The couch cushion shifted under my weight as Victor flipped me onto my stomach. My face pressed into the fabric—damp from my tears and sweat, the faint musty smell of old upholstery filling my nostrils with every gasping breath. My ass hung over the edge, legs dangling, toes barely scraping the carpet. My pussy throbbed—raw from his pounding, still leaking his pre-come and my own wetness in slow, warm trickles that ran down my inner thighs and puddled on the floor. The handprints on my ass cheeks burned like brands, pulsing with every heartbeat. I tried to push up on my elbows, wrists aching from where he'd pinned them earlier,...