. . . Petaline’s hips sway before him as they climb the stairs, and Rance wants to reach out and yank her to him, feel that moment when her balance totters and her body flails with nothing to anchor her but his hands. She’d hate that.

In her room, she turns to him with a smile that’s more a baring of teeth than an expression of pleasure. Her eyes remain cold. And that’s why he picks her time and again – she hates him and lets him know it. It makes taking her better than any other fuck he’s ever had. His wife hates him too – all women envy the power of a real man – but she hides it behind soft smiles and a docile body.

When he throws her onto the bed, Petaline hits with enough force to slam the headboard loudly into the wall. He grins – Rance wants everyone to hear him fucking his whore, taking her like a man. Two weeks ago, she’d pulled the bed away from the wall before he got there. A few smacks were all it took to get that sorted.

She flips halfway over onto her back, the better to get a knee up, before he throws himself on her, pinning her struggling form to the mattress. He never lets her face him – she’s to be taken like the bitch she is, that all women are.

His left hand gliding up her thigh raises her skirt on one side, and he shifts his weight quickly so that he can flick it up and onto her back before pressing her down again with his hips. Petaline bucks against him as he runs the hand down her flank to find her bare. She’s long since given up wasting hard-earned coin on underthings for him to rip.

The hand splays on her lower back, leaning his weight into it, so that his other can unbuckle his trousers. The sound sets her off again, but all the twitching does is make Rance harder. And move she does – the one time she had tried to lie there docilely, he’d beat her till she couldn’t even crawl to the crapper to take a piss. His cock twitches in time to her biggest jerks.

She’s not that wet when he pushes his cock into her – not that he cares – but quickly grows more so. Her frantic movements and grunts only spur him on, the headboard banging against the wall less than twenty times.

Buckling himself back up, he stands and moves away from her. He almost hears the sound of faint laughter as Petaline shakes slightly on the bed, face buried in the mattress, but it’s soon eclipsed by the loud clangs of heavy coin raining on wood as he throws the money onto the floor.

Rance convinces himself the bitch was crying as he stomps down the stairs. . . .