Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Pain bursts through me, ravaging my psyche. My tormented mind interprets it as pleasure, and I scream out my orgasm. He rubs my abused nipples, and sparks dance directly to my clit. My release goes on and on, until I sob from overstimulation.
Finally, my master shows mercy and releases my breasts.
“I’m going to use you now, pet.”
Yes, I want to babble. Please use me, Master.
But I can’t speak. I’m just his pet, his plaything.
I close my eyes and float in a blissfully peaceful headspace, where nothing exists except for his will. More than anything, I want to please him. It’s not even a coherent thought; it’s a primal need.
He lowers me face-down against the mattress, but he grasps my hips so that I remain on my knees. My ass is lifted like an offering, my dripping pussy waiting for his cock.
I hear a condom wrapper tear, and then there’s a quick spike of pain when he enters me in one deep, rough thrust. I release a raw, ragged cry, and he reaches around me to stimulate my clit.
I come again on a scream, my pleasure ripping through me in a tidal wave. My inner muscles contract around him. He growls, and his fingers bite into my hips, hard enough to leave a mark.
I want him to mark me. I love being owned by Dane, and I’ll proudly wear his bruises.
As he fucks me hard and deep, I give myself over to him completely. I lose count of my orgasms. I’m not sure if they’re even separate peaks. There’s only relentless ecstasy, and every moment of him inside me feels like the most perfect peace.
My pussy flutters around him helplessly, and I sob into the gag as sensation and emotion overwhelm me.
He roars out his release, and he thrusts deep one last time. He keeps me pinned there for a long minute as his cock pulses inside me. We linger in our mutual pleasure, our bodies connected in the most intimate way possible.
This is exactly where I want to be.
I’m his, and he’s mine.
Our souls are bound by darkness, and in this safe space, we can indulge in it together without shame.
29
ABIGAIL
Ihum to myself as I fold my laundry, which is warm from the dryer. My headphones are on, and I do a little happy dance to the beat of my favorite alternative band.
I’ve never been so content in my life. Dane is perfect. He’s my miracle, my gorgeous prince.
I’m safe and cherished. He likes me just as I am: a gift no one has ever given me. Not a romantic partner, and certainly not my judgmental, withholding family.
Anticipation buzzes through me, and I give an extra shake of my hips. I can hardly wait to see him again in a few hours. My short shift finished at noon, so I have to wait for him to get off work too. In the meantime, I decided to spend a little time at my place to catch up on laundry.
I might even paint if I have time.
It’s been over a week since I last picked up my brushes, and even though I miss my art, I’m not desperate for the release of my inner darkness that I usually find at my canvas.
Instead of releasing it, I reveled in it last night.
My cheeks heat at the memory of the gag in my mouth and Dane’s filthy threats. His condescending praise. The pleasure he wrung from my body.
I jolt when my headphones are tugged from my ears, and I whirl on a sharp yelp.
Ron, my creepy new neighbor, grins at me.
“No need to scream like that, Peaches.” He lifts my headphones to his ears as though he has every right. “What are you listening to that has those hips swaying like that?”
I breathe through the burst of fear and lift my chin to stare him down. My shoulders straighten, and I hold out my hand.
“Give those back, please.” My tone is cold, even if my words are polite.
I won’t provoke him while we’re alone in here, but I don’t want him to think I’m remotely welcoming. His attention makes my skin crawl, and he’s blocking my way to the door.
He gives me a rueful chuckle when he returns my headphones. I quickly toss them into my plastic hamper along with my laundry and hold it between us, forcing him back a step.
“Where’s your scary boyfriend?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on my breasts. My camisole has dipped lower than usual while I was bent over the dryer, and my cleavage is on display.
I can’t tug my shirt up while I’m clutching the hamper, and I don’t want him to know that he’s getting to me. I sense that any sign of weakness will be interpreted as invitation.
“He’ll be here any minute,” I lie.
Dane won’t arrive for a few more hours, but Ron doesn’t need to know that. I’m hoping that the mere threat of my white knight’s imminent arrival will make him back off.