Page 23 of Never Lost

He didn’t stop.

And I didn’t want him to.

“I’ve been taking orders my whole life, princess. From now on, we’ll only stop whenIsay.”

What? Could he really mean?—

But before I could decide, before I couldthink,he dove in again, his teeth and jaw clenched, jerking my head forward by one curl.

Please. I can’t breathe. Please.

But he was right not to listen, after all I’d done. And just as his hips had begun to snap with each thrust, he slowed them down, forcing himself back into the confines of my mouth, watching me gag.

His rough hand was still at my wrist.

Not moving. No, not quite.

A flicker of something deliberate, something pressing, something moving—just barely.

“You deserve this, you know,” he whispered. “To choke on my cum. To gag on my cock. To just once feel like I feel. To scream and have no one hear you. To be voiceless. To be helpless. To submit to your master. So,” he added, “do you? Submit?”

My tongue lolled uselessly as I stared up at him, managing a helpless, shaky nod, agreeing to whatever he said.

Yes.Yes.

Because he was right. I deserved it.

He laughed softly and plunged deeper still, swelling and throbbing as he braced himself over me, his chest heaving with violent effort, one large hand curled painfully in my hair at the nape, even while the fingertips of his other hand still grazed the binding edge of metal. His teeth clenched so hard I expected to hear them shatter any moment. And then he came, and I shuddered at the eruption of all, that I’d become a vessel for the guilt and humiliation and shame, the chains and the muzzles and the whips and locks and the oppressed desire, all those untouchable basement nights, all of it spilling into me.

The object of his hate. Because what else could I be?

I’d realized it hours earlier, lying there chained to the bed.

Iwas the monster. Not him.

And I couldn’t look. So I looked up, at the mirror in the ceiling, at the infinite reflections and refractions of us, all the twisted-up faces of his power and my lack, as I tasted every drop of his climax, salty and sweet and exquisite and awful as my tears, raining down my throat and over my lips and down my chin.

And then he shifted again—just barely—but it was enough. The rough drag of his body against mine, the rhythmic snap of his hips, the sharpness of his breath above me. No hands, no mercy, just his presence, overwhelming and undeniable, pressing me down into the heat I couldn’t escape. My back arched as much as the cuffs would allow, the pressure cresting with nowhere to go, and when he growled low in his throat—mine—it broke something open inside me. I came with a silent, shuddering cry, everything tightening and splintering as the release tore through me, wave after wave, brutal and bright and unstoppable.

And I didn’t fight because I was giving him this. Doing penance. As if it could ever be enough for what I’d done. For what Ihadn’tdone. For having been weighed in the balance and found?—

Wait.

Yes, and.

He caressed my throat as the warm cum kept cascading down my esophagus with a finality that was chilling despite its heat. He pulled out of my mouth, marking me with a single, delicate rope across my face, one that fell hotly across my cheeks where the tears had been. With horrific fascination, I watched him, his flanks aglow with slickness, shoulders moving up and down as he gazed down at me as we both heaved. For a moment, we were silent.

His other hand, still lingering by my wrist, made one final movement. The softest, lightestclick.

“Good girl,” he whispered, a phrase that, when I’d heard it mere hours ago, had filled me with unfathomable disgust.

Now?

“Now—”

But before he could get out another word, someone else’s clammy, meaty paw clamped over my mouth before I could respond or even think. I screamed and sank my teeth into the palm, but I doubted the bastard could even feel it through the doughy, leathered skin.

Next to the bed, another, even bigger man had ripped my boy off me before he had time to react, flattening him loudly and violently against the wall, pulling his hands behind his back, no doubt destined for the same cold metal as my own.