Content warning: Intense erotic scenes, consensual BDSM themes
---
I woke up drenched in heat.
Not from the air. From the ache.
It radiated from my thighs, between my legs, all the way up to the tips of my breasts. Damien had left me punished—untouched, unsatisfied. Every breath I took reminded me of what he denied me. My nipples were raw against the silk sheets. My clit pulsed like a wound.
And yet… I couldn't stop thinking about him.
About the way he looked at me.
Like I was a thing he owned. A thing he craved.
The door opened.
He entered, shirtless, in nothing but slacks and shadow. Hair messy from sleep or sin—maybe both.
"Good morning, pet," he said, voice still thick with sleep.
I didn't answer.
He sat at the edge of the bed and dragged the sheet away from my naked body.
"You didn't touch yourself last night?" he asked.
"No, Master," I whispered, proud of my obedience.
"Good girl."
His fingers grazed my lower stomach, then lower still. He parted my thighs. Felt how wet I still was.
"Still soaked for me?" he murmured.
"Yes."
He smirked. "You don't get to come yet."
I whimpered.
"But you will be used."
He pulled me to the edge of the bed. Spread me open. And without warning, his mouth was on me—tongue lashing over my folds, lips sucking hard, tongue pressing in deep. I moaned so loud it echoed. My hips bucked but his arms locked them down.
"Don't move," he warned.
He edged me once. Twice. Three times. Every time I felt the high coming, he'd stop. Pull away. Blow softly over my soaked cunt.
"Please, Master…"
He looked up, his mouth glistening.
"Please what?"
"Please let me come."
He smirked. "Not yet."
He flipped me over and pushed my face into the bed. His cock pressed against my entrance. Thick. Hard. Desperate.
And then he slammed into me—deep, brutal, perfect.
I cried out into the sheets.
He fucked me like he was claiming me all over again. His hand wrapped around my throat, just enough to hold me there. I moaned, screamed, begged.
"I want you to remember," he growled in my ear, thrusting harder, "that only I get to make you feel like this. No fingers. No fantasies. Only me."
"Yes—yes, Master—only you."
His hand moved between my legs, fingers stroking my clit as he pounded into me from behind. I was shaking, tears wetting the pillows.
"Come for me," he ordered.
And I did.
I shattered. Screaming, trembling, sobbing. My orgasm rolled through me like a tidal wave. My pussy clenched around him, milking him. He cursed, pulled out, and came across my back—hot, thick, messy.
He collapsed beside me. Pulled me against his chest. Kissed my forehead like I was something fragile.
"Pleasure," he whispered, voice softer now. "Is a weapon."
I blinked, exhausted, blissed-out.
"But so is power."
And as I fell asleep in his arms, I realized…
I wanted both.