throb beneath his fingers, and watched as his previous loads of cum squirted out of her, one so powerful it landed on his forearm. "Open wide" he whispered, and he began to jerk off, watching his cock become more engorged, burn and then explode on to her waiting tongue, felt spasms deep in his ass as he watched his cum fill her mouth, run down her chin and breasts.

He fell back, waiting for a feeling of relief to happen. He lay, head pounding in rhythm to his heart, his hand on his softening cock, and a cry caught him by surprise in his throat, as tears ran down his face, he found his burning, need, his want, his desire was as raw and demanding as before.

It would cost him a considerable sum in compensation to both the whore and Colette, the human Madame of the brothel she ran. But as he sent the first punch to her face, he really didn't care, nor did he care as he slammed her from wall to wall or kick her as she lay screaming on the floor. The only time he came close to feeling any relief was as he felt the life fade from her as he strangled her. With relief came the horrific clarity of what he had done, he needed magic to save the terrified, brutalized, almost dead, young, pretty human.