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The first hit lands right between my legs, driving the rope into my throbbing clit. I jerk violently, screaming into the gag, but the pain is a lightning bolt straight to my core, sharp and electric, melting into something unbearable.

Another strike. Harder. The pain blends with something else, something humiliatingly good .

“Such a perfect little plaything. Taking your punishment so well for Daddy,” he murmurs, circling me just to get the full picture. I hear his hand working over his cock, sticky wet with his precum, and I crave the taste.

God, why am I like this?

The third strike lands out of nowhere.

At the exact same moment, Ghost yanks the chain, releasing the nipple clamps in one brutal snap.

The pain is a shockwave. Intense and burning, like a flash of fire surging through my body, as blood rushes back to my aching nipples.

And then, the last strike of the crop slaps against my clit.

My body locks up, a scream ripping from my throat, before I start to convulse, my body shuddering in the ropes, as white-hot pleasure tears through me, violent and unstoppable.

I don’t want it. But my body accepts it greedily, melting into it.

Ghost isn’t surprised. No. He expected this. He planned for it. “There it is,” he breathes, his voice thick with triumph as he watches me with fascination.

I gasp for air, still trembling from the aftershocks, shame searing through me like an open wound.

He strokes my cheek, almost tender, kissing me over the slobbered gag. “See how good you are for me?”

I hate him.

I hate myself more.

His lips kiss down the column of my neck, leaving a wet trail behind. His hand grips my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I feel it—his arousal, thick and unforgiving, pressing into my stomach.

It shouldn’t feel this good.

And I hate that it does.

I squirm, trying to deny it, but my hips tilt forward, seeking, drawn to the rigid heat against me.

“Needy little slut,” he murmurs, pulling away, leaving my skin aching where his mouth had been. “You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

I shake my head desperately, but the movement is weak.

Ghost just knows. His fingers trail between my legs, spreading me wider with a slow push of the spreader bar. Then he slides his cock against the drenched rope, dug into the slit of my pussy. His swollen crown taps against my abused clit, each smack harder than the last, until—

Nothing.

He moves away just before I gush all over his throbbing shaft.

Unintentionally, I suck in a sharp breath in disappointment. But it quickly goes away as he reaches for the wand.

No.

He slides it securely beneath the crotch rope, the vibrating head nestling right against my abused little clit—oversensitive, overstimulated, still pulsing from the last orgasm.

My stomach drops, and I twitch before anything even happens, glaring at him.

“Don’t give me those eyes. I know it’s your favorite, baby,” he murmurs like the sadistic piece of shit he is.

He’s right, though he has no business knowing that. But before my mind can even process it, he turns the wand on.

The first buzz has me screaming into the gag, my hips bucking wildly, but I fight it, trying my hardest not to give him any more satisfaction.

Yet, no matter what I do, there’s no escaping the relentless sensation between my legs. The ropes hold me in place, the hook drags inside me, and the wand destroys me.

I cum.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Until I’m weeping, until my throat is raw around the gag, until my thighs are slick with my own mess, juices dripping on the floor.

All of a sudden, silence .

The wand flickers, sputters, then dies completely.

But Ghost doesn’t stop.

After tossing the toy on the table, he falls to his knees, pulling he rope to the side and baring me.

I shriek as his tongue swipes through my soaked folds, lapping every last drop—too long, too good to belong to a human. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he devours me, his piercing dragging against my swollen flesh. Over and over, he works me with the relentless, merciless rhythm.

I’m begging now, babbling around the gag, my hips jerking helplessly, my toes curling in impossible pleasure.

“That’s it. Give it to me,” he hums low in his chest against me, the vibration making me squirm.

Then, his lips seal around my clit, and I fall apart as soon as he starts sucking.

My orgasm is a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming, my body seizing as I squirt into his mouth. He drinks me down, his fingers digging into my skin, his tongue relentless until I’m limp in the ropes, only half-conscious, my vision swimming.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening. “Good girl.” The words are a brand. And I hate how much I love them.

But before I can catch my breath, rough hands are on me—everywhere, all over my trembling body. I haven’t even noticed when the others came back, but they are clearly excited by the show.

Zhyra’s claws dig into my inner thighs, splitting skin. I gasp as blood wells up, hot and metallic.

Khalok growls, crouching low, his tongue lapping at the fresh wounds. The sting melts into something darker, pleasure threading through the pain.

Varekka’s teeth sink into my shoulder, sharp enough to bruise. I whimper, arching, my bound wrists straining against the ropes.

The sound of Doruun’s hooves scraping the floor sends a violent shiver through me.

“Fuck, I need to be inside her!” He shoves the others aside, his fingers working the clasps of the leg spreader. The metal clatters to the floor, and then he’s there, stepping between my thighs, his mammoth cock already hard and dripping.

When he slams into me, he’s too impatient, too aggressive, forcing his way in. A raw cry tears from my throat as he bottoms out, my walls clenching tight around him, unprepared. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He’s in a rut.

His eyes glow red, his breath steaming from flared nostrils.

Every deep, brutal thrust bruises my cervix, his hips pistoning, relentless.

My pussy is so tiny because of the stretch in my ass, the friction burning, but he only groans, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.

My eyelids fall heavy, my teeth chatter against the gag, and my awareness grows more questionable by the second.

“Damn it, she’s bleeding,” Varekka growls somewhere far away, his voice like coming from above the water.

“Stop.” Ghost’s voice cuts sharper.

A snarl.

Then Doruun is yanked off me, thrown back by an invisible force. Weirdly, the sudden emptiness makes me shudder.

The chain rattles, lowering me back to the floor in a slow, controlled descent. My legs buckle the moment I touch down, my thighs slick with blood and sweat, my pussy throbbing from the brutal stretch. My body is weak, aching, and I feel defeated.

Ghost doesn’t let me fall. His grip is firm as he grabs me, yanking me upright in his strong arms. His fingers work quickly at the crotch rope, loosening the cruel bite of it before sliding the anal hook free.

A broken sob rips from my raw throat as I sag against him, trembling. The relief is instant, but short-lived—my muscles are still clenched tight, my nerves alight with lingering pain.

He carries me toward a chair, where he lays me on my stomach over his lap.

His hands slide down over my hips, parting my legs to check the damage.

I twitch when I feel his fingers tracing across my raw pussy, though I can’t do much more than that, still being bound by ropes.

But his touch is different now. Softer. Almost gentle compared to the others.

And I don’t know if that’s worse.

Doruun growls. I hear his hooves approaching, so I lift my head to look. His massive fists are clenched at his sides when he spits, “I wasn’t done.”

Ghost’s grip tightens possessively around my hip. “You were done.” His voice is low. Final.

“You’ve gotten soft.” Doruun isn’t letting go.

“She’s still just a mortal,” Varekka cuts in.

Doruun doesn’t take his eyes off Ghost. “You know what must be done. Are you going to be able to finish it?” He folds his arms, almost taunting. “Or has she already gotten too deep under your skin?”

I don’t have the strength to speak. My breaths come in shallow hitches, everything distant and close all at once. I’m not sure I even understand what they’re fighting over. I just know it’s me.

“Don’t make me remind you who you’re talking to, brother.” Ghost’s voice is quieter now. But deadlier.

Doruun doesn’t respond. Not verbally, at least, because it once again feels like they are having a whole-ass conversation without uttering any words.

Zhyra sighs theatrically, tossing his head back and rolling his eyes.

And then Khalok laughs, low and feral. “You’re ruining us, Bunny.

Driving us insane. And you love that power, don’t you?

” He steps closer, crouching by my face, voice curling around me like smoke.

“Love knowing we’re all so fucking obsessed we’d kill to keep you.

That we’d die just to be the last cock inside you.

We’d even tear each other apart for you, if it came to that.

” His honey-gold gaze pins me in place. “This is what you were made for. To be the center of our fucking madness.”

I blink up at him, barely holding on to the edges of reality, every word sinking into me like venom and sugar. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do love it—their obsession, their violence, the way they come undone over me.

Ghost’s palm slides over the curve of my ass, rougher again. I can feel his frustration, simmering just beneath the surface, as if what Doruun said still bothers him.

“Now, Princess,” he says, his voice hoarse and demanding, “we’re not yet finished here.” He shifts my weight slightly across his lap, grabbing a handful of my cheek and spreading my legs farther apart.

All of them groan in unison.