Chapter 405

Kim was still on the floor across the room—legs wide, fingers buried deep inside herself, thumb frantic on her clit. Her bra was pushed up now, one breast spilling out, nipple pinched between her own fingers. She watched with dark, hungry eyes, biting her lip to stay quiet. Every time Carrie moaned or sobbed, Kim’s hips bucked a little harder against her hand.

I caught her gaze again and smirked, slow, wicked, then drove even deeper into Carrie, grinding my hips in slow circles once I bottomed out. Carrie cried out, body trembling on the edge of another denied peak.

I fucked her like that for long minutes—relentless, deep, changing nothing but the rhythm: fast and brutal, then slow and grinding, then fast again. Each denial made her more frantic—legs shaking, pussy dripping steadily onto the sheets, ass clenching and fluttering around my cock like it could force the release through willpower alone.

Finally I felt her hit that razor edge again—arousal maxed, body locked tight, walls spasming wildly.

I pulled out completely—slow, obscene—watching her asshole gape wide, pink and slick, twitching in the cool air.

Carrie whined—desperate, broken. "No—no—please—Daddy—I was so close—"

In the sudden silence—rain still hammering the window—her blindfold slipped.

Just a fraction. The knot at the back had loosened from all the thrashing, the sweat-soaked silk sliding up one side. One eye opened—wide, glassy with tears and shock.

She saw Kim.

Kim—legs spread on the floor, fingers still moving inside herself, bra askew, eyes locked on Carrie’s folded, exposed body.

Carrie recoiled instantly—violent, instinctive. Her legs snapped down from beside her ears, knees curling toward her chest as if she could hide. She scrambled backward on the mattress, blindfold half-off now, the other side still clinging awkwardly to her face. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts.

"Kim?" Her voice cracked—small, terrified. "What—what are you—how—"

She looked from Kim to me, then back, realization crashing over her like cold water. Shame, fear, betrayal—all of it hitting at once. Her hands flew up to cover her breasts, her pussy, her face—anything she could reach—body curling in on itself.

I stayed kneeling on the bed, cock still hard and shining, watching her panic with cool detachment.

Kim froze mid-motion—fingers still inside herself—then slowly pulled her hand free, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips.

Carrie’s eye—wide and wet—darted between us again.

"You—you knew?" she whispered to me. "The whole time... she was here?"

I froze.

For a second my brain short-circuited. Carrie’s one visible eye was wide with raw panic, the blindfold half-slipped up her forehead like a crooked mask. Kim stood frozen on the floor for half a heartbeat, fingers still glistening, then slowly rose. She didn’t look embarrassed. She didn’t look ashamed. She looked... calm. Dangerously calm.

She walked toward the bed without hurrying, completely naked except for the black bra still pushed up above her tits. Her eyes never left Carrie’s face.

I pulled my cock out of Carrie’s ass with a wet sound and stepped off the bed, heart still hammering from the sudden shift in the room.

Carrie scrambled to sit up, yanking the blindfold the rest of the way off. Her face was flushed, tear-streaked, lips trembling.

"Kim...?" Her voice cracked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Kim stopped right beside me, close enough that her bare hip brushed my thigh. She tilted her head, staring down at Carrie with cold, glittering eyes.

"What am I doing here?" Kim repeated, voice low and venomous. "That’s cute. You really want to ask me that, you pathetic bitch?"

Carrie’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked between the two of us, still trying to process. "This—this isn’t what it looks like. I didn’t—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Kim cut her off, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. "You forced me to go on dates with your creepy fucking son. You threatened to ruin my job, my reputation, everything if I didn’t ’give Tom a chance.’ You tried to sell me to that obsessed little freak like I was a fucking escort."

Carrie’s face went pale. "I—I was trying to help him! He was struggling, he—"

"Help him?" Kim laughed, sharp and ugly. "You nearly destroyed my life because your loser son couldn’t take no for an answer. You cornered me in the office, told me I had to fuck him or you’d make sure I never worked in this city again. And now here you are—blindfolded, ass gaping, begging Evan to let you cum like the desperate whore you are."

Carrie’s voice rose, shaky but louder. "You don’t understand what I was going through! Tom was—"

I moved before she could finish.

My hand cracked across her cheek—hard, loud, the sound echoing over the rain. Her head snapped to the side.

"Don’t raise your voice to Kim, you fucking whore."

Carrie gasped, hand flying to her reddening cheek, eyes wide with shock.

Kim didn’t even wait. She climbed onto the bed, grabbed Carrie by the jaw, and slapped her across the other cheek—harder.

"You fucking whore!" Kim hissed, voice trembling with years of pent-up rage. "You nearly ruined my life! You tried to whore me out to your disgusting son and now you’re the one getting used like a cheap fucktoy? Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?"

Carrie fell back onto the mattress from the force of the slap, breasts heaving, legs still splayed from the earlier position. Tears spilled freely now.

I stepped forward, reached down between her thighs, and grabbed a thick fistful of her pubic hair. I yanked upward—hard. She squealed, hips lifting off the bed, fresh pain flashing across her face.

"You want to earn your right to cum, Carrie?" I asked, voice cold. "You want to earn your right to become my fucking slave?"

She looked at Kim—still hovering over her, eyes burning with hatred—then back at me. The fight drained out of her in seconds. Her shoulders slumped. Defeated. Broken.

She gave one small, shaky nod.

"Good girl."

I released her pubic hair. She whimpered in relief.

"Kim," I said without looking away from Carrie’s face. "Sit on her face."

Kim didn’t hesitate for even a second. She swung her leg over Carrie’s head, lowered herself, and planted her wet pussy directly onto Carrie’s mouth. She ground down immediately with slowrolls of her hips, smearing her slick folds across Carrie’s lips and nose.

"Lick," Kim ordered, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Taste what a real woman feels like, you miserable cunt."

Carrie hesitated only a moment, then her tongue came out—tentative at first, then more desperate as Kim rocked harder against her face.

I moved between Carrie’s spread thighs, gripped my cock, and rubbed the head up and down her soaked pussy lips. She was drenched. I pushed her left leg up, hooked it over my shoulder, and drove into her cunt in one smooth, deep thrust.

She moaned loudly into Kim’s pussy, the sound muffled and vibrating.

I started fucking her—hard, steady strokes that made her whole body jolt with every impact.

I kept my rhythm steady inside Carrie’s pussy—deep, unhurried strokes that let her feel every inch sliding in and out. Her leg was still hooked over my shoulder, body folded beneath me, completely open. Kim straddled her face, thighs framing Carrie’s head, hips rocking in slow, lazy circles so her slick folds dragged across Carrie’s mouth and nose.

Kim lifted her gaze and locked eyes with me.

There was no anger left in her expression now—just something raw, quiet, almost tender. The storm that had been brewing in her since the moment Carrie’s blindfold slipped had burned itself out, leaving only this strange, heavy calm. Her pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looked at me like I was the only solid thing in the room.

She leaned forward without breaking eye contact.

Her mouth found mine—soft at first, then deeper. I kissed her back, tasting the faint salt of sweat and arousal on her tongue. One of my hands left Carrie’s hip and slid up to cup the back of Kim’s neck, holding her there while I kept thrusting into Carrie below us. The three of us moved together in a slow, obscene rhythm: my hips rolling forward, Kim grinding down, Carrie’s muffled moans vibrating up through Kim’s core.

I broke the kiss first, lips brushing hers one last time.

I looked down at Carrie—face buried between Kim’s thighs, eyes squeezed shut, tears still leaking from the corners.

"Your pussy is wetter than before, you miserable old fuck," I said, voice low and rough. "You love this, don’t you? Being used while she rides your face. Tell me."

Carrie only moaned—long, broken, wordless. Her hips lifted to meet every thrust, desperate for more friction, but she didn’t answer.

I stopped moving.

Buried deep, I reached down with both hands and grabbed the soft swell of her lower belly—the gentle, feminine pouch of milf fat that gathered just above her mound. Not obese, not even close—just that plush, lived-in curve most women her age after years, after life. Warm, yielding flesh that jiggled slightly under my palms when I squeezed.

I kneaded it slowly, thumbs pressing into the softness.

"For once in your life, Carrie," I said, voice softer now, almost gentle, "tell the truth. Fucking tell it. No more masks. No more nothing. Tell it."

Kim raised herself slightly—enough to let Carrie breathe, enough to look down at her. Carrie’s chest heaved. Her lips were swollen and shiny with Kim’s arousal. Tears streamed freely now, carving clean tracks through the mess on her cheeks.

She broke.

"I’M FUCKING TIRED OF OTHER PEOPLE!" The words exploded out of her—raw, ugly, sobbing. "I HATE IT! I JUST WANT TO FEEL FUCKING NORMAL! I’M TIRED OF GETTING TOM OUT OF TROUBLE! I’M TIRED OF COVERING FOR HIM! I’M TIRED OF BEING THE ONE WHO FIXES EVERYTHING!"

Her voice cracked on the last word. She curled in on herself as much as the position allowed.

"Now he’s gone," I said quietly. "And you’re free."

"God... I’m... I’M... I’M A BAD PERSON!"

"At least you did it for your stupid son," I told her. "Not for your own personal gain."

"I’M..."

"Apologize to Kim."