He wraps tendrils of hair around strong fingers and tugs my head to one side.

‘Tell me you want it, bitch,’ he demands through gritted teeth, his expression full of menace. ‘Tell me how hard you want to be fucked and exactly where you want it.’

My eyes begin to water as Bobby grips my hair even tighter. He is eager for my answer, and I’ve never been one to disappoint. But I must stick to the programme.

‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ I whisper back. I trace a hand across Bobby's chest, but he snatches it and places it on his stiff cock.

My insides tingle, and my pussy quivers at his forceful actions. I’m desperate for him to fill me with his thick length — and make me sore. Bobby always punishes my pussy. He never fails. For almost a week after we’ve fucked, I have a permanent reminder of what a great time I’ve had.

The day after one of our sessions, I love it when I find it painful to pee, reminding me of the abuse I’ve allowed my pussy to take. Bobby loves giving it to me rough. He especially likes to wait until I’ve showered. Then Bobby enters the bathroom and whips away my towel, exposing my slight form. I shiver in anticipation as he ogles my naked body.

Today, Bobby cannot wait until I have showered; he grabs me as soon as I walk into the lounge, still wearing office suit, no doubt my pussy in need of a little wash after being sat at my desk all day, but I don’t have time to worry about that.

His tongue darts across my lips. I’m his prey, and he’ll fuck me. This is a Bobby thing; he likes to push me and adores taking me to new heights. The truth is, I’m as soft as peanut butter in his hands. He can do anything to me, I cannot get enough of him. But that’s my secret. Instead, I show reluctance because that’s guaranteed to rev Bobby above boiling point.

‘I’ll hurt you if I want to,’ Bobby hisses, his handsome features hidden inside a sinister black balaclava.

One hand grabs my neck while the other moves roughly up my skirt, his fingers penetrating my pussy.

‘I’m begging you… please, please, don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want, but don’t kill me.’

Bobby’s mirthless laughter floats and echoes in the air. ‘I won’t kill you if you do exactly what I say. Now, kneel and take my cock in your mouth.’

I kneel in front of him, curling my hand around his shaft. A sharp slap stings my face. ‘No hands slut, no cheating, or you’ll get a severe punishment.’

Tears in my eyes, I take him in my mouth, and he forces me to swallow his length. I gag, but he ignores me. ‘I’m going to fuck your mouth like I fuck my girlfriend’s pussy. Understand?’

I nod as another tear trickles down my cheek and drops onto Bobby’s thick thigh. Relentlessly, he fucks my mouth, ignoring my gagging, and I concentrate on not choking or vomiting from the ferocity of his throat fucking.

‘Oh, that’s so good, slut,’ he groans. ‘I’m going to fill your mouth with cum… or do you want it up your ass?’

I manage to shrug. With a mouthful of fat cock, it’s nigh on impossible to respond, especially as Bobby’s rhythm is vigorous. I feel a hand roughly gripping my hair again, and he slaps my face before pulling my head back. I have no choice but to remove his cock from my mouth.

Lifting me to my feet, Bobby drags me over to the sofa and forces me to bend over, my face pressed hard into the tapestry cushion my mother bought me for Christmas. The fabric is rough against my cheek.

Bobby pulls my panties to the side, his fingers twisting them until they harshly nip my clit. He spits and uses his fingers to spread the saliva, lubricating me before roughly pushing his cock into my ass. I bite the cushion and feel myself pop; his length drives entirely inside me.

I love the sweet decadence of anal fucking, and my moans of pleasure fill the room.

‘Shut up, bitch,’ Bobby hisses. ‘Don’t dare act like you’re enjoying it.’

He clamps a hand over my mouth and nose, and I feel like I can’t breathe; Bobby comes hard, his spunk stinging inside me.

Slowly, he withdraws, and I wince. Turning around, I watch Bobby remove the balaclava, his ebony curls bouncing to his shoulders. He grins, dimples creasing his cheeks.

‘The day my father met your mother was probably the best moment of my life,’ he says.

Bending down, he kisses me. ‘Jenny, you are the best stepsister any guy could hope for.’