Page 7 of Marked

He bit down on my nipple. Hard. He held the tender little bud between his teeth cruelly while I cried out beneath him.

I squirmed and writhed, trying to avoid the painful sting of his bite, but nothing I could do would ease the sharp pain.

When I felt tears starting to edge at the corners of my vision, he released my poor nipple.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but his lips descended to my other nipple, quickly taking it into his mouth.

I stilled, trying to prepare myself for what was to come.

I knew it was going to hurt. I knew he was going to bite me there, but being aware of what was coming was almost as bad as not knowing at all.

“Please. Please don’t,” I whimpered.

It didn’t matter. He bit down on my nipple anyway, just as hard as he’d done with the first. The flash of pain was intense at first, and I cried out, sounds of desperate panic filling the room around us.

He pulled his head back, dragging his teeth over the tip of my nipple, and I whimpered loudly until my breast popped free from his lips.

Both tender buds throbbed, sore from both his kisses and his bites.

“That hurt,” I complained.

“I’m just beginning to hurt you,” he countered, and I quivered before him. “After all, you’ve already proved that you’re a disobedient little human in need of correction.”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my brow at him in confusion.

“Where are your hands supposed to be?” he questioned, and my core clenched into a tight little ball as I slowly realized what he meant.

“Over my head,” I answered finally, nervously fidgeting and biting my lower lip as I waited for what would come next. Time seemed to come to a stop as he turned his dark gaze on mine, dangerous promise hidden within its depths.

“What should happen to little girls who disobey their masters?” he asked next, and I felt my pussy grow even wetter than before.

“You’re going to punish me?” I asked, unable to keep the question from my voice. I sincerely hoped that meant he was about to fuck me, because I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take before internally combusting from the heat blazing inside me.

Almost unconsciously, my hips rose and slid along his thigh.

“Your very needy little pussy is leaving a wet spot on my leg,” he murmured, and a soft cry escaped my throat. I could feel myself blushing furiously at his observation, and even though I hated that he could see right through me like this, I knew it was making my pussy even more soaked than before.

I would bet that he knew it too.

“Beg me to fuck you, and I might forgive your transgressions, just this once,” he said sternly.

As much as I wanted him to do exactly that, I wasn’t going to beg.

I was above that. If he wanted to take me, that’s what he was going to have to do.

There was no way I was going to ask for it.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I felt.

My upper lip rose slightly with my fury as I pulled my shoulders back and stared him right in the eye.

“No,” I growled.

I expected him to be angry, to slap me or say something cruel or try threatening me into submission, but he didn’t.

Not then. Instead, he just took my nipples between his fingers and pinched them hard, twisting them back and forth roughly as he pulled them taut.

I pitched forward in pain, but his thigh between my legs steadied me.

At the same time, it also held me captive.

He twisted my tender buds one final time, and I cried out in agony, before he finally released them.

My nipples throbbed hotly with pain, the lingering threat of his fingers lasting long after they left my skin.

I continued to whimper as my breasts pulsed with arousal and the persistent ache of his cruelty.

I had no doubt that they would continue to hurt for a while to come, but a shameful, twisted part of me kind of liked it.

He wound his arms around my waist and lifted me up off the floor.

Then he put his foot up on the bed and threw me facedown over his thigh, leaving me balanced precariously in the process.

I could only just reach the bed with my hands, so I tried to use them to steady myself by pressing my palms down because I really didn’t want to fall on my face.

I tried to keep my legs together, but it was harder to balance, leaving me with no choice but to allow them to splay apart.

No doubt leaving him with a rather spectacular view of my soaked pussy.

I shivered with need. I hoped he was going to touch me. I wanted him to press his thick fingers inside me. I also wanted those very same fingers to play with my clit.

Honestly, I just needed to orgasm so badly that I ached for it.

His palm brushed against my naked ass, and I stilled. His fingers squeezed my right cheek, then my left, his actions making me exceedingly aware of just how very bare my body was for him.

Then he spanked me. Hard.

It was so unexpected that I squeaked at the sharp, deafening sound.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even move for a long second, but it felt like a huge rubber band had snapped against my skin.

It was far more painful than the spanking over his knees had been when I had still been wearing my jeans.

I realized now that the thick fabric of my pants along with the thin cloth of my panties had cut much of the sting of the spanking, and I was very aware of that fact right now.

The spanking started hard and fast, leaving me no time to process the pain as it hurtled through my system.

And he didn’t stop. Not even for a second.

I couldn’t kick my legs or twist my hips back and forth to try to avoid his blows, which made it that much worse.

Every time I tried to move at all, it felt like I was going to pitch forward and land on my head.

The position left me feeling like I had no choice but to take every last terrible spank, until he decided my punishment was over.

He left no spot untouched, from the top curves of my ass all the way down to the middle of my thighs. It was becoming more and more clear that I had lost all semblance of control and that he’d taken it all and claimed it as his.

I screamed and cried, but still the spanking didn’t stop.

He didn’t scold me, and he didn’t ask questions.

Instead, he focused on punishing me with as much harshness as he could.

His palm felt like a brand against my skin, punishing me for both my disobedience and my open defiance.

It struck my naked skin, marking me with his displeasure until I gave him what he wanted.

He paused and dipped his fingers between my legs.

“Soaking wet, naughty girl. I think you like it when I spank you,” he murmured, and my pussy clenched hard at his words.

The pad of his finger pressed in between my wet folds and centered on top of my clit. My fingers tightened around the blankets beneath me, and I could feel my thighs gradually drifting wider and wider. My body was doing what it wanted, when it wanted, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He teased my clit with two fingers, circling and pinching it softly.

My scaled ass throbbed, likely bright red from the spanking and that only served to make me hotter and even more aroused.

Soon, the only thing I could think about was his fingers on my clit and how ridiculously good it felt.

I could feel my orgasm hurtling closer to the edge, and I wanted nothing more than to come all over his fingers.

But he pulled them away, leaving my pussy pulsing with unreleased pleasure. I whined out loud with disappointment as my orgasm painfully retreated and ebbed away into an uncomfortable ache that left me feeling desperately needy.

The spanking started again. So much harder than before.

I was so much more sensitive. My pussy throbbed and my thighs were soaked with my arousal. Each and every spank felt like agony, and I couldn’t avoid a single one for fear of falling flat on my face.

“You will beg me for the privilege of orgasm, baby doll. Your punishment won’t end until you do,” he demanded, and I cried out, trying to bite my lip and keep myself quiet.

I tried to remain strong and stoic, but his palm hurt so very much.

He painted my ass red once more, until I could feel myself holding back tears.

He stopped and began teasing my clit once more. He rested his fingers against my clit and started to rub the sensitive little bundle of nerves, harder, then a little harder. My fading orgasm roared back to life, yearning to be released once again, but just before it did, he pulled his hand away.

I keened with frustration, because I knew by now what was coming.

The spanking started again, only this time I could feel myself beginning to crumble.

Every inch of my body was shaking with sensation, with pain and with arousal more intense than I had ever known in my life.

No man had ever made me feel like this. No man had ever taken me captive, torn off my clothes, and spanked my bottom raw.

And no man had ever made me want to beg for the privilege of orgasm.

Not until now. Not until him.

I screamed as his palm branded my backside, and I writhed when he cruelly smacked my thighs.

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears threatened to fall, and I moaned as I felt myself lose control.

My core pulsed with need, and my ass burned with agony, the two battling one another within me.

I hurt so much, but in the same breath, I was so turned on.

I could feel myself breaking.

“The spanking won’t end until you beg me to fuck you, baby doll. If you still refuse, I’ll mark this pretty little bottom with my belt until you’re sobbing for me,” he warned, and I cried out, feeling a single tear escape the corner of my eye and drip down my cheek.