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KIRA

T he cold water laps at my ankles, then rises to my calves. I pull against the restraints, but they hold firm. The St Andrew’s cross at my back feels rough against my skin.

“Ryker?” I call out, my voice thin against the rush of waves.

No answer. Just the steady rhythm of water climbing higher up my body. The vastness of the ocean stretches before me, indifferent to my fate. I scan the cliff edge where Ryker disappeared minutes ago. Nothing.

“RYKER!” I scream louder, panic clawing up my throat.

The water reaches my knees now. The tide is coming in faster than I expected. How high will it go? My breathing quickens as I realize how completely helpless I am. If something goes wrong with his hydraulic system... if he doesn’t come back...

I tug frantically at the bindings, but they’re expertly tied. Of course they are. This is Ryker.

The water swirls around my thighs, cold and unrelenting. My body trembles, but not just from fear. Something else stirs inside me—a hot, unwelcome rush of arousal that mingles with my terror.

I close my eyes, ashamed. This broken part of me that I’ve never understood, never wanted. Ever since I was eleven and my uncle would sneak into my room at night, whispering that I needed to be quiet, that it was our secret. The fear became tangled with other sensations my young mind couldn’t process. Then, however, I felt dirty; like no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t get his filth off me. There wasn’t a choice; no safeword would save me.

The water reaches my waist now. My body responds to the danger, nipples hardening. My breath comes in short gasps that aren’t entirely from panic.

This is why masked men on TikTok always captivate me. Why GhostDaddy’s videos made me squirm in my seat. In my darkest fantasies, it was always a faceless intruder breaking through my window, pinning me down, and taking what he wanted while I struggled helplessly.

Water rises to my ribcage, cold waves occasionally splashing higher.

The water climbs to my chest, panic swelling with each frigid wave. My lungs constrict as salt spray hits my face. I can’t move, can’t escape. The tide rises relentlessly, threatening to drown me inch by inch.

“RYKER!” I scream one last time, voice breaking.

A shadow moves beneath the surface.

Suddenly, he rises from the water before me like some primal sea god, water cascading down his tattooed chest. His eyes lock onto mine—hungry, possessive.

Before I can speak, his hands are on me. The contrast between the icy water and his burning touch shocks my system. His fingers dig into my hips, lifting me slightly against my restraints.

“I heard you calling,” he growls, his voice barely human.

In one brutal thrust, he’s inside me. No warning, no preparation. My body, treacherous as ever, is already slick and ready for him.

“Fuck!” The word tears from my throat.

The pain and pleasure collide into something cosmic and overwhelming. My head falls back against the post as he pounds into me, the tide washing around us, his heat scorching me from the inside out.

“You think you’re afraid of the waves?” His voice like sandpaper against my ear. “You should be afraid of how fucking wet you get for me.”

The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, obliterating thought, language, and identity. Nothing exists but the point where we connect, where fear transforms into ecstasy.

“That’s it. Show me what a dirty little slut you are for me,” he hisses, his rhythm never faltering. “Drowning in pleasure while tied to a fucking post in the ocean.”

The world fragments into white-hot shards. My consciousness slips away for a second, or maybe an eternity, as I succumb completely to the pleasure. I come back to his voice in my ear, filthier than the darkest corners of my fantasies.

“I own every inch of this cunt. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

The water slaps against us, cold and unforgiving, but between my legs I’m burning. My wrists strain against the restraints. The contrast of sensations—the biting cold of the rising tide, the scorching heat where our bodies connect—makes everything more intense.

“Eyes on me,” he demands.

My eyes flutter open to find his face inches from mine, his gaze boring into me with such intensity I can barely breathe.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growls, his thrusts slowing to an agonizing pace.

The words catch in my throat. Part of me wants to fight, to deny him this, but another part—the part that’s been awakening since he took me—craves to give him what he wants.

“You,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the crashing waves.

His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. “Louder.”

“You! I belong to you!” The words tear from my throat, half-scream, half-sob.

Tears stream down my face, mixing with the salt spray. I’m crying not from pain or fear but from release—the release of surrendering to what I’ve fought against my entire life.

Ryker’s rhythm changes, becoming more frantic. His breathing is harsh against my neck. The tide rises higher, water now lapping at my shoulders. I should be terrified of drowning, but all I can focus on is the building pressure inside me, threatening to shatter me completely.

“That’s it, Mischief,” he pants, using his nickname for me. His fingers dig into my thighs hard enough to bruise. “Give it all to me.”

My second orgasm hits without warning, more powerful than the first. I scream his name as my cunt clamps down around him, my vision blurring at the edges.

I’m still trembling with aftershocks when Ryker grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. The water continues rising around us, now reaching below my chin. The fear of drowning mingles with my post-orgasmic haze, creating a cocktail of terror and pleasure that makes me dizzy.

“You know what I love about you, Kira?” His voice is dangerous, smooth as silk. “The way your pussy gets wetter the more scared you are.”

My cheeks burn with shame.

“N-no, that’s not?—”

He slaps me lightly across the face, just enough to shock. “Don’t lie to me. I felt you clench around my cock when that wave almost covered your face.” His hips grind against mine, still buried deep inside me. “Fear makes you fucking drip.”

“Please,” I beg.

“Please, what? Please stop telling you what a filthy little slut you are for danger?” His teeth scrape my neck. “The more terrified you are, the harder you come. It’s beautiful how broken you are for me.”

A sob escapes me because he’s right. Each wave that threatens to submerge me sends a fresh pulse of arousal between my legs. The rising water, the restraints, the possibility of drowning—they shouldn’t turn me on, but God help me, they do.

His fingers dig into my jaw. “Tell me how much your sick little mind loves being afraid.”

“I—I can’t,” I whimper, even as my hips buck against him.

“Your body’s already confessed.” His laugh is somehow both cruel and tender. “Such a twisted little fucktoy you are. Getting off on your own terror.”

A particularly large wave crashes over us, momentarily submerging my face. I come up choking, panic surging—and with it, an intense wave of pleasure that makes me moan obscenely.

"There it is," Ryker purrs. “Your darkest truth.”

The water sloshes around us, cold and terrifying, but I don’t care anymore. Something inside me breaks open—or maybe it heals—as I stop fighting what I am. What I’ve always been.

I lean forward against my restraints, capturing Ryker’s lips with mine. The kiss is desperate, hungry, an admission I couldn’t make with words. His mouth opens instantly, his tongue claiming mine with the same possessive energy that defines everything about him.

When I pull back, my eyes meet his. Those beautiful, dangerous eyes that see all of me, even the parts I’ve tried to hide from myself.

“I’m your little fear slut,” I whisper, the words sending a shameful thrill through my body. “I always have been.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—revealing something beneath the dominant mask he wears. I glimpsed tenderness when he confessed his love to me in his living room and told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

I know this roughness is for me. He’s giving me exactly what I need—what my broken, twisted part has always craved. The fear, the danger, the edge of pain that brings me to heights of pleasure I never imagined possible.

But beneath it all is his love. His protection. The way he promised to reshape my self-image. The way he vowed to spend his life on his knees for me, even as he forces me to mine.

“Say it again,” he growls.

“I’m your little fear slut,” I repeat, louder this time. “And I fucking love it.”

His eyes darken with lust, but also love. A look that reminds me of how he watched me sleep for hours straight, confessed he’d never felt this way before, and gave himself to me completely.

The water continues to rise, but so do we, as the platform he built lifts us, keeping the water always below my chin, but I barely notice it now. All I can feel is Ryker’s relentless rhythm, his cock stretching me impossibly wide as he pounds into me against the post. My body should be exhausted, but I’m more sensitized than ever, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure.

“You think we’re done?” Ryker growls against my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “Not even close.”

His hands grip my thighs, tilting me as much as the restraints allow. The new angle sends shocks of pleasure radiating through my core.

“Oh God,” I pant, my head falling back against the wooden post.

“That’s it,” he hisses, his pace becoming more punishing. “But you know what, Kira? You’re such a good little slut, you’re going to come for me again.”

I shake my head weakly. “I can’t—I can’t possibly?—”

His hand snakes between us, finding my sensitive clit. The touch is almost painful in its intensity.

“You can and you will,” he commands, circling the swollen bud with devastating precision. “You’re going to come a third time for me like the good little fuck toy you are.”

Despite my exhaustion, I feel the pressure building again, impossible but undeniable. My body responds to his words, his touch, his absolute certainty.

“And only then,” he continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “only after you’ve given me one more of those pretty little orgasms, am I going to fill this tight cunt with my cum.”

The filthy promise sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. My inner walls clench around his cock.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please, what? Please let you come again? Please pump you full?” His hips snap with brutal force. “Earn it.”

The demands of my body overwhelm my exhausted mind as he relentlessly circles my clit. My legs shake violently, straining against my binds as the water sloshes around us.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Give it to me, Kira. Show me what a good little slut you are.”

I can’t fight it anymore. The tension coils tighter until it snaps, sending me hurtling over the edge. My third orgasm rips through me with such intensity that I scream his name, the sound echoing across the empty beach.

"RYKER! Oh god, RYKER!"

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. The cold water contrasts with the fire consuming me from within.

“Fuck yes,” he praises, his eyes wild with desire. “Look at you, coming so hard for me. Such a good girl. My beautiful little fear slut.”

The praise washes over me, intensifying everything. Ryker’s rhythm changes, becoming more brutal, more primal. He slams into me with renewed force, each thrust harder than the last.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. “This cunt is mine to fill whenever I want.”

His words should offend me, but they only fuel the fire. I’m delirious with pleasure.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Yours. All yours.”

“I’m going to breed this tight pussy,” he snarls, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fill you so fucking full you’ll be dripping for days.”

The filthy promise sends another shock of arousal through me. I clench around him involuntarily.

“Please,” I beg. “Please fill me up.”

“Such a good little breeding toy,” he pants, his voice strained. “Taking my cock so well.”

With a guttural roar, Ryker slams into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt. I feel him pulse inside me, hot spurts flooding my core as he claims me completely.

“That’s it,” he groans, grinding against me. “Taking every drop like the little cumslut you are.”

His breathing is ragged against my lips as he kisses me, his chest heaving with exertion. I kiss him back with the little energy I have left, my body completely spent from the multiple orgasms and the emotional storm we’ve just weathered. The water laps around us, still dangerously high, but in this moment, I feel strangely safe despite being bound to a post in the sea.

Ryker’s hands move to my restraints, fingers working quickly to undo the bindings that have held me in place. As each one comes loose, my limbs fall heavy and useless, pins and needles shooting through them as circulation returns. When the final binding releases, I slump forward into his arms, my legs barely able to hold me upright.

“Can you swim back?” he asks, his voice hoarse and concerned as he supports my weight.

I shake my head against his chest, feeling the exhaustion in every cell of my body. “No... I don’t think I can. Too exhausted.” The admission comes easily—there’s no point pretending I have strength I don’t possess.

Ryker nods, seeming unsurprised by my answer. He turns his back on me.

“Grab onto my neck. I’ll swim us back,” he commands, but his tone is gentler than before.

I wrap my trembling arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his broad back. He reaches behind to secure my legs around his waist, making sure I’m firmly attached to him.

“Hold tight,” he warns.

I cling to him as he begins swimming through the waves, his powerful strokes cutting through the water with surprising efficiency. My cheek rests against his shoulder, eyes half-closed as I feel the rhythm of his movements beneath me. The contrast is jarring—moments ago he was inside me, brutal and demanding, and now he’s carrying me to safety with the same strength he used to dominate me.